The Twilight Saga Collection

by Stephenie Meyer

  “Others had the same idea. Some came up with more effective tactics than others.

  “But the most effective tactic was invented by a fairly young vampire named Benito. The first anyone ever heard of him, he came down from somewhere north of Dallas and massacred the two small covens that shared the area near Houston. Two nights later, he took on the much stronger clan of allies that claimed Monterrey in northern Mexico. Again, he won.”

  “How did he win?” I asked with wary curiosity.

  “Benito had created an army of newborn vampires. He was the first one to think of it, and, in the beginning, he was unstoppable. Very young vampires are volatile, wild, and almost impossible to control. One newborn can be reasoned with, taught to restrain himself, but ten, fifteen together are a nightmare. They’ll turn on each other as easily as on the enemy you point them at. Benito had to keep making more as they fought amongst themselves, and as the covens he decimated took more than half his force down before they lost.

  “You see, though newborns are dangerous, they are still possible to defeat if you know what you’re doing. They’re incredibly powerful physically, for the first year or so, and if they’re allowed to bring strength to bear they can crush an older vampire with ease. But they are slaves to their instincts, and thus predictable. Usually, they have no skill in fighting, only muscle and ferocity. And in this case, overwhelming numbers.”

  “The vampires in southern Mexico realized what was coming for them, and they did the only thing they could think of to counteract Benito. They made armies of their own. . . .

  “All hell broke loose — and I mean that more literally than you can possibly imagine. We immortals have our histories, too, and this particular war will never be forgotten. Of course, it was not a good time to be human in Mexico, either.”

  I shuddered.

  “When the body count reached epidemic proportions — in fact, your histories blame a disease for the population slump — the Volturi finally stepped in. The entire guard came together and sought out every newborn in the bottom half of North America. Benito was entrenched in Puebla, building his army as quickly as he could in order to take on the prize — Mexico City. The Volturi started with him, and then moved on to the rest.

  “Anyone who was found with the newborns was executed immediately, and, since everyone was trying to protect themselves from Benito, Mexico was emptied of vampires for a time.

  “The Volturi were cleaning house for almost a year. This was another chapter of our history that will always be remembered, though there were very few witnesses left to speak of what it was like. I spoke to someone once who had, from a distance, watched what happened when they visited Culiacán.”

  Jasper shuddered. I realized that I had never before seen him either afraid or horrified. This was a first.

  “It was enough that the fever for conquest did not spread from the South. The rest of the world stayed sane. We owe the Volturi for our present way of life.

  “But when the Volturi went back to Italy, the survivors were quick to stake their claims in the South.

  “It didn’t take long before covens began to dispute again. There was a lot of bad blood, if you’ll forgive the expression. Vendettas abounded. The idea of newborns was already there, and some were not able to resist. However, the Volturi had not been forgotten, and the southern covens were more careful this time. The newborns were selected from the human pool with more care, and given more training. They were used circumspectly, and the humans remained, for the most part, oblivious. Their creators gave the Volturi no reason to return.

  “The wars resumed, but on a smaller scale. Every now and then, someone would go too far, speculation would begin in the human newspapers, and the Volturi would return and clean out the city. But they let the others, the careful ones, continue. . . .”

  Jasper was staring off into space.

  “That’s how you were changed.” My realization was a whisper.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “When I was human, I lived in Houston, Texas. I was almost seventeen years old when I joined the Confederate Army in 1861. I lied to the recruiters and told them I was twenty. I was tall enough to get away with it.

  “My military career was short-lived, but very promising. People always . . . liked me, listened to what I had to say. My father said it was charisma. Of course, now I know it was probably something more. But, whatever the reason, I was promoted quickly through the ranks, over older, more experienced men. The Confederate Army was new and scrambling to organize itself, so that provided opportunities, as well. By the first battle of Galveston — well, it was more of a skirmish, really — I was the youngest major in Texas, not even acknowledging my real age.

  “I was placed in charge of evacuating the women and children from the city when the Union’s mortar boats reached the harbor. It took a day to prepare them, and then I left with the first column of civilians to convey them to Houston.

  “I remember that one night very clearly.

  “We reached the city after dark. I stayed only long enough to make sure the entire party was safely situated. As soon as that was done, I got myself a fresh horse, and I headed back to Galveston. There wasn’t time to rest.

  “Just a mile outside the city, I found three women on foot. I assumed they were stragglers and dismounted at once to offer them my aid. But, when I could see their faces in the dim light of the moon, I was stunned into silence. They were, without question, the three most beautiful women I had ever seen.

  “They had such pale skin, I remember marveling at it. Even the little black-haired girl, whose features were clearly Mexican, was porcelain in the moonlight. They seemed young, all of them, still young enough to be called girls. I knew they were not lost members of our party. I would have remembered seeing these three.

  “‘He’s speechless,’ the tallest girl said in a lovely, delicate voice — it was like wind chimes. She had fair hair, and her skin was snow white.

  “The other was blonder still, her skin just as chalky. Her face was like an angel’s. She leaned toward me with half-closed eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “‘Mmm,’ she sighed. ‘Lovely.’

  “The small one, the tiny brunette, put her hand on the girl’s arm and spoke quickly. Her voice was too soft and musical to be sharp, but that seemed to be the way she intended it.

  “‘Concentrate, Nettie,’ she said.

  “I’d always had a good sense of how people related to each other, and it was immediately clear that the brunette was somehow in charge of the others. If they’d been military, I would have said that she outranked them.

  “‘He looks right — young, strong, an officer. . . . ’ The brunette paused, and I tried unsuccessfully to speak. ‘And there’s something more . . . do you sense it?’ she asked the other two. ‘He’s . . . compelling.’

  “‘Oh, yes,’ Nettie quickly agreed, leaning toward me again.

  “‘Patience,’ the brunette cautioned her. ‘I want to keep this one.’

  “Nettie frowned; she seemed annoyed.

  “‘You’d better do it, Maria,’ the taller blonde spoke again. ‘If he’s important to you. I kill them twice as often as I keep them.’

  “‘Yes, I’ll do it,’ Maria agreed. ‘I really do like this one. Take Nettie away, will you? I don’t want to have to protect my back while I’m trying to focus.’

  “My hair was standing up on the back of my neck, though I didn’t understand the meaning of anything the beautiful creatures were saying. My instincts told me that there was danger, that the angel had meant it when she spoke of killing, but my judgment overruled my instincts. I had not been taught to fear women, but to protect them.

  “‘Let’s hunt,’ Nettie agreed enthusiastically, reaching for the tall girl’s hand. They wheeled — they were so graceful! — and sprinted toward the city. They seemed to almost take flight, they were so fast — their white dresses blew out behind them like wings. I blinked in amazement, and they were gone.

  “I turne
d to stare at Maria, who was watching me curiously.

  “I’d never been superstitious in my life. Until that second, I’d never believed in ghosts or any other such nonsense. Suddenly, I was unsure.

  “‘What is your name, soldier?’ Maria asked me.

  “‘Major Jasper Whitlock, ma’am,’ I stammered, unable to be impolite to a female, even if she was a ghost.

  “‘I truly hope you survive, Jasper,’ she said in her gentle voice. ‘I have a good feeling about you.’

  “She took a step closer, and inclined her head as if she were going to kiss me. I stood frozen in place, though my instincts were screaming at me to run.”

  Jasper paused, his face thoughtful. “A few days later,” he finally said, and I wasn’t sure if he had edited his story for my sake or because he was responding to the tension that even I could feel exuding from Edward, “I was introduced to my new life.

  “Their names were Maria, Nettie, and Lucy. They hadn’t been together long — Maria had rounded up the other two — all three were survivors of recently lost battles. Theirs was a partnership of convenience. Maria wanted revenge, and she wanted her territories back. The others were eager to increase their . . . herd lands, I suppose you could say. They were putting together an army, and going about it more carefully than was usual. It was Maria’s idea. She wanted a superior army, so she sought out specific humans who had potential. Then she gave us much more attention, more training than anyone else had bothered with. She taught us to fight, and she taught us to be invisible to the humans. When we did well, we were rewarded. . . .”

  He paused, editing again.

  “She was in a hurry, though. Maria knew that the massive strength of the newborn began to wane around the year mark, and she wanted to act while we were strong.

  “There were six of us when I joined Maria’s band. She added four more within a fortnight. We were all male — Maria wanted soldiers — and that made it slightly more difficult to keep from fighting amongst ourselves. I fought my first battles against my new comrades in arms. I was quicker than the others, better at combat. Maria was pleased with me, though put out that she had to keep replacing the ones I destroyed. I was rewarded often, and that made me stronger.

  “Maria was a good judge of character. She decided to put me in charge of the others — as if I were being promoted. It suited my nature exactly. The casualties went down dramatically, and our numbers swelled to hover around twenty.

  “This was considerable for the cautious times we lived in. My ability, as yet undefined, to control the emotional atmosphere around me was vitally effective. We soon began to work together in a way that newborn vampires had never cooperated before. Even Maria, Nettie, and Lucy were able to work together more easily.

  “Maria grew quite fond of me — she began to depend upon me. And, in some ways, I worshipped the ground she walked on. I had no idea that any other life was possible. Maria told us this was the way things were, and we believed.

  “She asked me to tell her when my brothers and I were ready to fight, and I was eager to prove myself. I pulled together an army of twenty-three in the end — twenty-three unbelievably strong new vampires, organized and skilled as no others before. Maria was ecstatic.

  “We crept down toward Monterrey, her former home, and she unleashed us on her enemies. They had only nine newborns at the time, and a pair of older vampires controlling them. We took them down more easily than Maria could believe, losing only four in the process. It was an unheard-of margin of victory.

  “And we were well trained. We did it without attracting notice. The city changed hands without any human being aware.

  “Success made Maria greedy. It wasn’t long before she began to eye other cities. That first year, she extended her control to cover most of Texas and northern Mexico. Then the others came from the South to dislodge her.”

  He brushed two fingers along the faint pattern of scars on his arm.

  “The fighting was intense. Many began to worry that the Volturi would return. Of the original twenty-three, I was the only one to survive the first eighteen months. We both won and lost. Nettie and Lucy turned on Maria eventually — but that one we won.

  “Maria and I were able to hold on to Monterrey. It quieted a little, though the wars continued. The idea of conquest was dying out; it was mostly vengeance and feuding now. So many had lost their partners, and that is something our kind does not forgive. . . .

  “Maria and I always kept a dozen or so newborns ready. They meant little to us — they were pawns, they were disposable. When they outgrew their usefulness, we did dispose of them. My life continued in the same violent pattern and the years passed. I was sick of it all for a very long time before anything changed . . .

  “Decades later, I developed a friendship with a newborn who’d remained useful and survived his first three years, against the odds. His name was Peter. I liked Peter; he was . . . civilized — I suppose that’s the right word. He didn’t enjoy the fight, though he was good at it.

  “He was assigned to deal with the newborns — babysit them, you could say. It was a full-time job.

  “And then it was time to purge again. The newborns were outgrowing their strength; they were due to be replaced. Peter was supposed to help me dispose of them. We took them aside individually, you see, one by one . . . It was always a very long night. This time, he tried to convince me that a few had potential, but Maria had instructed that we get rid of them all. I told him no.

  “We were about halfway through, and I could feel that it was taking a great toll on Peter. I was trying to decide whether or not I should send him away and finish up myself as I called out the next victim. To my surprise, he was suddenly angry, furious. I braced for whatever his mood might foreshadow — he was a good fighter, but he was never a match for me.

  “The newborn I’d summoned was a female, just past her year mark. Her name was Charlotte. His feelings changed when she came into view; they gave him away. He yelled for her to run, and he bolted after her. I could have pursued them, but I didn’t. I felt . . . averse to destroying him.

  “Maria was irritated with me for that . . .

  “Five years later, Peter snuck back for me. He picked a good day to arrive.

  “Maria was mystified by my ever-deteriorating frame of mind. She’d never felt a moment’s depression, and I wondered why I was different. I began to notice a change in her emotions when she was near me — sometimes there was fear . . . and malice — the same feelings that had given me advance warning when Nettie and Lucy struck. I was preparing myself to destroy my only ally, the core of my existence, when Peter returned.

  “Peter told me about his new life with Charlotte, told me about options I’d never dreamed I had. In five years, they’d never had a fight, though they’d met many others in the north. Others who could co-exist without the constant mayhem.

  “In one conversation, he had me convinced. I was ready to go, and somewhat relieved I wouldn’t have to kill Maria. I’d been her companion for as many years as Carlisle and Edward have been together, yet the bond between us was nowhere near as strong. When you live for the fight, for the blood, the relationships you form are tenuous and easily broken. I walked away without a backward glance.

  “I traveled with Peter and Charlotte for a few years, getting the feel of this new, more peaceful world. But the depression didn’t fade. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, until Peter noticed that it was always worse after I’d hunted.

  “I contemplated that. In so many years of slaughter and carnage, I’d lost nearly all of my humanity. I was undeniably a nightmare, a monster of the grisliest kind. Yet each time I found another human victim, I would feel a faint prick of remembrance for that other life. Watching their eyes widen in wonder at my beauty, I could see Maria and the others in my head, what they had looked like to me the last night that I was Jasper Whitlock. It was stronger for me — this borrowed memory — than it was for anyone else, because I could feel everyt
hing my prey was feeling. And I lived their emotions as I killed them.

  “You’ve experienced the way I can manipulate the emotions around myself, Bella, but I wonder if you realize how the feelings in a room affect me. I live every day in a climate of emotion. For the first century of my life, I lived in a world of bloodthirsty vengeance. Hate was my constant companion. It eased some when I left Maria, but I still had to feel the horror and fear of my prey.

  “It began to be too much.

  “The depression got worse, and I wandered away from Peter and Charlotte. Civilized as they were, they didn’t feel the same aversion I was beginning to feel. They only wanted peace from the fight. I was so wearied by killing — killing anyone, even mere humans.

  “Yet I had to keep killing. What choice did I have? I tried to kill less often, but I would get too thirsty and I would give in. After a century of instant gratification, I found self-discipline . . . challenging. I still haven’t perfected that.”

  Jasper was lost in the story, as was I. It surprised me when his desolate expression smoothed into a peaceful smile.

  “I was in Philadelphia. There was a storm, and I was out during the day — something I was not completely comfortable with yet. I knew standing in the rain would attract attention, so I ducked into a little half-empty diner. My eyes were dark enough that no one would notice them, though this meant I was thirsty, and that worried me a little.

  “She was there — expecting me, naturally.” He chuckled once. “She hopped down from the high stool at the counter as soon as I walked in and came directly toward me.

  “It shocked me. I was not sure if she meant to attack. That’s the only interpretation of her behavior my past had to offer. But she was smiling. And the emotions that were emanating from her were like nothing I’d ever felt before.

  “‘You’ve kept me waiting a long time,’ she said.”

  I didn’t realize Alice had come to stand behind me again.

  “And you ducked your head, like a good Southern gentleman, and said, ‘I’m sorry, ma’am.’” Alice laughed at the memory.