Chapter 55: Gift of Lies
It was a little troublesome...
But not impossible.
Sophie balanced the matchbox steadily in her palm, pinning it in place with practiced precision. Using her middle finger, she pushed the inner tray open just enough to expose the matches inside. Then she tilted the box slightly, trapping it between her middle and ring fingers while her thumb and index finger carefully drew out a single match.
Even with one hand occupied restraining her prisoner, she managed the motion with remarkable dexterity.
"I'm Master Aro's guest!" the intruder shouted in desperation. "I was personally invited by the Volturi! I'm here for the banquet!" His heightened hearing told him everything he needed to know.
The silent "brute" standing behind him had just taken out a matchbox. She intended to finish him off. Worse still, from beginning to end she hadn't uttered a single word, making her all the more terrifying.
Damn you, Aro... Charles cursed inwardly. You conveniently forgot to mention my opponent was a newborn! Then, after another thought, his panic eased slightly. No... perhaps this is another one of the leaders' tests.
The intruder was none other than Charles, once a proud member of the Volturi Guard. After leaving the Volturi, he had attempted to join other covens, but every attempt had ended in disappointment. Nowhere in the world compared to the glory of the Volturi. He missed every stone of the Palazzo dei Priori, every sun-baked ochre wall of Volterra. If only he could refine his dark gift enough, perhaps Aro would change his mind and welcome him back.
With that hope always burning inside him, Charles wandered the human world as though it were his personal playground. He seduced men and women alike with effortless ease, luring those captivated by his beauty into dangerous games of passion before draining them dry. Every victim became another opportunity to sharpen his Gift.
His talent is Lies.
Golden curls framed a face so flawlessly handsome it resembled the marble gods of ancient Greece. Charles scarcely needed to move. Simply standing still was enough to make countless humans lose themselves in infatuation. Yet his appearance was merely the bait.
His greatest weapon was his voice.
Whenever those beautiful vocal cords trembled and he softly spoke someone's name, everything that followed became absolute truth in the listener's heart. No matter how outrageous. No matter how impossible. Every lie he uttered would be accepted without question.
Receiving an invitation to tonight's banquet had reignited his greatest dream.
He had to seize this chance.
He had to prove...
That he deserved to return.
Before the banquet officially began, Aro had summoned Charles alone. He deliberately dismissed the twins who usually attended him, instructing them to spend some time preparing themselves for the evening's festivities. Neither Jane nor Alec found anything unusual about the request. Having known them for centuries, Charles understood why.
Jane had always loved dazzling everyone during grand occasions. She had been transformed at the age when young girls first became conscious of beauty and appearance, and as a result, her twin brother Alec had developed astonishing skill at styling hair.
"My dear old friend... Charles!" Aro greeted warmly, his voice rising and falling like an operatic aria. "Welcome. Thank you for honoring us with your presence tonight."
Even knowing Aro's true nature, Charles couldn't help feeling touched.
He genuinely believed...
That Aro welcomed him back.
Bowing respectfully, he declared, "Master Aro... you know this better than anyone. I've always wished for another opportunity to serve you and to serve the Volturi."
From the neighboring thrones, Caius and Marcus watched him silently.
The combined attention of all three leaders...
Left Charles nearly overwhelmed with gratitude.
"What a marvelous voice," Aro praised generously. "How long it's been. I still believe it's one of the most beautiful voices I've ever heard."
His admiration wasn't mere politeness.
Charles's voice fascinated Aro far more than his handsome face ever had.
Beautiful vampires were common.
A voice empowered by a supernatural Gift is unique.
"An opportunity?" Aro repeated thoughtfully before smiling. "Of course. Naturally, you shall have one."
He gently brought his palms together, then stepped closer until he appeared ready to share a secret meant for no one else's ears.
Lowering his voice almost to a whisper, he said, "A rather... disobedient child has appeared among the Guard. She wasn't invited to tonight's banquet. If you can find her... and eliminate her..." He paused deliberately before smiling wider. "...then the gates of the Volturi shall remain open to you forever."
"I can do it!"
Charles accepted without hesitation, then paused. "What is the Guard's name?"
For Charles, a name was the activation condition for his Gift. Aro had no intention of making that part difficult, so with perfect generosity, he answered, "Her name is Sophie."
....
Completely in control of the situation, Sophie ignored every frantic word spilling from beneath her.
Aro's guest? Invited by the Volturi? So what?
Guests weren't permitted anywhere near the rear mountains. The moment he stepped inside Jane's territory, he'd ceased being a guest and had become someone violating the dignity of the Volturi itself.
Sophie closed the matchbox using only one hand. She didn't possess a third hand to spare, so without hesitation, she caught the box gently between her teeth. Carefully positioning the striking strip outward, she deliberately controlled the pressure of her bite, making sure not to crush the cardboard.
Scratch.
A tiny flame burst to life. The match ignited barely an inch from the tip of her nose.
She spat the matchbox aside, then calmly shifted her footing, step by step, toward the intruder's neck.
If I can crush his spine, then I can crush his neck too. One stomp should be enough to separate his head from his body.
Sophie never imagined there would come a day when she'd think so calmly about killing someone. Yet this was the vampire world's law of survival.
"Wait!" Charles made one final desperate attempt. "Sophie, you love me!"
The seasoned manipulator instinctively reached for the trick he'd relied upon countless times before.
"You could never hurt me." His beautiful voice trembled softly, every syllable overflowing with irresistible sincerity. "Sophie... throw away the match." He paused deliberately before continuing, almost tenderly, "...and let me go."
What an absurd thing to say.
Love you? Impossible. We've only met today.
Never hurt you? Dream on. I'm literally about to set you on fire.
Sophie almost laughed. She was about to mock his ridiculous nonsense.
But then everything changed.
As though the match itself had suddenly burned her fingers, she instinctively threw it away. It landed in the nearby pool, where the tiny flame hissed and vanished.
Yet her fingertips bore no burns whatsoever.
Before she could understand what was happening, her hands loosened on their own. Her foot lifted away, and her entire body involuntarily stepped backward.
And then her heart began to ache.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
Why? Why does my heart hurt?
Am I... actually feeling heartache for this man?