My shield seemed to want to cooperate. It hugged his shape; when Carlisle shifted to the side to stand nearer to Tanya, the elastic stretched with him, drawn to his spark.

Fascinated, I tugged in more threads of the fabric, pulling it around each glimmering shape that was a friend or ally. The shield clung to them willingly, moving as they moved.

Only a second had passed; Caius was still deliberating.

“The werewolves,” he murmured at last.

With sudden panic, I realized that most of the werewolves were unprotected. I was about to reach out to them when I realize that, strangely, I could still feel their sparks. Curious, I drew the shield tighter in, until Amun and Kebi—the farthest edge of our group—were outside with the wolves. Once they were on the other side, their lights vanished. They no longer existed to that new sense. But the wolves were still bright flames—or rather, half of them were. Hmm… I edged outward again, and as soon as Sam was under cover, all the wolves were brilliant sparks again.

Their minds must have been more interconnected than I’d imagined. If the Alpha was inside my shield, the rest of their minds were every bit as protected as his.

“Ah, brother…,” Aro answered Caius’s statement with a pained look.

“Will you defend that alliance, too, Aro?” Caius demanded. “The Children of the Moon have been our bitter enemies from the dawn of time. We have hunted them to near extinction in Europe and Asia. Yet Carlisle encourages a familiar relationship with this enormous infestation—no doubt in an attempt to overthrow us. The better to protect his warped lifestyle.”

Edward cleared his throat loudly and Caius glared at him. Aro placed one thin, delicate hand over his own face as if he was embarrassed for the other ancient.

“Caius, it’s the middle of the day,” Edward pointed out. He gestured to Jacob. “These are not Children of the Moon, clearly. They bear no relation to your enemies on the other side of the world.”

“You breed mutants here,” Caius spit back at him.

Edward’s jaw clenched and unclenched, then he answered evenly, “They aren’t even werewolves. Aro can tell you all about it if you don’t believe me.”

Not werewolves? I shot a mystified look at Jacob. He lifted his huge shoulders and let them drop—a shrug. He didn’t know what Edward was talking about, either.

“Dear Caius, I would have warned you not to press this point if you had told me your thoughts,” Aro murmured. “Though the creatures think of themselves as werewolves, they are not. The more accurate name for them would be shape-shifters. The choice of a wolf form was purely chance. It could have been a bear or a hawk or a panther when the first change was made. These creatures truly have nothing to do with the Children of the Moon. They have merely inherited this skill from their fathers. It’s genetic—they do not continue their species by infecting others the way true werewolves do.”

Caius glared at Aro with irritation and something more—an accusation of betrayal, maybe.

“They know our secret,” he said flatly.

Edward looked about to answer this accusation, but Aro spoke faster. “They are creatures of our supernatural world, brother. Perhaps even more dependent upon secrecy than we are; they can hardly expose us. Carefully, Caius. Specious allegations get us nowhere.”

Caius took a deep breath and nodded. They exchanged a long, significant glance.

I thought I understood the instruction behind Aro’s careful wording. False charges weren’t helping convince the watching witnesses on either side; Aro was cautioning Caius to move on to the next strategy. I wondered if the reason behind the apparent strain between the two ancients—Caius’s unwillingness to share his thoughts with a touch—was that Caius didn’t care about the show as much as Aro did. If the coming slaughter was so much more essential to Caius than an untarnished reputation.

“I want to talk to the informant,” Caius announced abruptly, and turned his glare on Irina.

Irina wasn’t paying attention to Caius and Aro’s conversation; her face was twisted in agony, her eyes locked on her sisters, lined up to die. It was clear on her face that she knew now her accusation had been totally false.

“Irina,” Caius barked, unhappy to have to address her.

She looked up, startled and instantly afraid.

Caius snapped his fingers.

Hesitantly, she moved from the fringes of the Volturi formation to stand in front of Caius again.

“So you appear to have been quite mistaken in your allegations,” Caius began.

Tanya and Kate leaned forward anxiously.

“I’m sorry,” Irina whispered. “I should have made sure of what I was seeing. But I had no idea. . . .” She gestured helplessly in our direction.

“Dear Caius, could you expect her to have guessed in an instant something so strange and impossible?” Aro asked. “Any of us would have made the same assumption.”

Caius flicked his fingers at Aro to silence him.

“We all know you made a mistake,” he said brusquely. “I meant to speak of your motivations.”

Irina waited nervously for him to continue, and then repeated, “My motivations?”

“Yes, for coming to spy on them in the first place.”

Irina flinched at the word spy.

“You were unhappy with the Cullens, were you not?”

She turned her miserable eyes to Carlisle’s face. “I was,” she admitted.

“Because… ?” Caius prompted.

“Because the werewolves killed my friend,” she whispered. “And the Cullens wouldn’t stand aside to let me avenge him.”

“The shape-shifters,” Aro corrected quietly.

“So the Cullens sided with the shape-shifters against our own kind—against the friend of a friend, even,” Caius summarized.

I heard Edward make a disgusted sound under his breath. Caius was ticking down his list, looking for an accusation that would stick.

Irina’s shoulders stiffened. “That’s how I saw it.”

Caius waited again and then prompted, “If you’d like to make a formal complaint against the shape-shifters—and the Cullens for supporting their actions—now would be the time.” He smiled a tiny cruel smile, waiting for Irina to give him his next excuse.

Maybe Caius didn’t understand real families—relationships based on love rather than just the love of power. Maybe he overestimated the potency of vengeance.

Irina’s jaw jerked up, her shoulders squared.

“No, I have no complaint against the wolves, or the Cullens. You came here today to destroy an immortal child. No immortal child exists. This was my mistake, and I take full responsibility for it. But the Cullens are innocent, and you have no reason to still be here. I’m so sorry,” she said to us, and then she turned her face toward the Volturi witnesses. “There was no crime. There’s no valid reason for you to continue here.”

Caius raised his hand as she spoke, and in it was a strange metal object, carved and ornate.

This was a signal. The response was so fast that we all stared in stunned disbelief while it happened. Before there was time to react, it was over.

Three of the Volturi soldiers leaped forward, and Irina was completely obscured by their gray cloaks. In the same instant, a horrible metallic screeching ripped through the clearing. Caius slithered into the center of the gray melee, and the shocking squealing sound exploded into a startling upward shower of sparks and tongues of flame. The soldiers leaped back from the sudden inferno, immediately retaking their places in the guard’s perfectly straight line.

Caius stood alone beside the blazing remains of Irina, the metal object in his hand still throwing a thick jet of flame into the pyre.

With a small clicking sound, the fire shooting from Caius’s hand disappeared. A gasp rippled through the mass of witnesses behind the Volturi.

We were too aghast to make any noise at all. It was one thing to know that death was coming with fierce, unstoppable speed; it was another thing to watch it happen.