Good. That was... a surprising, hardly used adjective, coming from Edward. But it was how he would have described his breakfast, having had nothing to do with waffles and syrup and various other piles of food that made him glad - as monstrous as it was or not - that he had a half-filled bottle of blood tucked between his mattresses. But with Venom, he felt as if he was actually getting something done when they combined their information together. Compiling it all into one source was the most constructive idea they'd had in a while, and it would definitely prove worthwhile as Landel kept explicating on his secrets with his self-obsessed, megalomaniac ramblings. Maybe the man was just waiting for someone to figure it all out - why leave the note?

Because, even if someone else - the third man, the one without a name - had given a clue to the memo, the fact remained that Martin had to have let it lie there for a reason. He controlled an entire staff; why couldn't one of them had heard the message and gone looking for the memo? Was it because of Next-Wave? Could he not control them while they became something else directly? He certainly seemed to have some control, considering he hadn't been slaughtered by a rogue creature at any time.

It was all clearly radical thinking, imagining a human with all of this power. How could have one developed this technology? How could the Volturi miss something as devastating as this?

Edward hugged his journal close to his chest, settling down in the middle of an empty couch and pouring over the handwritten fragments again. There were many missing pieces, but any work on the clues at all felt like something was finally getting accomplished. Looking back at his work, he added a final side note: V.: Blood untainted.

[For Peeta!]