A silent shadow was walking along the gallery of the palace. The corridor was long, spaced out by a series of large glass windows, all of which were concealed by heavy red brocade curtains. Between the windows was placed a series of precious oil paintings: Tiziano, Raffaello and Leonardo were displayed for the rarely seen guests. The darkness was broken only by the light of many branched candlesticks, which illuminated the night.

The man concentrated his thoughts on the scent of the wax candles and the grip to his throat that usually tormented him loosened a little. He raised his gaze and from one of the curtains, which was slightly opened, he saw Volterra shining placid in the moonlight: the buildings were low and moderate, nevertheless elegant; the surrounding land was luxuriant and fertile.

Finally he arrived at the designated room, or at least the one alluded to on the message that he had received many hours before. Peremptory and laconic as usual. He was still holding the card in his pocket. He found two guards at the door, but they let him pass without a word. He was known In the palace. "Perhaps too much," he thought.

A dignified man was sitting on a large wooden chair, adorned with rich red velvet and ermine. Next to him there was a great fireplace in which a fire was burning, throwing long dark shadows around the room. This room, like the gallery, was richly decorated. There were many windows, all darkened by heavy velvet green curtains. The inhabitants of the old pictures, darkened from the smoke of the centuries, were watching the room.

The visitor looked at the painting over the chair, it was one of the larger pictures of the palace and he knew it very well. Four splendid men were portrayed on a balcony, looking at a crowd of people in the courtyard below. They were all wrapped in magnificent dresses. Their eyes were red. Only one of them was different. He had golden eyes. Were they Gods? Or perhaps they were monsters? He was contemplating the questions, when he felt it.

It was expanding through the air with big spirals, a silent promise made of a rich, warm, complex flavor. The scent made his throat burn badly. He stopped breathing, clenching his fists. After years and years of practice, that flavor still had the power to make him suffer. He looked around, searching the source of that inebriant scent, when he felt a light, scared and fast heartbeat. His gaze shifted in order to understand from where it was coming, but the search was interrupted abruptly.

"Carlisle! It's a great joy to see you again!"

The man sitting in the chair looked up from the old book he was reading, revealing two blood red irises on a face pale as chalk.

"The pleasure is all mine, Aro," Carlisle answered politely.

Aro rose from the high-backed chair with feline elegance, the sound of gentle swishing of valuable velvet eminating from his robes. The heavy dark robes slid gracefully behind him as he glided down the stairs.

"Today is a very joyful day, my friend," Aro said, striking his hands like a child whom had received a new toy. Carlisle looked at him, trying to understand what was happening.
"Perhaps I have found a definitive solution to cure your, shall we say, intolerance to our diet."

Carlisle tilted his head, trying to smile, "You didn't need to search for such a cure, my friend, because you know what my opinion is."

Aro smiled too, "We will see my friend...we will see."
He tensed an arm and kindly pushed his visitor towards an angle of the room in shadow.

An ancient tapestry was hiding a door of solid wood. Aro unlocked it with a heavy golden key. Then Carlisle saw her. A young girl dressed in an old dark brown dress, chained in an angle of the wall, with her hands behind her back. She was blinded by a dark piece of velvet and her mouth was covered by another piece of the same fabric. When she heard the noise of the door being opened, she started to shake.

"She is Angelica and she is so happy to meet you. Is it not true my beloved?"

Aro walked into the room and removed the fabric from her eyes. They were chocolate brown and mortally scared. Aro gazed deeply into her eyes and she tried to escape from his icy touch. She screamed, but the sound was softened by the bind that was covering her mouth.

"Calm down, my little friend. Your suffering will stop soon, I promise," he whispered in Angelica's ears while gently dragging her towards the center of the room.

"Why?" Carlisle asked.

"Come on, Carlisle. I know that you have watched her every day for months, from the same window of your house."

"Her mother was sick, I only wanted to be sure that she was recovering."

"You cannot save everyone, my dear friend," was Aro's hissed answer.

"Please, don't do this," Carlisle said, because he was starting to understand the intentions of the other.

"Ssssshhh," Aro placed a finger on his lips. "I want to offer you a generous gift. It has been very difficult to resist…"

Aro took a deep breath, "Do you feel the aroma? The bouquet? Don't you think it is a precious gift?"

Carlisle noticed that the girl had a dirty bandage on the arm. "What have you done, Aro?"

"I wanted to taste the wine before I decided to buy it."

Carlisle tightened his fists and turned his head.

"Freesia, and a light accent of cinnamon, aromas of forest. A true delight. You absolutely must taste it."

While Aro was speaking, he approached the girl and gently removed the bandage from her arm. Then he took a knife from his belt and cut her again, precisely where the wound was starting to heal. The girl screamed and the blood started to drip on the floor. Aro's eyes became a deeper shade of blood red and predatory.

"I suggest you taste it now. I cannot guarantee I will maintain my control much longer, Carlisle," he said. The tone was icy.

Carlisle remained immutable, although the pain to his throat was terrible. He attempted to concentrate on the girl, in order to understand how much blood she had lost and how to make a bandage for her injured arm.

"Non resistere alla tua natura," (Italian: it means "Don't resist to your nature") Aro whispered, pushing Carlisle towards the girl. Carlisle moved a little closer to her. He looked at her eyes. They were full of terror.

"Just one more step, Carlisle. A step. And you will join us. You'll join the Volturi family forever."

The girl began to cry silently. "Don't cry, my dear," Aro said sweetly, "It will end soon, is it not true Carlisle? How many times do I have to prove it to you, before you surrender?" he whispered in his friend's ear.

Carlisle turned the head, his golden eyes were full of pain and compassion.
He tightened his fists. "You won't have to do things like this again, Aro."

"Well. If it is what you want."

Aro approached Angelica and delicately put down his lips on her neck. The scream was mitigated by the velvet around her mouth.

Carlisle turned and exited the room without a word. "Never more," he said closing the door.

"What a waste…" Aro murmured while cleaning his lips with an exquisite handkerchief.

"Too much compassion for a vampire.." he said to the shadows in the room.