I need another story
Something to get off my chest
My life gets kinda boring
Need something that I can confess
Til' all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I've said
Come by it honestly I swear
Thought you saw wink, no
I've been on the brink, so
Saturday, June 5th, 7:27pm
The sweet venom in his mouth was bitter. Demetri wiped the blood from his mouth, dropping the body of his victim onto the alley floor. He was 150 miles away from Volterra. He would be at the Palazzo dei Priori in under five minutes.
This was the eleventh time he had fed in the past two days. Recently, he had been feeling the need to feed, to sate his thirst.
The internal clock in his head struck 7:30, a microsecond before the clock tower chimed. 7:30; Demetri began to run. He'd be back to the Palazzo in two minutes. When he was away from Volterra, he was away from the emotional powers of Chelsea, from Aro's powerful gaze, Caius's glare, and the red, dull eyes of Marcus. He didn't try to hide that he sometimes he regretted joining the Volturi when he was away from Volterra; it wasn't like he was the only member of the guard who had this regret. Of course, everytime he stepped back into the city he called home, Chelsea's influence flowed over him again.
Freedom never lasted long. Demetri entered Volterra, the twinkling city lights sparkling on his pale skin. He slipped from inhuman speed into a slower, human pace. Demetri flipped the hood of his cape over his head, and slipped past the unnoticed tourists, unnoticeable. Magnificent pulls tied him to the 296 tourists on that street, and he remembered them all. He scanned their minds in his head, looking for an especially familiar and constant person nearby. Felix, Corin, Jane, and three other unnameable guard members were away in Spain. Alec was on patrol on the south side of the city. Heidi, Chelsea, Afton, and other unnameable, temporary guards were in Paris. Lawrence was at the art festival. Everyone else was in the Palazzo dei Priori.
No one else familiar...the human staff didn't matter, and he had not ties to any of Volterra's inhabitants, but...
That girl.
Demetri turned his head. A raven haired girl with dark blue eyes was walking quickly past him. She looked in her late teens, but the worry lines on her face told him she was probably past
two years of college. Her pale skin and blue eyes were most definitely American. The T-shirt and jeans she wore gave her the appearance of someone relaxed and laid back, but her expression wasn't. The girl wasn't beautiful to him, but in an odd and innocent way, she would be slightly pretty to a human man.
He'd seen her two nights ago, at the Universita' Populare. What was she doing, now, in Volterra?
For a split second, Demetri was almost afraid that she had remembered him and was in Volterra searching for him. Then he realized, humans really weren't that smart, and she was human.
Pity he couldn't feed in Volterra; her scent clogged his nose, singling out from all the other 295 tourists.
My god, amazing how we got this far
It's like we're chasing all those stars
Who's driving shiny big cars
And everyday I see the news
All the problems that we could solve
And when a situation rises
Just write it into an album
Singing straight, too cold
I don't really like my flow, no, so
Saturday, June 5th, 12:01pm
The art festival was pretty deserted, just like I hoped it would be. I spent 20 euro on the ticket, which was most of the cash I had with me. It was strange how they had the building set up. It was like a two story building, just without the four main outer walls. It had ceilings and pillars and the inner walls, and it was open and really airy. It was nice, staring at huge colorful paintings and enjoying the sweet Mediterranean breeze. The art they had displayed was splendid; there was even one Salvador Dali and so many more famous artists. I did keep an eye out for my grandfather's name anywhere in the excerpts of Art Analysis books, but it was nowhere to be found.
I walked up to the second floor and found out I wasn't alone. A young man, maybe in his 20s, was there too, scrutinizing some art. He was wearing a black sports jacket, sunglasses in the cloudy weather, and a red silk scarf around his neck. He turned and saw me and nodded in greeting. I smiled back and headed to a different section. I stared up at a long portrait of a woman, staring at the abnormally vibrant colors of her dress.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" I jumped slightly at the rich velvet voice that came somewhere behind me. The young man was standing right behind me, staring up at the same portrait. I swear I didn't hear him coming. He spoke clear English, with only a slight, almost emphasized, Italian accent.
"Very," I replied in English. "Even though still life portraits are generally not my interest."
He smiled. "To you and me both." He looked only about twenty-five, yet sounded so much older. Not as cocky as he appeared to be. He paused for a moment, still not facing me. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not because his sunglasses covered half his face. "You are from America?"
I nodded. Was it that obvious? He spoke again, "What brings you to Volterra?"
His voice was so charming. I felt comforted. "I'm looking for someone," I let out. He looked surprised.
"Ah, your lover?" he sounded almost thoughtful, still staring at the painting. I could tell he was interested, still waiting for my answer. I shook my head.
"A relative of mine," I answered, hesitant to say too much to this total stranger. His head sparked up in interest.
"Does he live here?" He sounded much more interested than he probably should be. I shrugged.
"I think so," I said, "I never met him," He was staring at me, his expression unreadable. It seemed like a mixture of shock and something else.
"I am sure you will find him, if he really lives here. Everyone comes out sooner or later. Perhaps you will find him at this art fair again." He looked up at the ceiling. He sounded so certain, as if he really knew Lawrence. "I wish you luck." He smiled, and before I could ask him anything he walked away. He left so fast it almost seemed like he was still there, hiding behind a painting.
I felt dazed. There was so much more to him, I knew it. Or Victoria, his good looks are just overcoming you, a voice in the back of my head told me. I hated my conscience. I really did. I continued on, looking at the colors on the canvases as they mixed and separated. My head began to swirl, even though physically I was still. Something about the twisting colors, so bright and vivid, brought tears down my face. I walked on slowly, gathering the same effect from each piece of art. I started to feel relieved with each tear, like some sort of pressure was slowly peeling away. I felt so stupid. I didn't realize, that if, by a miracle, I found Lawrence, he may not want to see me. What will I do then? The tears kept falling, and I started shaking. Yet, inside I felt well. Like a painful splinter was almost out, and my tears were the pain of its removal. I remembered Rehan...first finding heroin in my dad's desk....and the tears kept falling. I started to walk around, staring at the different painting styles and crying.
After a while, I suddenly pulled myself together. I checked the time on my phone. 1 P.M. exactly. Oh crap. I looked around me. There were more people around me, appearing as if they had dropped from the sky. I surreptitiously looked around. The few people around me didn't seem to mind that I was crying. They were all deep in thought, their eyes glazed to the paintings. The man closest to me himself had tears falling down his face, as he stared at the portrait of a young lady that I had just looked at an hour before, with a certain young mysterious man.
Who was that man? I felt like I hadn't paid enough attention to him. He was almost a blur in my memory now. Funny how you meet people, but go separate ways minutes later, and never see each other ever again.
Oh, got no reason, got not shame
Got no family I can blame
Just don't let me disappear
I'mma tell you everything
So tell me what you want from here
Saturday, June 5th, 7:53pm
"Scusi," The girl hesitated in front of the cashier at a small gift shop. Demetri stood outside, his immaculate sense of sound hearing her conversation. She perched her weight on her left leg, and waited for the cashier to stop fiddling with the register and look up at her. She was biting her lip; why was she nervous?
"Have you heard of a Lawrence Marchese?" The girl asked. She'd undoubtedly asked the same question several times that day; her voice was tired, slightly cracking, and her eyebrows were furrowed with a hint of frustration.
She was looking for Lawrence; but why? It only confirmed Demetri's suspicions. The cashier looked up at her. Demetri craned his neck to inconspicuously stare at the two.
The cashier shook his head, and the girl's face fell. She muttered a thanks, and frowned, turning her back and heading out of the sparkly lit store. Demetri stepped back into the shadows as she came out.
She shut the door of the shop behind her and glanced around the streets. She didn't know where to go now. She looked towards the end of the street, where a man was playing the violin, and started to walk there. Demetri followed her, deciding to approach her.
"Hello," Demetri's polite, musical voice caused the girl's head to snap up. She looked up at Demetri, surprised and shocked, her eyes blinking. Her face went through the standard expression: shock at his perfect features, then her eyes softened, and then widened in shock again when she realized their color. Red. He shouldn't have fed today.
"Hello," she said almost shakily, nervously. Demetri smirked; she was easy, like all the other girls he'd met. She should be grateful; he didn't intend to kill her, like the other girls. He intended to bring her to Aro, who would probably kill her. Definitely, Demetri thought, she couldn't be Allegra's daughter. Lawrence had said that Allegra never had a daughter; just a son.
"What's your name?" Demetri bore his smoldering eyes into hers, and she looked bewildered, and almost stepped back.
But suddenly, she shook her head and straightened her self, staring back at him.
"Why's that important?" She said stubbornly, no longer succumbing to his charm. Demetri smiled; he'd have to try harder. Her blue eyes really were pretty; they were different, an uncommon navy blue, just like her brother's.
Demetri tried again, his charm pushing to the extent. He slipped a credit card out of his pocket in the inner lapel of his jacket.
"I'm just curious. You're not Gaia, are you?" Demetri pretended to glance at the credit card, which really had the name "Stefan Kasarov," one of his aliases, emblazoned on it. It wasn't like she could see it. He had to justify his reason for asking her name. "Because I found a credit card that belongs to Gaia Kasarov. It was over there," he pointed to a small shop she had just
come out from, "So I thought it could be yours."
The girl's eyes stared suspiciously at the card, almost as if she was trying to see if it really was Gaia Kasarov's card. Or maybe Demetri was just paranoid again.
"No," she said. "I'm not Gaia." Demetri slipped the card back into his pocket. The girl didn't look as if she was allured to him anymore; her right foot was turned, as if she was going to leave. He wasn't going to let her walk off.
"You have perfect English," he commented, smiling at her. She blinked, surprised at the compliment. Her faced tinged pink from the interested look on his face. Demetri was genuinely interested in her; he wanted to know why she looked like Allegra. "Are you from America?" He asked, before she could say anything. Of course, it wasn't like she could say anything; she was flustered by the compliment from a handsome stranger.
"Your English is perfect, too," she said, regaining herself and staring back at him. Demetri let his mouth curl into a frown for a nanosecond; she was being hard.
"I study languages," Demetri smiled, trying to fluster her again, so she'd be easier to convince to come with him to the Palazzo. He paused. Perhaps Lawrence and Rehan had lied, and Allegra had a daughter. In that case, if she was Allegra's daughter, she would only be here for the same reason her brother had come: to find Lawrence. Demetri hesitated, "Are you looking for a Lawrence Marchese?"
The girl looked surprised, the pink tinge in her face fading away. Her mouth opened, then closed speechlessly. Demetri smiled in satisfaction; she was going through shock again, but she'd answer him. Of course she would.
And then, she surprised him.
"No, I'm sorry," she lied; Demetri heard her heartbeat rise with the lie. "I'm not."
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics never jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
All my secrets away, All my secrets away
Secrets by One Republic
