Eros and Psyche, by Camilla10

A/N

The second part of this chapter happens shortly before the time setting of Chapter 1. In it I introduce a new character, who will have a crucial role in the story. He is a descendant of Cardinale Salvi Donati.

Chapter 4 - Rome 1686/ Rome 201…

Rome 1686, conclusion

Carlisle

Our trip north was fast and uneventful. Near Bologna, I parted company with Righetto and Nina, and directed them to Venice. I could only hope that all went well with them. In Bologna, I was finally able to make contact with Doctor Malpighi and we had many interesting and useful conversations. From Bologna, I could easily reach the outer borders of the Appennini mountains, where game was plentiful and human presence scarce, so my stay in a town nicknamed la dotta, meaning the learned one, was relaxed and fruitful.

As Bologna was part of the Papal States, it was easily reached by gossips from Rome, and one exciting bit of it was the downfall of Cardinal Salvi Donati. Mysteriously injured, he had been sent by the Pope to recover his health in a monastery in Abruzzi, but he was never allowed back to Rome again. My correspondence with Malpighi continued for some time after I left Italy, and from one of his letters I learned that His Eminence had died in his exile. He had not even participated to the Conclave which, after the death of Innocent XI, elected Pope Innocent XII, none other than Cardinal Pignatelli, Malpighi's protector.

At the beginning of the 20th century, I left Europe for North America, continuing with my medical studies as learning progressed. I become a surgeon, a profession that in my early years had been held in low esteem, its practitioners not even having University degrees. But, this had now changed. My personal life also changed, completely. I was no longer alone, and by the end of the century I had my own coven, but I preferred to think of it as my family, comprising of my beloved wife Esme and five 'children'. All but two of them I had changed myself, because they were dying, and the two others joined us on their own. We all abstained from human blood, and that made interaction with humans possible. Also, the ties that held us together were practically unique among vampires. In the early years of the new millennium my son Edward met Bella, a wonderful human girl that was his salvation. Before meeting her he had been wretchedly alone, and had hated himself.

They had to overcome many difficulties and dangers to be together, but their love prevailed. Before joining him in immortality, Bella risked everything to give him a hybrid daughter; something that I had not believed was even possible. Contemplating my family, quite happy and well adjusted despite the terrible call of our nature; I felt that I had been truly blessed. I had bet against vampirism equaling damnation and I had won.

I reminisced on what had transpired in Rome only once, when I told the story to my family one evening in Forks, in the weeks preceding Edward and Bella's marriage. We were discussing academically about myths, and our being mythical creatures ourselves, albeit absolutely real. In this context, I felt compelled to tell them of my brush with another mythical world, one I sincerely hoped I would never be in contact with again.

Rome 201...

The Hon. Valerio Donati, MP

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. I am halfway drunk with the excellent grappa donated by that creepy guy from Volterra.

I have screwed up royally and now Mario Baroni, the leader of my party, damn him, has decided to screw ME. I tried to take his place, but I moved too early and I lost the confrontation at the Party's General Assembly immediately before the elections. I have been elected, to be sure, it was too late to change the candidates' lists, and a scandal would have been counterproductive, but today's news is that I'm not getting a ministerial portfolio, nor a party position and, most probably, I will not be a candidate next time. Today, my pariah status has been sanctioned by the Party's Direction. Finished. And full of debts, due to the last electoral campaign.

Well, there is nothing for it, I have to find money. My fall from grace means that the banks will not be very amenable. This time, the Salvi Donati palace, owned by my family for over 400 years, will have to go. It is becoming too expensive to keep anyway, even if the upper and lower floors have long since been rented as offices. But the Piano Nobile, the main floor, that is, the actual residence of my famous ancestor, is still mine, the last scion of our so called dynasty. The almost-divorced gold digging bitch that is my wife lives in our villa on the Appian way, while I have chosen to reside here, since it is very conveniently located in the center, near the Parliament.

But, before selling the building, I should try to make a profit from the many art pieces that I still own. So, I am here making a goddamned inventory and getting progressively more drunk. What will be the most lucrative way of disposing of them? A Christie's auction? Or selling single pieces through Via del Babuino's antique dealers? Or a private purchaser? As I take another gulp of grappa, I think about the person whose gift it was and how I met him. He might be interested in buying.

When I was previously elected, 5 years ago, I had to run in Sicily and so I had to compromise. Friends of friends set up a discreet meeting between me and Salvatore Lo Cascio, a person I would not have wanted to know, in other circumstances. An agreement was reached; nothing specific was asked of me, but it was clear that I would have to show my gratitude in some substantial way later on. I was elected with an ample majority and earned a high party position. After a couple of years my debt was called in and I suspected it was not going to be the last time.

Another one of Lo Cascio's friends needed a favor, namely that the old mayor of Volterra was allowed to run again, instead of the new candidate my party favored and was sure to have elected, since we controlled the majority of voters in the constituency. So I met this Aro de' Volturi. He obviously had the old mayor in his pockets, as he must have had his predecessors before him, and didn't want any new broom. As the concept of idealistic changes was not too deeply rooted within my party, and I had a lot of influence at that time, I could easily arrange things as he desired. The old mayor ran again and was elected for another 5 years. From Aro de' Volturi I got a surprisingly courteous handwritten thank you letter, saying very little, and an elegant wooden crate filled with grappa bottles. Unnecessary, since I was just repaying my debt to Lo Cascio, but a nice gesture.

He must have been handsome in his prime, but now he was very strange, with a pale powdery skin so thin that it was impossible to give him an age. He dressed very conservatively and had a couple of people, one man and one woman, that followed him step by step. They both were also pale, maybe because they seldom left that sort of palace-fortress they live in. In any case, the rooms I saw when we met were full of antiques.

I continue doing my inventory, taking photos and copying them in my laptop with a written caption under each. But, I am getting so drunk that to continue working is becoming impossible. The more grappa I gulp, the more I feel enraged with the motherfucking leader of my party. Ecco, if he died – and God knows he is old enough – my situation could be reversed. Not many others are better suited than me to become leaders…

I notice that I am focusing on a copy of Michelangelo's Piety set in a dim corner. It is not a good copy, and it is plaster, not marble. Damn it, the bottle is almost empty. I take the last swig and then throw it on the offending group. It is heavy glass and the plaster cracks. Stupid, fucking drunk ass. I could have sold it. I go on uncertain feet to assess the damage. Through the crack I can see that there is something inside. I enlarge the crack and here it is a marble idol and a small leather book at its feet. At least this is probably worth more money than the plaster.

The book is handwritten, in Latin. Now, I have this thing with Latin, that when I was a Liceo classico student it came to me almost naturally. I could read anything, and I even amused myself by speaking it. I used to surprise my fellow students by saying obscene things, drawn from Catullus' dirtier poetry and Martial's epigrams. Ones not contained in our text books, to be sure, but that I had purchased for my enjoyment. The surprise of my discovery clears my head marginally. The statue looks ancient; maybe the booklet has info about it.

I sprawl on a sofa and read. No antiquarian information though. It is a prayer. An unholy prayer I would say; to be recited in honor of the Goddess Hecate, the Dark one, to summon her and ask her favor.

Oh, this is so fucking weird that I need another drink, so I proceed to uncap another bottle of grappa, the last one. If only this worked I could ask for Baroni's demise and get it. I am becoming very drunk again, laughter mixed with tears choke me, but I go in front of the idol and start reciting from the book….

Chapter endnotes

The Italian parliamentarian and his political circumstances have nothing to do with reality. Italian real life politics can be even worse, but what I describe here is just a figment of my imagination.

Of course I need you reviews, please. I promise you that we are going back to Edward and Bella soon and things will become clearer in the next chapters.

And, I want to add something. There a very original story that should not be missed: Resolutions by DoUTrustMe. Edward and Bella, with a dash of Rob, and supernatural aspects that are really surprising ... Fun, passionate and lovely.