Chapter Seven: The Week from Hell: Part Two

"Hi, Aro …"

Amy's sentence trailed off on a heightened, questioning pitch. Her pause suggested confusion, as she was hoping Aro would reveal his last name. He answered as she walked around her desk to greet the stranger.

"Aro Lucello," he responded. "But please, call me Aro."

"Nice to meet you." She extended her hand in greeting and received an icy handshake in return. It was as if he had been standing outside in the cool, damp air all night waiting for the Daily News doors to open.

Aro's free hand covered hers as she gripped his hand in greeting. She felt a chill sprint through her veins while her hands were trapped within Aro's frozen grasp. The icy streak seemed to attempt to invade her pores, and she was grateful when he released her hand. Aro's eyebrows raised in curiosity as he let the warm, smooth skin of her hands slide through his own.

After recovering from the cold blast, she took advantage of their close proximity to study his translucent skin. His eyes were even more obscure: the orbs were the color of merlot but were subdued by a milky film. She would have considered him ancient, were it not for the shiny, long, jet-black hair that fell in graceful, thin strands down his back. She felt embarrassed for staring, but red eyes? Practically transparent skin? New York housed a diverse cast of characters, but in all her years in the Big Apple, she had never met a character so peculiar in appearance. The discomfort made her body temperature rise.

"May I sit?" Aro asked, slowly gliding over to the front of her desk. "You must forgive me, but I'm an old, Italian man. My legs aren't nearly as good as they used to be."

"Please have a seat." She gesticulated toward the pair of chairs in front of her desk. Aro appeared tired and frail, as if he would break if she had gripped his hand too tightly. Even so, his presence was stunning, her curiosity silently urging him to speak.

"I promise you I will not use up much of your time." Dressed entirely in black, the contrast between his clothing and skin was even more apparent. He flipped back his long, charcoal jacket and lowered himself into the chair with robotic ease.

"Well, what can I help you with?" Amy asked, sitting in her desk chair across from him.

"You were the photographer that took feature photos of Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his family, correct?" His question was direct, but his tone remained friendly.

"Yes, sir." Amy shifted in her seat. The abruptness of his question unexpectedly raised her anxiety level.

"They are wonderful photos." His thin lips curled upward into an appreciative smile.

"Thank you."

"I've known the Cullens for many years. Dr. Cullen, in particular, has been a friend of mine for ages. I very much enjoyed the feature story on him. Do you by chance have additional photos of him and his family? Ones that were not included in the newspaper?"

"Yes, actually. I do." His question seemed odd, especially for an in-house visit. Why not call her for the information? "Quite a few on my computer and camera. I had a cloudy day to work with, but I was actually able to take a decent amount of photos."

"As I said, they are beautiful, Miss Isadorra." Aro blinked slowly, the light bouncing off his burgundy eyes. "I hate to ask you this, but if it's not too much trouble, do you think you could send my assistant the files?" Aro placed a chilled hand on her forearm, and the same icy energy craved to assault her skin. "Carlisle has been a good friend to me for many years, and I would very much like to create a gift for him with the photos." He removed his hand from her arm, and Amy watched the goosebumps bubble to her skin's surface.

Amy leaned back in her chair and studied Aro's hazy eyes. "I wish I could be of more assistance, but the photos are technically the property of the newspaper. Unfortunately I'm not authorized to hand out the files."

The curves of Aro's mouth fell to form a straight line across his face.

*****

Amy's phone rang in mid-afternoon as she was fiddling with her camera's memory card, the repetitive clang distracting her from her work. A familiar number showed on the phone's caller ID.

"Hi Miranda."

"Hi Amy. Just wanted to let you know that you have a package up here. I'm so sorry – it's been here since this morning. But the phones have been ringing off the hook today. Would you mind coming to pick it up?"

"No problem. I'll be right there." Amy delicately placed the memory card back into the secure home of its camera, then maneuvered around her desk and into the hallway, the limp in her step still evident as she dodged bustling news writers. She exited the office and stepped into the serenity of the main lobby.

"An admirer already, huh?" Amy followed Miranda's eyes to the small package resting on the marble ledge surrounding her workspace. A single, red rose was delicately tied to a wrapped, rectangular package. She took the flower and anonymous parcel, thanked Miranda, and returned to the solitude of her office.

She seated herself at her desk and loosened the rose from its secure placement. She lifted the flower to her nostrils and inhaled, the soft petals tickling her nose as the fragrance stimulated her senses. Resting the flower on her desk, she turned her attention to the parcel. Carefully removing the thick, brown paper, she found what looked like a handmade notebook underneath a neatly scripted note.

To capture your thoughts so that I may one day be a part of them.
Please call if you ever need anything.
Edward

At the bottom of the note was Edward's phone number. The sight of the ten digits made her heart flutter in anticipation of hearing his voice. Amy smiled at the thought.

She caressed the cover of the journal, her fingertips running along the raised edges of the purple flowers gracing the cover. Like the rose, she raised the journal to her nostrils, first recognizing the clean scent of new paper, then sensing the faint aroma of Edward. The smell triggered her senses, as it had the night of the Spring Fling when she first touched him. Intoxicating, masculine and dreamy.

She wanted him there now. Wanted his arms around her, his lips on her skin. But like his scent, the fulfillment of her desires felt like only a dream.

*****

Edward sat rigid in his chair, his family silent and still in the least used room in their house: the kitchen. He glanced around the circular wooden table, the thoughts of his family running through his mind at top speed.

I knew this whole thing was a bad idea.

The poor girl. I hope he didn't scare her.

I can't believe a member of the Volturi is here for this.

Relax, Edward. We'll make sure she's safe. Carlisle silently reassured his son, sensing Edward's anxiety level was higher than the others'. He was the only vampire not focused on Aro's seated, yet rigid, body at the head of long table. On either side of him were two unnamed Volturi assistants. Aro had referred to them as his "travel companions." Reading Carlisle's knowing mind, Edward knew they were bodyguards. They remained silent and still in the background.

Jasper was frantically trying to use his mood-altering abilities, but the elevated nerves of his six family members were too hard to control. The result was a distracting, melancholy shift of emotions.

"Although this doesn't create any immediate problems, the situation is worrisome in the long run. Your eternal forms have been captured on camera and published," Aro paused, the dramatic finale of his phrase floating from his mouth and saturating the air. "Before this meeting, Carlisle stressed his reasoning behind his choice to allow the photographs: he wanted to reassure the community of his desire to help people. To save lives. As someone who has witnessed his vow to shun his deadly instincts, I wholeheartedly believe him. I understand Carlisle has taken the blame, but as you were all showcased in the newspaper, you must share his consequences."

No one spoke. Edward pictured the photos in his mind: the serene moment in time, the smiling faces of each Cullen mocking him. Aro directed his milky eyes to meet Carlisle's surprisingly calm gaze.

"Imagine everyone's surprise when years from now, you look the same as you did in those photos. Therefore, to conceal your true identity, your entire family will be required to move within one year. I feel that is a sufficient amount of time for you to find a suitable home and re-establish yourselves. You will also be required to acquire and destroy the files Ms. Isadorra has in her records at the Daily News.

"She has the files on her computer, as well as on her camera's memory card." Aro paused to deliberately meet the eyes of each Cullen. "She must not suspect any member of your family of the theft. If she does, I will have to ensure she is eliminated."

Edward had to suppress the growl yearning to explode as his ears endured Aro's last statement. It lodged in his throat, and his limbs began to tremble as his rage piled up within his immortal body.

"I am faithful you will complete both tasks, but I must caution you, my friends. Others of our kind are aware of your recent media attention, and they consider the photographer a threat to the secrets of our world. Although I am certainly convinced she does not know or suspect your true identity, the others do not feel that way."

Edward's eyes narrowed, even as Alice's hand covered his in comfort. Edward read her mind as she squeezed his pale hand.

He's telling the truth. There are new vampires in the area. A few too many for me to track. They are agitated, but I see Amy, too. You're with her.

"Such a pity. She is rather unique. An anomaly even. I was unable to read her thoughts, and her scent was most pleasing—"

A low rumble snuck out from Edward's throat, the monotone, threatening sound attracting stares from every vampire.

"We will comply with all of your requests, my friend." Carlisle extended his arm to shake Aro's hand, tossing a sideways glance at Edward. "I'm sorry you had to travel all this way under these circumstances, and I do hope you and the Volturi accept my sincerest apologies …"

Carlisle's calming tone faded into a whisper as Edward thoughts returned to the cerulean eyes of his crush. Their warmth had to remain alive, along with the burning desire in his still heart each time he thought of her.

Aro left within minutes, the heaviness of his visit departing with his gliding form. The bodyguards followed in silence, their red eyes scanning the room before disappearing from sight.

"C'mon son." Carlisle placed a hand on Edward's shoulder. "We have work to do."

*****

Wednesday

Amy was glad to finally be able to wear heels to work on Wednesday. Her ankle had deflated from its swollen state, and the result was less pain. She actually smiled to herself as she walked down her steps at close to normal pace, the heels clacking on the wood. The blinding morning sun was welcome as she drove to work, the penetrating rays naturally warming her skin.

This morning's work, however, would start at the local high school. Amy's early-morning Wednesday assignment was to take photos of the overcrowded school parking lot. Next week, Winthrop would be vote on a local ordinance that would raise taxes to expand the school's parking lot.

After pulling into Winthrop High School, Amy parked. She was happy her formerly injured leg could support her weight with ease as she stepped out of the car. Students and their vehicles were flooding into the parking lot in droves as she removed her camera from the security of its bag.

Like a trained artist, she positioned her camera and pressed the button to capture the image.

Nothing.

She lowered the camera and felt a rush of anxiety sprint through her veins from head to toe at the message on the screen.

Please insert memory card.

Her memory played her a rapid snapshot of images from the day before, and she forced her mind to pause on a set of frames. The images were clear: the memory card in her hand, her camera on her desk, and the click of the memory card locking into place within the camera's chamber.

In a flurry of motion, Amy withdrew her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Charlotte's number.

"Hey, Charlotte. I need you to check something for me. Are there any memory cards on my desk?"

When Charlotte's response was negative, Amy packed up her camera and returned to the Daily News building, her assignment unfulfilled. After performing a quick inspection of her office, she couldn't locate the missing memory card.

Although her nerves were on edge, she was slightly comforted by the fact that she had pulled the files from the card onto her computer. But the missing device nagged on her mind like a heavy weight. It was abnormal for her to misplace her belongings, especially one so pertinent to her job.

Sighing, she sat in her desk chair and began mechanically clicking through her network for her recent documents.

Nothing.

Just like the memory card, the files on her computer were missing.

*****

The day dragged from that point on.

Amy took a mild, verbal beating from her boss over her irresponsible loss of the memory card and company files. To fail at her talent so early in her new position was devastating, especially when her mind was having trouble conceiving her error. She valued her career and consistently strived for perfection. Even after she discovered empty folders, she continued searching for the files as if they would magically appear on the network. Her heart and head agreed that she did not misplace them.

After a stressful workday stationed at her desk, her eyes were dry from their consistent focus on her computer. Amy felt lost. Her condo was still a disorganized mess, her relationships in Winthrop were hard to classify in their transitional state, and now her job had taken a swift dip in appeal. And it was her fault even though she couldn't explain it.

Near the end of the day, Amy was dragged into a lengthy conversation with a news editor. Figures, she thought. I'm ready to bolt at five, and now I'll be the last one out of here. She discussed a wealth of photo assignments with the editor, all of which the she wanted for the Sunday edition of the paper. Amy didn't hang up with the editor until after 6 p.m. when the sounds of an empty office replaced the voice over the phone.

She gathered her belongings with anguished exhaustion, both physical and mental. Finally, she was graced with the freedom to return home, even if she was returning to clutter. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she exited the building, her car standing out in the empty lot like a red stain on a white carpet.

But as she neared the vehicle, she felt her eyes sting with tears at a frustrating sight. Her rear tire was flat.

Suppressing the simultaneous urge to kick her car and scream several curse words, she dropped her bag on the ground. Several items spilled out, including her cell phone.

In a nervous habit, Amy raked her fingers through her hair. She paused, then bent over to pick up the device, a shimmering speck of brightness appearing amidst the brooding day. After clicking through several buttons, she held the phone up to her ear.

"Edward? I need your help."