Chapter 8: Meetings

I pushed back the drapes on my window early Sunday morning, unsurprised to see the thin layer of snow that had fallen overnight. It had been the first time that I had witnessed snowfall since my change, and I had been shocked to realize that I could actually hear the soft, tiny flakes hit the ground. The falling snow made a soft hissing sound that became a soothing background susurration as I sat at my desk, finishing up the week's assignments. It was a nice change from the mp3 player that I had become in the habit of using to tune out the outside world while I was in my room, working.

The snowfall reminded me of how quickly my life seemed to be moving as of late; the abrupt change in season a reminder of the relentless pace of the natural world, independent of all the fleetingly transitory endeavors of the planet's occupants. I felt more in tune with the earth now, as one of its permanent inhabitants, which ironically made the time pass even more quickly. And now, it was finally time to meet "E." My stomach made a little flip-flop, even as I admonished myself to not get excited over this turn of events.

Although I had been inexplicably disturbed by hearing his drunken return with Sarah at around 3 a.m. the night of the Halloween party, and everything that followed for a mercifully brief half-hour before they apparently passed out, I still knew that Matt was my best bet to get myself to the meeting spot in normal human fashion. I knocked on Matt's door at around nine, hoping that a one-night hookup hadn't turned into anything more, and that I wasn't about to get an eyeful of something I would literally not be able to forget. Thankfully enough, Matt seemed to be alone, and let me borrow his car with only a little token resistance, disguised as concern over my choice of driving so soon after the first snowfall of the season. I luckily caught myself before I offhandedly remarked that his car was more in danger of me hurting it than the other way around. Of course, I hadn't even come close to actually telling him what I would be doing with the car, instead making up some story about visiting a friend for Sunday brunch.

This is a nice change, I thought about an hour later, cruising along mostly empty roads in his Audi coupe, from the rattling mess that had been my truck in Forks. The "charm" or "personality" that had appealed to me as a human was almost unbearable with my heightened vampire senses. I pulled over at the trailhead, empty and quiet as lightest dusting of tiny flakes drifted their way to the ground. I froze for an instant, thinking of another time, another trailhead, another trip into the woods at a very different time of year. I winced at the twinge in my chest and tried to set my mind to the task at hand, checking to make sure I was properly dressed for a young human in the winter woods: coat - check, gloves, scarf, and hat - check, proper shoes - check. As soon as I was satisfied, I moved off into the trees that were quickly becoming pendulous with the heavier snow now beginning to fall. As I walked, I could hear the skittering of small animals moving through the carpet of dead leaves that was under the new-fallen snow. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the cracking of branches as a couple of deer caught wind of my presence, and fled through the woods in a sudden panic. I stopped and took a moment to appreciate the relative silence of the trees in comparison to the noisy din of campus. Somehow, I felt an affinity for this weather, although my sarcastic side quickly chimed in, Yeah, well, whaddya expect? It's white, cold, dead, and probably sparkles in the sun. The bleak thought was enough to get me moving again, the calming blanket of snow and endless line of trees turning into an empty void that threatened to swallow me.

I made my way along the trail, and, sure enough, a small trailer appeared after about a half of a mile. There were deep ruts behind it, still visible under the snow, and a pickup truck partially obscured by its unwieldy bulk. I guess E likes to keep his interests mobile, I cursorily thought. What caught my attention almost immediately, though, was the large cross nailed above the doorway. I stopped myself before the groan actually escaped my lips. Either this was someone's idea of a joke, or I might be just about to discover that this was a colossally huge waste of time. You've got nothing but time, the cynical part of my brain reminded me. I sighed and took a step forward.

I stood at the edge of the small clearing, about 20 feet or so from the door of the trailer. "Hello?" I called out. The one thing that had been left to chance was the weather, but since today's clouds hung grey and fecund with the snow that was quickly piling up on the ground, I couldn't have asked for anything more accommodating, really. Hopefully, it wasn't quite cold enough yet that "E" would notice the lack of steam made by my breath as I exhaled. I immediately heard some rustling and rattling from inside the trailer, the sounds of paper being shuffled and metal objects being knocked away. I took another step forward, pausing to state a little more loudly, "Hel -"

And then he appeared in the doorway.

My mysterious "E" was a slightly overweight, slightly balding middle-aged man. He was very ... ordinary, unremarkable: even his hair was a non-descript shade of brown. He paused to shove thick glasses up his nose, peering out into the woods in my direction. I really am in an episode of the X-files, I thought, where's my AFDB? I sighed and took another step forward, trying to channel the un-predator in me, pulling on every human instinct and idiosyncrasy, to try and forestall the unconscious avoidance that most humans rightfully had around me. This guy obviously had too much time on his hands, and I did not want this guy wondering about me - not in that way, at least.

"Isabella?" He peered further out of the doorframe.

I slapped on a smile, careful not to show teeth. "Yes, it is ... um, you never really told me your name." I slowly approached, not entirely having to fake the nervous motion of my hands as I crossed my arms over my down jacket.

"Oh, right, well, can't be too careful, you know, especially about people you meet over the internet." He waited until I was right at the mouth of the trailer, and took a good look at me, actually looking both up and down. It wasn't done in a creepy sort-of way, more like I was some sort of specimen to be catalogued. I apparently passed muster, since he added, "My name is Edwin."

"Well, hi, Edwin. Thanks for meeting with me." I looked down at the ground and shuffled my feet.

He seemed to remember his manners, moving aside and motioning me inside. "Come on in, it's too cold out there."

I stepped up and in to the cabin, careful not to touch his outstretched hand. The inside of the trailer looked like something out of a bad 70s sitcom - wood paneling, mustard-yellow countertops, and a dingy couch that appeared to have begun its life as a matching shade of yellow, but had now resigned itself to a tired shade of beige. And, oh, the smell. It was hard for me to tell how overwhelming it would have been with normal human senses, but the speculation was really moot, as there was no way I could escape the wall of sweat, old food, trash, and grime accumulated from living a long while in a small space. I suppose the generous way of describing it would be "well lived-in". I mentally thanked the vampire gods that I could choose not to breathe.

"Here, uh, excuse the mess, I made some space for you on the couch." He gestured to an empty spot, threatened with imminent oblivion by the unstable tower of paper next to it. I gingerly sat. "You live here?" I said, looking around politely.

"I do now ... ever since, well, this stuff started."

This stuff?

"Oh, I'm being rude - would you like a drink? I haven't had visitors in awhile. I have, uh, beer, well, I guess I shouldn't offer you that. There's tap water, if you don't mind drinking that." He reached toward a glass smeared with greasy fingerprints and I shuddered. Uh, yes, I do mind.

"No, I'm fine, thanks." I smiled blandly. We stared at each other, the awkwardness of the moment finally catching up with our rituals of polite interaction. "So," I began, "I think I said in my email that I am writing a paper on the Volterra vampires - can I ask you where you got some of your source material? From what you said in your email, it sounds like it's pretty rare stuff."

He chuckled slightly, "You could say that. You know, my first reaction when I got your email was to warn you off from writing the paper entirely, but then I thought a little more, and decided that making this information more public was maybe a better way of protection than trying to keep it hidden."

"Why are you so scared?"

"Like I said, you have no idea what these vampires, these Volturi, really are - everyone buys into the romantic notions about vampires, but these guys are real and vicious." His voice rose slightly, "I mean, if anyone really knew what went on in Volterra -"

"Wait - hold on," I interjected, "how did you even get involved with this stuff? It doesn't seem like something that a normal person would even remotely brush up against."

"Ah," he sighed, his face falling slightly, "I figured I would have to tell this story. But maybe it's for the best," he muttered softly, more for himself than for me to hear, I think. He moved to sit in a chair across the narrow space, staring out the window that was just to the left of my head, and cleared his throat. "Well, about 7 years ago, my mother told me she was taking a tour of Italy with a few friends from her church group. Honestly, I didn't think much of it, I was actually happy she was going to get out of the house. I was spending so much time at work - I used to be a computer programmer at a software company - that I had been feeling guilty about leaving her alone so much." He sighed again, adding belatedly, "My dad died when I was 10 in a car accident." I made a sympathetic noise, but he continued without looking at me. "So, I helped her plan for the trip, since it was the least I could do. She gave me the itinerary, since it was a structured tour, and I did a lot of research on each stop, so she could know in advance what attractions would be worth visiting, restaurants to patronize, and so on."

I started to get a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach, but said nothing, giving him the space to continue.

"She had been sending me postcards from the trip, since overseas calls were pretty expensive, and she told me that there was something nostalgic, romantic, even, about sending letters. So, I know she went out of her way to find the most beautiful postcards to send me from each location. She told me that she really enjoyed taking a moment at the end of the day to recount what she had done, what she had seen. She sent one almost every day. It took a couple of weeks for each one to reach me, so, ironically, I didn't start getting them until she was already gone. Well before the first postcards started arriving, only about a week into her vacation, I received a phone call from the organizer of the trip, frantically telling me that my mother had disappeared on their second day in Volterra. The police were apparently looking in to it, although they weren't looking hard enough, as far as I was concerned. In retrospect, I'm actually surprised they looked at all, considering the amount of power wielded by the Volturi in that town. They probably figured it would cause less trouble, though, looking into it and finding nothing, versus not looking into it at all and looking suspicious."

I remembered to take a breath, although the smell quickly reminded me why I had originally stopped. "So, what did they say?" I said quietly.

"That she was just ... gone. No trace of her. All of her stuff was gone, too, which made it look like she had left voluntarily. I knew, though, that she would have never left the tour like that, never just disappeared on me, just as well as I knew that she was dead. I just knew. My first reaction when I got the call was to head over there, to start tearing things apart looking for her. I had this sinking feeling, though, that my effort would be wasted, and I did not want to get caught up in the police paperwork that was still going on. I wanted to be able to go when things had quieted down a little, to try and do some research first, so that I would have an idea of what I was looking for."

He already had this conspiracy-theorist tendency, apparently, I remarked silently.

"So, I began to do some research. I started digging through the internet, where I found some discussions of strange disappearances happening in the region around Volterra. Weirdly enough, though, the town itself had a stellar reputation in terms of safety. The only disappearances - and they were always disappearances, never murders or confirmed deaths - happened with tourists, or within lesser-regarded groups like the Roma. You, know, the gypsies." He glanced at me briefly, and I nodded my head. He then resumed his sightless vigil out the window. "Anyway, I learned enough to know that I was dealing with some seriously freaky shit, and I was glad I hadn't immediately gone over there. And then the postcards started arriving." He paused for a moment, "It was so strange, like a voice beyond the grave. She told me everything she had seen that day, where they were, where they were going to dinner, what she was doing the next day. I would wait for the mailman everyday, hoping for a new one, and I was not disappointed, although I dreaded the day that I knew the last postcard would arrive. But although it was an incredibly sad moment for me, I was excited when I read it, because she had said she had been approached by a nice local woman, and she was going to see some of the town's historical buildings the next day on a kind of side-tour." He looked at me, a bleak expression on his face, adding in a whisper, "It was something I had actually encouraged her to do in that town, since I had read so many interesting things about the vampire legends, and had known she would get a kick out of it."

"So, this woman was not affiliated with the tour she was on?" I interjected, deliberately avoiding whatever feelings of guilt he was now working through.

"No," he said, his eyes lighting up with intensity. "She said this woman was a local tour guide who worked with some of the organized tours that came through the city. There's no way this woman actually was, though, because this was the first I had heard about this: it was not something mentioned by the police, the tour organizer, anyone. I now felt I knew enough that I could go over there myself, but I also had a very strong feeling that I couldn't go over *as* myself, and I think that paranoia actually ended up saving my life, in the end. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyway, I put my computer skills to work and drummed up a fake identity and passport. I left the United States as myself, and flew to London. There, I left Heathrow, made some disguise adjustments, and took a new flight to Italy under my new identity. I booked my Italian trip on a group tour, just like my mother had. although I had no intention of staying with the group." He looked at me, his eyes burning with some sort of inner fire. "From the moment I set foot in that town, I knew something was wrong. I could just feel it, like hidden eyes watching me all the time. It was intensely creepy, but I had planned very well, and stuck to that plan."

"What was your plan?" I asked, leaning forward, now totally enthralled in the story.

His voice lowered, "Well, I knew I had to try and find that mystery woman, and I had to do it in a way that didn't attract attention to myself."

"How'd you do that?" My fingers clenched the edge of the sofa cushion, and I quickly released them as I started to hear a quiet tearing noise.

He laughed mirthlessly, "I looked for the most obnoxious American couple that I could find."

At my surprise, he continued. "I figured if whoever was doing this was targeting foreigners, there was no way they'd be able to resist taking a couple of super-annoying American tourists. Have you ever been to Europe?" Surprised by the sudden address, I shook my head in a negative fashion. He continued, "We aren't exactly well-regarded for our polite, quiet, and respectful natures over there. And let me tell you, they weren't difficult to find ... in fact, I had my pick of whom the most annoying, obnoxious, and loud might be. It actually made my life a little easier, because Volterra is not a large city by any means, and I did not want to get "made" either by the people I was tailing, or the unknown element that would also be tailing them. I did my best to blend in, which mostly comprised of sitting at outdoor cafes, drinking coffee and reading quietly. On the second day that I was there, jackpot. I saw the American couple that I was looking for. From where I was sitting, several buildings away, they sounded like they were from Long Island, and as I surreptitiously watched them, they were approached by one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. A terrible beauty, now that I think about it, the kind you imagine that a goddess would have right before she struck you down. I had to actively make sure I did not stare, or attract her attention in any way, since I knew this was my chance! She told them that she had a couple of seats in a local afternoon tour open up, and wanted to know if they would be interested in buying tickets - at half-price, of course. Well, apparently never ones to turn down a bargain, these two, they agreed readily and she told them to meet her by the big fountain in the town square in 20 minutes. I immediately paid my bill and started strolling down the street. I heard the couple approach me from behind, they were pretty hard to miss. They shoved their way past me on their way to rejoin this woman, and I started after them, taking my time. I arrived at the town square about five minutes before that beautiful woman had told them to meet, and saw them join up with a group of about ten other people. The horror I felt at that moment made me sit down on the closest bench, because I knew, I just knew all of these people were about to die. I felt physically ill, knowing that just a few weeks before, my mother had been part of that fell group. If I could have ripped a hole in time, and snatched her out of that place, I would have. Luckily the tears that I could feel welling up in my eyes were hidden by my sunglasses, which I had thankfully put on, even though it was somewhat overcast, and I quickly pulled my book up in front of my face to hide the horrified expression which I'm sure was plastering my face."

Edwin paused, eyes closed, one tear leaking down the right side of his face. "Excuse me for a minute," he whispered. I sat, frozen, wanting him, needing him to go on.

"I felt, more than heard, the woman approach. And she began to speak to the group. Her voice, oh, I hadn't really noticed it before because the American couple had been almost yelling over her by the cafe, but now, in this open space, I could hear her. It was beautiful, rapturous. Again, I had to be very careful to stay aware of my surroundings, to not lose myself in that siren call. Because I was trying so hard to appear to be not listening to her, I think that's why I noticed the guys in capes."

"Capes? Like Batman?" I said in startled confusion, the mental image briefly pulling me out of my thrall.

"No, just these heavy grey capes. Made them blend into the shadows. It was an overcast day, like I said, but not that chilly, which is why I first picked them out. There were two, that I could see at least, standing off in a darkened alley just to the right of the clock-tower. They were watching the woman like a hawk. Seemingly sensing my gaze, though, one of them turned and looked right at me. I can't even describe the physical feeling that hit me then, I must have had that deer-in-the-headlights look, because the guy looking at me smiled. Nothing scared me more than that smile. I knew I had to get out of there, before I started attracting more unwanted attention to myself." He shivered. "I managed to somewhat pull together, realizing that if I got up and ran away, they would definitely know something was up. So, I pulled my book up in front of my face, and pretended to continue reading. As I half-watched around the side of my book, the woman herded everyone together, leading them into a doorway in the clock-tower building. She was already speaking in a loud tour-guide voice, which is how I could even understand what she was saying. After the door closed on the last person, the two in cloaks slipped in behind them."

"What did she say?"

"She was talking about the history of the town, and promised to show them some of the oldest, most historic parts of the building they were entering. She spoke of their being able to see a beautiful tower at the end of their tour, where they would be treated to some food and drink. No, wait, her exact words were 'there will be a small reception with food and drink.'"

This time, I shivered. Edwin noticed, remarking, "Scary stuff, huh? Makes you start to evaluate the idea of things that go bump in the night."

"And then what happened?" I said, dreading the answer.

"Nothing." At my surprised look, he added. "I mean, nothing. I never saw that group of tourists again. Period. I stuck around outside for as long as I dared, and no one ever came back out of that building, or any other nearby building, as far as I could tell. I made sure to really walk around the next morning, certain that I wouldn't be able to miss that American couple, but I never saw them, although every now and again I would catch a glimpse of one of those cloaked guys. I was supposed to remain in Volterra for another two days, but that night when I returned to my hotel room, I knew someone had been through it. Everything was the way I had left it, except for a couple of items that I knew had been moved. Honestly, I have never been more afraid in my entire life, and I think they wanted me to know that they had been there. A warning of sorts. Luckily, I had kept my real passport and all identifying information on me, so there was nothing for them to discover except for the fake identity I had used to book my room. Also, during this time I had bought some books on the town to read while I was waiting, and it was when I stumbled once again across the legend of the founders driving out the vampires of the town that I got this very cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. It didn't make sense, though, because everything I had seen had happened during the day. I can only assume the woman, and the two in cloaks were human servants of these vampires that I now believed ran this town."

My stomach unclenched slightly from where I had thought this conversation had been going. "Human servants, hmmm." I gave him my best skeptical look. "Do you have any other proof that the Volturi are actually vampires, though?"

"You mean, other than the fact that outsiders have a tendency to disappear, and no one ever sees them in the day time? I know that's what they are ... I can't explain it, but I can feel it in my gut." He was looking at me so intensely by this point that I had to consciously make an effort to sit still and not pull back.

He finally blinked, and seemed to remember where we were, and that I was a stranger whom he had most likely just scared the crap out of - and not just because I thought there might be vampires. "Sorry," he apologized with a small smile, "I don't think I've told that story in its entirety to anyone. I didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's okay," I responded, with the most reassuring answering smile that I could muster, "although I have to ask ... do you really want me to spread this information? I mean, considering how you feel about the Volturi's reach?"

"I think I do. I've been sitting in this trailer every day since I returned, always on the move, never staying anywhere more than a night or two. It's no life, and I'm getting to the point where I would rather let the chips fall where they may. Maybe it'll make things better."

I sat in silence, watching Edwin, who was once again staring out the window. His story had raised all sorts of disturbing questions that I needed to think about, but I wanted to get out of there, first. He turned abruptly to me, picking up a stack of books on the chair next to him. "Here," he said, "I wasn't going to lend these out, but I think you might find them interesting. They are my books on Volterra, with my notes inside. You can borrow them, if you still think you're going to write this paper."

"But, wait," I objected, "I thought you didn't want me to take anything away from here?"

"Yeah, I didn't, before I met you, but I'm getting one of those gut-feelings again ... it seems like the right thing to do."

"Well, thank you. I'll bring them right back, if that's okay."

"No, just hang on to them for awhile. I'll be on the move, soon - maybe even tomorrow, if the weather doesn't get too bad."

"Then how should I get them back to you?" I responded.

"Just send me another email when you're done. I'll give you a P.O. Box to send them to." He sighed heavily, his thoughts obviously still half-a-world away.

"Okay, well, thanks again, I guess." I glanced out the window, where the snow had started to really pick up. "Huh. I better get going while I can still find my way back to my car."

That snapped Edwin out of it. "You gonna be okay?" he asked, looking at me with concern, "because you can crash here if you think you might not be able to get out. I mean, I'm not the type a guy who leaves a girl stranded in the woods in the wintertime."

Oh, please no. I liked Edwin well-enough, and he hadn't turned out to be as much of a crack-pot as I was afraid of - not knowing the truth as I did, at least, but I was so not staying in this stinky trailer. And god-forbid that I would actually do something to either attract his suspicion, or even to accidentally harm him. No way, Jose. I kept my expression relaxed, unconcerned. "Oh, don't worry - the trees are keeping the bulk of the snow off the trail for now, but I probably shouldn't wait."

"Okay," he said doubtfully, "but if you run into trouble, just come back."

I smiled, knowing how hard it must be for someone that paranoid and reclusive to extend their hospitality. "Thanks, but I'll be fine," I said, standing to put on my gloves, and gathering the books under my arm. I moved to the door and walked down the couple of steps, turning once I was on the ground. "Bye, Edwin, it's been really great meeting you. Thanks for helping me."

"No problem," he replied, shivering as he leaned out the door slightly, "remember to email me when you're done with the books. Or, if you run across any trouble or anything weird. Anything weird, okay?" He seemed to press the words into my brain with his sudden intensity. I was briefly touched that he would feel such concern for a stranger, but I actually knew the kind of danger he was up against, and if I had really been human, the concern would not have been misplaced.

I waved and smiled, and headed quickly back into the woods, my brain already working feverishly over the information I had just gotten, glad that I would have the entire night to pour over Edwin's books and notes. I made it back to Matt's car and managed to get it turned around and on the road before the snow got so bad that I would have to carry it home. And wouldn't that be a sight for poor old Edwin? I thought with a smile.