Author's Note: I do not own Twilight or New Moon. Unfortunately.

Oh, my poor muses are running low on fuel. Lucky for me, I have a wonderful bunch of reviewers that perk 'em right back up. Thanks you guys! ;)

Sorry, I can only do one chapter tonight, because I have important stuff on Wednesdays, so I'll make this one a good one!

Freesia Juliet

Part Two: The Queen

Chapter Ten: Prelude

(Bella's Point of View)

I discovered that running was perhaps the best distraction I could have ever created for myself. So that I didn't have to think about what I was running from. So that I didn't have to think about why I was running. So that I didn't have to think about what I was running to.

I was currently, for lack of a better work, moping in a hotel room in Rome. I missed my engagement ring. I missed Edward. I hated what I was doing. But it's the only way.

Well, there was one more way. I could slowly die in front of Edward until my heart was too weak to even take the 'change.' But I was certainly wasn't for that notion.

I spoke no Italian. Notta. Zilch. Zero. This would have proven a problem, except that I found a nice young concierge who spoke excellent English, and had proved an invaluable resource. He had helped me gather the essentials I was forbidden to take on a plane- shampoo, mousse, toothpaste, lotion, and a few more personal toiletries. Ezechiele had also helped me rent a car and locate directions to Volterra. As he taught me a crash course in Italian, enough for me to get buy in a store full of reasonably tolerant people, I wondered if all Italians were that helpful.

No, I realized, no they aren't, thinking about three particularly unpleasant Italians.

I showered and blow-dried my hair with my round brush to produce large, loose curls. I fished through my suitcase of clothes and chose brown pants, a pink camisole, and an olive jacket. I then I put on the new earrings, sunglasses, and stiletto heels I had bought at the airport's duty-free stores. They were still very expensive, but I was trying to 'dress for success,' figuratively. I was trying to be the confident, powerful woman on the outside that I was not on the inside.

Ezechiele had rented me a white convertible, a Lamborghini something or other. Instantly, I hated it. Mostly because it represented the money and influence I was dreading. "Ciao, Ezechiele," I giggled, in spite of my mood. After so many years of Spanish, Italian was a pleasant change.

I zipped through the beautiful Mediterranean countryside, enjoying the wind in my tangled hair. Driving, just like walking, in stilettos, I had overcome with practice. Italy reminded me strongly of Greece.

Greece reminded me of Edward.

But enough of that. I was approaching the gates of the walled city of Volterra before I knew it. Immediately I wished I had driven a little slower and enjoyed Italy a little more. Who knew how this would turn out?

There were droves of people in the city square, and for a moment of horror I thought I had stumbled on St. Marcus Day again. But no, it was just market day. I could tell by the raw smell of animals and the impatient voices of haggling women. It's just like in the movies, I thought with another giggle. Italy was doing a lot to boost my spirits, even if this was Volterra, city of nightmares.

I parked the convertible in the designated lot and checked my hair in the mirror. It was all over the place. So much for confident and powerful woman. I opened the driver's-side door, and almost broke my ankle on a cobblestone. Was it possible that my Italian fantasies about women strutting around in high heels were false? I looked around, and spotted at least a half a dozen doe-eyed beauties hanging on the arms of brawny gentlemen. All of them wore shoes as high as or higher than mine. Okay, so they just have better balance than I do, I concluded with a wince.

You're not here to sight-see, Bella, I reminded myself.

Find a vampire. Sure, that'll be easy, I thought bitterly as my eyes poured through a crowd of at least a thousand people. But I did have several advantages that other humans would not have, were they ever so stupid to go seek out the Volturi.

First, it was sunny. Therefore, any vampires out would be fully covered, despite the intense heat of an August day. Second of all, they would not be looking to shop, but rather to watch people, especially tourists, since residents were off limits. Grocery shopping, I thought with disgust. Third, I could smell a vampire with reasonable accuracy.

Thinking that the third option might be the best way to sort out people from vampires, I closed my eyes, leaned back on the convertible, and inhaled, trying to sift out the scents of people and animals and food, which coated the air like an aromatic blanket. At first this task seemed impossible, but gradually I picked up an unusual smell, like dead leaves and molasses. It was the unmistakable scent of one of the Volturi vamp-guard. In fact, all the Volturi smelled like that. Maybe they had a special cologne or something.

It was somewhere to my far left. I opened my eyes and marched with exuberant confidence towards my 'prey.' There he was. A tall, overly thin man with a black, long-sleeve hoodie on. I guess they only wore capes in private. "Hello," I said in an even tone.

I was surprised that my heart didn't beat out of control. Maybe Edward was right. Maybe I was too comfortable with vampires. He seemed to smile under that dark hood of his. I could tell what he was thinking: An American. Fair game.

"Siete persi?" 'Are you lost?' His voice held a great deal of cynicism at my simplicity.

"No, non sono. I signori di Volterra stanno prevedendolo." I answered back in my best Italian. He looked surprised, not because I spoke Italian, but because I knew about Aro, Cais, and Marcus. 'No, I am not. The lords of Volterra are expecting me.'

"Prevederli?" 'Expecting you?' he repeated.

"Sì," I said with my best irritated-princess voice.

"Le mie scuse... signora?" 'My apologies… madam?'

"Sig.ra Cullen." 'Mrs. Cullen.'

"Ora li prenderò," he said with a surprised face. 'I will take you now.' I guess he connected the name to Carlisle. He began to walk silently towards what I knew to be the underground entrance to the Volturi compound.

Fearing breaking my neck in the jump, I quickly corrected. "No. Il portello anteriore."

'The front door.' He nodded and guided me a different way, towards the frosted glass of the front office of the 'department of vampire sovereignty.'

I swallowed hard. The white haired ancient stared at me, surprised beyond words. My body was urging me to make a run for it, but my mind was frozen with fear. "Signora Cullen," he said at last, he fluid voice filled with humor, "What can I do for you?"

P.S. Author's Note: Pardone my misuse of the Italian language, I probably chop-shopped it. I speak two languages fluently, and Italian isn't either of them. If any of you are Italian speakers and are offended beyond belief by my translations, please let me know so that I might correct them. But only serious errors, because like I said, Bella's knowledge of Italian was zilch until Ezechiele (EzechieleEzekiel) came along. Please review:)