THANKS: Loving thanks go to my betas mybrandofheroin and diamondheart. I'd be lost without you two. And thanks to my guest beta mzmanda, author of Unexpected Love, The Sexual Awakening of Bella Swan, A Moment of Clarity and others. Check her out at www. fanfiction. net/u/ 2267718. (delete spaces) It was great having all of your contributions this chapter, sweetie.
(I'm skipping the Shameless Pimping Section because there are an appalling number of author's notes at the end—even worse than usual. Sorry. I highlighted the main points so they're pretty easy to weed through if you're interested in any of them.)
USUAL CRAP: Do I really have to say it again? If I were actually making money on this, would I post it on a fanfic site? Btw, do we all realize how much we owe Stephenie Meyer for not only giving us such great characters, but for letting us play with them without suing us? I sure do.
See sneak peek offer at end of chapter.
Previously in How to Seduce a Werewolf:
Jake, Bella, Leah, Paul, Embry, Quil, Seth, and the brat pack are on business in Milan, Italy working in the fashion industry. Bella is relying on Leah's advice to seduce Jacob, so Leah made her get tons of new, sexy clothes, and Bella packed all of them and dragged them along on the trip. All of them work for Carmen Bianca Silva, a beautiful and powerful, but nasty Brazilian fashion designer who has a real thing for Jacob. Jacob was NEVER interested, but has been pleasant to Carmen because the pack has a contract with her, and it would be very costly to the Quileute community for them to break it. He's also worried that she will wreck their careers if antagonized. Carmen is viciously jealous of Bella and lied to her in the past, telling Bella that she had a sexual relationship with Jacob. Actually, after being best friends for years, Bella and Jacob have just begun a more intimate relationship. Each is head over heels about the other but neither knows the other's true feelings. Carmen is hosting a huge masquerade party this evening and all are invited.
Chapter 13 Wolf Warriors
BPOV
Once a year, Carmen Bianca Silva indulged herself and invited the entire modeling industry to her doorstep. It was an opportunity for all the fashionistas to put themselves forward and we were excited that, for the first time, we were able to attend. Of course, Carmen never did anything simply and tonight's party was no exception. All who got in the door had to be in historical costume—no exceptions—and everybody who attended wanted to outdo everyone else.
Three months earlier, all the members of the pack going to Italy and I sat around Jacob's dining room table trying to brainstorm. We needed a brilliant idea—fast. Money, lots and lots of money, was on the line. We knew that careers could be made and broken in just this one particular evening. Each model, agent, or designer going to the masquerade dreamed of causing a stir and becoming the night's sensation. And we were determined it was going to be us.
"I'm going as Freddy Kruger," Randi piped up. Immediately, peanuts rained on him while other miscellaneous hurled items struck him in the head.
"This is not a Halloween party, twerp." Jacob rolled his eyes. "We are not going as mass murderers, chainsaw psychos, or any other character from a horror movie."
Randi sighed heavily and silence descended upon the table. We'd been sitting there for close to 45 minutes and no one's thoughts had been met with enthusiasm. People were beginning to fear speaking up since a poor idea was not only heckled, but also met with physical retribution.
"What about creatures from Greek mythology?" Boos and hisses greeted my proposal. At least they didn't pelt me with flying objects like they had the last four dopes that had offered suggestions.
"Mythological figures are not real historical people. They are historical fiction." Darn it, Leah was right. We had to dress as actual people from history for Carmen's party. No fictional characters were allowed. And we needed to make a bold statement.
"You could go as members of the court of Lois XVI. Bella and I could be Marie Antoinette and Madame Pompadour." Horrified gasps met this jewel of an idea from Leah who promptly sat back and started sniggering. A smirk crept onto my face that I quickly tried to remove but couldn't.
Leah's shoulders started to shake as she snorted and gasped for air. "Yeah, Jake, you know, you could wear one of those huge powdered wigs with the cute little hats on top, and white make up with the black mole things they used to wear attached all over your face." Tears were starting to roll down her cheeks. I could help myself. I let out a howl of laughter imagining it as I looked at the expression of shocked loathing on Jake's face. And once I lost it, neither of us could get ourselves back under control.
"Hilarious, Leah. Sure, sure, cackle all you want, you two," he groused. "I can see the modeling offers lining up after that." The harder we tried to rein in our giggling, the more impossible it was to quit. "You guys are going to pee yourselves if you don't stop." Jake threw us looks of total disgust as we held our stomachs, convulsing with laughter. The rest of the pack was eerily silent. They were all too scared of Leah to throw things at her and were appalled we might actually think this was a good idea. We tried to calm ourselves as we wiped our eyes, a few last gasping snickers trickling out.
"What if we went as pirates?" Quil asked. It was the first suggestion that wasn't met with outright hostility. They looked at each other with a glimmer of hope.
"Well, that's better but not very original. What if we go as some sort of historical fighting group like the Mongols? It's pretty close to mongrels, you know." Embry laughed.
Suddenly, Jake smiled and looked very pleased with himself. "Why don't we go as ourselves?" he asked.
"Whatda ya mean? You thinking about ratty cutoffs or the hairy part?" I couldn't tell who made that sniggering comment.
"No. I mean, why don't we go as Quileute warriors in traditional ceremonial regalia?"
There was an audible gasp around the table and we all took in the idea.
"Holy crow! That's brilliant, Jake!"
"Yeah, man. Finally something we wouldn't be ashamed to do. You think the elders would be pissed?" Quil asked.
"I don't know why they would. We could dress like the warriors did during the wolf ceremony and we'd be totally authentic in what we wear." Jake seemed to be rolling the possibilities around in his brain.
"Shit, dude, the Ancients didn't wear clothes. What are we gonna do, wear a wolf mask and a smile?" Embry had a point.
"Well, that will work out better for some of us compared to others of you." Paul couldn't keep the smirk off his face.
Leah rolled her eyes. "Nobody wants to see your junk, ass munch."
"Oh, really? Let me tell you—"
"For fuck's sake, please don't!" Thank God Jake interrupted that disturbing line of thought. Just because they had to share each other's thoughts didn't mean I wanted to hear Paul's personal insights and evaluations of his male parts. I already saw more than I wanted when Leah and I got him ready for shows. Jake immediately got us back on track. "Look, we've got lots of options and plenty of time now that we've decided what we're going to do, so let's get to work." And we did.
The next few months we spent talking and working with the tribal elders, who were delighted with all of the interest and research that went into the project. I soon discovered from the rest of the pack that there was no one "look" for everybody since the appearance of each Quileute warrior was unique, and choosing that appearance was a complicated, personal, and spiritual journey. According to tradition, every man or woman created a distinct form in accordance with the instructions given by his or her guardian wolf spirit*—and no one was closer to their guardian wolf spirit than the wolf pack of La Push. Each one of us spent countless hours working on our regalia and, three months later, we were ready to invade and conquer Milan.
The night of the party, the guys went down to wardrobe to get ready and didn't return. Their preparation and appearance was much more complex than simply pulling on some sort of costume and they needed a staff of people to help. Leah and I wanted to be there, but we were having our own issues.
The color wash we'd used on my hair took several applications. Then we faced the problem of simply getting into our clothing. Jake's Aunt Rosie had made us simple deerskin dresses that were authentic but hardly flattering. Leah never said a word and I thought they were fine—after all, we were supposed to be going for historical accuracy here. But, as soon as we got to Milan, Leah immediately whisked them over to alterations for a massive make over.
I worried the dressmakers might disturb the intricate beading Jake's aunt and I worked on for weeks, but it was perfect. Aunt Rosie taught me so much about the beautiful artistry and culture of the Quileutes. When she showed me the Black family crest, I wanted to include it, somehow, in Jacob's regalia. With unending patience, Aunt Rosie let me help with the difficult and painful task of beading the deerskin Jake would wear and, eventually, my dress as well. Maybe it was rude or presumptuous of me to want their family crest on my clothing, but Jake, Billy, and Aunt Rosie didn't seem to mind and I loved feeling as if I were part of their family. I should have realized then how much I wanted to be a permanent part of Jacob's life.
Finally, Leah and I were ready for the party, which was no easy feat since we basically had to sew ourselves into our dresses. We texted the guys back and forth, and eventually agreed to meet up with them outside the ballroom where the masquerade was being held. It was essential we time our arrival perfectly to make sure no one in the industry was missing when the pack finally made its appearance.
When Leah and I reached the empty lobby, we thought we beat the guys there, until Leah smiled and nodded towards a cloakroom. The door cracked open and, though they tried to keep their excited voices low, we could hear everybody talking and laughing. As we started to walk towards them, Seth called out, asking us to please go on in and get everything ready for their entrance. I guess they wanted us to be as surprised as everybody else at their final appearance. Leah and I needed to reconfirm a few things and we quietly snuck in to the ballroom, drawing as little attention to ourselves as possible.
Once we were admitted, we made a beeline over to the lighting manager and sound system operator so we could monitor what they were doing. The CD we recorded months ago was downloaded and, minutes later, the DJ pulled all the other music so the only noise in the cavernous room came from the guests.
At first, the chattering, boisterous crowd didn't notice, but once the lights went out, there were a few laughing gasps and exclamations then, eventually, a charged silence as everyone realized something special was about to take place.
Uplights rose subtly at the entry doors, while moody spotlights snaked and swirled along the walkway coming into the hall, creating a murky effect. Gradually, a subtle vibration disturbed the hushed room. I could feel a distant, repeating pattern coil through me as native drums softly hammered out a primitive rhythm. The sounds were faint at first, and then the volume grew, rising higher and louder, till my pulse seemed to pound through my body at the same exact tempo.
Suddenly, the plaintive cry of the Quileutes came pouring through the room; the familiar voices were now haunting and eerie. I knew full well what was happening, and yet I felt as if I were being pulled toward a time long past, and I let my imagination sink into the distant, primeval world that was being created. The tension in the hall was thick and heavy while the crowd braced itself for whatever was to come. At last, the entry doors we'd all been staring at were flung open and the Quileute wolf warriors of La Push were revealed.
Oh. My. Holy. God. A collective gasp came from the onlookers, as the sight before us was truly shocking. Almost appearing to be a vision from the past, there paused the eight most spectacular men I'd ever seen in my life. Silently, they entered the room in an arrow formation and then stopped to stare at the stunned audience. My eyes focused like a laser on the magnificent warrior that led the way, becoming consumed by the sight. He was … majestic and looked every inch the chief he was destined to become.
There stood Jacob Ephraim Black, his bronze body gleaming with oil, his feet and long, muscular legs were bare and, from the waist up, he was naked. Every defined muscle of those mind-blowing abs, his astonishing chest, huge shoulders and sculpted arms were clearly displayed for all to see. Even though I helped design the deerskin breechclout that he wore, seeing it on him tonight was a totally different experience. As I watched the shifting fringe cover and then reveal parts of his glistening skin, I honestly lost the ability for coherent thought.
His hair was tied up, and sharpened slivers of elk bone decorated with red feathers secured it in place while his face was painted—the upper half black, from the cheekbones down red—and his chest and arms were covered in red ochre accentuating his musculature. Strands of native dentalium shells were strung into a choker around his neck, while copper bands carved with native symbols encircled his biceps, wrists and ankles. To say he was stunning didn't quite cover it. As he towered over the assembled company, Jacob was both fiercely beautiful and terrifying. My mouth fell open and I heard shocked gasps from the people around me.
I forced myself to at least look at the other guys as they stood there. They wore deerskin breechclouts similar to Jake's—some intricately beaded as well—and all of their faces were painted in different patterns. Quil's was black with a white stripe running from the middle of his forehead down to his chin. Embry had red with white stripes drawn on his cheeks, while one side of Seth's face was black and the other white. The rest of the pack members had some combination of red, black, and white slashed across their features. Looking at them, I instantly understood why warriors had painted themselves before fighting. These guys would scare the living crap out of me if I saw them across a battlefield.
As they moved forward, the pack began chanting the ceremonial cry of the Tlokwali, or Wolf Ritual, "Qwayd: tilkiulswdi, qwayd: tukim-swdi, qwayd: tukunswal, huuuu!" we had recorded at La Push along with the Quileute elders. Several of them beat ceremonial drums and the entire room was filled with the pulse pounding rhythm. The crowd scurried out of the way as the warriors advanced into the hall until finally, they came to a stop. In unison, they raised their fists and gave one last bloodcurdling war cry. Ho-ly Shit.
JPOV
Jesus, I hated these fucking parties. At least at this one, I could be comfortable for once. Going barefoot and wearing a breechclout was the closest we came to phasewear since we'd been in Italy. Judging by the looks we were getting from some of the other guests, they didn't seem quite as at ease with Quileute warrior regalia and body paint as we were. Tough shit.
We'd wanted to make a splash at Carmen's big weenie roast and damned if we didn't manage to pull it off. The Milan Asshole and Arm Candy set seemed to be blown away and, in the past thirty minutes, I got more offers than a hooker at a Sexaholics Anonymous convention. Designers, managers, and models had propositioned me in every way imaginable. Most of the proposals were actually great job offers, but a few shocked the shit out of me. Then I nearly broke the fingers of some son of a bitch that tried to find out what was under my breechclout. I quickly pulled Bella to my side and stuck to her like a tick for the rest of the night.
I had to admit this whole Quileute idea had been genius. The research and work we did was paying off in spades already and not only financially. I felt great pride in my culture and the history of my people, and I loved that Bella was sharing it with me. The tribal elders gave Bella permission to wear Quileute regalia and I hoped, for the first time, she felt like one of us.
Another thing that made the whole thing special was that Bella beaded my breechclout and her clothing in the same stylized wolf design based on my family crest. She didn't realize when she was doing it that only a bonded couple would have shared something like that. For once, everybody kept their mouth's shut and no one pointed out the significance of her actions, thank Jesus.
When I first got a look at her at the party, I just about had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Leah put some kind of black stuff on Bella's hair and then dyed her skin to the point where Bella was almost as brown as the rest of us. Every time I looked at her I did a double take. It was too weird to see my little white girl looking like a Quileute.
Both she and Leah wore deerskin dresses sewn by my Aunt Rosie. The outfits were as authentic as Aunt Rosie could make them, and originally, they pretty much reminded me of wearable tipis. Then something happened here in Milan, because magically, Aunt Rosie's creation went from having all the sex appeal of a yeast roll to making Bella look like the main star in a cowboy's wet dream. Not only did the dresses now cling in all the right places, but the hems of the damn things were shredded so they were practically fringed up to the girls' butt cheeks. Aunt Rosie would be so pleased.
I tried to keep the grumpy expression off my face as I thought about it, but damn! A big part of doing this whole Quileute thing was that what we wore was supposed to be absolutely historically accurate. I stared at Bella and narrowed my eyes. Historically accurate my ass. I was pretty sure the ancient Quileute women didn't wear outfits that hugged every curve and showed off all of their calves and most of their thighs. If they had, the only fighting our ancestors would have done would have been against each other instead of enemy tribes. Not that I was really complaining—from the tiny moccasins that wrapped around her feet and ankles to the painted headband that held back her black hair, Bella looked beautiful.
I started to grin as I watched her. She loved being tan for once and was having the time of her life. The guys were teasing the Pseudo Quileute mercilessly, calling her Skinny White Girl Trips A Lot and Little Running Dye Job; she was giving it back to them as good as she got. Just as she was extolling the virtues of hair color and had about convinced Embry to put fuchsia streaks in his hair for the spring (I'm not sure Embry knew what fuchsia was), our favorite Brazilian came gliding over.
Tension filled the air as the mood of our group instantly switched from sociable to surly. She was dressed in some sort of Elizabethan get up. None of the rest of us gave a shit who she was supposed to be, but Bella, of course, politely asked. Carmen turned and looked at her like a shark circling its dinner.
"Querida, I'm Erzsebet Bathory. Do you know who she is?" When Bella shook her head, Carmen's smile got wider and her accent grew thicker. "Why, she's the Blood Countess, minha amor. She personally record how she murder over 650 of her—" she paused to look Bella up and down "—servants. Of course, Erzsebet only kills pure and virginal girls. She torture them for hours, namorada, days if they live." As she leaned into Bella, Carmen's face held an expression that froze my blood. "Eventually, like a dog, she rips out pieces of their flesh with her teeth and she eats. Then she hangs them by their ankles over her tub, slits their throat so the blood will drain, and she bathes in it while it's still warm." Carmen reached up, tucked Bella's hair behind her ear, and whispered, "Sometimes, if the servant girl is very lovely, the countess, she drinks directly from the stream as it pours in her tub so the girl can watch as Erzsebet take everything she got as she dies. Fascinante woman, eh, minha anjo?" Bella gasped and stumbled back against me breaking the stunned spell we were under.
Christ on a cracker, that was fucking it. I'd had it up to the eyeballs with "Erzsebet." Giving Bella a reassuring squeeze, I kissed her forehead, telling her I'd be back in a few minutes, then I grabbed Carmen's arm and yanked her towards one of the doors that led outside. "We need to talk, now."
That seemed to be just what she was waiting for. As soon as we stepped out on a private balcony, she snaked her arms around my neck and tried to push me down onto a bench. God, she made me want to fucking hurl. She'd have had better luck seducing one of those freaky gargoyles in the Duomo. I manacled her wrists in one hand and dragged her to a tiny railing overlooking a stone courtyard below.
"This is not a make-out session, Carmen. You and I are going to get some things straight—immediately." Her shackled hands started to caress my arm.
"Jack-obb—" She gave me her usual sexy smirk before I cut her off. I'd been primed for this discussion for two days and "Erzsebet's" little story just lit a fire under my ass. Fuck the consequences. This shit was ending, pronto.
"Do you want to keep working with us, Carmen?" She looked stunned at my biting tone. Obviously, she was clueless where this conversation was going, so I filled her in. "I've tolerated things from you that I'd never take from anybody else because we needed you and, more importantly, we needed your money. But you've crossed the line time and time again, and it stops tonight."
At her outraged gasp, I moved in closer, backing her against the railing. She cast an uncertain look over her shoulder, seeming to realize for the first time that the little barrier between her and a forty-foot drop below wasn't all that secure.
"I don't know what your problem is, Carmen, but how dare you talk to Bella like that? What gives you the right to upset her with that sick stuff you were spouting? Were you actually threatening her? Because that's what it sounded like to me."
She tried to sputter something but I wasn't about to listen to her lies. "Nobody talks to her like that. Bella is not your chattel to abuse and humiliate. Do you understand that? Clearly? We have a contract with you—that's all. None of us are your "servants" and we're not here for your amusement, particularly Bella."
"Querido, I never think of you as servant. You and me, we—"
"There is no you and me, Carmen. We have a business relationship. There has never been and never will be anything else between us. Believe me, anything other than professional conduct isn't happening—ever." My jaws were clinched as I spat the words at her. "If you can't handle that, we'll pack our bags and move along." She started to squawk, but I cut her off again. "Be quiet and listen up. We've had offers from just about every designer in the industry tonight. You need us far more than we need you and you know it. Since we've signed a contract with you, we'll honor it and we'll work with you, but that's it. Do you understand?"
"Si, si, meu anjo, but—"
"I said no more and I mean it. No more Portuguese pet names, no more little touches, no more sexual innuendos. All of it ends. Right now."
Just thinking about what this cunt did to my Bells—the lies and all her bullshit—made my blood boil. The latest, tonight's terror tactics with this vampire garbage, pissed me off so much I wanted to strangle her. Needing to stress my point, I leaned over her. There was no way I could prevent the growl that rose from my chest as I willed my eyes to shift to wolf.
"Santa Mãe de Deus!" Her breath came in weird little gasps and her heart was beating so fast I thought she might pass out.
"If you ever lie to Bella again, if you imply that you and I have anything other than a purely professional relationship, if you ever try to frighten her, or if I even think you've hurt her again, I swear to you, I'll track you down." I moved closer and let my alpha voice pour out of me. "Not only will I sue you for sexual harassment and take everything you've got, but believe me when I tell you, no matter where you run—I will find you—and I will make you pay. Have you got it?"
She jerked away, bending back against the railing to get as far from me as possible. Her eyes were huge as the blood drained from her face, lips flapping, completely speechless for once in her fucking life.
"Do. You. Understand. Carmen?"
Gulping, she tried to get her mouth to start working again. "Si, si, I understand." She glanced at the courtyard beneath her, then gaped at my eyes, and then gave a frantic look back again as if she couldn't decide which would be the worst fate. I smiled as I visualized her body lying in a heap on the stones below. For some reason, she didn't seem comforted by my expression. "Yes, Jack-cobb, it will be strictly business from now on. I swear to Deus."
"Don't forget," I snapped. "Ever."
Turning, I left her there and headed back to Bella when, unexpectedly, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and my heart gave a jolt. Jesus, I forgot what I looked like for a moment. No wonder I'd scared the living piss out of Carmen. Between the red and black war paint all over my face and body, my seething temper, and my rabid eyes, I looked like some sort of cartoon mutant on steroids, I thought, grimacing. Screw it! As long as it worked, I could give a flying fuck. There was no way I was going to tolerate her shit any longer. If she upset Bella again, it would be everything I could do not to seriously hurt the conniving skank.
The night seemed endless but, hours later, we finally fell into an exhausted heap in our bed, satisfied with all we accomplished. Early the next morning, Bella's beautiful hair was back to its original color. I had hoped that stinky dye shit washed off her before too long and, after she spent an eternity in the shower, it did. As great as she looked the night before, she'd smelled weird and I already began to miss her creamy complexion and natural hair. It was hard to keep my nose out of her sweet smelling skin as she ran around the room, frantically trying to get ready before we headed out for our last workday in Milan.
The next morning, everybody but Paul saw the rest of the gang off as they loaded into the airport limos and headed back to the States. I had to admit, I wasn't all that sorry to see Quil's mopey ass go back to his Claire Bear. Fuck me, if I had to listen to one more of their nauseating Skype goo fests, I was going to hurl. And, if I was being honest, I was thrilled to see the backs of Nikki, Randi, and Mick. As much as I loved them, I'd had about all I could stand of those annoying little pricks hanging out in our rooms thinking God knows what kind of sick shit about Bella or getting their dumb asses into some new sort of fuckery. Christ, talk about high maintenance! Sam could have the pleasure for a while.
On the other hand, I had mixed feelings about Leah leaving. For once, her razor blade of a mouth was going easy on my ass. I knew she had a good idea what was happening between Bella and me and, amazingly enough, she was actually being pretty helpful to my cause. But something was going on behind the scenes that I couldn't quite figure out. I got the feeling if I didn't toe Leah's line, she'd maneuver Bella into kicking my butt to the curb. And I knew she was behind Bella's date with Valerie. For that little stunt alone, I wanted to rip her a new one.
Leah, Quil, and the brat pack piled into the limo and Bella hugged and kissed each one as if she wasn't going to see them again for six years instead of six days. As they zoomed off into the Milan traffic and disappeared, Bella looked like she might cry, while Embry, Seth, and I grinned and gave each other fist bumps. That earned the three of us a disapproving glare from our tiny manager.
Quickly, I threw Paul under the bus. "Anybody heard from Dickhead yet?" I asked. No need to clarify who I was talking about. They dutifully checked their phones and so did I: no, not a damn word from the inconsiderate son of a bitch despite our calls and texts. He was an hour late already, but the day was still early. No telling when he'd drag his worthless ass back to the hotel. We stared at each other, silently wondering whose bed Paul was in and how the fuck we were going to get him out of it.
It didn't take long before we were tired of waiting. Embry and I decided to pick up the rental cars for our trip to Florence while Bella finished packing. Sounded easy enough. Little did we know we were taking the first step on a journey into Hell.
A cab dropped us off at a parking garage where we were supposed to pick up our vehicles, and we diligently looked around for anything resembling a car rental place. An hour later, we were still searching. Nothing. Nada. Finally, we broke down and politely asked the butcher next door where we could find Auto Europa. Instantly, his expression turned savage; he picked up a bloody cleaver, and, screaming in Italian, he took off after us. Needless to say, we hauled ass and dove into the pastry shop next door, slamming the door in his face. What in the hell just happened?
A sweet faced lady behind the counter looked up, unsurprised at our noisy entrance. She explained that Nut Job with a Meat Ax was fed up with tourists constantly asking for directions to the car rental location and had decided to take matters into his own hands. Jesus H. Christ—I guess so. Assuring us he hadn't killed anyone yet, she then kindly informed us that the disappearing car rental office was located on the third floor of the six-layer garage.
Damn, no wonder the guy had been driven psycho. How the fuck was anyone supposed to figure that out? There were no signs, no arrows, no nothing. Was it some kind of Italian thing, we wondered, or did people here just aimlessly wander through parking decks searching for car rental places?
Once we finally found the little office, we were handed the keys to the two luxury cars we rented, and Embry and I strolled out to the assigned lot numbers. Instead of the turbo BMWs we expected, there sat little twin metal lumps. They were about the size of the coin-operated cars I loved to ride in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot when I was five. The two of us traded shocked looks.
"Fuck, no! This can't be right!" Embry's voice was a mixture of incredulity and terror as we approached the tiny vehicles that almost came up to our waists.
Circling one car in stunned disbelief, I groaned out loud. "Shit, Embry, do you think it runs by remote control? It looks like a wheel barrow with a lawn mower engine." I stared at it dubiously. "Honestly, man, I don't know if I can even fit my ass in this crate." We checked the keys, and, sure enough, they fit just fine. Uh oh. "Jesus, what the fuck are these things, anyway?"
"It says it's a Punto. Ever heard of a Punto, J?"
"Hell, no! What in the name of Christ is a fucking Punto?" He shook his head as clueless as me. "Come on, Em. They've obviously made a mistake." Maybe I was assuring me more than him. "Let's go get something decent."
Back to the rent a car agency we went only to be informed that, yes, indeed, our Puntos were considered luxury cars. Were they called Punti when you had two of the fuckers? I figured two Punti almost made half a real car.
"I don't give a flying piss what you consider them. There is NO WAY we can fit in those damn tomato cans," I told the poor clerk.
"I'm so sorry, Signore Black. There is nothing else left. Every other larger vehicle has already been rented. If you don't like the Puntos, we may have some economy sized cars available."
"Economy sized?" I was incredulous. "Holy Christ, you mean you actually have something smaller than those gnat-mobiles you've got us signed up for?"
The harassed man assured us this was the case. Embry and I exchanged horrified looks. "Okay, I hate to be a pain in the ass, but look at us, man. And there are more of us where we came from." That earned a frightened stare. "There is no way this is going to work. Can you call around and see if you can find us bigger cars at another location?"
The little guy clicked away at his computer and made several anxious calls, all no good.
"Well, could we rent more of them?" I asked, beginning to panic. Maybe if we each had our own Punto everybody and everything could actually get to Florence. More clicking and calling took place. Nope. Something was going on in town and every available rental car in a 50-mile radius was booked. We were informed if we didn't want the Punti, there was a waiting list of people who did and they would gladly take them back and refund our money. Fuck me.
Embry and I trudged back to the little turds and stared at them, futilely hoping they had grown while we were in the car rental office. They hadn't.
"Fuck, Embry! Not only are we not going to fit, but we've also got all that shit Bella dragged over here with her. There is no way in hell we're going to be able to pull this off."
Embry was ever the optimist. "Aw, come on, man. You never can tell. I'll-I'll bet these things are much bigger on the inside than they look." Uh huh.
Out of options, we tried to contort our bodies into one of the tiny cars. The driver's seat was a fucking nightmare. The steering wheel threatened to de-nut me every time it moved. Obviously, turns were going to be sheer torture. Meanwhile, Embry was trying to shimmy his way into the back seat. Making sounds like a buffalo in labor, he finally squished himself in and was able to close the door.
I tried to twist around so I could see him, desperation clearly on my face. "You know Bella has her heart set on taking a driving tour on the way Florence, don't you? She's had the damned thing mapped out since Christmas."
Embry looked ready to cry. I sighed, shook my head, and pulled out my phone. Seth answered and was on the speaker a second later.
"What's happening there, bud? Any sign of the garden tool yet?" I asked.
"Garden tool?" Poor Seth was clueless.
"The hoe, Seth. That lazy fuckbunny, Paul," Embry hollered from the back seat.
"Oh. Oh! I get it!" Seth was always so happy when he figured out our slang. Embry snorted and then tried to muzzle himself. Sometimes, we felt bad corrupting Seth the way we did. "No, man, haven't heard a word. We had the maid check and his room is empty. I have no idea where he could be or what he's doing."
"I have an idea." At this point, I was totally disgusted. "I just don't know which bed or girl he's in, but I know exactly where he is and what he's doing. Okay, Seth, is Bella still packing?" When I left an hour and a half earlier, there was an enormous explosion of clothes, shoes, and unidentified girlie shit all over our room.
"Yeah, she finally got done. Right now she's working on our driving tour. She was showing me some of the places we're going and she's researching some others. Really looks cool. She's super excited about it." Embry and I exchanged pained looks.
"Okay. Look, we need to get Paul's crap out of his room and clear his bill along with everyone else's. Can you talk the maid into letting you in?" Of course he could. Even though (or maybe because) Seth was such a little goober, women seemed to melt into a pile of goo each time he gave them one of his sweet smiles. Even Paul couldn't compete. Seth promised he'd take care of it. "Great. And would you call the bellboy and have him take the luggage down?"
"Sure, Jake," he replied. Lowering his voice, he whispered into the phone. "But do you think just one bellboy will do it? You would not believe how much shit she's got. Jeeze, did she come with all this stuff or did she go on some sort of shopping spree while she was here?"
I sighed and rubbed my temples. "No, Seth. She brought it all with her. I hope to Christ she didn't buy more. Now, listen. We hit a snag and I don't want Bella worrying about it. Can you come down and help us load and make sure she stays in the room?"
"Yeah, no problem, Jake. I should be able to handle that. What's going on?"
"Well," I muttered, "we were issued cars the size of my basketball shoes, maybe smaller. In them, we have to cram four sasquatches, Bella, and enough luggage to sink the Titanic. Then we're going to sit like a bunch mashed marshmallows for seven hours while we cheerfully tour scenic Italy. Oh, and Dumb Fuck is M.I.A. Other than that, everything is going perfectly to plan."
"Huh?" I think I'd lost Seth at the sasquatches.
"Don't worry about it, Seth." I sighed. "Just come on down when you get through and give us a hand. We'll be there in a few. Let me talk to Bella for a minute."
Her voice was like a sweet tonic to my mind. "Hey, Jacob. Are you guys having problems?"
"Well, it took us forever to find the rental place, but we've got the cars and are headed back. You about ready, honey?" She promised she was and started gushing about all the wonderful things we were going to see on our way to Florence. I grinned like a goof while Embry rolled his eyes and started gagging. It just made me happy to hear her so excited. And I was determined she was going to enjoy her driving tour no matter if the rest of us felt like we were on the fucking rack the whole time, damn it. Telling her we had a few things to take care of, I made sure that she stayed put while we dealt with the looming nightmare of packing the Punti.
When we got back to the hotel, Seth was standing at the curb with Bella's mountain of luggage and our four duffels. Her pile of crap reminded me of one of those Chia Pets. It just seemed to miraculously sprout and grow larger before your very eyes.
Thirty minutes later, the three of us and a hotel staff of eight stood bathed in sweat as we surveyed the wreckage. The employees at Savoia had done everything humanly possible to help us get all our shit into our sardine cans. Unfortunately, the laws of physics just kept getting in the way. Paul was still nowhere to be found and my temper was starting to fray around the edges.
"Fuck it," I muttered as I reached in and yanked out the passenger seat and back seats of one of the Punti. Setting them on the curb, I proceeded to shove in luggage and quickly filled up every inch of the tiny interior, only leaving a small space for a driver.
"Whoa, whatcha doing, bro?" Embry asked.
"When Scrotehead finally shows up, his ass can haul all the baggage to Florence. The rest of us are getting the fuck out of Dodge."
Five minutes later, I had the hotel staff scrambling for tie downs and tarps as we piled the leftover luggage on top of both cars.
Embry took a look at the space we allowed for Paul's butt and shook his head. "God, Jake, he's gonna to have some kinda psychotic episode out on the road and start attacking random vehicles that have legroom and an actual engine, man."
"Tough shit. The prick should have been worried about that," I checked my phone, "three and a half hours ago when he was supposed to show up. Right now, I don't give a rat's ass how miserable he is. Anyway, we've got our own problems."
For the next ten minutes, Seth, Embry, and I tried to figure out how we could all sit in one little Punto and still allow room for Bella. We swore at each other, sweated, grunted, laughed at how stupid we looked, and finally, after pitching one of the back seats, performed enough human origami that we came up with a solution.
Before we went back into the hotel, I looked both of them in the eye. "Okay, guys, the important thing is not to let Bella know how fucking miserable we are because she's got her heart set on this driving tour deal. You know she'll cancel it in a split second if she thinks we don't want to do it or if she realizes we're getting our balls racked. Are you two okay with that?"
As I knew they would, Embry and Seth agreed to go along with this amazing stupidity. I guessed it wasn't all bad when your friends crushed on your girlfriend. At least they were willing to do some of the same dumb shit you would do to make her happy.
"Hey, you remember how the Ancients used to stick knives and arrows and stuff in themselves during the wolf ceremonies?" We all found out about the self-mutilation wolf warriors practiced during the Tlokwali ceremony. Seth nodded and Embry shuddered recalling the details. "Well, we're just connecting to the elders," I said. "We're practicing our own bit of self inflicted torture."
The two of them grinned. Somehow, relating our situation to that of our ancestors made us feel much better about the misery that was in store for us. If the old ones could deal with having a knife through their upper lip or a seal harpoon through their thigh for a night, surely we could survive being crammed in a car for seven hours. We turned from our instrument of torture and immediately faced the pile of automotive interior that was now sitting in pieces on the curb.
"What are we going to do about all that stuff, Jake? Those rent a car people are gonna be pissed if we bring the Punti back with no insides left." Seth seemed to think we were actually going to leave half the car on the sidewalk and take off.
"The shithead can deal with it." It was the least that son of a bitch could do. Just as I was speaking of the devil, a taxi pulled up, and, after a few long minutes, out crawled Mr. Paul Young. He was hiding behind a pair of black out sunglasses, looking like nine miles of bad road. His clothes hinted he spent the night in a back alley whorehouse—possibly in Tangiers—matted hair stuck up all over his head, and the skin on his face was creased in a weird pattern. But what almost knocked over Embry, Seth, and me was his fucking stink.
"Well, well, look what the pussy dragged in," I drawled when Paul sauntered over. As he drew near, I began to cough and my eyes started to water, while Embry gagged and Seth turned a strange shade of green. "Jesus Christ, Paul, you smell like fucking clitty litter. What the—! No, no, for God's sake, please don't tell us. I don't want to hear or see any of it—ever."
Paul would have stunk to a normal person. To us, every fucked up activity he was involved in for the last twelve hours was obvious just by taking one small whiff. Holy shit!
"Hey, man, sorry I'm a little late. Just lost track of time." Wiping that smirk off his face became my next mission in life.
I gave him a sweet smile. "Oh, that's okay, buddy. Don't give any of us another thought. I'm sure you didn't all morning. Why don't you go take a nice, long soak in the tub for a few hours so you feel better?"
Paul stared at me suspiciously. "Ooops!" I smacked my forehead. "I forgot. You're already checked out. We packed your bag for you and everything." I pointed out his duffel that we wedged on the roof of our little go-kart. It was buried under a metric ton of shit and wrapped tight in yards of tie down straps and tarp. "You don't have to thank us. We wanted to make sure it didn't come loose."
"What? Are you serious, man? Look, you guys, I have got to take a sh—What in the name of fuck are these things?" Paul asked, getting his first real look at the Punti.
"Why, that's our ride to Florence. Catch." I hurled the keys of the stripped out Punto at his head.
"You're joking. What the hell's going on? Jake, there's not room enough for a kid in there." Paul started laughing and then abruptly stopped when he saw our expressions. We all looked at Paul's tiny Punto that was crammed full and had four feet of suitcases piled on its roof. The son of a bitch looked like it would topple over on its side if you breathed on it wrong.
"Oh, we tested it on Seth. You'll fit in it just fine. But Seth said not to exhale too much or you're gonna be seriously fucked," Embry said.
"Now, hold on a goddamned minute. Are you telling me that I've got to squish into that little shart by myself and drive it to fucking Florence while you four stretch out in the lap of luxury in an empty car? How the fuck is that fair, man? And, anyway, I don't know how to speak Italian, much less how to get to fucking Florence. I don't even have a map."
I shrugged. "Better figure it out."
Paul started to look worried. "Fuck it. Okay, goddamn it, I'll just follow you guys."
"Suit yourself. We're taking the scenic route and it'll take at least seven hours."
"Seven hours? Are you fucking nuts?" Paul howled. "I can't sit in that—!"
I cut him off. "And besides, we're getting ready to head out right now since we've been waiting on your ass all morning, but you're returning all these car seats to the rental place before you leave town. It's real easy to find—you can't miss it."
"And just how the fuck am I supposed to accomplish that, Jake? I'm not going to be able to fit a toothbrush in this goddamned thing, much less take half a car along."
"That's your fucking problem, man. Had you been here four hours ago, we would have worked it out together. Too bad your butt was nowhere to be found. Oh, and Paul, if anything doesn't make it to Florence or if the car parts don't make it back to Auto Europa, the three of us are taking it out of your pay and your hide. Have fun, asshole." I turned away and started back towards the hotel.
"Hey, wait a minute, goddamn it! I've got to take a shower, dude. I can't sit in a car for hours like this!"
"Eh, don't worry. You'll be in there by yourself so your stink won't bother us at all." I smiled at him with true insincerity then turned around to go collect Bella, leaving him fuming by his Punto. When Bella and I walked back through the lobby, I saw Paul at the front desk pleading with the receptionist to get back into his room. I grinned when I heard that not only was his room booked, but so was every other room in the hotel. What goes around comes around, you prick.
Bella was bubbling over about her driving tour while I silently carried all her travel books (yet more shit to go in the Punto) and desperately tried to think of a place we could cram them we went outside, she stared at the tiny cars behind Embry and Seth.
"No, you're kidding me, aren't you?" She grinned, obviously expecting me to start laughing at the hilarious joke I just pulled off.
"Um, no, Bells. This is our car." I desperately tried to think of something positive to say about the little fucker. Finally, I blurted out, "It's got great gas mileage."
"What? You're serious? There is no way you all are going to fit in there!"
"Sure we can!" I attempted to assure her. "We already tried it and we fit just fine. Come on, honey." I dragged her resisting body over to the Punto as Seth and Embry scrambled in.
"Oh, really, you guys. Let me have the back seat if nothing else." She tugged on Embry's sleeve.
"No, baby. You're navigating. You ride shotgun so you can tell us about everywhere we're going." I ushered her in as she sputtered and protested. Seth's feet immediately landed in her lap, as he had to thread his legs through the two front seats and over the gearshift. Embry was clinging to the back of her seat since he sat on a bag in the floorboard and stuck his legs and feet into the trunk. I climbed in and tried to maneuver so the steering wheel wasn't digging into my balls, while my knees hit blinkers on both sides of the steering column. All in all, the four of us crammed in our Punto was the most fuckward mess imaginable.
Bella twisted around to take a good look at us and started to snigger. "Oh, come on! This is ridiculous! We can't drive around like this. You guys look like you're going to need the Jaws of Life to get you out of this thing."
"It's great, Bells," Embry said. I gave him a sharp stare in the rearview mirror. Bells was my nickname, not his—but I couldn't be too mad at him. After all, he was willingly going along with this insanity for Bella's sake. "We're superheroes, you know. We laugh at what makes other men cower in fright. I'm fine, how about you, Seth?"
"Terrific. Where are we going first? You got me all excited about our trip, Bella. You're not going to bail on us now, are you?" God, I really loved that kid.
Frowning skeptically, she looked at me and shook her head. "Yeah, sweetheart," I said. "Let's roll! Where to?"
"You guys have lost your minds." She hesitated as I smiled sincerely, trying my damndest to look as if schlepping across Italy squished inside an egg carton with my sweetheart and two horny, lovelorn pals was the greatest idea since the combustion engine. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at me, trying to figure out if I was lying and, lucky for me, I wasn't. I honestly wanted to go since I knew how much it meant to her.
"Come on, Bells. Time's wasting," I told her. "We should get going."
"Well … okay." She still looked reluctant. "If you're really sure?"
Of course, the route she picked led us down sharply curving and dipping roads that hugged the coastline of Italy. While every turn of the steering wheel ate into my crotch, I had to beat on Seth's legs each time I needed to shift. Bella balanced her books and maps on Seth's shoes while her feet were tucked underneath her. She gave up all of her legroom so Embry could have another ten inches to stretch out in the trunk. Meanwhile, Embry tried to keep from puking as he faced backward over the uneven mountain roads.
We'd been driving for about an hour and a half when we got our first obscene call from Paul. I clicked on the speakerphone so we all could enjoy it; there were no polite preliminaries. "Alright, mother fucker, I finally got all those car seats tied to the roof of this goddamned tin can, in spite of the 85 suitcases you've got strapped up there. I found the address of Auto Europa and I've been walking around, hauling all this shit with me for forty-five minutes and the goddamned place is nowhere to be seen. I'm not looking for another fucking second, goddamn it. Now, where the hell is it?"
I sniggered and covered up the mouthpiece. "What was that, Paul?" I asked softly through my hand.
"What? Jake? I can't hear you! Where is the fucking car place, goddamn it?"
I started covering and uncovering the mouthpiece as I talked, skipping words like we had a bad connection. "Can't—find—Auto—? Easy—to—"
"Jake!" I tried not to laugh as we heard muffled cursing and what must be Paul's phone being banged on a wall. "Jake, can you hear me?"
"Paul—to the—next—! Did—me? Paul, —go—butcher shop—door. Next door—butcher—ask directions." Yeah, it was mean, but the bastard so deserved it.
"OKAY, JAKE! I THINK YOU SAID TO GO TO THE BUTCHER SHOP AND ASK FOR DIRECTIONS! I'LL CALL YOU LATER!" Embry was howling in the back seat.
A few minutes later, the phone rang again. "You goddamned son of a bitch! Are you trying to get me killed? That crazy cock sucker came after me with a fucking hatchet!"
"Hey, Paul! Yeah, you sound much better now. Don't tell me you went into the butcher shop to ask directions! I told you not to go in there. By the way, it's a cleaver not a hatchet, buddy." Embry had tears running down his face he was laughing so hard.
"Yeah, right, asshole. Fuck you and your sister, you jack off!" The phone went dead. I'm sure he was pissed he couldn't slam it in my ear.
Thirty minutes later, the phone rang again. "Jake, man, this is insane. This fucking piece of shit won't go over 40 without flooring it for 15 minutes. And these goddamned Italians drive like maniacs. I'm gonna die, bro. I swear, these people act like they get paid for every motorist they kill and they'll get an extra fifty bucks if I'm the first to go!"
"Gee, I'm real sorry about that, Paul. Whatcha want me to do, honey? We could meet up with you and I could hold your hand through the window while you drive. Would that help?"
"Yeah, be a prick, why don't you? I'm telling you, this is a four-lane highway and these motherfuckers have turned it into eight goddamned lanes. I'm not kidding. They're driving down the shoulder on the right side and the median on the left and they're flying down the fuckers at 150 miles per hour. Meanwhile, they cut you off at every fucking opportunity they can. The speed limit is 130 kilometers and half of them are going 15 and the other half is going 250. I shit you not, man. This fucking Punto takes twenty minutes to go around the slow ones and then I can't get out of the way fast enough not to get creamed by these sons of bitches breaking the sound barrier."
"Tell him to stick his feet through the floorboard and do a Fred Flintstone!" Embry hollered from the back. "He'll speed up and be able to stretch his legs!"
"Very fucking funny, Call!" Paul's voice bellowed over the phone. "And the goddamned air conditioner doesn't work either in this piece of shit. I'm sweating like a pig, man!"
"Damn, you mean you smell even worse?" Embry broke in again. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" That really was a horrifying thought.
"Hey, Paul, I've got some good news, guy! Your a/c isn't broken," I told him cheerfully.
"What are you talking about? I'm telling you the motherfucker is fried."
"Your Punto doesn't have an air conditioner, partner. Can't be busted if it isn't installed in the car, you know." I'd already tried to fix our a/c only to find out the fucker was missing.
"What? What? God, what kind of a cheap, worthless, goddamned no good son of a bitching—" I hung up the phone. We had our own problems with the Punto. I didn't need to hear about Paul's. And we didn't have the luxury to publicly bitch about them.
Five hours later (and after several more x-rated calls from Paul), we had toured halfway down the coast of Italy until we were almost parallel with Florence. The trip was incredible despite having my nads in a moving vise all day. Bella mapped out little towns and villages along the way and insisted we get out and walk around, thank Christ. The first time we stopped, I almost fell out of the car and when Bella's back was turned, I actually had to yank Seth and Embry's numb bodies out of the backseat.
When we headed away from the coast, we made a little detour and took time to phase when we found a forest. God, it felt great to stretch our legs and get blood circulating again. After a little run, Bella and I wandered away from the guys while we were all still in wolf form. She slipped from my back when she found a sunny spot and I lay down so she could sink into my fur.
"God, I miss this, Jacob. I want to go and see new places, but I love our time we spend together like this." She turned so her arms were holding me close and her fingers dug into my fur as she laid her head in the thick ruff of hair around my neck. "I don't ever want to give this up, Jake, no matter what, okay? We'll always have this, won't we?"
She sounded so serious and almost sad. I turned my head and gave her a shove with my nose and then licked her up her neck and face, giving her a wolfy grin.
"Ewwww! Jacob! That is soooo gross!" She squealed and laughed, scrunching up her nose and wiping away my slobber. I leaned over to swipe her again and she jumped up and started running, grinning over her shoulder and hollering at me to stay away. I ran around her, hemming her in and bowing down on my front legs, ready to play. She tried to duck around me, but that wasn't happening. Every time she tried to get by, I quickly maneuvered in front of her, blocking her exit, and making her giggle.
Finally, I nudged her with my nose, pushing her back onto a thick pile of pine straw and then I curled around her before she could move. When she settled into me, stroking the base of my ears, I whuffed contentedly. She rubbed her face against mine and I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of her soft skin sliding against my fur; the sensation seemed to radiate through my body. Quietly, she moved back so she could reach my ear. She laid her hand against my face and whispered, "You know I'll never want to get away from you, don't you?"
oooOOOooo
A short while later, we came to our last little town before reaching Florence. We were having a great time and were currently scarfing down pizza we picked up along the way, but I'd been ready to dump the torture chamber on wheels hours ago and get to our rooms. Thinking about our accommodations, I smiled to myself. Before we left Milan, I called the Florence hotel we booked and told them I was canceling the reservation for Bella and me. After making it worth his while, the night shift manager agreed to tell our group that the inn had been overbooked and Bella and I were being moved to another location. It was the only thing I could think of to get some privacy with my girl without telegraphing to everybody exactly what was going on. Then I researched on line and found the perfect location where the two of us could have some serious alone time.
I was so deep in thought about my next moves with Bella, that I missed the first part of her narration about the little town we were entering.
"'… and its main square, Piazza die Priori, the heart of the town, is surrounded by superb examples of beautifully preserved medieval buildings. It is considered by some to be one of the finest squares in Tuscany.'"
She read further. "Oh, wow! I didn't see this before. Evidently we're just missing their big festival. Hmmm, let me read what it says. 'Once a year, on March 19th, the town celebrates St. Marcus Day, the day when St. Marcus supposedly rid the Italian city of Volterra of all v—'" Her voice came to an abrupt halt.
"What, honey?" I asked. "What did St. Marcus do?" I heard some choking gasps coming from Bella and I glanced over at her, concerned. Her face was white with shock and her eyes were huge. She looked like she was trying to say something, but nothing coherent was coming out. Worried, I started to pull over.
"No. NO!" Bella shouted at me—and it shocked the hell out of all of us.
I slowed down so I could try to find out what was going on.
"For God's sake, don't stop, Jake. We've got to get out of here NOW! Roll up the windows!" Frantically, she cranked hers up and shut off the air circulation in the car. "Do it!" By this time, she was actually screeching.
"Honey, what on earth—?" I started, but she immediately cut me off.
"Jacob, don't question what I'm telling you. Just roll up the window this instant." She was so upset her voice was trembling. After making sure I did what she told me, she flailed around in her seat until she located the setting sun. Day was slipping into twilight and that seemed to really send her over the edge. "I want you to turn around and get out of here. Do you understand? Don't ask any questions—just do it. Right now!"
Seth and Embry were sitting up and seemed as worried and clueless as me. Bella looked scared shitless. I made a three point turn in the middle of the street and headed back to the old walled entrance of the town while she held on to the dashboard with a death grip.
As soon as we puttered out the gates, a little color came back into Bella's cheeks. "Oh my God, oh my God! I can't believe I didn't remember. How could I be so freaking stupid?" She seemed shaken to her core. I started to slow down so I could find out what in the hell was going on, but she wouldn't let me.
"No, Jake! Keep going. I swear I'll tell you all about it, but let's get away from here first, okay? Please, honey, please just drive as fast as you can." Jesus, she was almost shivering at this point. She twisted around and stared frantically out the back window as if she expected a hoard of flesh eating zombies to suddenly overtake us. Shit, as slow as we were going they probably could. What in the name of fuck was going on?
I floored the Punto, which seemed to royally piss it off. It shuddered and squealed furiously, finally moving forward with all the speed of an octogenarian in a walker. Christ, Embry, Seth, and I should have just hoisted Bella and the Punto onto our shoulders and run down the road. It would have been faster. Eventually, we sputtered into a grove of trees some thirty kilometers away from Volterra and rolled to a stop.
"Spill, Bells. We're not going another inch until you explain exactly what the hell is going on," I told her.
Bella turned around to face us. "Okay, okay. Just give me a second." She put her hands over her mouth for a minute and I listened to her labored breathing. If she didn't tell me what was making her a crazy person, I was going to lose it. Finally, she seemed to make a decision and gave each of us a grim stare. "Alright, I'll tell you. But first, you have to swear to me that no matter what I say, none of you will ever go back there."
Embry, Seth and I exchanged shocked glances. Why would we ever want to go back to some little medieval hole in the wall town in Bumfuck, Italy? What in hell was going on back there? "Honey, how can we promise that when we have no idea what we're swearing to?" I was trying to be as reasonable as possible, but she was seriously freaking me out.
Tears started leaking out of her eyes. She threw herself onto my chest and wrapped her arms so tight around my neck it was hard for me to talk, while maps and books fell everywhere. I hugged her to me as best I could considering that my chest and testicles were still in the iron grip of the steering wheel.
I stroked her hair soothingly and whispered in her ear. "Bells, you're gonna to give Seth a heart attack if you keep laying all over his legs like this." That I didn't even get a chuckle out of her showed me just how upset she was. "Sweetheart, none of us will ever go there unless there is a damned good reason, okay?"
"No!" Her fingers dug into my skin. "That's not good enough. I want you to promise me!"
"Baby, why the hell would we ever want to go back there?"
She looked at me almost desperately. Finally, she whispered, "Because of what I'm about to tell you." Then she took a deep breath and plunged in. "Have any of you ever heard of the Volturi?" she asked.
All those writing reviews will receive a nice, long peek at Chapter 14 so please leave a review if you can. All fanfic writers get incredibly depressed if there is no feedback after all the work that goes into a chapter since it is the only reward we get. Don't believe anybody telling you something different.
A Hell of a Lot of Author Notes:
So, did you all see this one coming? I know several of you thought "Volturi!" as soon as the pack went to Italy, but did I lull any of you to sleep about those concerns? What do you think is going to happen next chapter? I'd love to hear your theories. Did you like the masquerade and what the pack wore? Do you have an interest in the historical Quileute stuff or do you find that kind of thing boring? Any thoughts about Jake and Carmen's scene? The whole masquerade was something I'd planned forever, but it was tough to write. I'm very interested in what you thought of it.
I've finally been dragged into the world of twitter. You can follow me leelator. I'll tweet something tonight, so if you want to chat, tweet me back. I'd love to hear from you.
Tons of websites below. Just delete the spaces in them or go to http :/ twilighted. net/viewstory. php?sid =9079& chapter=13, scroll down and click on all the links directly.
QUILEUTE INFO:
No disrespect was meant to the Quileute culture. If I have offended anyone, I apologize. It was unwittingly done.
Traditional Native American dress is NEVER referred to as a costume. It is called ceremonial regalia. Calling any of these historic and important garments a costume is deeply offensive to Native Americans.
Jake's Quileute Regalia: Accurately determining what Jake and the pack would have worn had they lived and fought hundreds of years ago was a really tough task given the scarcity of Quileute documentation and artifacts, so I compiled many different resources to come up with my version. Much of it (particularly the face and body paint) is based on descriptions of the secret Tlokwali or wolf society ceremonies to which all Quileute warriors belonged. Men and women would have worn only a cedar skirt to the wolf ceremonies, however, there was a mass revolt when I suggested that one to the pack. Luckily, deerskin dresses and breechclouts were an option or else all hell would have broken loose.
*The Kwakiutl Indians by Franz Boas in Report of U. S. National Museum for
1895 (Washington, 1897), p. 66 1. www. jstor. org/pss/660545 (delete spaces)
A breechclout is a long rectangular piece of tanned deerskin worn between the legs and tucked over a belt, so that the flaps fall down in front and behind.
www. native-languages. org/breechcloth. htm http:/ i980. photobucket. com /albums /ae283/ leelator/ fishinginbreechclout. jpg
The girl's dresses were based on this picture http:/ i980. photobucket. com/ albums/ ae283/ leelator/ scan0008. jpg , the only one I was able to find that is actually of Quileute girls not in European clothing. Taken in 1931, these ladies were gathered for a beauty contest. (Notice the white hose and European styled shoes they're wearing.)
Family crests were extremely important to Native American cultures of the Pacific Northwest. "The impressive ceremonial clothing demanded outstanding skill from the female artisans. Clothing with totemic crest symbols emblazoned upon it revealed social position; the symbols we inherited family crests that identified their owner's roots, ties, and family history as well as social status within the community. Crests were more important to the family than tangible properties such as houses, salmon streams and sea going canoes."
Northwest Coast Indian Painting: House Fronts by Edward Malin
Here's Jake's family crest: http:/ i980. photobucket. com/ albums/ ae283/ leelator/ scan0017. jpg
(The center wolf, "Crawling Wolf Dancer," is by Joe David and the outside ring was lifted from a southern Kwakiutl house front in Gwayasdums, British Columbia.)
Copper was a symbol of wealth to the Quileutes as it was to many other Native American cultures of the area. Wearing bracelets, armbands and ankle bands was another symbol of wealth as were dentalium shells, which were frequently used in necklaces, earrings, and chest pieces. Native American (Yakima tribe) dentalium choker circa 1915: http:/ i980. photobucket. com/ albums/ ae283/ leelator/ Yakimawearingdentaliumchoker_crop. jpg
Quileute: An Introduction to the Indians of La Push by Jay Powell and Vickie Jensen
The wolf warriors did indeed self mutilate during the Tlokwali ceremonies. Before whites could photograph them, the ceremonies became so gruesome that the US Government eventually stepped in and outlawed the wolf ceremonies in the early 1900's after a few participants died.
The Ceremonial Societies of the Quileute Indians (1921) Leo J. Frachtenberg
THE BLOOD COUNTESS:
Erzsebet Bathory was just as delightful as Carmen described. Supposedly, she murdered 650 young girls under her control. Read more about her fascinating and extremely bizarre life:
http :/ www. whataslacker. com/backdoor/ elizabeth_bathory/
http :/en. wikipedia. org/wiki/ Elizabeth_B%C3%A1thory
http :/ abacom. com/ ~jkrause/ bathory. html
DRIVING AROUND ITALY/ THE PUNTO
All of the driving commentary and Punto descriptions are based on personal experience. In Rome, after hours searching, we finally found our rental car company in the middle of a parking deck. Now, what the frick is up with that? We'd rented a "luxury" car and were handed the keys to a Punto. In order to cram all my crap into the car, we, too, had to remove interior car seats. (I pack just like Bella did.) It is possible that we reserved a large car instead of a luxury car. Regardless, we didn't find it to be large OR luxurious, but we did eventually come to love it.
The Punto: http :/ i980. photobucket. com/ albums/ ae283/ leelator/ puntowithpassengers. jpg
http :/ i980. photobucket. com/ albums/ ae283/ leelator/ grandepunto. jpg
Driving in Italy is a fascinating adventure. There seem to be no driving rules—like stopping for red lights or driving in the marked lanes—only driving suggestions to which no Italian pays any attention. Wanna see what it's like? It'll scare the shit out of you.
http :/ www. youtube. com/ watch?v= MJG9uIHCRrk & feature= player_embedded