Patches' POV

"I can take that from you," I offered for the fifth time since we left Volterra. Rose shook her head, her fingers firmly clenched on the dark blue suitcase with all of my things in it.

"I've got it, Patches," she assured me. "You just keep walking with Angel. From what he tells me, you really don't need any more burdens." Angel smiled and squeezed my hand for comfort.

"Speaking of which, do you still have the…?" He tapped the center of his chest with his index finger. I caught on and tilted my head up so that I could get my hand inside my shirt.

"You mean my crest?" I asked, pulling it out for him to see. He nodded once and stared at it with distaste. The bronze "V" symbol glowed drearily as if it was ashamed of itself yet still tried to make a good impression.

"If you don't want to be associated with them anymore, I suggest you get rid of it." I thought about this for a moment as I flipped it up to my line of vision. It was not a "V" anymore, but a triangle with a missing bottom. It reminded me of the pyramid I saw in the postcards of Egypt. A few on top, some in the middle, and the most on bottom—the true symbol of the world's most powerful vampire coven. Despite the competitive social layering, I had grown rather attached to this little bronze chain.

"It was my welcome gift from Master Aro," I murmured in thought. "It means that his home is my home too." There was a pause, then Angel and Rose shared a mutual glance that I couldn't decipher.

"Yes, but Aro's not your master anymore, is he?" Rose pointed out. "Since we left that place, you became your own master, which means that you may make your own decisions and choose what to do with your freedom." I didn't know what to think of that concept. Without my usual to-do list, I would have lots of free time on my hands—maybe too much for comfort. I would have to rely on myself for acquiring the human blood that I need. No more scheduled feedings. I felt like I should have a backup plan, just in case this new lifestyle doesn't prove to be something I want.

"I still want to keep the crest," I told them. "It's a part of me and it might be useful later." As far as I knew, the Volturi would never kill me unless I gave them a direct reason to that went against a big vampire law. If I ever meet another vampire who wants to harm me, I could show them the "V" as a way of expressing that I wasn't alone. Angel pondered my words and eventually nodded his support.

"The decision is solely yours. However, you must promise me one thing." I stopped walking and looked up to meet his eyes. "Promise me that you will never return to Volterra without our permission." It was unlikely that I'd ever want to go back, not after nearly losing my emotions. If I did go back, I wasn't so sure that Aro would let me leave a second time. He liked me near him after a period of busy days for him when I wasn't allowed to interrupt him for any reason. Sometimes I'd sit on his study floor just to read for an hour or two. Around him, I never really felt comfortable sitting in a chair.

"I promise," I said with sincerity. "Is there anything else you don't want me to do?"

After a pause, Angel stated "Not at the moment. Just don't run away or deliberately put yourself in danger, alright?"

"Alright," I agreed. Angel smiled at me and shook his hand in my hair the way I liked it. I felt my pace slow down and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head as I walked. When I came into full focus again, I was standing in the shadows of some very tall buildings.

"Houses," Rose explained to me from my other side. "Our hotel is just between those rooftops, see?" She glided right behind me and pointed, but I wasn't following her finger. My gaze was trained on her face, meticulously scrutinizing for any signs of danger. For some reason, I couldn't tear my eyes away. It was as if my body was screaming at me to never let my guard down for even a moment, especially with a gift as powerful as hers. Mental powers always seemed to hurt me more than the others; Jane made an experiment of it once. She sent out the same waves of pain to first a twelve year old human girl who was being saved as a leftover meal, and then to me right after I delivered the girl's dinner for the night. Jane then told me afterward that I screamed harder and louder than the little girl did, which earned me a hard kick in the stomach to "toughen me up". She soon realized that I was not looking at the building and caught my eye.

"What?" Rose broke the silence in a tone surprisingly more amused than annoyed.

"N-Nothing," I stammered, not wishing to try my luck with her. She raised a questioning brow at me as if she knew that I was not wholly honest. I was about to cover it up with another falsehood when Angel put a hand on my shoulder.

"Here's the plan," he said. "I'll take the suitcase and get us checked in while the two of you go into town for some new clothes. Okay?"

"Fine by me," Rose immediately answered. I didn't even get the chance to respond. Before I knew it, she took me by the hand and tossed my bag to Angel before leading me into the town square. The buildings were tall and grand. They lit up in the sun with their ivories, tans, and beiges—a much buoyant contrast to the grays and blacks and dismal chromes of Castle Volterra. I don't think that I have ever seen so much sunlight in my life. I was so preoccupied with looking at everything we passed that I almost tripped as Rose jerked me to the side and into the shade. "This place attracts many tourists year-round," she informed me. "Better to stay on the sides of the streets to avoid traffic." I soon saw what she was talking about: giant crowds of humans moved in whole masses directed by tour guides, who reminded me more of baton-twirlers orchestrating a parade procession. "Let's look for a men's apparel store. I'm pretty sure there's at least one around here." The closer the human neared us, the harder my ears had to strain to hear Rose above the noise. I couldn't remember a castle tour that ever got so loud! I simply nodded and walked with her down the slim pathway until we reached a store at an intersection. Rose made a move to go into the store before the human swarm caught up with us. I dashed inside after her and sighed with relief at the large, spacious area.

There were far less humans in here, and consequently, far less noise. Rose finally released my hand with her eyes on the racks that were labeled with new words. Most of the pants were shades of blue, grey, and black, and went by the name of "jeans". The pants that I had on my legs are called "slacks", which are dressier pants made of smoother material. The short-sleeved cotton shirts were "tees", and the short cloaks that stopped at the stomach were "hoodies". Rose moved to a rack of tee-shirts and started to make sliding sounds with the hangers, looking through all the shirts one by one, even though they all looked exactly the same. "What's your size?" she asked, glancing between me and the shirts.

"In tops?" She nodded. "Thirty-six, I think." She stared at me for a moment in that same disbelieving look.

"Let's try medium," was all she said as she held up one of the shirts to my chest. I saw where the confusion lied; she wanted a general size, not my actual measurements. Her forehead creased and she switched the shirt with a slightly smaller one. "Okay, you're right on the borderline between small and medium, but we'll go with medium just to be safe. Cotton shrinks in the wash." Then she smiled at me in a way that I'd never forget. It was the type of smile that every child longed to see from their mother—a confident, knowing smile that you could trust to protect you. I suddenly felt much more comfortable around her, but that still didn't erase any caution of her power. "Now that we've settled on a size, do you see any styles that you like?" I blinked in amusement.

"You're letting me pick out my clothes?"

"But of course! Your body, right? You can wear whatever you'd like; I trust that you know what is in good taste." I nodded, though admittedly unsure of what constituted "appropriate". In comparison to the Volturi's formal outfits, these clothes showed more skin and looked almost too comfortable. I sifted through the styles and selected six shirts, all of them solid shades of either blue or green. Rose took them from me one by one to make sure they were all medium-sized. "Are you sure these are all you want?"

"Yes," I affirmed. Blue and green were my two favorite colors of nature and were not likely to be noticed in large populations. I had to remember that I wasn't in a coven anymore; living among humans without being noticed was my first priority now.

"You'll need some pants to go with these," she observed, eyeing my legs to estimate a size. "Most likely mediums as well."

"Thirty-six," I repeated, this time stating the circumference of my waist. Rose only nodded in acknowledgment and sent me off to pick out a few pairs. I had a feeling the suitcase carried all my dress pants, so I looked at the other types. I liked a black pair and a gray pair of corduroys and two shades of dark blue denim jeans.

Rose did not take them from me, but instead said "I want you to try each pair on for me first." I obediently took my small pile to the same dressing room and tried to ignore the queasy feeling stirring in my stomach. Even behind the locked door, the voices outside reminded me that this was a public place, and I couldn't bring myself to drop my pants in a public place. My fingers trembled as I urged them to touch the button and zipper that secured me inside of my comfort zone. As the passing of time grew more apparent, so did my fretting. My hands ran up and down my thighs and knees, deliberately avoiding the top. Why couldn't I do this simple thing? The harder I tried to keep out the other voices in the store, the louder they grew until the words echoed in my mind: …Yes, she is a petite in women's. How likely is it that I'll still be able to find…Do you accept coupons? I believe this one expired just yesterd…Thank you for calling; please hold…There was a polite knock on my door.

"Patches, are you almost ready?" Rose asked with a trace of concern. My heart stung as it sank with the familiar red spike of the fear of disappointing. Pinching the top of my pants and pushing one side of the button inward with my thumb, I managed to loosen its grip on my waist. I slowly began to push down the zipper, but pushed it right back up when I felt the material slide. "Patches," the voice called again. Softer, even more concerned at the fact that I did not answer. "Are you okay in there?" I couldn't explain, so I opened the door for her, revealing that I was still fully clothed. Sensing my uneasiness, she came into the room with me and shut the door for some privacy. "What's wrong?"

I swallowed meekly at my lack of a decent excuse. "I can't get my pants down," I whispered, absent-mindedly bending over my knees with a floating hand guarding the vertex of the pant legs. Rose tilted her head, then raised her eyebrows with a sudden suspicion.

"Is this a…personal problem?" she murmured just as quietly. I honestly nodded, almost afraid that she'd rip my pants down as Master Aro did the day I met him and force me through it. Instead, she took the pile in her arms and hung them over the shirts. "I'll get these for you and you'll just try them on when we're safe in the hotel, okay?"

I smiled in great relief. "Thank you." She wasn't disappointed with me at all.

Carly's POV

I followed the redhead inside the big blue tent to find a dress rehearsal in full action. An explosion of color dyed the stage from the sets to the dancers' elaborate costumes. Approximately half of the people were dancers; the rest were acrobats, or else about as superhuman as myself. Multiple jumping platforms supported jugglers who all started off with different props, and progressively shared them with each other as the speed increased. Contortionists folded themselves in half on the trapezes as they spun like tops at least thirty feet in the air. A brassy fanfare introduced the dancers who jazz walked from both sides with rapier swords slung on their hips. Bre and I stood off to the side as the cast illustrated a battle scene. Swords clashed between back flips and fan kicks with such concentrated focus that I almost didn't catch when the contortionists flew up to the catwalk and returned with handheld fog machines that created makeshift clouds. Once the mist was thick enough, the jugglers tossed in their objects mixed with red ribbons to signify "raining bloodshed from the heavens" as Bre put it. She pointed to a taller man clad in a royal purple fitness outfit who was intently watching the performance. I don't think he blinked even once until it was over and yellow flags were draped over the "dead". The yellow color alluded to an old belief that the valiant souls of the deceased went straight up into the sun.

"Would that be your father?" I guessed.

"Yup, that's him." Bre smiled. "Our premier show is tomorrow, but you can always convince him to put you on tour next season." The performers finished their mock curtain call before taking a seat on stage while the man in the purple gave his review.

"…and I want you all to know that I'm extremely proud of you. Let's keep that finale strong until the end. Alright, you're dismissed!" The performers stood up and cleared the stage, giving me a window to introduce myself.

"Good luck," Bre whispered behind my shoulder as she, too, left the tent. Bre's father inputted something into his phone as I approached him. Do you really want to start this? inquired a small voice in my mind. I did. I have to. It was my best bet in staying away from the Volturi's evil world. The man pocketed his phone and caught my eye.

"Hi," he said with an ivory white smile. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I was just watching the last few minutes of rehearsal and I'm very impressed." I tried to pass my personality off as enthusiastic and bubbly as I could, but even those simple joys of innocence died after my heart stopped beating. "I met your daughter, and she wanted me to ask you if there was a position for a chorus dancer in next season's performance?" I felt his eyes quickly look me over, already judging me.

"I don't typically hold impromptu auditions, Miss…"

"Smith," I finished for him. "Carly Smith."

"Right." He checked his wristwatch. "I suppose I have a little time. Do you have a piece to audition with? Have you brought any music with you?" I hadn't. All of my dearest possessions were either broken to bits or stored safely in the house that I could never return to.

"Anything you have by Lady Gaga or Rihanna would be great." This earned me a hearty chuckle.

"I can certainly provide that much."

"Excellent," I grinned, slipping my shoes off and making my way to center stage. "Let me show you what I can do."