Part II: Volterra
Chapter 25: Here There Be Dragons
Thanks to rockin' beta NelsonSmandela, Feisty & Algie for the music, and Scarlett for helping find my missing puzzle piece. Special thanks to Camilla10, a reader (and excellent writer on Twilighted) from Italy who has very generously offered her help in keeping my version of Italy as authentic as possible. Mille grazie, cara mia. Big, big thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, tweets, and recommends this story. I read every single review and am very grateful to you all.
For Italian translations and WTF notes, please see A/N below chapter. Yes, I know. At least I don't put them mid-chapter, too. Oh, and as usual, the Twilighted thread for Canzone has pictures and music.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how much time I spend with them.
Chapter Music:
Paolo Conte: Via Con Me
http://www dot youtube dot com/watch?v=y5IaFoXe-QU&feature=player_embedded
Itzhak Perlman plays Paganini: Caprices 04 & 13 "The Devil's Laughter"
http://www dot youtube dot com/watch?v=JvGIJgU3t-w
Anna Moffo sings Gounoud's "Je veux vivre" from the opera Roméo et Juliette
http://www dot youtube dot com/watch?v=QSn2fXC8Vb4
~oЖo~
Even though I know we're totally safe from accidents and the police, Edward's driving scares the crap out of me. So I play with the radio dial of the rental car we picked up at the airport in Pisa, anything to distract myself. Electronica, no. Men talking about sports (I'm almost certain), pass. Europop, no… talking that sounds like the cadence of a Catholic mass in any language, yes, they've just responded and sound like a body of people changing positions all at once, faintly groaning wood in the background. No. Sorry, Grandma Swan, wherever you are. I love you,but I'm changing stations. Looking for classical, I hesitate when I hear some faintly upbeat piano music and the deep voice of a man who half sings, half speaks. I've heard this song before, maybe in a movie. I can't remember what it is but it suits my mood, so I let it play.
"Sunflowers!" I cry, stunned by the surreal scene through the tinted windshield. I roll down my window to get the full-color effect. "A whole field of them! Look at how they're all facing the sun. I mean, I know they do, but to see a whole field of them, every single one of the flower faces turned towards the sun, it's almost bizarre, to think of plants moving and responding like that."
I close my eyes for a moment and soak in the bright Italian sun. I'm too excited to feel jet lag, and the trip from Pisa to Volterra has too much gorgeous scenery. I find myself singing along to the music, knowing all the words, even though I still can't place where I've heard the song. In my mind I can see Renee singing along, mumbling and butchering the Italian parts but singing full-voiced whenever the words switch to English in the chorus. You could study in France,she says clearly, curiously in my memory. I know Edward could probably clear it up for me, but I want to remember on my own.
"You're doing it, too," he says in his quiet voice, and I smile before opening my eyes. "Turning your face to the sun."
When I look at him, his answering smile seems slightly strained. I realize that he's got to keep in the shadows, and I'm reluctant to enjoy something he can't.
"Oh, sorry," I sigh sadly, pushing the button to raise the window. "I wasn't thinking about other cars passing by."
"Don't," he says, reaching over to still my hand. "You looked so happy just now. Keep your window down, at least."
He smiles at me, a small, sweet smile, genuine and temporary. I keep quiet, because it feels both good and unnerving to enjoy the sun when Edward cannot. I don't tell him how much I've missed the sun, how I nearly forgot my preference for a sunny climate after five years of living in Washington State. I don't know if I'm supposed to hide my pleasure or not. The warmth on my face feels like it's separating us, so I lean back in a little, and let my hand surf in the air just outside the window, my gaze traveling from the flowers to Edward's troubled face and back again.
"You look worried," I observe.
"You're not? After what Alice told us? After what we agreed to do?"
"Of course I'm concerned. And we didn't agree to do anything that horrible. I'm just glad I don't have to worry about lying."
Alice had given us very clear instructions about how we were to behave with the Volturi, Aro in particular. Technically, she did give us a choice in the matter, but it wasn't much of a choice. My part is easier, mostly because it involves following my natural inclinations. Too bad Alice didn't tell him to be a moody fucker, because he's doing brilliantly so far. Ever since we left Jacksonville. Maybe he just misses my mother. I'd laugh at the thought, despite his crankiness.
Edward scowls at me.
"Are you still angry that Alice thinks you won't be able to fool Aro?"
I'm kind of shocked that Edward can fool anyone, but I guess he relies on mind-reading to make sure people believe him.
"I'm an excellent liar," he mutters resentfully. "But Alice is right. Aro's had three thousand years of infallible lie-detecting. If a little honesty in the beginning keeps his hands off me, it's worth it."
I shudder and roll up my window instinctively. Volterra's medieval buildings, with bricks so golden-beige they look like they could've been fashioned from sand and light, wait for us on a hilltop in the distance. Between the warmth of the afternoon sun, the bright blue sky, the army of yellow flowers, and the brilliance of Volterra, you'd never think there were such things as shadows, let alone vampires.
Something tells me that the city itself holds more lies than Edwardcould have experienced in a mere century.
~oЖo~
The apartment Esme scouted out for us is close enough to the school for Edward to be able to come and go during daylight hours, as long as the sun isn't directly overhead. Still, he's got jackets with wide collars and hats and gloves, just in case. When we finally arrive, it's late afternoon, and the smallish square outside our apartment building holds exquisitely golden slanting rays of sun as well as long shadows of buildings.
I wait outside, sitting on our luggage, enjoying another moment in the sunshine while Edward gets the key and talks to our downstairs neighbor, an old lady who invites him in. It takes him a little longer than expected, and a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, decides that I am lost and it is his mission in life to help me. He starts speaking to me in rapid Italian, and I can only make out the first couple of sentences. After that the words all run together and I find it difficult to keep up.
"Signorina? Signorina, vuoi un aiuto? Tu non sei di qui, vero?" he says with a flirtatious smile. I know enough Italian to know he sounds polite and friendly, if a little familiar.
He reminds me a little of Mike Newton, before I redirected his attentions to a more willing classmate. It's too bad Jessica isn't here now. As much as she annoys me, she'd get this guy off me in no time.
"Grazie, ma no," I stumble on the words, feeling shy and slightly intimidated by my linguistic incompetence. I just want to tell him, politely, to bug off. "Non è necessario. Sono qui con il mio—"
"Forse hai bisogno di una guida turistica?" he interrupts brightly, offering his help before I can tell him I've got a boyfriend. A fiancé, I mean. What's the word for fiancé? "Vieni, lascia che ti aiuti. Conosco un posto dove si può dormire la notte."
And I'm lost. I hear all the words, but I have no idea what he's saying.
He offers to take my bags, even going so far as to pick up one of the heavier suitcases, making a big show of how heavy it is. I'm sure I look confused, which probably only encourages him. I don't mean to, I'm just trying to figure out what to say to make him leave me alone. He's not scary, just kind of … overwhelmingly friendly, and I'd rather not be rude to the first Italian in Volterra who tries to help me. Edward has no such qualms, apparently, as he rushes out toward us, looking furious.
"La mia fidanzata non ha bisogno del tuo aiuto," he growls rapidly as he stalks toward us. "Va a molestare qualcun altro."
He doesn't remotely seem to be worried about the sun, so I abandon the luggage to meet him in the shadows before he can get too close. Did he just say molest? I shake my head, vaguely recalling hotel 'Do not disturb' signs in English and Spanish using a variation of the word, like molesto. Okay, so probably not molest, but disturb. That's okay.
"What are you doing? You look like you're going to attack him. Come on, you're totally overreacting." I whisper as I wrap my arms around his neck, allowing him to hold me possessively. "Would you please relax? He's human; it's broad daylight. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm."
"You don't know what he was thinking," he hisses in my ear, glaring at the man. "Trust me, you don't want to, either."
"Was I in any serious danger?" I ask, frowning as I watch my would-be tour guide beat a leisurely retreat. He looks curious, and more than a little cautious now, but not dangerous at all. "I mean, he was persistent, but I didn't feel threatened. You scared me more than he did. I mean, what would have happened if he had seen you in the sun?"
"He wouldn't have lived long enough to notice," he says with quiet menace, adjusting his hat to an angle most shielding him from the sun.
Which, may I say, Edward in a hat, especially at a rakish tilt, looks like some 1940s movie star. And while part of me acknowledges how attractive he is, anger and all, another part of me feels warning bells in the distance. This isn't remote Washington, after all. We are in the lap of the Volturi, who care about appearances.
He grabs all our luggage, managing the heavy bulk easily. The man, clearly fluent in the universal language of testosterone, has the good sense to look appropriately afraid, and scurries away from my freakishly strong protector's murderous glare.
"Is it wise to display your strength like that?" I ask, keeping my voice low. "Someone could be looking out a window right now."
"Nobody is looking," he says. "I would know."
I'm not so sure about that. In a human world? Yes. In the capitol of vampires, two of whom have managed to escape Edward's notice already? Who knows how many other vampires besides Aro and Jane can control their thoughts? Now's not the time to bring it up, though. Edward looks like he's about to snap.
"What was he thinking, anyway?" He looks at me in surprise when I ask, so I hasten to clarify. "I mean, just now, when he got scared and ran off? Does he have any idea of what you are? Do people here suspect anything?"
"He's afraid of me, and worries that I will follow him," he says thoughtfully. "He associates me with the Volturi already, at least subconsciously. They are known here, and feared, but not for what they truly are. People know better than to speculate aloud. He won't be back."
Somehow I don't think this is just about one human trying to pick me up. Edward has been increasingly anxious since our arrival in Italy, and it feels like this is the first excuse he's had to vent his considerable temper.
"Come on, we should call Renee to let her know we made it," I say lightly, attempting to change the subject. "I feel so guilty for separating you two."
"We should call her," he says, relaxing a little at the mention of her name.
They were thick as thieves the previous week during our visit to Florida, usually bent over an old photo album, or watching home movies from my childhood. Usually the videos they watched involved me being stubborn about something, or singing and dancing for various school productions. Renee's standard response to my infrequent temper tantrums seemed to be to hit the record button on a camera, and she always made videos of shows so she could have them copied and sent to Charlie. Edward couldn't get enough of her memorabilia from my childhood, and they bonded over it, much to my chagrin.
"You know, you never told me what her mind is like," I remind him as we make our way up a spiral staircase. "You promised to tell."
"She's sweet, and optimistic. She's always got a song in her head," he says, smiling in spite of himself now. "Usually something upbeat, something you can dance to. And she thinks in pictures, mostly, and metaphors. Everything reminds her of something else, and often it results in some really insightful thoughts, or at least something amusing. Her mind is fascinating, really. She's very creative. It's like she has the mind of an artist, without having any specific talent to channel her creativity."
"Yeah?" I ask, relieved. I don't know what I expected. More confusion, I guess, but everything sounds like her to a 't'. "No wonder she's so restless. She loves you," I add unnecessarily.
"Not nearly as much as she loves you. She's very proud of you. I think she likes me so much only because I make you smile."
"Oh please, you know she finds you adorable." I roll my eyes, thinking about our recent visit. He knows how often she whispered to me about how handsome and polite he is, how gorgeous and well-mannered. Did she mention gorgeous and handsome, too?
"He's so pretty!" she had whispered to me on more than one occasion during our weeklong visit, thinking him out of earshot.
Normally, I know Edward would get annoyed with that kind of attention, but he seemed to find it charming in Renee. She dusted off the upright piano that hadn't been touched since I left for Forks, and begged him to play, and for me to sing. So, for the better part of the week, we spent most of our time either playing music with her gazing adoringly at us both, or walking down memory lane. It was bittersweet for me, knowing it could very well be the last chance I ever get to spend any real time with my mom. I was unusually affectionate with her as a result, and made it a point to walk on the beach with her every morning while Edward pretended to sleep.
Finally we make it to our own door and Edward opens it somehow without setting any of the luggage down. After some awkward groping of the wall I find not a light switch but a window, and manage to open it. Light floods into the apartment, and it's much nicer than Edward's old one at school. It's also not nearly as modern, but the furniture is new and lovely, dark woods and modern in comparison to the architecture, but somehow blending in at the same time. A gorgeous baby grand piano sits in an excellent spot, at the farthest corner of the apartment where only our downstairs neighbor will hear, a lady Esme assures us is partially deaf and a lover of classical music as well.
There's a massive bouquet on our dining table, full of bright flowers, ivy with white curling tendrils, and delicate ferns, sitting in a large, expensive-looking vase.
"Is this another one of Aro's oh-so-meaningful bouquets?" I ask, eyeing the familiar-looking envelope resting against the elegant vase as if it were a rattlesnake. I'd know that stationery anywhere.
"If it is, it's a gesture of friendship," he says, opening the note and reading it in a quick scan. His mouth settles into a thin line before he looks at me, and continues in a quiet voice. "I hope. He wants to meet us tonight. First with him alone, then he will present us formally to the Volturi. We're to dress for the occasion and be prepared to perform."
~oЖo~
Hand in hand, we walk as quickly as my heels will allow down the narrow, steep streets paved with irregular rectangular stones. The surface is incredibly uneven, and I find myself getting more and more embarrassed as the old, clumsy Bella I used to be seems to be out in full force. When I stumble for the third time, Edward puts his arm around my waist.
"Lean on me more," Edward whispers, and I gratefully accept his steadying arm.
"I feel drunk," I confess in a hushed tone. "I didn't know I'd need sea legs just to walk around here. I should have worn flats."
With the way the streets twist around here, I feel disoriented, and the soft moonlight and warm glow of random lights on building walls don't do much to help me keep my bearings. I feel as though we're traveling through time, and half expect to run into a group of medieval monks at any moment. Instead we only see the occasional tourist and quite a few locals.
"Almost there," he says as we turn a new corner. This street has bright lights at least, and feels more modern.
"Where are we?" I ask, and am immediately distracted by the sound of a violin playing somewhere nearby, off to the left, beyond a high wall.
Unlike the old busker in Seattle, this violinist knows what to do with the instrument. I don't recognize the tune, but it's soft and plaintive. I feel compelled to follow it, and try to see over the wall. When I look at Edward, his face reflects the same kind of grim determination he had while reading the invitation.
"Aro?" I ask, and he nods.
Soon we come to the end of the highest part of the wall, and he easily lifts me over where some shadows hide us. I am speechless at the sight before me.
Ruins.
Ruins of something ancient—an arena or a theater, maybe. It takes me a second to realize that I've seen this from another angle, on a flat, glossy page, the photograph taken in sunlight. Roman ruins of a theater, I realize. It's well lit for night, yellowish sodium lights illuminating various architectural points. During the day there would be tourists, but at night we are alone, save for the lone vampire and his violin, standing improbably high between two columns of what was once an impressive stage, his sleek black hair shining as he plays. The song turns whimsical and festive as we make our way down the steep hill, as though he senses our presence.
Whenever I see a historical building or ruin I always automatically play a game that Renee taught me when I was little. First, try to imagine it as it was when first built, shiny and new. Usually, it's easy; you just have to imagine people with different clothing hanging around, and some horses. With ruins like this, it's much harder. Never has it been so difficult, except for the Roman baths near the Sorbonne in Paris. The imagination must flex, expand to see this place as new. My mind automatically rebuilds, adding columns in classical symmetry to the ones remaining, a stage, more stones, walls, and finally seats filled with men in togas, maybe women, too, in old Roman veils and gowns. I can almost hear them shouting, my imagination propped up by old Technicolor movies probably laughable in their inaccuracy. I get chills imagining the graceful vampire in front of me displaying his innate musicality in this historical context. He was here, even then. He has outlasted marble and stone.
As I have imagined with Edward, so my mind does now with Aro, time racing even faster forward while the new theater slowly collapses into the reality of what it is today, eroded like an old memory, until all that is left are fragments of images, filled in by imagination, and faultily at that. Aro's memory would be perfect, though. His memory of all of it, and there's so much that I feel dizzy even making an attempt. Through the height of the Roman Empire, no one believing such a mighty force could be brought down, then the decline, with mad Emperors and raiding Goths. Dark Ages, Middle Ages, hundreds of years falling away, marked in crumbling theater walls and stones carried away by workmen to build other things. Countless monks and the Holy Roman Empire, the powerful Medici, the Renaissance, and moveable type. The birth of protestant Northern Europe, the birth of opera at the dawn of the 1600s. Some forty years later, when this building had crumbled past recognition and Aro's eyes had turned milky with advanced age, even for a vampire, Carlisle Cullen was born.
Edward's entire existence must seem like a day to him in comparison with his own timeline. Mine must be like a blink of his eye. In my eyes, Aro standing against the backdrop of moon and stars seems almost as permanent as they are, a god fixed in the firmament. I know from Carlisle and Eleazar that many vampires have existed in this time, and have not survived the occasional struggles that vampires have. Only a handful are Aro's age or older. What must it take to survive, and rule such creatures? What kind of mind can tell a world full of vampires what to do, and expect obedience? As grateful as I am for Eleazar's reading list, it almost seems like bringing a knife to a gunfight. Fortunately for us, there's Alice, as unsettling as her advice has been.
The violin begins to almost laugh, and I wonder how he can play so quickly and seem so still, until, I feel Edward flinch. Now the air holds only the memory of the notes and the suddenly present natural sounds of night in Volterra: leaves whooshing in the breeze, people laughing in the distance, a bicycle bell. In what feels like the same instant, Aro stands merely two arms' length from us, my brain barely having registered the end of the piece. His face is relaxed, though his milky eyes hold an eager, childlike curiosity. He does not try to touch either one of us, but merely holds his bow in one hand and the violin in the other, in an open gesture of expectation.
"You play beautifully," I manage to say in lieu of applause. I think my racing pulse is applause enough.
"Carlisle's memories of your playing don't do you justice," Edward says a moment later, his tone level and cordial. "Paganini, interesting choice of music."
"He played this very violin," Aro says with a Cheshire cat smile for both of us. "And I daresay I have improved since Carlisle last heard me. I learned much by watching Niccolò Paganini, the virtuoso himself. He was one of my greatest successes as a patron of the arts. Your impending stay has inspired me to revisit some of my most cherished memories, and I thought it might be pleasant to share some with you now. This last one was named for me, you see. I'm quite proud of it."
"The Devil's Laughter?" Edward laughs softly in spite of himself, and I'm reminded of Carlisle's comment about Aro's charm and humor. I relax a little bit, and smile tentatively. Aro transfers the bow to his left hand, and politely reaches out to me.
"Isabella, you look lovely this evening. May I?" he asks, and I step forward.
I hold my hand out to him, and he takes it gently, holding it with that same look of expectation he had the first time he touched me. This time, however, there is no disappointment, only a gentle curiosity.
"How do you like Italy so far?" he asks, and I sense he truly wants to know.
"It's beautiful. So sunny and warm," I gush. "Volterra seems like something out of a fairy tale."
He turns to speak to Edward, but keeps my hand in his. He touches the Cullen crest on my bracelet, and tilts his head curiously.
"And how is Carlisle, and the rest of your family?"
"They are well. Carlisle sends his regards," Edward replies with a nod as formal as his words.
"In the past few months I have tried to see things from your point of view, young Edward," Aro says thoughtfully, his hand cooler than the night breeze. His skin somehow feels thinner than paper and stronger than marble all at once. I can't explain it, even to myself. "And I must say, that had I done so ahead of time, we might have started out on better footing. I asked to meet with you in private first, as an attempt to make myself clear, in hopes of an improved beginning."
I turn my head to see Edward nod again in my peripheral vision.
"I would like that as well," he agrees, his eyes on my hand in Aro's. "Carlisle has only spoken well of you in the past."
"Yes, that is among the things I would like to discuss, though we don't have time to go over everything at once, unfortunately. I realize that I have inadvertently offended my dear friend, and I wish to make amends. Carlisle is one of the only creatures I have ever known to want nothing from me apart from my friendship. His is a rare mind, don't you think?"
"The rarest," Edward states, a hint of suspicion creeping into his tone.
"And yours, your mind is rare, too," Aro continues, either missing or ignoring Edward's shift. "I would hate to think that I lost the chance to compare notes with the only mind I've ever met who could remotely understand my own."
At this Edward remains completely silent, as Aro brings my hand near his lips, merely the formality, the ghost of a kiss.
"And Isabella, her mind, too, mysterious and silent. Did you, Edward, feel as I have upon encountering her silence? Frustration, and then, surprisingly … relief?"
Alice told us he would ask this question, down to the exact wording. And Edward had promised to answer truthfully. Aro watches us both carefully.
"Yes," Edward agrees, with some difficulty. "Bella's silence has been both a comfort and a torment to me. At first, it was frustrating not to know what she was thinking, but now, generally, I find it quite soothing to enjoy her company and silence at the same time."
"You surprise me with your candor, Edward," Aro laughs, delighted. "I hope you do not mind me telling you what a relief it is to touch flesh, human or vampire, without the onslaught of memory, thought, and confusion that always comes with it. With Isabella, it's just warm human skin. It is a shock to look into her eyes—your eyes, excuse me, my dear, for you are present, after all—and find intelligence there, when your touch says nothing at all."
"Tell me, Isabella," he asks thoughtfully. "How do you find Italians in general? So much more relaxed than the Romans of my human life. I prefer, as you will see, my civilization to be a bit more formal."
I hesitate, but remember what Alice said. It isn't giving him a weapon, Bella. He wants you to be comfortable. I take a deep breath.
"I'm not quite used to it yet," I confess. "Everyone seems very friendly, but I'm not used to the constant invasion of my own personal space yet. It makes me nervous."
His eyes flicker to our hands, and he finally lets go.
"Oh, not you! I didn't mean you," I say, blushing furiously, though I do feel relief in the absence of his touch. "I meant at the airport, mostly. We were going to take a bus here, but I got so anxious with the jostling that Edward insisted we rent a car instead."
"I preferred it as well," Edward adds softly. "I was pleasantly surprised when you agreed so quickly."
"It should never have crossed your mind to travel in a bus filled with people." Aro says with some distaste. He looks at Edward closely again. "And what of Volterra? How do you find the good citizens of my hometown?"
I look at Edward, silently begging him to follow the plan and tell the truth.
"I'm also not quite used to it yet," Edward confesses, his face tense even with the memory. "I'm afraid that when it comes to Bella, I tend to overreact, as you know from our previous experience. While it has always been difficult for me to ignore the lewd thoughts of men who find Bella attractive, it seems to be much harder to refrain from ripping the arms off of those who actually go so far as to pursue and touch her as well. I fear that Italy will prove to be quite a challenge for me in this regard."
"Again, you surprise me with your honesty, Edward. I am most encouraged," Aro murmurs. "Naturally I already knew about your encounter with the young man outside your building."
Edward's face shows genuine surprise, and Aro stares at him in fascination.
"You'll find very little happens in Volterra that I don't know about," he says, smiling now. "I'm inclined to reward you for your openness, Edward. You and Isabella. What if I told you that I can make it so that you never have to worry about Isabella's safety as long as you're here? Whether it's among vampires or humans, I can give her automatic protection, and nobody will harm her? In fact, people and vampires alike would fear for her safety so much that they would protect her almost as vigilantly as you do yourself. What would you say to that, Edward? It wouldn't cost you very much. Just a handshake."
Edward's stillness takes on a charged sort of energy, his intensity that of a great cat ready to spring. Alice didn't tell us that Aro would offer anything like this, only that Edward would be sorely tempted by something, and what he must say afterward. Aro smiles, as only the devil can when he offers you your heart's desire.
"As much as it pains me to say this, Aro, as much as I want that," he says, looking tortured. "I cannot allow you to touch me. I am bound by natural obligation, and by oath. I hold not only my own thoughts, but a century's worth of thoughts and secrets not freely given to me. I gave my word, and I'm bound to it."
Aro's smile falls, and I see the predator behind the mask of welcome, just for an instant, a flash.
Then it's all cold civility.
"A noble sentiment," Aro's voice drips with sarcasm, his posture now regal and angry. "You're telling me you would want to give me access to your thoughts, if they were yours alone?"
"No, of course not," Edward snaps, suddenly eager to tell the truth. "I don't want you in my head, and I certainly don't want anyone to have intimate knowledge of Bella through my memories. But yes, if you could offer me a guarantee of her safety, I would give even that. I would share that … with you … to know that she is well protected."
"You are not Carlisle Cullen," Aro whispers after a moment's silence. "But you are, in a way, his son. You have been honest with me, Edward, beyond my expectations. I will think it over during the performance. Let's say, for the sake of argument, if I were to grant this protection, you would both do me one honor in return?"
"What is it?" Edward asks, completely focused on Aro's face.
Aro must be controlling his thoughts quite well right now, and he knows it. He's enjoying this.
He opens his mouth, inhaling silence, as though tasting the air between us. I wonder if he can savor Edward's desperation. Or worse yet, if my blood calls to him as well. A shiver runs through me before I can stop it, and Edward puts his arm around me protectively.
"If I do this, you must allow me to show you what true civilization among our kind looks like," Aro says, pleasant again. "No, I won't ask you to change your diet, though you are certainly welcome to change of your own accord at any time. I've taken the liberty of stocking two private game reserves just outside of town for the sake of your alternative lifestyle. It isn't a true forest, but I know you don't want to venture so far from Isabella's side while you're here. No, I mean that I want you to truly open your mind to this unique experience. To not be so quick to dismiss the opportunity you have in my standing offer to join the guard while you are here studying music. Can you give me at least that?"
I look at Edward, and he nods.
"I can," he says. "If it means Bella's safety."
"Isabella?" Aro asks.
"Of course," I say. "I can do that."
The moment I say it, however, I feel a little hollow about it. Does this make me complicit in the murders they commit? Do I really have a choice? I'm a little troubled by the question, and decide to ask Edward later. Aro, on the other hand, seems satisfied with our responses.
"Perhaps, then, if you've earned it. We shall see tonight," he says, looking at me with frank challenge. "I hope you've been practicing, my dear. For now, follow Jane, everyone."
I feel Edward stiffen in surprise beside me as the small, intimidating girl steps out of the shadows, followed closely by a male vampire I've never seen before, dark beneath his inhuman pallor, looking as though he could have come from almost anywhere in the Mediterranean. Alice made no mention of this, whether or not she saw it. Aro watches as we walk by, following Jane into an ancient tunnel beneath the ruins.
~oЖo~
We walk for a while through the well-kept tunnel, and I wonder how old it is. Edward's arm never leaves my shoulders, and I stumble only once, just a little. Jane eyes me curiously in the dim light when it happens.
"You're just a human," she says in a childish voice, as if realizing something. "I can still hurt you, you know."
"I know," I say quietly. As if I could forget the big freakin' bruise you left on my arm, Bad Seed.
We finally pass through doors, and hallways, and finally we arrive in a big room, classical in structure. It's filled with vampires, looking like a pack of vicious supermodels, and a piano in the center of the room. There's a dais on one side, where Marcus and Caius sit unnaturally still, waiting in two of three great chairs underneath words carved in marble near the ceiling overhead:
Ars Longa, Vita Brevis
Art is long, life is short. Aro notices me looking at the words and pauses on the way to sit down.
"Do you know what it means, Isabella?" he asks. It feels like a prologue to our formal lessons.
"I know what it means to humans," I say. "Dr. George says it frequently."
"Does he now? Good for him. He knows his place after all. What does it mean for humans, Isabella?" He speaks as if we are the only ones in the room. I try to pretend we are, except for Edward, of course.
"It means that art has meaning in life, more meaning than life itself even, because in a hundred years, nobody will care about anything else we did but the stories we told and the art and music we made. Well, that and what we could learn about science and nature, what we could invent, but the phrase doesn't address science."
"Well said," he says, smiling. I'm not done, though.
"I'm trying to figure out," I pause, surprised by my own nerve. "What it means to immortal creatures, like you."
"And your thoughts?" he asks, his smile fading, as though I've breached some unspoken rule of tact.
I realize, too late to take it back, what it means. Most people are worthless to them, unless they have something to offer in the long term. Edward has been unnaturally quiet since Aro said he'd think about his refusal, and he looks preoccupied, as though listening to multiple trains of thought at once. I'm on my own, it seems.
"I think it means that I'd better be a good artist," I say nervously.
Aro smiles broadly, his sharp white teeth shining like brand new gravestones.
"Quite so," he says finally. "You have something prepared? We're all ready to hear you sing. Are we all here? Where is Chelsea? I need you here, cara mia."
"I am here, Aro," I hear her silky voice before I see her, but my stomach does a back-flip as she moves gracefully to Aro's side and clasps his hand.
A male vampire follows close behind her, and his reminds me slightly of a fox, his cheekbones high enough to make his eyes tilt, his expression more of cunning than thoughtfulness. He seems to be attached to her, but from a distance, as if by some invisible string. I notice him flinch slightly as Aro touches her, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. She looks back at him and winks, his answering smile full of lies.
She's quite easily the most beautiful vampire in the room, besides Edward. She's as lovely as Rosalie, but with darker hair and somehow, an even meaner expression on her flawless features. Where Rosalie looks kind of bitchy, Chelsea's features display an innate cruelty. Her eyes go to Edward first, then me, and I don't have to be a mind-reader to know what she's thinking. I'd be thinking the same thing, too. What's he doing with her?, her expression seems to say, and then she gets a speculative look on her face that makes me want to vomit.
If she wants Edward, I don't know what I can do to stop her. She's breathtakingly beautiful. This is worse than finding out that your husband is doing a movie with Angelina Jolie. Might as well just give up now, and wish them all the happiness in the world, etc.
Even as the feeling of dejection settles in, a different sensation wells up to replace it. It's an odd feeling, one that makes no sense in this context. I feel calm, and eager to please. I feel like I last felt sitting at Keys with Angela, Ben, Alice, and Jasper back before the vampires hit town. I feel like I belong? I shake my head slightly at the thought, but the feelings stay with me. It's an odd cognitive dissonance, me feeling happy to be here, but not understanding why. Feeling as though I'm home, and knowing I'm very much not. At any rate, it doesn't seem to depress me so much that I'm easily the ugliest individual in the room. It should, and it did, but it doesn't anymore. It doesn't even bother me that Edward is staring at Chelsea. He doesn't look at her like he looks at me, and that's enough for the moment.
He's looking at her like she's a problem to be solved. The way Aro looks at me.
Aro smiles at me encouragingly, fascinated by something, apparently.
"You may begin whenever you like, Bella," he says warmly, putting a protective arm around the beautiful woman at his side, careful to maintain contact with her skin. "Are you ready to sing?"
Oddly enough, I am. I feel like I want to.
I look around the room, recognizing only a few faces from the disastrous meeting before Spring Break. Edward looks at me questioningly, and I nod. I welcome the pre-performance butterflies now. This is a good sort of nervous, the kind I can handle. I welcome these butterflies, and hope they distract me from the fact that only my ability to make music makes me anything more than a tasty beverage to this room full of fearsome, gorgeous creatures. Alice's words come to mind again, and I take courage in knowing that the song choice is the best possible for all possible outcomes.
Edward settles himself at the piano, and I face the dais, summoning the walls of my column, well within reach at all times after months of practice following Dr. George's advice. As I lift my head, I am already inside, and I feel the force of it flow through me like water gushing through a faucet. I am no longer shy, silent Bella Swan, but instead the vivacious Juliet, ebullient with life, sparkling like a flute full of champagne. All of my nervous energy flows into singing the fast, cheerful runs, and I even hit the high notes with far more confidence than I feel.
Alice is a genius, I think, as I sing the French aria better than I've ever sung it before. Had I sung in Italian, I would have felt the weight of every person who corrected my Italian today, and there were many of them. Here in this room full of perfect vampires, some of whom have lived among the locals since the local language was Latin, singing anything less than perfectly accented Italian would have been a mistake. I am comfortable in French. I am comfortable in my column.
When I have the column, I don't need to touch or look at Edward to feel our connection. It's there in the way we read each other through the notes, fine and invisible as sonar, automatic as any choreography nature ever inspires. I don't need applause to let me know I've done well, but I feel the attention of all the vampires in the room as though they were beams of light shining right at me. I do reasonably well with the high C at the end. It's not as good as I want it to be, but better than it was in the opera. When it's over, the column feels like it stays up until the last faint echo fades from the marble walls. Aro's gaze holds subtle compliments, and I feel flushed with pleasure at having done my part well in spite of my fears.
A faint, excited murmur fills the void of the notes — it sounds like wind chimes in the distance. Edward moves to stand beside me once again, his face wary. Aro motions us forward, and as he stands, the rest of the vampires fall silent. I notice Renata and Demetri for the first time since entering the room. I feel their eyes on me with far more intensity than the rest, and it makes me tremble, but I don't look directly at them. Edward's hands wrap around my waist in a protective embrace, and I wonder if he's glaring at Demetri. Renata turns her head to Aro, but even without looking I can still feel Demetri's burning gaze. I feel, rather than hear the growl coming from deep in Edward's chest, and my stomach drops once again.
Aro whispers something to Chelsea, and she nods slightly. After a moment, she shakes her head apologetically, and Edward's arms tighten around me again. Aro sighs in disappointment, and stands, giving the appearance of having made a decision.
"You've all heard me speak of my newest musical project," Aro announces. It feels strangely like the introduction I half expected to hear before we started. "I am pleased to introduce you all to Edward, and his human mate, Isabella. As most of you already know, they are here as Volterra scholars."
Some of the vampires murmur in response to the phrase human mate, and I blush in response, even though it's no longer unexpected.
"Yes, the situation is odd, but I urge you not to judge them for her status. They have very generously agreed to wait for her transformation, as a special favor to me. Isabella is still rather young, and her voice, though obviously quite agreeable, shows promise, in my opinion, and I've asked to see it developed further before her change. Even in this short interlude, her voice has grown in maturity and skill, and I have high hopes for her artistry, both in her human and eventual vampire forms.
"Of course, it is at great risk that she stays in this fragile condition. Since it is at my request they are willing to put her life in danger, I feel that it is my responsibility to protect her. Therefore," he says, bringing from his pocket a heavy gold chain with a large V-shaped pendant, rubies flashing as he places it ceremoniously around my neck. "Let none harm her. And let me be clear: not one bruise, nor one drop of blood shed, or the penalty will be your existence. You must keep her safe from all harm, from nature, beast, and humans, should they be foreign, for the citizens of Volterra respect and fear this symbol above all others. Indeed, it is your duty, as members of this coven, to protect Isabella from all harm, more carefully than you would protect your own spouse, or your own existence, for your existence indeed depends on her safety. This is more than a token of my faith in our agreement, Edward, though it is that, also. This is my protection."
~oЖo~
"This is a lot of bling for me," I say later, staring at the detail on the big V as we finally make it into bed. "Do I really have to wear it all the time?"
"It would make me feel better if you do," Edward says, taking it from my hands and placing it on the bedside table beside us. "Though you can take it off to shower and when we're alone, like this."
"This thing really does make you feel better," I observe, thinking of the growl vibrating in his chest, and of Demetri's look of frustration when Aro made his declaration. "It doesn't make you feel weird, Aro putting his big crest on me like this?"
"Of course it does. It sickens me to see the mark of the Volturi on you," He says, scowling as he traces the double eagle and the barren trees that make up the design in the middle of the pendant. "But they do respect it, I heard it in their minds. Every one of those vampires will protect you as fiercely as any Cullen now, and human men will surely leave you alone once they see it. It's a small price to pay for your safety, considering the alternative."
"It feels weird, wearing two crests like that," I say, nestling into the curve of his arm. His cool body feels like heaven in the warm night air. "Do you really think they'll let you be a Cullen here? I'm surprised Aro didn't give you one of these, too. All the other vampires were wearing them."
"It was in his mind," he says softly. "As are many things. But he is saving it, to mean something more if I should wear it. As to the diet, he means it about the game preserve. But I see why Carlisle left. We may not see the feedings, but the brutality hangs in the air and in their minds. They are not like us. They are murderers, for all their civility."
"I feel like so much happened that I don't understand," I say, feeling exhausted, and letting curiosity open the floodgates of my mind. "I felt such odd things, and you were so quiet. What did you hear? Why were you looking at Chelsea like that? I mean, I can imagine why, she's gorgeous, but you were trying to figure her out, right? Does she have some kind of talent, like yours?"
"Nobody would ever believe me if I told them what a chatterbox you are right before bed," Edward observes with a small smile as he pulls out his laptop and plugs it in to the funky-looking outlet on the wall with an adaptor. "And she's only pretty on the outside. Her mind is not so attractive, and it makes her face ugly by association. She's nowhere near as beautiful as you."
"Liar," I say, but I can't help but smile happily anyway. Edward looks at me in surprise.
"You don't believe me?" he asks, and I shake my head at him, smiling as he pulls me into his arms, putting aside the computer while it boots up. "Haven't you ever met someone who seemed attractive at first, then they open their mouth and say something incredibly stupid, or mean, and suddenly they don't look all that great anymore?"
"Now that you mention it, yes," I admit, grudgingly. "I once thought I had a crush on a boy in high school until he said something really racist, then he just seemed kind of gross, and I never understood what I saw in him to start with. Grandma Swan used to call that 'acting ugly'."
"Yeah, well, if you could read the minds of these vampires, you'd see a whole lot of ugly in that room," he sighs, shaking his head. "I'm actually a bit disappointed. Most of them are no better than the average human high school student. Always the same thing. Sizing up the new kids, making unflattering comparisons, wondering what it will take to get them to sleep with you, plotting, jealousy — the same predictable, shallow bullshit. I had higher hopes for the famous Volturi."
I knew she wanted to sleep with him. Jealousy and insecurity twist inside me, and the words tumble out of me before I can stop them.
"Have you ever thought that if you could read my mind, you'd find that I'm just like them?" I ask morosely, picking at his shirt collar, unable to look him in the eyes. "I mean, I get jealous,too, you know. And I probably thought the same thing everyone else thinks the first time I saw you. I thought you were so beautiful. You'd probably never want me if you knew what I was thinking."
"Oh, I doubt that, Bella. Jealous, maybe, but shallow? Never," he says, taking my chin and tilting my face up, so that I'm forced to look at him. He kisses a hot tear away as it streaks down my face. "If you were like them I could predict what you'd say, but I never can. Although, I think your mind is probably a lot like Renee's, but more reserved, like Charlie's. You're such a blend of them, in all ways. His coloring and her bone structure. His quiet logic and her creativity. As for the jealousy, I really can't throw stones at you. My house is made of glass when it comes to that."
"Maybe," I smile, "but I really am always plotting to get you into bed."
"I think that's my favorite thing about you," he says, his hand sliding down my side as he nuzzles my neck in a slow, sexy caress. "And I'm plotting to continue this just as soon as we get this conversation with Alice out of the way. She wants to speak with you too, and I plan to wear…you…out."
I shake my head to clear it, thrilling as his words are. I still need to know what happened in that room.
"You're not going to distract me that easily, Edward," I warn, and then soften as he smiles at the challenge. "Okay, you probably could, but please don't. I'm still confused about that what happened. Did she do something? I felt weird, like I was on antidepressants or something. Not that I've ever taken them — Renee has, and she told me all about it. It was like I was feeling good, but my thoughts didn't match."
"Yes, that was Chelsea," his expression gets serious now. "It's her talent, and it only worked on you halfway. Very weakly in fact, I saw it in her mind."
"What can she do?" I ask, nervous to discover a vampire whose talent works on me.
"Like Marcus, she can sense ties between people, though she doesn't see them as clearly. She can, however, manipulate those ties, especially weak ones. She can make them stronger, make you feel comfortable and even loyal to someone, or reverse that process as well. The Volturi use her to separate vampires from their covens once they've been found guilty of breaking the law. It makes execution easier, politically. Aro also uses her gift to keep the Volturi together."
"She can tear us apart," I say, sitting bolt upright, my chest feeling tight once the implication sets in. "She wants you; I saw it in her eyes. She can make you want her, too."
"Shh, no, she can't do that," he says, gently rubbing my back. "Her influence is too weak to work on the ties between mates, or even ties with the rest of the family. Most covens aren't as close as the Cullens. They don't think of themselves as family. Most vampires aren't that loyal."
"But she can make us feel a false sense of security with the Volturi," I say, calming down only by a fraction. "She made me want to please Aro."
"You already wanted to please Aro," he reminds me. "She just made you feel more comfortable around him. Around them all. In a way, it was perversely helpful. And for the record, there's no way she can make me want her. She's cold-hearted, more evil that most of them. She's a monster among monsters, like Aro."
"I still don't like feeling manipulated," I say, mollified for now, as he connects to the Internet. "It's fucking creepy."
"I know. We're just lucky that we're at least partially immune. I can read her mind. She has no control over her thoughts whatsoever. It's not easy to manipulate someone when you're telling them exactly what you're doing every step of the way. And you, her influence over you is laughably weak compared to the way it usually works. Oh, here she is."
A window pops up and Alice sits there, looking almost exactly like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, with giant sunglasses and the pearls, the black sleeveless dress and the tiara, too. She's even posed like Holly Golightly, with her arms crossed, holding an unlit cigarette in a long black lacquer holder.
"Nice work kids," she says with a totally serious face. "I couldn't have done it better myself."
I start giggling, and she smiles broadly. Alice always knows how to cheer me up.
"You look amazing," I say, meaning it. "Can you take your sunglasses off?"
"Not yet," she sighs. "They're the only thing about me that isn't gorgeous at the moment. I'll explain later, but you're too emo for me to give you the whole disturbing show-and-tell right now. So, Edward, you trust me now or what?"
"I trust you," he says reluctantly. "In spite of the slight variations."
"Well, we're in luck, because Aro doesn't seem to like improvisation. He may mask his thoughts well, but he's methodical in action. I've been testing it out here, and my visions change when someone changes their mind. And you," she points accusingly at Edward. "Scared the crap out of me. You almost messed everything up tonight, you know that?"
"You did?" I ask, surprised. "Oh! When Aro offered to keep me safe in return for a bad touch?"
"I would have done it, too," Edward looks embarrassed. "If you hadn't told me that he was going to be willing to make a better deal."
"Well, that's why I told you, fool," she says. "I can't tell you everything. Aro needs to feel like he has you on your toes. You don't want to know what he's willing to do to keep the upper hand."
"I can feign surprise," Edward protests. I look at him incredulously, and Alice cracks up. "Okay, she doesn't count. I can't read her mind."
"That's my point exactly, Edward. Aro's mind may not be silent to you, but it isn't clear to you either. You saw the difference when he touched her, didn't you?"
"Every thought she ever had," he shudders. "With crystal clarity, even through her human life. It was horrible. She's fucking vile."
"Who, Chelsea?" I ask, surprised.
Alice nods at me. "And I'm not going to say this again, guys. You can't constantly reassure each other anymore. Not unless you want to wait decades for your change, Bella. I know Edward wouldn't mind so long as you're safe, but you wouldn't like it."
"You really wouldn't mind?" I ask him, accusingly. "I thought you were over that. I thought you wanted me to be like you."
"You'll always be my Bella," he says, touching my face. "If you're safe I'd rather not put you through the change."
"I hear that," Alice agrees. "That shit is painful. But it's better this way, Edward. Chelsea's influence may be weak, but the longer you're there, the stronger it gets. Just ask Marcus. He knows how manipulative she is, and it doesn't even bother him any more."
"Unless she's not there," Edward says with steel in his voice.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, confused.
"You shut your pie-hole, Edward Cullen," Alice orders abruptly, making us both start a little. "Bella, you are on a need-to-know basis, and that is something you don't need to know."
"Yes, ma'am," we reply in unison. She likes it when you call her that.
"Say, where is Jasper anyway?" I ask.
"Oh, he's in time-out," she sighs.
"How do you put a newborn vampire in time-out?" I ask.
She then turns her face slightly to Edward. "Don't you dare say what you were just about to. That's disgusting. I can assure you all his man-bits are still firmly attached to his body and out of my possession."
He shakes his head at her, looking a little annoyed.
"You're kind of scary, Alice, but I still love you," I say, trying to patch things over, and she grins sheepishly.
"I love you too, honey," she says, a little drawl creeping into her voice as her smile fades. "Both of you. I know you hate being told what to do, Edward, and I know this is going to be hard, but try to remember that we're all in this together. I'm not trying to torture you guys for my own pleasure, I just want us all to be together again, and out of Aro's clutches as soon as possible. The longer the wait, the more can go wrong, you know? I don't mean to be a huge bitch about everything, it's just that everything hangs on these tiny details."
"I know, Alice. And I appreciate your diligence. I don't mean to seem ungrateful."
"Don't worry about it," she says lightly. "I know I can be a pain. Oh, Bella, Aro's going to change your class schedule tomorrow, just to fuck with your mind. Don't worry; just go with it, okay? He does not need to know how stubborn you can be. Edward? I'll talk to you later. You two can resume your regularly scheduled nookie time."
"Hey! We don't regularly schedule—" I start to protest, loudly.
"Or not," she says, tilting her head. "Boy Edward, you really don't like being told what to do, do you? Sorry Bella. My bad."
At that the screen goes blank, and I turn to Edward, who is most definitely not in the mood for nookie, regularly scheduled or otherwise. "You really created a monster there, Edward."
"Yes, but she's our monster, and she's on our side," he says, with an exasperated sigh. "We did well tonight, thanks to Alice. School starts tomorrow, and you need sleep. Don't think about monsters right before bed."
"What are you going to do about Chelsea?" I ask softly, even though I know I'm not supposed to. "Are you going to try to make her leave?"
He doesn't say anything to me, but holds me tight instead. I recall our promise never to lie to one another. We've also promised Alice that we would keep quiet when she asks us to, not even an "I can't tell you." No more easy reassurances. Still, I need something.
"Do you still love me?" I ask, softer still. I know it's too early for me to have any real doubts, but I just need to hear him say it, if he can't promise anything else.
"Always," he says, kissing me with such complete and utter devotion that I feel warm in spite of his temperature. "Never doubt it."
I twist in his arms, so he spoons me, and try to fall asleep, trying to ignore the sharp gleam of the golden V on the nightstand, echoing distant moonlight in this foreign place.
~oЖo~
A/N: The Roman theater ruins in Volterra do exist, and it's a spooky and beautiful setting, very inspiring for this chapter. I've got pictures on the Twilighted thread, or Google works too.
Almost all of my vamp backstory comes from SMeyer's canon backstory, which can be found on the twilight saga wiki. She left some juicy little fragments of history for us that didn't make it directly into canon, and I intend to build on them.
Italian translations:
Signorina, Signorina, voi un aiuto? Tu non sei di qui, vero?, – Miss? Miss, would you like some help? You're not from around here, are you?
Grazie, ma no, Non è necessario. Sono qui con il mio – Thank you, but no, it's not necessary. I'm here with my—
Forse hai bisogno di una guida turistica? Vieni, lascia che ti aiuti. Conosco un posto dove si può dormire la notte. – Maybe you need a tour guide? Come, let me help. I know a place where you can sleep for the night.
La mia fidanzata non ha bisogno del tuo aiuto, Va a molestare qualcun altro. – My fiancée doesn't need your help. Go bother someone else.
Finally, if you value your sanity, don't read the crackfic that Feisty, NelsonSmandela and I wrote for the Worst Story Ever contest:
I Wanna Eff You Like A Masochistic Lion: http://www dot fanfiction dot net/s/5623917/1/
NelsonSmandela more than debeta'd it, she made me think of that old saying, "you can't polish a turd, but you can shellac it 'till it's shiny." And that she did.
For those of you expecting our usual gauzy artsy fartsy stuff, let me quote Movieward and say "I hope you enjoy disappointment" or whatever it was he said in the hallway of the hospital. Fartsy, maybe, but artsy? Uh, no. If you've ever wondered what kind of banter goes on during the search for gorgeous music, you can find some of our weirdest ramblings embedded within this…cold…wet…thing.
Voting ends soonish? Today maybe (today being the 10th, if I recall correctly, which almost never happens)