A/N for 2020-08-08: Okay, people, I won't spoil any of Midnight Sun for those of you who haven't read it, but WOW, Jasper and Alice! Sooo cool.
Italian phrases have translations at the bottom of the page.
Chayasara edits like a boss. I kid you not. I can barely keep up with that woman. So give her some applause, people, because you wouldn't be getting chapters like you do without that woman's knowledge and skill.
~ Erin
The staccato knock on her door made Bella look up. "Just a moment, please," she said, putting her book down.
"Sbrigati!" came Gianna's exasperated voice.
Bella did not hurry. While she didn't want to offend the woman, she didn't feel the need to placate her either. As she walked, she rubbed at the tiny, finger-nail sized scar on her palm.
"Yes?" she asked politely, opening the door.
"Here," Gianna replied, shoving a suit bag and two boxes at her. "I was told you would handle this." She pivoted gracefully on one heel, leaving Bella to juggle her awkward armful, turning far less gracefully herself to put the haphazardly held items down on her small table.
She eyed the suit through the bag's plastic window. It was a deep navy blue, paired with a cream shirt and subtly patterned grey tie. Even through the plastic, she could see the garments were of good quality, the fine fabrics free of any imperfections. There were men's dress shoes in the small cardboard box, and the larger one was full of several thick files. She thumbed the labels, each full of what she thought must be Italian abbreviations. When she reached the bottom folder, she found a memo tacked to it. Scrawled neatly in the corner were the words: Bella, your proposal is approved. You are responsible for training Marcus. ~ Demetri.
He'd made no mention of this the night before. But, she reminded herself, he hadn't mentioned destroying her laptop, either, after that happened or commented on its replacement or even referenced why he'd blown up the way he had. Nope, he'd pretended nothing had happened. And now this . . . Well, she thought, this is good. At least the Lower Order can experience the outside world.
Or die if they touch a human.
"That's not going to happen," she told herself.
Vampires did not look excited, but after arriving at the library with her armful of apparel and files, Marcus very much looked like an excited vampire. His gaze ran repeatedly and quickly over the items on the table, a tentative finger brushing over the exposed suit fabric.
"You'll look very respectable in that," Bella assured him.
"You will show me how to purchase books?" Marcus asked, a cautious note to his voice.
"Yes," she said, smiling.
Very, very softly, Marcus asked, "Perhaps we could see trees? And flowers?"
Throat abruptly tightened, Bella was swamped by the realization. Outside. They never went outside. How long had Marcus been a vampire? And how had she failed to make this obvious conclusion? The castle sat within the middle of a walled city, and beyond the windows and roof of the sprawling stone complex, they were bound to their work inside.
"Of course," she managed to say. "I'll . . . I'll take you down to the gardens." Though still often rainy, the weather had begun to clear more and more, but they should be safe—
"Today?" Marcus asked, sounding suddenly trepidatious.
"Yes," Bella said, trying to sound firm and decisive.
"If you wish," Marcus said, demure again.
She thought of his obvious deference. "Marcus, when we're outside, you can't talk like that to me or to other people."
Marcus blinked at her, then frowned. "Then how should I speak to you?"
How indeed. "People will expect you to speak your mind. If you don't, they'll try to take advantage of you . . . not that they have much hope of succeeding. But it will . . . draw undue attention if you defer to me so obviously."
"As you say." Marcus dipped his head towards her.
It will take time to teach him, Bella reminded herself. This was a gigantic step and a gigantic responsibility for her. "Perhaps you can just follow my lead the first time. Do you have the list of books you'd like to buy?" Bella asked.
He did. It was a compendium of neatly written book titles that stretched for what looked like several hundred pages. Bella decided that step two of this plan would involve showing them how to order online. Still, to be able to give them the freedom to at least enter the city—she took a deep breath. She would do what she could here while her humanity remained—or before she could escape.
When they met at the front doors, Marcus held an umbrella and a suitcase and looked near giddy—at least, giddy for a vampire. His face held an expression like a smile, the corners of his lips suggesting they might rise in honour of this momentous occasion.
"Thank you for your instruction in this work," Marcus said solemnly.
"You're very welcome. Thank you for being an amazing librarian."
Yes. That was something like a smile on his face.
As they pushed out of the vestibule, Bella turned to Marcus, watching his eyes widen as he took in the square, the fountain, and the loud cobblestone street. Women in business attire clacked by, some speaking into their phones, others chatting with colleagues and friends. Men moved more silently but just as audibly, she imagined for Marcus. With his nearly white hair and pale skin, he drew attention, but Bella knew most would think he was an albino, a curiosity, but not something which would create an unseemly stir in the Volturi's eyes. And his eyes—well, their pink was pale enough to pass for the colour one would expect in a pigmentless human.
"There's a garden this way," Bella said quietly, watching him take in the scene. He was too still. That would gather stares. "Come on." She tilted her head to the right.
Marcus followed, keeping a proscribed few paces beside or behind her as they took the moderate walk towards the gardens. Old and ambling, the plants within the gardens were only moderately contained, heavy roses drooping over trestles, misshapen California lilacs buzzing with bees, and blue-studded rosemary pungent in the midday's warmth. Bella wiped her arm across her forehead. While it wasn't sunny, it was muggy, and she took a moment to mourn the loss of cut-off sweatpants and unfashionably comfortable shorts. But her self-absorption was only momentary.
Marcus bent with the grace that only a vampire could muster, bringing his nose to a pale white rose. He inhaled slowly, then released the breath and closed his eyes.
She knew the expression. It was one of remembrance that seemed universal to human and vampire alike. Though she was several steps away, Marcus still turned to her and acknowledged her observation with that expression that was almost a smile. "My mother used to grow these. I don't remember much of her, but I remember the smell."
There was so much loss spoken in those few words, they very nearly silenced all of Bella's too.
"I am ready for you to teach me," Marcus said, straightening.
The dampness on her cheeks had nothing to do with feeling hot. She wiped her face with her sleeve. "Well . . . let's go get some books, then. But we'll buy some flowers, too."
Television, it seemed, had been a better teacher to Marcus than Bella expected. He needed nothing more than the coaching she gave him prior to entering the store to use his credit card, tucking away the receipt that the bookseller gave him. Bella felt cruel, though, pulling him away from the bookshop. She watched him eye the selections longingly as they moved to the door.
"You can come back tomorrow," she said. Then she had to check herself. "If it isn't sunny." She'd need to teach him to check the weather.
So far, though, he had not behaved as she'd seen other Volturi vampires do. His movements, fluid and graceful, had not been contrasted with the strange stillness that gathered so much human attention. She wondered if it was the way he and the others studied humanity through the medium of television or if their attention to the products of so many human minds made them more interested in integrating with them. Perhaps it was only Marcus who was so adept at blending in with the people around them, but if it was, he was certainly a natural.
"I should get back," Bella said, glancing at her watch. She'd need time to shower and, ugh, change for dinner.
"I've kept you beyond your time," Marcus said, raising his head quickly.
"No, not at all. I've really enjoyed this." She had. She'd not had so many opportunities to teach someone, and she'd found it gratifying to watch him succeed at something that so obviously pleased him. "And now there are new books for the library. But let's get some flowers for you before we head back."
Stopping at one of the small vendors on the main street, Bella eyed the wide variety of flowers and premade bouquets. "Which ones?" she asked.
Marcus only had to step towards them and run his nose over their offerings, gently plucking the arrangement from the stand. Bella could smell the white roses from where she stood, several paces away. Turning towards her, Marcus glanced back to the store, indicating he'd be going inside to pay.
She felt a small swell of pride at this independence. "I'll wait for you."
She leaned back against the wall, arms folded in front of her, umbrella on her hand, shifting the strap of her satchel. The leather buckle tended to catch on her clothes, and it required frequent adjustments. She was so preoccupied with these movements that she didn't notice anyone approaching until her body prickled, feeling the presence only a few feet away.
"Ciao, Bella," the man's voice called
Cued by her name, Bella instantly turned her head toward the sound. She was confused when she realized that he was a stranger.
The young man grinned.
"Ciao," she answered politely, looking away. She didn't want whatever was behind the grin. Maybe he was selling tours, though she didn't think she looked too much like a tourist. Unfortunately, her obvious disinterest did not deter him.
"Al cielo manca un angelo ma l'ho trovata," he said, leaning an arm against the wall and winking at her.
She recognized the line. It was one that Silvio had taught her. Knowing better than to roll her eyes and encourage him, she turned her face away, "Sto aspettando il mio amico."
"American?" he asked.
She gritted her teeth. She'd rather hoped she could utter a few words without her accent giving her away.
"Bella?" Another voice called.
Marcus.
"Yes," she said, turning her back on the stranger, suddenly very, very fearful. She had no idea what Marcus would do, presented with this situation. What if he thought something untoward was going on with this completely innocent—though annoying—young man?
Finally, though, the stranger seemed to gather that his interest was not returned, and when she glanced nervously back at him, he was already walking away.
She exhaled more loudly than she had intended to.
"You're afraid," Marcus said, stepping closer.
"No."
"But you are." He frowned, looking at her as if puzzled. "Pardon me," he amended, "I meant no disrespect. I . . . wondered if you required assistance."
"No." Bella said again, the tightness in her chest easing.
"Should I have intervened?" Marcus asked, flowers and books in one arm, gesturing towards where the man had gone.
"Not at all," Bella said, still thinking, still trying to calm herself. After a few seconds, she said, "You asked me what I needed, and you listened to me. Thank you. That's exactly what you should do."
It was tentative, and almost confused, but it was a genuine smile.
As they entered the vestibule, Marcus stiffened.
"What?" Bella whispered.
Marcus shook his head, but his features were strained. Something was wrong.
Inside, Gianna stood up from the reception desk. "You're wanted downstairs, now." It was clear she wasn't speaking to Bella.
Marcus only nodded at her, turning briefly to give the same gesture of respect to Bella, then moving quickly away in the direction of the library.
Not that she expected an answer, but Bella figured she'd had a good enough day to be well insulated from disappointment. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Novitiate problems," Gianna muttered. Though she attempted to appear calm, Bella could see the woman was shaken. Her hands trembled, but her words were acidic. "I see they don't make you stand in when they're short on supply."
And because her mouth seemed to operate before her brian could stop it, she found herself asking, "Stand in for what?"
Gianna's fine features twisted with what Bella recognized as acidic jealousy, this melting away to the fakest of saccharine smiles. "Why don't you follow him to find out?"
Bella knew better than to do anything anyone suggested with an expression like that on their face, so she went back to her room, took a shower, and then dressed to meet Demetri's expectations.
Gianna's words irked her, though, and she was concerned for Marcus. What was wrong? Had she made trouble for him, taking him outside? She glanced at the clock. It was only half past six. She had time yet to go to the library and come back before Demetri collected her.
She fished through her cupboards, finding a large glass to offer Marcus as a vase. On this pretext, she walked towards the library. Bella's movements were constricted by the dress, which was fitted to the knee, flaring out from there in a bell. She moved as quickly as she could, thinking about what Gianna had told her. The odious woman had seemed physically well enough, as far as Bella could tell. What would the Volturi use her for, beyond what they used most humans for?
As she rounded a corner, Demetri stood in front of her, startling her so that the glass flew from her hand.
He caught it and then her hand. "Where are you going?"
"The library." She tried to sound calm.
Demetri cocked his head. "Not now," he said.
She hated that he dictated so much of what she did. "I was going to bring Marcus a vase for the flowers we bought for the library."
Demetri stroked a finger down her cheek. "Now is not a good time for a human to be in the library."
"Why?"
She could see that her question displeased him. No, she thought. That I questioned him displeased him.
The displeasure on his features was fleeting. His icy finger became a cold palm on her cheek, and she shuddered at the contact. "My Bella, you do not understand our ways. And I think you would find them . . . unsettling. You are too innocent, yet. I will deliver this to the library for you. Wait in your room."
The last line was spoken with a terseness she did not dare disobey.
She turned, moving as slowly as she could, obeying his order with reluctance and resentment.
Unlike the library, the long stone corridors of the castle carried sounds, and as she inched her way to her room, she heard the faint sound of a musical phrase carried on some whim of a breeze. The sound of the piano cut off as abruptly as it began. It was mirrored by the unmistakable sound of a human voice shrieking, "NO!" This too, cut off as abruptly as it began as if a door had been opened and shut on it.
As if someone had gone into the library and opened and closed the door? She wasn't sure.
She did not need to think again about what Gianna had meant but moved more quickly to her room, her burgundy gown swishing before her like blood.
* Italian phrases in this chapter:
Sbrigati: Hurry up.
Al cielo manca un angelo ma l'ho trovata: Heaven lost an angel, but I found her.
Sto aspettando il mio amico: I'm waiting for my friend.
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