Chapter Six

My death was literally minutes away, Voldemort's intentions were not lost on me. I was being brought to Volterra like a bottle of wine, a gesture of good faith.

It was for this reason, I became particularly lax and careless. Before we left for Volterra, I stole from the Malfoy library. Originally I'd been searching for anything remotely similar to something by Emily Bronte or Jane Austen, but unsurprisingly muggle authors were nowhere to be found. I had no desire to read the pureblood supremacy and dark magic books, so I grabbed the blank journal instead. It was the safest choice.

Draco was the first to enter the fire, but I was not far behind. Conveniently the fireplace in The Volturi's castle was located in the throne room, where the three brothers were seated.

The throne room was dark, foreboding and imposing. I recalled the portraits of them that had hung in Carlisle's office. There were certain things that had gotten lost in translation. In person their skin was papery and dusty. I'd never seen a vampire who looked like that.

The three brothers wore fine black cloaks made of crushed velvet. Their guard wore cloaks in a lighter shade, a dark grey that by comparison seemed less ostentatious and glamorous.

Most striking about their appearance were their blood red irises. They had fed very recently. Those eyes practically glowed in the dark.

With a jolt I realized that this would likely be the last thing I would see before I wheezed my last breath. My heart thudded rapidly and my stomach turned uncomfortably.

Their guards' muscles tensed, and a few of them crouched. Something told me that they knew as much about the Wizarding world as the wizards had known about the vampire world before they'd captured Victoria. The look of surprise on their face, while there and gone as quickly as it had come, had been too real to fake. It must have been strange for them, creatures who burst into flame at the slightest touch, to see strangers emerge undamaged from green flames in their fireplace.

The light haired brother hissed. The dark haired one in the center gave him a reproachful look, although oddly enough there was a twinge of playful levity in his expression.

"Now Caius, is that anyway to greet our guests?" He turned to us and clapped his hands together joyously. "Welcome to our humble abode, if you would kindly introduce yourselves."

Draco stepped forward and extended a hand, "You must be Aro, I am Draco Malfoy and this is a slave, consider her a gesture of our goodwill. A sample of what's to come from a mutually beneficial relationship with the Dark Lord."

Though surely the Volturi had no notion of who this Dark Lord was, they did not ask questions. Instead Aro stood up from his throne and walked to Malfoy. Aro grasped Malfoy's hand so hard that the wizard winced. If I were not about to be sucked up like a juice box, I'd probably laugh at Draco's expense.

"Apologies," Aro said without a hint of regret, his voice was distant, and his eyes glazed over, as if he were worlds away.

He gasped loudly and stared very sharply into Draco's cold grey eyes, before pulling away and grinning, "Why that's simply marvelous!"

Caius shifted impatiently, while Marcus raised his brows. Draco put his hand back into his pocket. Marcus pressed Aro's hand to pass on a silent message. When Marcus withdrew his touch, he gave Aro a very pointed look.

"I assure you Marcus, there is no deception on their part, they are just who they say they are, although those insights certainly make for an interesting development." Aro paused for a second, thinking of how he wished to proceed. Very suddenly he grabbed my arm, as if he was ready to feast, I cringed waiting for a bite, and the burning sensation that comes along with it, but thankfully it never came.

"Fascinating, simply fascinating," Aro said, staring into my eyes with intense curiosity.

He turned over to his brothers and smiled as if delighted by this latest development.

"It would seem that Isabella is impervious to my mind reading ability." He turned to one of his guards, a blond haired girl that didn't look a day over twelve. "Jane."

Jane shifted her focus to me and gave a sadistic grin. The malicious intent behind that smile sent shivers up my spine, I didn't look forward to what she planned on doing to me. For a short while she stared expectantly, waiting for something that was supposed to happen. Once seconds dragged on to minutes, Jane frowned deeply, and stomped her foot like a toddler having a tantrum.

"Don't take it personally Jane, this is no fault of your own. I believe that Isabella is a mental shield, and a powerful one at that." He turned to address us. "You see, Jane has the ability to inflict intense pain onto others. I've always been curious about the nature of her gift, and it's quite fascinating to see my theories confirmed. Jane's ability is purely mental, although quite excruciating, it has no effect on the physical body."

"Like the cruciatus curse," Draco whispered, barely audible. He jumped when Aro clapped his hands, evidently he hadn't expected for anyone standing so far away, to hear him.

"Exactly Draco! Just like the cruciatus curse!"

I glanced at Draco, confused. Aro laughed. "I'm afraid I haven't been very forthcoming. You see when I touch someone, I read every thought they've ever had up until that moment. So I know whatever you know, though not everything Bella knows.

"The girl does not seem sufficiently surprised by this news," Caius accused.

I blushed. "I am surprised! I am very surprised!" I stuttered, lying terribly, my heart sped up. They could probably hear it, clear as day.

"Don't take us for fools mortal," Jane snapped. She smiled once more at me, before frowning again when her gift did not work. "Goddamn it," she snarled to herself. With her arms crossed she looked quite young, like a pouty, rebellious middle schooler. I wondered how old she was when they turned her.

I hesitated. I didn't want to betray the Cullens they were my friends and they had taken me in as an additional member of the family. Well Rosalie hadn't exactly been welcoming, and neither had Jasper if I was being honest, but the rest had. How could I spill even the slightest bit of information. Who knew if what I would say would incriminate them?

But, they didn't care about me. Not really. Not anymore. Did I owe them even a drop of loyalty?

'I don't want you.'

"I wasn't surprised because I've encountered another vampire who couldn't read my mind." I admitted.

"Really," Aro mused, beaming brilliantly and knowingly. I supposed there weren't many other vampires with that particular ability. "And who would that be?"

There went any beating around the bush.

"Edward."

"From the Olympia Coven? Carlisle's coven?"

"Yes."

The brothers muttered amongst themselves, Caius discussed in a loud and angry voice to Aro that the Cullens deserved repercussions for their actions. They had broken one of the most sacred of all vampire laws. Finally the discussion ceased and Aro approached me.

"How was it you met Edward?"

There was that hole again. It throbbed in my chest painfully. I gasped for air as if I was drowning, but regained control of myself quickly.

I told them everything. From the first time I'd laid eyes on them in the cafeteria, to the very last time I'd been in contact with them. By the time I was done, I felt numb, more catatonic than I'd ever been. I left out the parts of the story that involved Jacob and the rest of the wolf pack. Jacob had always insisted that they were strong enough to defend themselves, but in comparison to a vampire he was so human, fleshy, and fragile. I had trouble believing him, he was probably just trying to ease the guilt I felt for dragging them into my mess with Victoria.

"How did you come across the Wizarding world?"

"I don't remember," I answered honestly. "I just woke up in a cage."

"Well Isabella, Draco, follow Heidi to your resting quarters. Tomorrow we shall divulge into more serious matters." He clapped his hands together twice, and a gorgeous, statuesque vampire led us to a spacious bedroom with two California king beds.

"Please enjoy your stay in Volterra, Italy." She slammed the door behind us.

I fell into the plush bed and sighed loudly. Call me crazy, but there was something about a beautiful bed with a fancy duvet and silken sheets that made me feel just a little bit happier. Who knows, maybe I was going crazy, searching for a granule of goodness in this world before I was torn from it. I laid awake for a couple minutes before falling asleep.

In the middle of the night, I heard a faint sniffle, then came a noise that was a sort of mixture between a cough and a choke. I hoped it wasn't the start of a cold, because if he was sick, he needed to stay away from me.

I turned my head in his direction and saw that he wasn't under the weather at all. Those were sobs. Barely audible, but there nonetheless. Initially I was shocked. He was so cruel, angry and unshakable. I hadn't known he was capable of normal human emotion. I felt a malicious rush of pleasure. Here was my opportunity to make up for every possible way he had snubbed me in the past. There were endless possibilities, I could laugh in his face or bring it up in the morning and embarrass him.

Suddenly he picked his head up from his hands and noticed that I was awake. His eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights. I changed my mind on the spot. I still had my pride, and my sense of superiority to uphold. I was better than him and his family.

I got up and sat next to him. I paused and searched for words of consolation. To be honest, I've never been put in such a position before. I was the person others consoled, not the consoler. I awkwardly patted his back, but he flinched away from my hand. I withdrew it quickly and tried a different tactic.

"So... what's wrong?"

He stared at me, and judging by the expression on his face, I could tell that talking to me of all people, was the last thing he wanted to do.

"What have you got to lose, I'm a filthy mudblood, remember? You might as well be talking to the walls. Heck at least the walls serve more of a purpose than my kind."

It was obvious that I didn't mean what I said, but it was enough for Malfoy.

"This is a suicide mission."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. Aro is going to take the deal. You've got nothing to worry about."

"He wants me to kill Dumbledore."

He looked at me as if the name was supposed to mean something to me, but outside of what was printed on his wanted poster, I didn't know anything about Dumbledore.

"Well I'm sure you'll be able to-"

"Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard of all time-" He abruptly cut himself off. Despite being thousands of miles away from his little death eater cult he still glanced around the room with paranoid eyes. Even here he was worried someone might hear him complimenting the enemy. "He defeated Grindelwald. Even The Dark Lord tries to keep away from the likes of him."

"But if-Why would he give this important mission to someone he knows can't succeed? If Dumbledore is half as powerful as you say, then shouldn't your leader throw everything he has into defeating him?"

He looked at me as if I was the dumbest person he'd ever had the displeasure of speaking to. "He's punishing my family for making a mockery of the purebloods. We let a mudblood escape."

"Mistakes happen, surely he doesn't mean to kill you for something like that."

"Hermione stole my wand. I don't think you understand how bad that looks. We're a laughing stock to blood traitors, and mudblood lovers alike. You give them an inch, and they turn it into a mile for the argument against slavery." His voice took on a mocking imitation of me, "We're all created equal, blah, blah."

"Well what makes you so much better than me?" I was indignant.

He looked sharply at me, as if surprised by my insolence. I didn't know why he was so shocked, it's not as if I had anything left to lose.

"Well for starters, you can't do magic."

"Hermione can!" I protested.

"Just because a mudblood can do magic doesn't make them any less inferior than a muggle. Muggles, squibs, and mudbloods alike belong to a category of subhumans. They have a much lower level of cognitive brain function, as well as a stronger instinct to be subservient. In the part of the brain associated with loyalty, your brains are abnormally active."

"You xenophobic, asshole!" I shouted. "I can't believe you would really be that dumb! Do you think that I enjoy serving you? Having no freedom whatsoever? Do you think anyone enjoys that? WELL DO YOU? How do you explain Hermione running away?"

"Well, there are always a few that are too rebellious for their own good. Although, if you really think that you're intelligent enough to be my equal, please explain to me why none of you have thought to slit your master's throat? It would be quite easy to do it while we are sleeping. You outnumber us, so why have you not rebelled?"

"Oh I hope you're not suggesting it's loyalty. We're not idiots Draco! We know your magic gives you an advantage, and we're in the middle of a wizarding neighborhood, unless we have stealth on our side and the element of surprise, like Hermione did, how could we even begin to hope we'll escape."

"The other reason is because you people lack the innovation that we purebloods have."

"Excuse me, but I haven't seen you perfect little purebloods invent computers, cellphones, the internet, space travel, the calendar, algebra, the list goes on."

He looked confused, and I knew that he had no idea what most of the things I listed even were. I crossed my arms triumphantly as if to say, 'Ha! Match point goes to me.'

Draco scowled at my smug smile and resorted to a threat, "Running your bloody mouth could cost you your life."

I rolled my eyes, "Don't you remember? The Volturi want Bella vintage '87. I'm a gift wrapped bottle of fine wine to these vampires."

"They aren't going to make a meal out of you," He replied dismissively as if it were a petty problem rather than the difference between my life and death.

My eyebrows rose. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"If they wanted to, they would have done so by now. But after Aro found out that you could block him out, he'd much rather collect you."

As soon as he said it, I realized that he was right. This knowledge struck ice into my veins. It was funny but, without him, the prospect of eternity didn't feel quite so welcoming.

Did I want to live forever? No, I barely wanted to live out my meager human life.

It felt like I was drowning, I couldn't breathe. I gasped for air, but was unsuccessful. I was drowning. Was I dying? God I wished I was dead. My chest burned, my lungs were made of lead and my head was woozy. My limbs twitched of their own accord and then I began to realize that I was having a panic attack. I felt a paper take-out bag cover my nose and mouth.

Malfoy barked at me, "Breathe deeply." A perma-scowl marrying his elfish features.

I did as was asked, and slowly my lungs began to work again. I was brought back from the deep end. When I regained my footing, Malfoy granted me not even a five second break.

"What's the matter with you?!"

"I-" my voice cracked, "I don't want to live without him."

He shook his head in disgust, "Voldemort is right about one thing. Love, or at least the way you love those bloodsuckers, is a weakness."

"Don't talk to me as if you know what I feel or what I'm going through."

"Oh please," he scoffed, "You don't want to live anymore because some guy dumped you."

I glared at him.

"You know, you have it quite easy, all things considered. Our other mudbloods have it much worse than you do. Even Lauren. Especially her."

"Now I find that hard to believe."

"You'd be surprised."

"Whatever." I said and flopped back onto my bed, tugging the covers over myself.

Author's Note:

Guess who's back...so yeah I lowkey had no plans to continue this story, in fact I was going to delete it because the premise is kind of...problematic. I had a huge moral panic about writing this and that's why even though I have a few chapters that I've been sitting on for years, I've never published them.

Then before I deleted this story I read the comments, and I realized you know what, the writing isn't half bad, especially considering how young I was when I started this story. Also I was like, well you can write stories with questionable morality so long as you take great care in how you frame it. This may or may not fail miserably at being framed properly, so we will see.

Please understand that I do not condone stories like this, it's just at the time this premise appealed to me (being able to change people's minds, enemies to lovers, personal growth and change through love, etc). Obviously now in the light of recent events (our hell world), the idea of becoming magically not a bigot through the power of love seems rather silly. Still I'm too invested now, and I feel I owe it to the people who so kindly left a review, so I'm going to post the rest of my chapters (and maybe continue this). If the tone changes drastically in parts, and particularly after chapter eight, you know why. I've aged many years and my writing style is more verbose and purple-prosy. I hope that's not too annoying.

Oh and lastly this is not meant to be a dig at anyone who read and enjoyed my story, you're not a bad person for enjoying it, like I'm the bitch who wrote the damn thing, the blame falls squarely on my shoulders.

Question(s) of the day: What do you think Marcus said to Aro? Do you remember what Marcus has the power to see? And what about Bella's choice in literature, that sure is interesting...Anyways ciao for now.