Author's note: As always, thanks for reviewing and telling me you like Rebecca. As promised, a longer chapter!
By next morning, my newly tailored clothes had arrived. A seamstress had come to the office yesterday afternoon to take my measurements, despite my feeble protests that I did not need, nor could I afford such expensive clothes. But I had been told that it was necessary.
"It will be your company uniform, and as such you will not be charged for it, but required to wear it everyday to work." Helen had explained to my bewildered self. Why would they care about what an intern wore or not?
The clothes came in a large white box, the name of the tailor engraved on it in pressed letters, discreet and stylish. As I opened it and picked up a navy blue suit jacket, I repressed a gasp. Instead of giving me a black suit like the other secretaries had, all of my garments were of various shades of deep blue, the material soft and wonderful. As I put on the full ensemble, navy skirt, the palest blue shirt I'd ever seen, and the jacket on top, I would grudgingly admit that the tailor had done a good job of making the clothing fit me like I'd worn them in already. I didn't usually wear clothes like this at all, but I liked it.
As I turned to face myself in the full lenght mirror on the wall next to my bed, it was like suddenly seeing a different person altogether.
But upon closer inspection, it was still me. There was no hiding my childish freckles, or the awkward slope of my shoulders. My pale skin that almost gained a blueish hue in the dark. I gazed steadily into my eyes, searching for something I did not know how to find. Instead, I saw things I'd rather forget.
No matter how I try to re-arrange my thoughts, when I see myself I know, and I remember.
I was nervous about meeting them. Naturally, I wanted to make a good impression. Lucky for me, Marion seemed to have the same thing in mind, giving me several lessons in etiquette as we crossed the piazza and went into the building with the great dome on top – which in my head I'd nicknamed "the palace". The foyer inside was dark, and for a moment I wondered if the electricity had shut down. I blinked against the sudden lack of light, the contrast from coming in from the beautiful summer day.
Completely oblivious to my temporary blindness, Marion continued to prattle on about what to do and what not to do once I met the bosses. She walked up to an elevator, punching in the button and leaned back to wait. I hurried to stand next to her, trying to ignore the oppressive atmosphere of this building. Even though it was just as cavernous and old as the one we worked in, there was just something about it that gave me the chills. The wall decorations carved in marble looked strange in the dark, the cherubes eyes seemed as if they followed me, their wings too sharp to be gentle.
"...And most importantly, you will not approach them unless they ask you to." And I had not really been listening to what else she had to say, but I made up for it by nodding my head a lot. We got into the elevator and went three floors down.
Their office was in the cellar?
When we arrived and the elevator doors opened, Marion stepped out and walked briskly to the right as I followed after. This floor was not completely underground – light flooded in through windows close to the ceiling, displaying a smaller room where a woman perched behind an expensive looking desk. She rose immidiately when we arrived, plastering on a big smile. But unlike Marion or Helen, she was dressed in a tight-fitting sleeve-less dress with pinstripes. She bowed her head at us gracefully, and I smiled.
"Bentornato le signore." she said in flawless italian, welcoming us.
"Rebecca Somersten is here to see them."
"Yes, she is expected. Show her in."
"Grazie."
We went down a hallway with a rounded ceiling, our steps echoing loudly as we went. At the end of the hallway was two large double-doors. Marion leaned forward and pushed them open with ease, despite how heavy they looked. As we entered, I realized with a start where we were. We were inside the dome that you could see from the outside – it was like stepping into a cathedral. I did not know much about architecture, but even I could see how ancient this place must be. The white marble that dominated every surface reminded me of ancient roman palaces. Daylight showered the room from above, so there was little need for electric lights.
As my gaze traveled down from the ceiling, I came face to face with my employees. I realized that I had been staring shamelessy at my surroundings, and quickly averted my gaze to the floor before looking up at them once more, this time steady and sure.
They were not sitting around a meeting table, or behind large desks, smoking cigars or playing mini-golf, the extent of my knowledge of how bosses behaved. Instead, the three of them each had a chair – no, a throne. They were placed like that too – one after the other, next to each other. And it seemed like they also had bodyguards – or guards of some sort, standing behind them. Marian pushes me forward slightly, and I glance back at her, giving her a dirty look.
"Master Aro, Marcus, Caius – this is the young lady. She arrived the day before yesterday."
As Marion said their names, I began looking at them more closely. They did not look italian to me at all – for starters, their skin was even paler than my own, to rival the white marble of the room. The oldest looking one seemed sick and wobegone, almost leaning over in his throne. But the most striking thing of all was the irises of their eyes – they were red. I had only seen that color of eyes on white rabbits, staring at you from their cages at pet shops, eyes wet and glittering.
And all three of them had it. Were they albinos? That would explain the paleness of their skin as well. I was startled out of my thoughts when one of them, the one with jet black hair, suddenly tilted his head to the side and fixed his eyes on me.
Fight or flight. The thought came unbidden, from some place I didn't know I possessed.
But I stayed where I was. Met the man's gaze calmly, and smiled politely. It was like waiting for a baloon to pop.
"You have come a long way to work for us, I understand." The dark haired man said from his throne, and I took that as a cue that he wanted me to answer.
"Yes signore, all the way from Forks, Washington."
The blonde one in the throne to the right scoffs, not making any attempt to hide it either.
"Why is it, that you chose us? Is it because of our culture, the beauty of the countryside?" he asks, but it sounds almost mocking to my ears. I shrug slightly, deciding to answer truthfully.
"A bit of both perhaps, the sun rarely shines where I come from."
Suddenly, the dark-haired man stood up from his throne and clapped his hands together, the sound of it like a clap of thunder in the room, echoing off the walls. It sounds strange when I say it, but when he looks at me, it is as if I can't move. Maybe its his presence, which dominates over the others almost completely.
"And here is paradise? Is that what you think?" he asks, and I cannot understand him at all. It is a almost patronizing question, yet the tone of his voice is soft and lilting. I do my best to answer as he continues to stare at me.
"I don't believe in paradise, signore. I only believe that one should try to find and hold onto what makes them happy."
He flashes a sharp smile, teeth gleaming before it vanishes as suddenly as it appeared.
"Hmm, perhaps." he says, approaching me, holding out his hand for mine. I assume he wants to shake my hand and introduce himself properly. That is why I reach out for his outstretched hand and shake it up and down vigorously, my grip firm and decisive. Yet, when I look into his face, I can see that I have made some sort of critical error, a faux paus. His mouth curls into a sneer, almost animalistic.
His cold hand slips away from mine as if burnt, and he stares at me in a peculiar way. The red of his eyes will never cease to be creepy, I think as I look back at him. They glow from within, translucent enough that I imagine I see flesh, veins and membrane. He quickly recovers from whatever offense was made, before I can even apologize for it, even though I have no idea just how I offended him in the first place.
"You can call me Master Aro. And these two are my brothers, Caius and Marcus. " he gestures to the other two thrones behind him, " We manage Volturi together." I nod at him and his brothers, wondering if they're actually related or if its just a friendly term.
"Well, I hope to serve you as best as I can this summer." I say, and when Aro returns to his throne, Marion ushers me to the door. I guess that this meeting is over then. But just as I'm about the exit through the doors, Caius asks me a question.
"What is your goal ?"
I turn around once more, frowning a little in confusion at him.
"I beg your pardon?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest in an almost unconcious gesture. Caius waves a hand theatrically in the air.
"What do you expect will happen, over the course of the next three months? What is it you want from us?" he asks, and I don't have to think long for an answer. I know what I want, or else I would not have come this far.
"I want to stay and work in europe, at a similar place like this." I say, to which Aro blinks rapidly, as if surprised. I don't know why this is so interesting to them.
"You do not wish to return to america, the place of your birth?" he asks, and I shake my head.
"No, I don't." I say, and I'm surprised by how dark my voice suddenly is. Afraid that what I carry on the inside shows on my face somehow. I glance at Aro, who has not stopped staring at me since I shook his hand.
But if Aro sees my thoughts, he does not seem either repulsed or shocked. Instead he looks like a predator, chasing a tiny mouse through a maze, leaning and listening for the tell-tale heartbeat.
"Why is that?" he asks quickly. But I won't answer. I cannot. I shift my eyes to the floor and keep them there on purpose.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's a bit of a personal matter. I hope you understand."
Its quiet for a moment, and at first I'm almost certain that I've offended them again. But then Aro's voice fills the room once more, soft and understanding.
"Certainly. Now if you'll excuse us, we have another guest waiting. But we'll be seeing you again, very soon."