Author's note: I swear, you guys really wanted an update didn't you? Well now you have it! I really struggled with this chapter, but hopefully that won't be noticeable.
After I had visited the bookstore I still had a few hours to spare until I was going to meet up Helen and the others, so I decided to find a spot in the shade and take a break. I bought a bottle of lemonade from one of the cafe's and found an empty bench further down the street.
I was tempted to start reading one of the books I had bought (yes, I bought several of them) but I decided to save that for later, when I got back to Volterra. After taking a short break and shugging the empty bottle into a nearby trash can, I decided to do some windowshopping while the road would eventually take me closer to the restaurant in which the ball would take place.
Just like that bookshop, there were a great number of similar shops in this area – selling vintage clothes, jewleery and furniture. While some if it looked nice, other stuff looked just too old and too worn to ever consider wearing or buying. But it was interesting nontheless.
Everything smelled so different here than what I was used to. It's kind of like when you're younger, and its your first time at a friends house, and how one of the first things you notice is what their home smells like. Maybe that's odd, but it was always one of those things I took particular notice of.
In italy, no matter where you were, everything smelled like a mixture of old and new. It was like dust, spices, nature and something nasty underneath, something that was almost scrubbed clean but wasn't.
I continued past the shops and saw a child run down one of the narrow streets, laughter ringing in the air. Curious as to where this street led, I walked closer and looked around the corner. There was a whole group of people milling about at the end of the narrow road that opened up to a small park, and judging by the people with all the cameras and the white marble statues that stood there, it had to be the site of another ancient monument. Florence had a lot of those, I knew.
Normally I wasn't very interested in them. Of course I found it beautiful just like anybody else, but beyond that I didn't linger on it much. Of course I had my moments of curiosity – like that strange room back in volterra, filled with all the moldy books and broken things. I still thought about it alot, but I hadn't asked anyone from the Volturi about it. I felt like it wasn't for me to know. I shouldn't even have gone in there in the first place.
But this was out in the open, and still it felt like I had just stumbled upon something almost equally private. But why?
I stepped out of the narrow street and joined the large group of people, as I started to inspect what sort of monument it was. There was not much to see, crumbling ruins of a stone building that had partly sunken into the ground and eroding sculptures of two soldiers in a fighting stance, facing each other. People walked freely, and there was no protective fences around – meaning that whatever this had been once upon a time, it was not considered that culturally important to preserve.
A small section of the building remained intact, a domed in sort of hallway that led out to nowhere. But that was not what captured my attention. On the walls of this hallway, someone long ago had carved images into the stone. Most of it had eroded away with time.
But not all of it was gone. There were words carved into the stone that remained – not that I could understand any of it. Most of it looked like names, but then between these were other strange markings, that at first just looked like jagged, vicious scratches – but then I fully realized what they were.
Fingernails. They were marks from fingernails digging into the walls.
Suddenly my head started to hurt and I felt, for some reason, afraid. I started backing out of the hallway, my eyes never leaving that wall with the markings on it until I bumped into a tourist from behind, at which point my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to burst through.
"Hey watch it!" an american yelled, who had dropped his camera when bumping into me. I didn't pay him any attention, instead I looked around in fear at my surroundings.
It felt like everyone was staring at me.
I turned on my heel and ran. It took a long time for me to stop running.
When I had finally calmed down, several blocks away from the monument, I sunk down against a wall and just tried to catch my breath. What had happened back there? There was nothing for me to be scared of, logically I knew that was true.
And yet, a large part of me told me that whatever I had felt was not unfounded. That place...it was like it had jogged a memory that I had repressed, but I could not put my finger on what that memory was – whatever it was that I remembered that made me feel so awful felt more like a dream rather than reality. Or more like a nightmare.
The nights since I had found that secret room, I had been having these dreams. There were not always clear enough to remember, just a feeling of it still lingering. But sometimes, I would see things, places that looked familiar but I could have sworn that I had never seen while awake. One of these dreams took place in a building similar to that monument. It was dark then, a fire burning somewhere outside, the smell of burning meat premenating the walls. I dont know what I was doing there, but I knew that I was just as afraid then as I had been today. Two voices whispered to me in harsh tones, but that was not what made me afraid. It was the visitor in the room with me who would not show himself.
The visitor would move, the light from the fire outside casting his profile in a hellish glow. I would scream and then – nothing. I woke up.
But I had nightmares before, and considering my family, maybe it wasn't so strange to have such dreams.
"Hey, are you alright? You look pale." The worst part was, Helen was right. I rolled my eyes at her, adjusting my satchel against my shoulder.
"I'm fine Helen, you dont have to worry about me." I said, crossing my arms over my chest as she tilted her head at me, her eyes searching mine, like she didn't believe me.
"If you'd like to go home instead I would understand..."
"I said it's fine."
Actually, I did want to go home. But I figured the party would distract me from what had happeend earlier, get me in a better mood.
It was around 6 pm when I met Helen and the others outside the restaurant. I had quickly changed into my dress at a nearby clothing store in one of the changing rooms. It was a simple cocktail dress in eggshell white, sleeveless and the hem cut just above the knee. I had put on some peach-colored lipgloss and mascara on my eyes, but not much more than that. My freckles looked weird when I hid them behind foundation and powder, so I rarely put any on. Angela, another secretary that worked for the Volturi was among the group tonight, and she was giving me a strange look that was suprisingly not hostile for once. We worked in different offices, so there was rarely any interaction between us. But lets just say that she had not been exactly warm and welcoming either.
"I have to say, you look good Rebecca." she said, nodding thoughtfully. I smiled a little too sweetly back at her.
"Thank you Angela, I'm sure that's a huge compliment coming from you." I couldnt resist saying, making the other volturi employees snigger. Fuck it, none of us were working, we were not at the office – I could say whatever I wanted. But Helen gave me a warning look, and I schooled my expression into something apologetic and meek. She looked back at the other women in our group, and they all stopped laughing at once.
"Dai, lets all get along – you promised remember?" she said, and they slowly nodded back at her, expressions glum. Yep, it was going to be a good night.
After we had left our coats (or personal belongings) by the coatroom right by the entrance, I realized just how fancy the event was. It was slightly reminiscent of the dinner party the volturi hosted a couple of weeks back, but not so medieval. The ball was in full swing by the time we arrived, and the place was packed.
Every room was brightly lit, and couples swirled together on a large dance floor, accompanied by classical music provided by a live band in another room. All tables had been removed or pushed away to allow more space for the guests to move around and mingle, and waiters came past me, holding trays of h'ourderves or glasses of champagne. It was not like any of the houseparties I had attended in Forks, that was for sure.
The other women from our group quickly dispersed inside after having a welcome drink, and Helen suddenly saw an old friend an old friend across the room so she excused herself to go talk to them. Leaving me to stand by myself at the bar. Great.
Maybe this way I could avoid being pressured to dancing – not that I disliked it, but again, my sort of dancing was more at home at a club rather than at a ball like this one. I grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter, taking a careful sip of its contents as I surveyed the room around me. I noticed a group of men from the other side of the bar, grinning at me and staring. I decided to tactfully ignore them, turning my attention to other things.
Like the very familiar looking man with pale-blonde hair who just stepped up to the bar next to me, speaking to the bartender in fluent italian. He was dressed in a maroon colored tuxedo, the blue adding to his pale complextion.
"Due bicchieri di vino bianco, per favore."
"Dr. Cullen, is that you?" I asked, surprise evident in my tone of voice. To his credit, when he turned his head to face me, he only looked slightly taken aback. Couldn't say I blamed him for that. After a short moment he smiled aimably at me, and I smiled back.
"Rebecca Somersen, what a coincidence." he said, his voice still smooth and almost timid. I put my champagne glass down on the bar counter and put my elbow up on it as I faced him. I had met him many times before, as he had been one of the doctors regularly present at sporting events in Forks in case of an emergency or a sudden injury. There was always someone who sprained an ankle or cut themselves on the tiles at the bottom of a swimming pool.
"I could say the same, what brings you to Italy? Are you on vacation?" I asked, curious. I thought the Cullens never took longer trips than their wildlife hikes. Carlisle nodded, explaining himself;
"You could say that – my wife and I, we do this trip every year." he said, and his hazel eyes went to some spot in the room when he mentioned his wife, Esme. And just a moment later, she appeared at his side, effortlessly beautiful as always in a stylish, black dress, a lace mask covering her eyes. Some of the guests came in disguise, as Helen had described to me was the custom for this ball – but not obligatory.
Esme removed the mask when she approached us, smiling graciously at me as she put a hand on her husbands arm casually.
"Rebecca, what a surprise! I had heard that some of the students from the school were abroad for internship programs, is that what you are doing here?"
"That's right Mrs. Cullen, I was very lucky to get it."
"Congratulations, where is the internship?"
"Not in Florence, but Volterra. I am an intern as a secretary for the Volturi."
A strange sort of silence came over the Cullens when I told them this, their smiles suddenly stiff on their faces. I was about to ask if I had said something wrong when Carlisle blinked, and it was as if nothing strange had happened at all.
"Oh, well. That sounds very important. And you're doing well here then?" he asked, squeezing his wife's hand between them.
"Yes, I am actually. They've treated me well – I hope to have gained enough experience to actually move to europe after I graduate high school." I said, and Esme nodded thoughtfully.
"That sounds like a good plan, your father must be very proud of you." she said. It was said with good intentions, I'm sure. I hadn't actually spoken a single word to him since I had arrived in Italy, almost a month ago now. But there was a reason for that. A very good one.
"Yes he is, thank you." I said.
After that they excused themselves to go join the other dancing couples. Meanwhile my stomach was beginning to rumble, and I approached the buffet that was available in one of the other rooms. After a hurried (but satisfactory) meal on snack food and italian delicases, I went back to the room where the band was still playing – only now, it had been exchanged for another one, playing music that was a little more modern, and a little more upbeat. The guests who had danced earlier had all retired either to the veranda outside or simply gone home.
The lights in the ceiling had been dimmed, and the people on the dance floor was no longer moving serenely in time with the music, but bobbing their heads along and jumping up and down. The doors to the outdoor veranda had all been opened, where guests were talking in groups, laughing in their masks. Fairy lights had been set up in the trees that surrounded it, making it look like they were surrounded by lit candles. The sky was almost pitch black by now, as the hour was nearing midnight.
I thought I saw Helen move across the dance floor, her familiar long blonde hair visible in the throng of dancing people. I tried to get to her, but it was so crowded by now that it was hard to make your way across it without getting shuffled around, bumping into people left and right. Meanwhile, the music was getting louder.
When all is dark and there's no light
Lost in the deepest star of night
I see you
"Helen!" I tried to call out to her, but the music was swallowing the sound of my voice. I couldn't see where she had gotten to, so I turned around on the dance floor, intent on getting out of here. It was then that I got my other big surprise for the night. I bumped into yet another person, but this one didn't want to let me go.
I moved my hands to his arms, intent on shoving him away until I looked up into the person's face.
I was looking at Aro, and he was calmly looking back at me, the dimmed lights casting shadows across his face. I had no idea what he was doing here, or how he knew that I would be here too. I wanted to ask him these things, but he seemed content to stay on the dance floor, with me. He was dressed impeccably, as usual. But tonight, his suit did not veer into any other shade than black. The shock and suspicion on my face must have been clear, because he averted his red eyes – just like he always did when he meant to say that he meant no ill will towards me. His eyes instead moved to my hands, carefully moving to hold my hand with one of his own.
Nobody had ever touched me with such gentleness before. Like he was afraid I might break.
We were dancing, but not to the music that was playing. Oddly, I did not mind it.
Feeling bold, I reached out to his face – my fingertips moving his head so that he would face me. I did not want him to think that I was afraid of his peculiar eyes – maybe I had been, at first. But now, I found them beautiful. The same color of open wounds, but none of the pain. Our eyes met once more, and almost unconciously, I dug my hand into his arm, the material of his suit crinkling under my touch as we danced. His hand intwined with mine was cold, but the rest of him ratiated warmth – the expression on his face captivated by what he saw as his eyes remained fixated on me.
We danced like this for a long time. I do not know exactly how long, but at some point my eyes began playing tricks on me. I saw these flashes of- shadows, all around us. I tried to dismiss it, but when I looked back at Aro, I noticed that his eyes looked different – no, not different – just gone, gorged out. There were no eyes, just something black as coal – glimmering. And smoke, I could smell that too – there was a fire somewhere, must be.
It was trailing us, that smell. Like it emanated from him – apart of him somehow. It was not lust, passion or anger. Just destruction – a raw need that could never be fulfilled, and it lived inside of him.
But I had to be wrong. That couldn't be. I was just tired, and it had been a long day already. I tried to take a deep breath in order to calm myself, closing my eyes and opening them. Aro must have noticed that something was wrong because he stopped, tilted his head at me questionably. I motioned for the open doors leading out to the veranda, and he quickly understood what I was trying to say.
When we got outside, I took a good, long look at his face. It was back to normal now. Sighing with relief, I leaned against a nearby tree and breathed deeply of the midnight air. Aro stood a few feet away, gazing at me intently.
"Are you alright?" he asked, and I nodded, shaking a hand at him dismissively.
"Yes, I was just getting dizzy." I said, as he reached up and picked an orange blossom from the tree, inspecting it with a clinical air – almost like he didnt know what it was.
"Hmm, I see."
I tilted my head, regarding him for a moment. He was kind of eccentric – tthat much had to be said.
"You danced pretty well in there, you know." I said, and he looked up from the flower in his hand, his grasp on it tightening before letting it go, falling to the ground in a mess of crushed petals.
"I only did because you were there to make sure I did not trip." he said, wide eyes blinking as he stared at me. A startled laugh escaped me, as the mere thought of someone like Aro being clumsy was blasphemy.
"Ha! You, trip?" I asked, not believeing a word of it. He smiled, coming to stand next to me by the tree, looking up at the stars.
"It has happened, on occation." he said, sighing as if the memory of it was embarrassing. I shook my head, grinning.
"I believe that when I see it."
We said nothing for awhile as we looked up at the stars together. But I could feel that he was building up to something.
"I wanted to...apologize. About what I said before. It came out wrong, and I am sorry for it." he finally said, his voice more somber now. I sighed and shrugged, thinking it over.
"Well, you were right about most of it. Your delivery could have been better though." I said, trying to make a joke out of it. But he was not laughing. Instead he turned to me with a strangely intent look in his eyes, like what he was about to say was extremely important. But he had to stop several times, as if he was not able to find the right words. He licked his lips and looked at me, my hands, my face – then finally he looked away.
"I would like-perhaps this request will seem strange to you but – I would like us to be friends."
I blinked a couple of times at him and just stared. Why did he want to be friends with a high school kid? I could possibly not matter that much.
"But you are my boss, technically. Wouldn't that be, I don't know, weird?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and he sighed in frustration, one of his hand scratching at the bark of the tree.
"But you want to. I can see it, I can feel it. What is wrong about that?" he asked in a near whisper, so that i had to lean in close to hear him. It was doing strange things to that organ in my chest, making it beat faster than what was normal for me. When his eyes fell to my lips, I hastily retreated, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear as I looked away.
"I don't know." But I did know – it was there now between us, that unspoken attraction. This friendship was a slow road to another one paved with rocks and sharp edges. I could not go there. When he next spoke, his voice was much more gentle, encouraging and sweet. He was closer now, his voice as clear as my own thoughts, but I did not want to turn around to face him just yet.
"I only offer you friendship. I am not going to do anything that you do not wish to happen." it sounded like he meant it. But could I trust him? You can't trust anyone, remember that Rebecca. You know what happens when you trust somebody – they make you do things, and then you'll hate yourself for it. Never trust anyone again ever-
I turned around and faced him, my hair falling across my shoulder as I did. His eyes followed it like an addiction, like he couldn't get enough of these things about me. Then our eyes met. The way he looked at me...
Something just felt right, when we were together. Something that I had never felt with anyone else before. But it was more, deeper than that. This connection that we shared was strong, too strong for two people who just met.
"Is that a promise?" I asked, my voice quiet. He laughed – a small, desperate chuckle full of disbelief. Then it was gone as soon as it had appeared, his mood jumping from one to the other like night and day. He came up to me, so close that we were only a foot apart. He looked at me like I had just given him the best gift possible, his expression full of awe.
"It is an oath." he said, his voice dark.