Volterra was a small town, a really small town, in the southwest of Italy.

I won't recount the lengths I had to get there, but it was really hard, so hard that by the time I was done climbing up the everlasting stairs to get to Bianca's apartment, I decided that I will pay my dues to her by annoying her as much as possible throughout my time there.

She knew that I was coming or at least I tried to call her and left a message that I will be stopping by because, well, because Aunt Bernadette told me to. (That was kind of a lie, but whatever)

Bianca was not happy to see me. That much was clear and I understood. We never hung out as a child, I only met her a few months ago when she visited England. We didn't know each other, and she didn't seem interesting in getting to know me, which was perfectly fine by me. I had no plans of getting to know her.

She invited me into her little flat as if I was a potential renter coming to look at the place. It was neat and plain and nothing special; it reminded me of her and I decided that the place was well suited for someone like her.

She offered me something to drink. "Do you have any alcohol?"

"Are you eighteen?" She looked at me. It was clear that I had woken her up from a nap or sleep.

"Yes." I lied. I was almost eighteen. I was supposed to be eighteen in a few weeks. I decided that I would be eighteen now in Italy.

"I won't condone drinking here." She spoke to me with a sort of authority as if she was my mother, or aunt, or older sister, or older cousin- which she was but still we didn't know each other like that.

I sighed. I didn't expect her to give me alcohol, and quite frankly, I don't like alcohol, I just thought I would ask.

"That being said. No smoking, no bringing anybody home, especially when I am not here, and no parties." She laid out the rules, as she poured herself- or me, I wasn't sure- a glass of water.

"Who said that I am staying with you here?" I asked. I didn't consider staying with her. I thought there would be a hostel or hotel somewhere I could stay for a day or two, before I got bored with the town and decided to go to Milan, Florence, Rome, or any other famous Italian city.

Her face seemed to become more hopeful as if the idea of me not staying with her pleased her and then I smiled, "But since you offered, why not."

"I don't care. Just whatever you do, stay away from my workplace, and if anybody asks say that you are from here, that you just moved here, and stay away from dark alleyways and don't go out at night by yourself." She said with urgency in her eyes.

The idea of someone telling me not to do something only makes me want to do it more, but decided to not push the subject, I said, "Sure, whatever."

"No, not whatever." Bianca stride over to me. "Alisa, I can't say too much, but the people I work for are-" She paused as if she was thinking about the perfect phrase, but the fear and anxiety were clear in her eyes.

"They are very dangerous people. You need to promise me to stay away. Don't come to my workplace for anything, text me or email me if it is urgent, don't call me and don't go anywhere near the castle."

I didn't know where her so-called workplace was, but I was curious. I was definitely going to find out what was so dangerous about the people she worked for and the castle.

"Sure." I nodded and attempted my best tentative smile.

"Promise me." She pressed.

I fought the urge to roll my eye. Promises meant nothing. Promises are broken every day, by almost everyone, and the world still goes on, but if she insisted, "Yeah, promise."

I was bored with the town by midday the next day. There was simply not much to do or see. There was a museum that had some basic art- nothing from popular artists - although the tour guide tried to impress the visitors by claiming that once the Leonardo Da Vinci visited their town and tried to sell his painting to the museum's curator. I didn't believe her.

The only pieces that were of mere interest was a collection of painting in the far east corner of the museum. The first one that caught my eyes was titled "The Three King".

It was interesting. I wasn't all that impressed by the painting itself, just the people in them.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" A woman was standing next to me, and I was slightly startled by her sudden input. I looked her up and down, before looking back at the painting.

"No, not really," I answered more to myself than to her. "More like perfect."

That was it. They were perfect, but I didn't really find them beautiful. I found them unnerving and perhaps a bit disturbing.

I walked towards the next painting. They seem to be portraits but I couldn't imagine anybody being like the people in the painting.

The Twins

They disturbed me the most of all the paintings. Their straight posture, blank demeanor, and dark aura; it was if any minute the picture would come alive and they would reach out of the painting in synchrony, and pull me in.

I shook my head, step back, and walked away.