Peter had insisted on driving the sisters the airport, cowing about the price of renting a car and having to say goodbyes too soon. Bayak had known Peter since she was a child, though the two did not end up together until years later, when Eliza was a year old. Bayak had left the Reservation the day after she turned eighteen, confidant of her future yet desperate to prove she was more than some Indian girl in a small town. She boarded a greyhound bus from Forks and looped her way through the U.S. and even did a stint in Canada for a while. Eliza grew up hearing tales of her adventures, of a restless spirit calmed by the ever changing land around her. Bayak was nineteen and living in Toronto for a summer when she met Eliza's father, Richard Tempus, a stock market tycoon-'The Wolf of Wall Street before Belfort even had claws' Bayak said once-with money in his pockets and time to burn on a pretty girl. They had been courting for a year when tragedy struck and the plane Richard was on went down on the coast, leaving nearly two dozen bodies in the ocean, never to be recovered.
Heartbroken and pregnant out of wedlock, Bayak returned home to her mother's and surprised everyone in the tribe by giving Elizabeth her father's surname rather than her mother's, though Elizabeth Margaret Tempus did have a much nicer ring to it than Elizabeth Uley. Even after Peter Black won over Bayak and convinced her to marry him, only she took his name, not her daughter. It made things slightly difficult for Elizabeth growing up, being the only one in the family who did not share the family name, a gap made wider when Victorya and Louis were born with their parent's features, the dark hair and eyes, the russet skin tone, while Eliza had the looks of her French father as much as her Native American mother: dark, thick black hair with brown eyes, skin a deep tan, though not red like her mother, or her grandmother before her.
"Italy will be exciting." Peter had been attempting to make conversation for the entire car ride to Seattle, where Eliza and Tory would be departing from, though a majority of his comments fell on deaf ears. "Are you looking forward to getting your sister settled, Vic?" Eliza had openly wept on the phone to a frazzled customer service representative from their airline, who after googling Samantha's name and reading the chilling article about her premature death had called in a favor with his manager to ensure the last minute passenger change went through with any fees waived (because he was sorry for her loss), Victorya was scheduled to fly with her sister to Italy, stay for a week and then return to the States.
"Of course! Europe is so pretty from what I've heard." Tory was all smiles, white teeth flashing with every word. It was an overtly chipper front in an attempt to cheer up Eliza, though the elder made no comment on it. The younger woman was swaddled in a jacket two sizes too big for her and from the hint of dirt and pine coming from the cloth, it was most likely Seth's. Eliza had never been a believer of love at first sight, but it was Eliza who watched Seth's face the first time he saw Tory, the way his jaw slackened and his eyes lit up, it was like Tory was the sun and he was simply the earth orbiting her. Not even Sam had looked at her like that, though she would never admit it.
"Where do you want to visit first, 'Liza?" Tory asked, grinning at her because she knew the answer. They were scheduled to land in Florence and her teaching position was in the southern part of Volterra, close to a spot she had always wanted to visit.
"The museum of…" She mumbled the rest, glancing at Peter before glaring at Tory hotly. Her little sister was as much of a trickster as their mother.
"Of what?" Tory asked, feigning innocence, "Ballroom dancing? The museum of sunshine and rainbows?" She grinned like a cheshire cat, pleased to see her sister still squirmed under pressure, still reacted at all.
Peter, for his part, simply laughed, bright and booming. "Eliza wants to see something violent and dark, I suppose?" He had raised both girls like daughters, despite only one being his own biologically and he was well aware of their interests. Elizabeth had a passion for historical drama, Peter once made the mistake of offering to take the girl to see Titus Andronicus when she was but fifteen. It was not until they were grabbing a bite before the show and Eliza was giving what she called 'historical context' to the play that he realized what he was in for.
"The museum of torture is nearby." Eliza admitted after a beat of silence, causing the other occupants of the car to laugh at her prim and proper tone, as if giving the weather report rather than stating she wished to view a dummy be stretched across a rack.
"I'm sure it will be...fun?" Peter questioned, drumming his fingers against the wheel. The world was a blur outside of the car as they sped down the highway, the large city blooming before them. Eliza enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the urban era, though she herself would never live there. She had grown up too peacefully, with the waters of La Push and the soft hum of the trees. Nature was home to her, no matter how much she enjoyed visiting larger communities.
"Such fun." Tory replied sarcastically, causing father and daughter to laugh. Eliza felt like an outsider when it was just her, one of her siblings and their father, partly because Louis was the spitting image of his father and Tory shared his booming, lyrical laugh.
Eliza hunkered lower into the passenger seat, fidgeting with the sleeves of her shirt. She always had to fiddle with something, whether it be twiddling the strands of her hair (the very reason she had allowed it to grow so long, down to nearly her waist) or playing with the white salmon totem her mother had given her, her fingers were not fond of remaining idle.
Both Peter and Victorya continue to chat and banter for the remaining leg of the car ride, Eliza only chipping in when she felt she had to, as to not worry her family more than they were. No one brought up the reason why Eliza rode shotgun, rather than in the back with her sister. Bayak had outright refused to come, to see her daughters travel towards the belly of the beast.
When they arrive at the airport, Peter insists on paying the overpriced fees so he can park the car and escort his girls as far as TSA will allow him, hugging and kissing both their cheeks, whispering to them how proud he was of his daughters. Though Eliza still held a candle for her dead source of paternity, she could not fault Peter for being her father in every other way.
On the plane, the flight attendant smiles pitifully at the sisters, making Eliza wonder if she knew of Sam's death, of the sudden change in ticket holder, of the fit she had thrown to make sure Tory could take the seat rather than go on a different flight. Her sister, thankfully, seems to understand her discomfort and passes Eliza a pair of headphones and gives her the window seat, allowing her to not be disturbed as she buckles herself in and gaze vacantly out at the tarmac, and then the sky.
~DoD~DoD~DoD~DoD~DoD~DoD~DoD~
'Jetlag is a bitch' was the first thought of Eliza as she woke up in the hostel she and her sister had secured in the outskirts of Volterra. It was filled with young travelers, backpackers and twenty-somethings who walked off the beaten path in life. The owner was an old man with hooded eyes, who gave detailed directions to anywhere in town a person wished to go with immense detail, down to which shop or sign one would pass in order to get to their destination.
He seemed to have a feral grin when Tory asked for directions to the museum of torture, suggesting instead that they visit a historical castle, something Tory would have liked much better. Eliza, knowing her sister had already done so much for her, chose to allow her sister to lead her towards the castle under the condition that they would go to the museum afterwards. In truth, Eliza felt a pang of guilt, Tory would be returning school in a few weeks, dealing with the hassle of moving from home and into the dorms. She had postponed her summer plans in order to take care of her sister, had dropped everything for the sake of family, she deserved to stare at some dusty paintings and imagine herself as a princess, like when they were children. Eliza was always the dragon, Louis the knight, the thought brought a smile to her face for the first time in a long while.
Tired, hungry and upset that she had to use goat milk for her coffee because the hostel owner was allergic to dairy, Eliza tamed her hair in a long tail of a braid before Tory lead her through the winding streets, smiling demurely as her sister fiddled with her hands, pointing out different sights and wonders. "There! Just between those stone arches, the shield!" Tory was glowing with joy, she was always a fan of finer things, she loved to dress like a queen as a child, draped in sheets like they were fine fabrics. It was a remote entrance, looked over by the hustle and bustle of the streets, one would not know it was there if they had not been looking for it.
Eliza fiddled with the salmon token, soothed by the smooth white wood and tiny indents of carved detail, had her mother made it by hand, or purchased it from the medicine man, Jim, who enjoyed whittling in his spare time. A strange sense of dread and anticipation mixed in her stomach as she allowed herself to be lead into the side entrance of the castle. A gust of wind flew past them on the left, causing her to jump. She glanced about, sensing she was being watched but unable to find the eyes doing so. "Tor, are you sure you want to tour this castle? I mean, we can see about taking a puddle jumper flight, see Versaille? Imagine how mad Louis would be, that we visited his castle?" They laughed, their mother had named each of them after a monarch, though the lone son had been named after a variety of kings in the French's history.
"But this one is filled with many treasures and hidden secrets!" A voice, overly sweet, pricked at Eliza's ears and both she and Victorya turned to find a woman grinning at them. She was beautiful, in an overt way, like the woman had spent her entire life idolizing and mirroring an issue of Cosmopolitan. "Come, come, you're just in time for the morning tour!"
Eliza was hesitant for a moment, but upon seeing her sister's face light up at the prospect, she followed the woman into the castle. It was beautiful, even she had to admit, with the exposed brickwork and flashy displays of wealth. The corridor they travelled was meant for visitors, purposely decorated to attract the eye and overwhelm the viewer. Her fingers threaded through the totem, tugging and pulling, spinning and twirling, again and again.
They were met with a small flock of tourists, newly weds and an elderly couple, all eager and taking pictures with flashes turned on. The bright lights irked Eliza, for she knew better than to use bright lights in an enclosed spaces, was no one else capable of etiquette? The salmon looped in and out of her fingertips, a flash of white on her slightly russett skin.
"Everyone, the tour is about to begin!" The beautiful woman clasped her hands together, like a school teacher before a group of kindergarteners.
"How much is this tour, anyways?" Eliza drawled, speaking softly to her sister, who shrugged.
"First tour of the day is free!" Eliza jumped, how had the woman heard her? Her fingers moved faster, stroking the wood, the anger and resentment she felt towards her mother slowly ebbing away. Bayak knew her child, knew that she needed something to press against and feel, to steady her and let her know the world was real.
Like a group of ducklings, they walked together down the passages of the castle, twisting and turning from immaculate room to immaculate room. Eliza stopped dead in her tracks in front of a painting though, the art dated and ancient. It was of a woman, standing at the top of a hill, hair tousled in the breeze as she stared, face not revealed, towards the sea, where ships dotted the horizon. It felt familiar, in an unfamiliar way, a half remembered dream. Tory, seeing her sister, frozen and slack jawed, seized her opportunity and snatched the salmon totem from her grasp, giggling. "Victorya Jane, give that back right now!" Eliza used her mother's words, but they did not carry the same weight. Tory simply giggled and took off to rejoin the group, Eliza had not even realized they had fallen behind.
"Where are the two women?" A voice hissed around the corner, beside the door where the rest of the tour group had entered. Tory skidded to a halt before the man, visibly surprised by his black eyes, boring into her being.
Screams erupted from behind the door, causing Tory to freeze for a moment before turning to escape. Eliza rushed towards her sister, a sense of deja vu striking her, did death have eyes of red, or eyes of black?
"Eliza!" Tory was petrified, bolting towards her elder sister, seeking comfort, seeking safety. The man pounced upon her, ripping into her throat before Eliza could move, the salmon icon slipping from her fingertips and thudding on the marble floor. Sam's face flashed across her vision as she watched her sister be mutilated, fed upon.
There was no denying the truth then, no claiming a concussion caused a delusion. Monsters sought to take everything from Eliza. "No." She did not realize she had been crying until the drop touched the floor, anger and grief swirling within her. "Not again." A power bubbled within her, clawing its way to the surface, mutating with fear and growing with rage. The vampire, for there was no point in denying what he was, lunged at her, but the moment the pain flashed in her body, she was suddenly standing before the painting of the woman again, her sister reaching sneakily to grab her token.
Eliza grasped Tory's hand, pressing the salmon between their palms and fixing the younger with a hard look, "Tory, we need to leave right now." There must have been a panic in her eyes, an off kiltered beating of her heart, thumping through her body, visible to even Tory, for she simply nodded, eyes full of questions.
They moved in the opposite direction than where the group went, a strange feeling that even if she tried, Eliza could not save them, only herself. Eliza guided them, praying to any diety who would listen that they survive, or at least, that Tory would. "What's wrong, Liza?" Her sister whispered, but she could not find the proper words to answer them.
"Death was down that hall." Eliza replied after a long, tense silence. A flash of black crossed the corner of their eyes, spooking the sisters. Eliza pulled Tory behind her, pressing the girl's body between Eliza's own and the wall, shielding her. It was not a man with eyes of black they were met with, but a young girl with eyes of red. She reminded Eliza of a dystopian angel, pure in looks yet demonic in aura. She had shortly cropped blond hair and eyes the color of cherries.
"Where are you going?" She asked with fake sweetness, dread coiling in the room. The girl was barely a teen, but she cast a looming shadow, blanketing the sisters in darkness.
"We're leaving." Eliza bit out, glaring at the girl, while Tory simply watched the exchange, unsure of how to react. The girl tilted her head slightly at Eliza, before shifting her eyes to Tory and wrinkling her nose.
"She smells like a wet dog." It was a statement of fact, though it angered Tory.
"Hey!" Victorya barked, pushing past her sister, unlinking their hands but still holding the salmon's cord about her wrist. A boy appeared, seemingly out of thin air, next to the girl's side.
"Jane, be nice." The boy chided, he too, was strangely beautiful with eyes of cherries and hair of straw, they must have been twins. "We play with our food, not insult them." He spoke in a way that had Eliza's instincts screaming to run, was a caged animal not the most dangerous of all?
"Tory...run." Eliza whispered so softly, she was sure only her sister could hear her, but Tory barely lifted her foot before each sibling was pinned by a twin, who had leapt up and drug them down before either could blink. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the power she had unwittingly called upon before, she needed time to go back, to twist itself for but a moment, but she was so tired…
The girl grinned at her, exposing sharp teeth as she forcefully tilted Eliza's head, exposing her neck. "Pain." Jane whispered, and Eliza's world erupted in fire. She screamed, unable to keep the sound buried in her throat, it echoed over the walls, down the hall where more people died in agony while Eliza lived in it.
"Jane, stop!" A masculine voice called out, snapping something into place in Eliza. Why did a missing piece of her suddenly feel so full? It scared her, for only a part of that gaping hole had been filled by Samantha, and had only widened after her death. Fear and pain swirled, causing her lost strength to find itself within her, and turn back the clock, though not nearly as far as she would wish it to.
Jane was still before her, grinning like a feral cat. "Where are you going?" The words repeated herself, but her actions would not this time. Eliza pushed her sister towards the other open hall instead of behind her, through the doorway that his voice had come from. Though it was a memory of a time that would never be, Eliza yearned to hear it again, to blanket herself in the safety of his voice.
"Just fucking run!" Eliza barked, taking her sister's hand once more and leading them away.
"Liz, what's going on? Elizabeth!" Tory was at a loss, sensing her sister's panic and worrying that perhaps her grief had gotten the best of her, though she too felt a rattling, instinctual fear.
Elizabeth turned, silencing her with a glance before looking past Tory's shoulder, where Jane simply smiled, revealing her teeth once more. Had she made a mistake, giving chase to a beast who enjoyed to hunt? She turned her head again as they crossed a corner, this time being stopped by running into someone else, quite literally.
Both Victorya and Elizabeth were sent sprawling on the floor, the latter taking the former down with her. Had they ran into a wall? No, before Elizabeth stood a man with long, chocolate brown locks of hair framing his face, his dead eyes coming to life at the sight of Eliza. The woman quickly pulled Tory behind her, desperate to protect her even if she had failed before. Fatigue, quick and heavy, drained from her shoulders, spots appearing before her eyes as a mist of black looped her ankles, twisted its way up her legs and towards her eyes, her mouth. A strange mix of hope and fear flooded her as the man opened his mouth, "Mate…" Darkness overtook her, and as she collapsed, the man rushed forward to cradle her against his cold, hard body.
Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, her dear Marcus had watched as three lifeless cords rose and flushed with life, braiding together to make a single, unified bond of gold between three kings and a woman, all of whom had given up on love.
A/N:
Eyyyy! We're in Volterra, next chapter the three kings are introduced. I'm in the middle of midterms right now, so five reviews have to come my way before I write/post the next chapter. Thanks as always for reading!