I am so so sorry that it took this long. My teachers decided that it'd be real fun if they all grouped together and assign a different, but extremely complicated, project for every one of my classes, Health included. So instead of writing this like I wanted, I had to do essays about the French bourgeois and build large models of plant cells. Again, I am very sorry.

Disclaimer: Why couldn't I have that dream...

Chapter Eight:
In Which Help Comes from an Unexpected Source

Felix stepped out of the castle hurriedly and ducked into an alleyway a few streets over before he felt it was safe enough to press his phone once more to his ear. "Okay, Tanya," he said, exasperated, "why did you call me?" The sudden call of a long-ago lover is never something Felix looked forward to taking part in.

"It's about Isabella and Edward," answered in the same sultry voice he remembered from all those years ago, when he had been stationed in Paris for a year and had met Tanya while she was on a holiday. In his mind's eye, he could see her golden eyes, so strange and exotic to him then, and the shape of her ruby lips as they formed words. Those days had been good, though brief. When he was given a higher rank and reassigned to guard the Volturi castle itself, he and Tanya had agreed that breaking it off would be less trouble for the both of them. There had been no contact, until today.

"What about them? They are in no harm here."

"But it is wrong!" shouted Tanya, her clear voice breaking in an anguish he had never heard in her normally tightly controlled speech. "This wasn't what I had wanted to happen, Felix. You have to believe me when I say that I never intended to hurt them."

"You mean you never intended to harm the boy," spat Felix. "You wanted Isabella out of the way, not even caring how, so that you could have him. You forget that I know how your mind works, Tanya. You will do whatever is necessary to get what you want. And this Edward was just some poor fellow that became a challenge to you." As stunned silence met him from her side of the line, Felix looked up and saw that the sun had progressed in its arch across the sky, shortening the shadows around him. He withdrew back as far as he could and looked around for any witnesses. He wouldn't be able to last much longer if he wanted time to get back to the castle.

When Tanya finally decided to speak, it wasn't in the angry, whip-like way he had anticipated, but a low murmur of vulnerability. That alone made Felix forget about the looming danger of discovery from the sun overhead. "I know that my actions were selfish and prideful, but I want to set them straight. In Paris, you used to have such dreams of keeping our people safe and being a protector from any evil. What do you think now, Felix, when you have turned into the pathetic henchman instead of the noble hero you always wished to be?"

Felix's former doubts about his masters flew up in his mind, revolving in a slow, accusatory dance. "I don't know what you are talking about," he lied.

"Yes, you do. I don't know all the facts here, but I'm pretty good at guessing. They see the power that this girl had and ripped her away from her family, changing her to be one of the 'honorable guards.' But she doesn't like it there, so one day she finally manages to escape and find a life of her own. The only downside is that now she's afraid that you will find her, so she lives a terrible kind of half-life that only knows caution and fear of discovery.

"Then," she continued doggedly, desperate to prove her point, "one day, she falls in love with someone that returns her feelings just as much. But she can't be with him because he is in danger by extension, so she leaves. Then, your people pick her up and keep her in the castle, doing something to the love of her life to make her be unable to leave. I've seen the Volturi at work before, Felix, and it's always been cruel and merciless. Now tell me: What did your master do to them?"

Torn between the injustices that he had taken part in and the crumbling loyalty to his superiors, Felix finally buckled under the pressure. "Aro used Chelsea on the boy. She's manipulating his emotions so that he feels nothing for Isabella."

"Why didn't Aro do it the other way around? Why did he only affect Edward?"

"It's Isabella's power; she's a shield. No mental powers can work on her."

Tanya didn't speak for a few moments, but when she did, he could hear the smirk in her voice and practically see the gears working furiously in her head. "I think I'll be able to set things right. Will you help me?"

Felix looked down at the receding shadows and didn't bother to take another step back. It seemed that danger was approaching in his near future no matter what he did. "Yes, Tanya. I'll help you."

"Then there is hope for you yet."

000

Edward felt…odd.

It wasn't as if he had forgotten something. In fact, all of his memories of vampire life, and many of his human, remained perfectly intact. It just felt as though something had gotten left behind. Some vital thing that was running desperately after him, but every time it was this close, it met with a foe or unseen obstacle and fell back again.

He had a good idea that it was about the girl though, that Isabella Swan. He sat in the room the Volturi had given him, going over his memories of her. They were good ones, in which he was happy and smiling in her presence, love apparent for the both of them as they were together. He knew the reason why he had traveled all over the world for her, why he had never given up, why it was either her or death to him: love. That pesky little emotion that he could once remember having felt for the brunette girl, but found himself unable to muster now.

Actually, he couldn't think of any emotion to describe how he felt for her know. There was no hatred, no pity, no adoration, not even a dab of compassion. She was just there, like the wallpaper of someone else's living room; you didn't really think about it one way or another. It simply existed. She simply existed to him.

But every time he thought that to himself, he felt a pause, like something was trying to speak up but found itself suddenly gagged. It would make frantic gestures and mime what it had wanted to say, but Edward never quite got what it meant. That certain part of him, the part that actually understood what was being rendered mute, was missing.

That irked Edward. He knew from the minds of others that emotions do not just simply disappear; they stay with the person, festering or fading away. But never, ever, do they leave suddenly, in an untraceable moment, with nothing left behind. So why had every feeling he had for Bella disappeared?

Edward stood up from the antique lounge chair he had been sitting on and tread quickly to the door of his room. Without thinking about his path, his feet took him to the throne room where he knew Aro would be. The guards let him past without moving an inch, their minds too busy trying not to think at all to even acknowledge him. From one of their minds, he heard nothing but the name "Chelsea," but Edward disregarded it. He often heard that name around him but didn't know the person himself.

Aro stood up and greeted Edward when he entered the room, wishing him a good morning and asking him if he wanted to join him for an afternoon meal.

"No," Edward said, but because he felt nothing but a kind of familial affection and need to please, added, "thank you, though."

Aro only nodded slowly with a wrinkled brow. He worried about Edward not completely embracing their lifestyle; he was set up to be the best of the guard and yet he didn't take the bait, he just sat back and refused to hurt anyone. It was like something within him was holding Edward back, telling him to wait.

Edward didn't feel bothered by these thoughts. To him, the Volturi could do no wrong. Even if they were thinking overtly menacing thoughts about him, he remained in his little cocoon of complete and utter trust. The thought of suspicion never even crossed his mind.

Aro broke himself from the troubling thoughts that preyed at his mind and turned his attention back to the boy in front of him, waiting patiently with a smile on his face. "What can I do to help you then, my boy?"

Feeling like what he was going to say would only open all the wrong doors, but saying it anyway, Edward asked softly, "What happened between Isabella and me? I know that we were together, but I don't know what happened to all the…" he searched fruitlessly for the right words but failed, "…feeling that was there. You had told me that she didn't want me anymore and then it just disappeared. Why?"

There was no accusatory manner in Edward's question, just a lost helplessness. Aro quickly took advantage of it. "Edward," he said, putting his arm around the boy, making sure that he was touching the skin, and turned him back to the door, "you shouldn't ask about her. Just ignore the poor girl. What happened between the two of you is unimportant now."

The quiet urging voice did not push away the thoughts of Isabella, though, but intensified the curiosity Edward now felt towards her. Feeling like there was some mystery he had to unfold, Edward asked, "Who is Chelsea?"

Aro froze and withdrew his arm like he had been shocked. From the thoughts he had obtained through the contact with Edward, he knew that the boy had heard it from the guard outside. Without pity, Aro already made up his mind to have the man executed; no one was to ruin the perfect soldier he had envisioned in his mind and was now trying to shove into an Edward-shaped mold. Feeling the worry and fear turn into rage, Aro yelled at the boy "Don't you ever ask about her again!" Frantically, he pushed him out the door, slamming it on Edward's confused face and returned to his throne.

Once his emotions bubbled down, Aro thought back to what he had felt that was different about Edward. He didn't possess the lamb-like obedience that he had encountered for the past five days, but a new, unfamiliar and unexpected variable that was leading Edward to the conclusions he had been desperately trying to hide from the boy.

Now, to Aro's horror, Edward was fighting back.

000

Instead of the calm peace Edward had expected to find in his room, away from the stunned and sharp-edged thoughts that Aro was brooding upon in the throne room and an escape from the terrible question mark that prevailed in all of his own thoughts, it only got worse. The reason behind the sharp plummet in his already bewildering day was an unassuming bracelet on his dresser.

It had been there for the past days, in no different of a position, and he hadn't even acknowledged it. But now, Edward's mind couldn't seem to wrap around anything but the thought that it had once rested on the delicate wrist of none other than Isabella Swan. Something within him, unknown and perhaps forbidden, stirred at the sight of it.

In a daze, he took the piece of jewelry in his hand and left his room, letting his senses guide him to a place his mind, which felt disoriented from that clawing piece of him that was trying to escape from underneath whatever oppressor had it contained, didn't quite know yet.

Soon, Edward discovered where his quickly moving and oddly urgent footsteps were taking him: to Bella's room. As he approached it from the door on the far end of the hall, he could already smell the heady and intoxicating scent of freesia, luring him closer and closer. He could just imagine her on the other side of that aged wooden door, reading one of the books he had seen in the towering bookcases of her cabin in Washington, her long brown hair falling over her face, which would surely be scrunched into a look of concentration as the story entranced her even further, and her golden eyes tracing the words and sentences as she wondered about the fate of the protagonist.

Compelled by this mental image, Edward reached one long, ice pale hand out toward the door, preparing himself to knock on it. His mind speeded up, carrying over to when she would open it, to how she would look upon his face. In his imagination, Edward first saw that she would be happy, oh so happy, to see him, love apparent in her shining eyes. But soon that image shifted, leaving her beautiful face marred with a sadness Edward knew that he was responsible for.

His hand stopped in its course as his resolve wavered. She didn't want to see him. The last time they had been in the same room, and only in passing, she looked like she was physically in pain at just the sight of him and ran away as quickly as possible.

Why am I even here? he asked himself. Edward felt like he was awakening from a dream and fought to shake off the whispering vapors of thoughts that ran away with the driven feeling he had just experienced. That something within him stirred painfully in defeat, knowing that it had lost this time, when it was only this close.

Edward backed away from the door, hitting the wall behind him and turning to the side so that his forehead was in contact with the rough stone wall that had been worn down from centuries of simply being in existence. With one hand, Edward pinched the bridge of his nose in a display of frustration, of panicky unknowing. "What," he whispered to himself, "is happening to me?"

Instead of answering that question, which could only open doors to rooms that held painful truths, he fled. Edward ran down the halls of the Volturi castle in a frenzy, ignoring the questioning thoughts of those he all but knocked to the ground as he passed. In no time he was back in his room, pacing furiously and asking himself what he had just done before. The answer seemed horrifying and puzzling enough to keep his repressed mind reeling for the next few hours.

Edward didn't know why, but he… just had to hear the sound of her voice.

000

Tanya had told her family that she and Kate were going shopping. This was a lie. She had also told them that they would be back before five, and that she would then help Eleazar with choosing that year's charity to donate a startling amount of money to. This too was a lie. Perhaps the only thing that wasn't a lie was when Tanya had been making her hurried exit and Alice had stopped her. The pixie didn't waste time when she said, "Promise me that you will try your best." Tanya had did as she was commanded, and hoped to God that the feeling running through her veins after she had agreed was the great rush of truth, not the nausea of guilt.

Now, they were speeding down empty roads in the fastest car Tanya owned to an airport. With the air whipping through the windows she hadn't even realized were open and through her strawberry blond hair, her eyes focused on the horizon ahead of them, her jaw pushed out in an open challenge to anything that dared cross her, Tanya looked like a walking example for someone you didn't want to question. So Kate didn't.

One might think that when Tanya missed the three available turnoffs to any shopping area within a ten mile radius, Kate might have suspected that something was not quite right, but then that would be a vast understatement of how deep the bonds of the Denali sisters ran. Kate knew that they were never going to go shopping in the first place, knew, or at least had a vague idea, about where they were going and why. She didn't need to ask, and if Tanya felt like she needed to explain, then she would.

Tanya's firm and resolute silence was only broken once, when they got to the airport and she demanded for two tickets she had reserved under the name Denali from the man behind one of the counters, who was old enough to know that the angel before him was out of his league but stupid enough to entertain the thought that if he played his cards right, he would have a chance. The man took a breath, checked his breath as discreetly as he could, smoothed his thinning hair back, and, thinking that this was finally his big chance to be the man he had always aspired to be, began to say-

"Don't even," was what he found interrupting his not even uttered words. Those two words, spoken in the malicious and threatening voice of a woman he couldn't even dream of having, would haunt the poor man for the rest of his life. "I have no time for any foolishness. Give. Me. The. Tickets." The man handed them over as quickly as he could; managing to spill his coffee all over the brand new sweater he was wearing. As he yelped and jumped up to his feet, Tanya strutted away, Kate following behind after throwing a quick look of apology to the man.

Kate wanted to say something, to see if Tanya was alright, to ask where they were going. She wanted to, but she didn't. When they boarded the plane and Kate heard a voice overhead tell them of the destination, Kate turned to Tanya with wide, perhaps even frightened, eyes. She had suspected, but to actually know that they were going to willingly step into the lion's waiting den sent shivers down her back. Kate only said one word. "Edward?"

And to that, Tanya nodded once, her tense neck barely moving to show the sign of it.

The plane continued on its course, into the forebodingly looming future that lay more and more closely ahead for two of its passengers, leaving a trail of private prayers and hurried wishes in its wake.

000

Underneath the refined and polished halls of the Volturi castle, the glittering yet unused banquet rooms, and the private suites of the most dangerous collection of beings that has ever managed to stay under one, albeit very large, roof, there were the dungeons. These torture chambers, filled with instruments that only the truly sick and cruel, something the Volturi had no lack of, could imagine, were burrowed deep underground.

The brothers that made up the heads of the Volturi denied that they ever used these out-of-date rooms for their enemies. Oh no, power had made it so that unspeakable acts could be done within the open light of day. Why journey so far to do something you could easily have done in the comfort of your own throne room?

So the dungeons remained empty, save for the twining spiders that made it an empire of thin strands and gentle patterns; or, very recently, the woman that had taken up residence upon the dusty, disused floor.

Chelsea sat with her legs tucked beneath her, her hands palm down on the floor as they chaotically spasmed open and closed, and her blood red eyes open and staring unfocused at the opposite wall. Her normally perfectly wavy hair, as black as the ink that Death would most assuredly write with, was mussed in all the wrong places, her expensive clothes covered in grime. She would have noticed her imperfect appearance and rushed to fix it as quickly as she possibly could, if it were not for the incredible struggle going on within her.

She had retreated down to the faraway depths of the dungeons in order to more aptly control her hold on one of the minds overhead. None of the other ties she kept up were as strong, or as persistently difficult, as the young copper-haired boy's, so, she had thought, by getting out of range for all of the petty distractions, she would still have a good hold on his.

This was true, but it didn't quite work to her advantage. The other ties were thrown out of her mind as soon as she made it this far underground, but the boy's tie also became more difficult to handle correctly. At the first sign of weakness or decrease in stamina, the tie had started writhing within her emotional grasp; it pulled and bit and bucked her, trying to find any way that was possible to escape by.

But if Chelsea was one thing it was obstinate. She gritted her teeth, gripped the crumbling stone beneath her harder, and screwed her eyes shut, exerting all of her force toward the uncontrollable love that she was trying to extinguish. It may fight as it pleased, but it would have to beat Chelsea first. And nothing had ever beaten Chelsea.

000

Edward had envisioned, when he had almost knocked on his lost love's door, that she would be content and happy within her room, doing commonplace things that she enjoyed taking part in. This was not reality, but a part of Edward that, under the influence of Chelsea or no, only wanted to protect him.

The reality of the situation was that Bella…was a wreck.

No, that was an understatement. If the living personification of a wreck were standing beside Bella, it wouldn't look even a half of how broken-hearted and scarred as Bella did. In fact, it might even look cheerful in comparison.

For the last five days, Bella felt as though her heart was being ripped out, dumped into acid, hit a few time with a heavy club that was covered in nails, repeatedly high-fived by Edward Scissor Hands, shoved off a very high building, and puréed by the kind of top of the line blender that would make normal, household items seem like dingy cardboard cutouts compared to its sleek, NASA-like technology. Her head ached with its confused and self-interrupting thoughts that swirled in out of focus like figures seen through clouds of steam. Her shoulders shook from the constant sobs that never let up. Her stomach was knotted in the unrelieved pain of sadness that took up residence there, like an infection within an open wound.

And this is when she was calmed down.

The worse pain had been when she had just seen Edward, which, thank God for her sanity, only happened twice. After those incidents, sadistic torturers that reveled in pain of any kind would have looked away in a state of emotional overload. It might be feared that Bella was losing her mind and touch with reality from the emotional trauma that was constantly being inflicted upon her, but it was quite the opposite, actually. Bella was all too much aware of what was reality, too conscious of the truth, too alert to the one, simple fact that was now shaping up her life: Edward didn't love her, and she must live the rest of her terribly long life with that ravaging her mind and heart.

A knock sounded at her door; ringing with loud, hard authority. Bella made no movement, made no sound in response. Not that the person was expecting it; instead, he opened the door slowly and stepped inside. The look of the beautiful girl that was torn to pieces strengthened his assurances in what he was about to do.

Felix cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Miss Swan? Master Aro has asked me to escort you on a hunting trip to the forest outside of Volterra. Many deer roam the woods and you will be able to find your food quickly." She made no response, so he tried harder. In an entirely real and earnest tone, he added, "Your eyes have gotten very dark, Miss Swan, and you might have trouble restraining yourself when the humans enter the castle during the next tour."

That seemed to wake Bella up momentarily, for she rose to her feet and turned to Felix with eyes that were blacker with misery than hunger. Still mute, she let Felix take her arm and lead her through the castle, and into the discreetly black town car that was waiting at the side exit of the castle. Felix didn't bother to try and start a conversation with her as he drove them out of the city limits, out from under the watchful eyes of his fellow guard members. He knew that she was catatonic now, unable to even process anything but the pain of her heartbreak. Soon enough they were on a winding trail in the promised forest, completely out of sight on all sides by the abundance of trees and foliage around them.

But they weren't alone. Felix pulled the car over when he was close enough to the two figures that had their backs turned away from the newcomers, only their long blond hair and statuesque figures giving any indication to who they were.

As Felix helped her out of the car, Bella seemed to finally come to her senses. Her eyes focused upon the strangers, analyzing the distinctly non-animalistic way that they moved their hands and flipped their hair. Her lips formed words that weren't spoken before she finally managed to ask, "Who are you?"

The taller of the blonds, whose hair had more of a strawberry tint to it, turned to face Bella. As she assessed the brunette for a moment, Bella realized that she too had golden eyes. Finally, the woman met Bella's gaze and answered her question. "We're from the Denali clan, and we've come to help."