Author's Note: Since Meyer never revealed whether or not Sulpicia had a particular talent, I decided to give her one of my own: extra sensitive hearing. She also can "hear" or sense vibrations, similar to a snake.
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Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Stephanie Meyer's work.
Chapter One
Carlisle finds Esme in the kitchen, kneeling on the counter. She is painting the border between the cabinets and the ceiling, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her face decorated with thumb-sized smudges of primer.
He watches her work for a moment, her graceful back slightly arched as she angles her brush just so. She's wearing one of Emmett's old t-shirts.
This is the peace he misses. The calm.
"It looks nice," he says, setting his briefcase down next to one of the new kitchen chairs they purchased two weeks ago from an antiques dealer. "I don't think you'll need that third coat after all."
Esme cranes her neck to look at him, a smile making her eyes wide and girlish. "I have enough paint left over," she replies, "so I might as well give it a go." A pause. "Any news from Alice?"
Carlisle slips out of his coat and digs his fingers into his tie, loosening it. The clock in the living room strikes 6 AM. He's just finished his night-shift at Ithaca's local E.R. and he can't remember being so worn down…so defeated.
Edward has gone to Italy. He wants to die. His son wants to die.
Carlisle crosses the kitchen, his sleek shoes crunching on the tarp. Early morning light threatens the window panes. He used to find hope in every new dawn. Promise. But the last of the night's mist has thickened, leaving the world grey.
Carlisle misses the certainty of light and dark. Black and white. He scolds himself now for not saving Edward himself. For not keeping Alice and Bella safe from the dangers of Volterra.
But perhaps he is a coward at heart.
She would not make things easy for him if he returned to Volterra. And she is too clever for him to outwit. Once upon a time he thought her guile charming, but now it frightens him.
Sulpicia always moved in darkness.
Carlisle reaches into his pocket and fingers the stiff envelope. Five plane tickets to Italy.
He can hide no longer.
"Alice didn't call my cell," he tells his wife, accepting her into his arms as she climbs down off the counter. The feel of Esme's body against his gives Carlisle some hope. "Jasper said their flight touched down this afternoon. I'm sure-"
"What about Charlie?" Esme interrupts him. Her eyes flicker slightly with thought. "Has he heard from Bella?"
Carlisle withholds a sigh. The situation is spiraling out of his control. First Edward gone, now Alice and Bella. He had advised Alice not to go to Volterra alone, knowing all too well what the Volturi were capable of…especially Sulpicia.
"I spoke with Charlie a few hours ago," he says. "He's frantic, of course and furious with Bella. But I told him she'd be fine…we'd look after her."
Esme frowns softly, the gentle lines around her mouth sloping downward. "You lied to him."
"I had to."
She presses her forehead to his shoulder, crushing the thin wrinkles out of his shirt. "We should have gone with Alice and Bella."
Carlisle recognizes the desperation in her voice and it troubles him. He wonders if this is how she looked when she lost her newborn son all those years ago. The threat of losing Edward now, along with Alice and Bella, must be just as terrible for her.
The winter had been unkind to his family…cruel, really. Leaving Forks after Jasper's accident with Bella had been a trial, although the Cullens had long since become accustomed to a semi-nomadic lifestyle. The sheer logistics of picking up one's life and settling across the Continent was harrowing, but not unfamiliar.
Carlisle was lucky enough to find work in Ithaca, along with a part-time teaching job at Cornell. By February, things had become manageable, though Edward's absence was more than noticeable.
In fact, it was tearing his family apart. He noticed the seams starting to fray even before Rosalie revealed Alice's devastating vision to her brother.
Carlisle squeezes his wife's arms lightly. "I already bought the plane tickets."
"Carlisle?" She squares her jaw and steps away from him, taking his measure.
And after nearly a century of marriage, he finds himself blushing under her gaze. "We have to be at the airport in three hours. Think you can manage that?"
Esme looks at him, her eyes filling with phantom tears. "But what of we're too late?"
"I'm willing to take that chance. Aren't you?"
His wife's resolve changes instantly. A cloud passing by on a windy day. She straightens her back and slants her hips, striking a pose that is both enigmatic and confident.
Carlisle feels a stirring in his chest. Sometimes, he thinks Esme is the bravest of all the creatures he has known, human and immortal. There is not a shred of pretense about her or distraction. Only pure honesty and assertion.
And he loves her for it.
"I'll get things together," she says, spinning away from him and moving towards the kitchen door.
But it is too late. Jasper is standing in front of her in a flash, his face a death mask.
Carlisle notices the cell phone in his shaking hands.
"It's Alice," Jasper blurts out. He glances at Carlisle, then at Esme, who touches his shoulder tentatively.
"Is she in Volterra?" Esme asks.
Jasper swallows hard, his gaze returning to Carlisle. The phone slips from his hands and skitters across the floor. "They have Bella and Edward," he says, the muscles in his face spasming slightly. "The Volturi are going to kill them."
It is then that Carlisle's heart freezes. Blindly, he reaches backward, his hand touching the counter, paint staining his lithe hands.
Understanding is a bitter thing and he wishes he were ignorant.
Crimson kisses and hunting. Her smile was always treacherous.
So this, he thinks, is the price I must pay.
*****
Sometimes she is frightened. So very frightened.
It is a strange feeling, akin to the relentless surge of adrenaline and the giddy thrill of catching one's prey after a long, hard chase.
Sulpicia does not understand herself. She is not accustomed to weakness. To being selfish. And the uncertainty of it all threatens to drive her mad.
Perhaps she is mad. Perhaps she will turn to stone like poor Marcus and they will say that she deserves as little mercy as she has shown.
Sitting in the bath, the water pools around her legs, casting spirals of steam into her damp hair. She is listening to Verdi's Libiamo ne'lieti calici. It is a rather commonplace song, but amusing. And Sulpicia likes to be amused.
She runs the tips of her fingers over the water, breaking the surface tension, smelling the sweet essence she has rubbed into her skin. Roses. Summer roses.
Aro.
She knows he will find out. She almost wishes he would. Things would be easier that way…perhaps.
But it would break his heart if he knew she had lied to him. And not only lied…
She closes her eyes and listens to the voice of the throaty soprano. The music is sweeping, stirring.
Tra voi tra voi saprò dividere il tempo mio giocondo.
Aro does not know why she was so insistent that Edward Cullen be punished.
Sulpicia thinks of love. She thinks of Edward Cullen, who has been locked in the dungeons to await his death. She thinks of the human Bella, who was loved by an immortal and will soon be drained of her heart's blood. And she thinks of Carlisle Cullen, who she had taught to hunt, back in the days when they hunted for kisses and not for the crimson elixir.
Sulpicia does not care if Edward Cullen lives or dies. She does not care if the human Bella returns to her world with knowledge of theirs. But she implores, yes, she implores every ancient goddess…
Venus. Juno. Diana
…to bring Carlisle Cullen to her. It is all she wants. All she has ever wanted.
And yet, she is confused. There can be no want in her life. No physical or emotional need that has not been satisfied.
Perhaps she is a glutton.
Sulpicia drops her head under the water and then surfaces. Aro approaches. She hears his footsteps murmur down the stone hallway. His heart is already whispering for her and Sulpicia stirs in the bath, roused by his desire.
Aro. Dear Aro.
He comes into the bath wearing a simple smile and his stately robes. The candlelight casts shadows across his face.
"Darling Sulpicia." Aro reaches out a ghostly hand and she takes it, allowing him to help her from the bath.
She stand before him, naked, the water running in smooth rivulets down her breasts.
"You let Alice go," she says, mimicking his smile.
Aro raises a black brow. "Are you disappointed? She committed no crime. Even Caius couldn't find cause to keep her imprisoned."
"She'll try to save her brother and the human."
"You are delightfully shrewd," he says, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it.
"A paradox," Sulpicia mutters. For the first time in centuries, she wishes he wouldn't touch her. Her thoughts are too precious to be read these days…and too dangerous.
And she could not bear to break his heart.
"I think I am wicked," she says, gently lifting her hand free from his grasp. "Was I ever kind? Was I ever gentle and thoughtful like sweet Athenodora?"
"Gods, no," Aro snorts. "And I wouldn't have it any other way!"
Sulpicia blushes. He is too good to her. "I have always had dark thoughts," she tells him.
"There are greater sins."
Like adultery. Her mind betrays her. She brushes some of the excess water off her arms. The candles hiss as several droplets hit their flames.
Her husband sighs. The tenor of his voice is delectable. Sulpicia watches his throat pulse as his vocal cords form the words.
"I expect some trouble after this is over. Edward Cullen is popular in North America. Respected. The Denali coven in particular will be vexed."
"Not to mention the Cullens themselves." Sulpicia tries to mirror his business-like tone. The seriousness of the matter steels her for what is to come. "But Edward did attempt to expose himself…in the Palazzo dei Priori no less. What nerve!"
Her outrage encourages Aro, who presses his fingers to his lips. She recognizes his stance. He is thinking.
"I am more concerned about the human, Bella. She knows too much of us…and yet, I sense her potential."
Now she laughs. "Then I must be blind. She had no music about her."
"But I could not read her thoughts."
"Perhaps she has none?"
He joins her in laughter and their voices sound like a harpsichord, high and tinkling.
Aro reaches for her. Sulpicia lets him snake a hand around her waist. Their hips are crushed together and she feel his hardness, his desire.
What have I done?
He brings his face closer, his eyes suddenly gentle and longing.
She remembers why she loves him so. Her damp fingers comb through his hair.
"Aro." Sulpicia wants to cry. But he has never seen her weep…except for the day Carlisle left Volterra.
"I am cruel," she tells him, unable to control herself.
Aro's brow puckers slightly. "Never."
Yes, she thinks and kisses him.
His lips are warm and welcoming. She wonders why she ever strayed…
"Aro." She wants him now. More than anything.
He responds to her eagerness, ever the patient lover. His hands frame her hips, his touch feather light.
Sulpicia challenges him.
Teasingly, she opens her mouth against his neck and drags her sharp teeth along his ivory flesh.
His smile becomes roguish.
They make love in the empty bath, the candles weeping wax around them. Sulpicia tries to forget her darkness, to lose it in Aro from whom it has never been hidden.
Until now.
While they are leaving the bath, Renata finds them and tells Aro that Carlisle has called. He is on his way to Volterra.
And Sulpicia drops her husband's hand.
Translation:
Tra voi tra voi saprò dividere il tempo mio giocondo.-- With you all, I can share my happiest times.