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Thanks to everyone who nominated Absolución for "Canon or AU story that knocks you off your feet (WIP)." When I found out, I didn't believe it. It was four hours before I could get to a computer to confirm the nomination. I could have been knocked over with a feather.
Chapter 9: Caveat emptor
Volterra, Italy
Marcus ignored the human placing a computer on the Louis XVII desk. It couldn't have looked more out of place if it had been installed in the Parthenon. Its clean modern lines looked plain next to the delicate filigree and hand-carved rosettes that were painstakingly carved into the polished surface of the desk. This table had existed for over two hundred years and would easily manage two hundred more. The computer would only last four or five. As if to testify to this fact, a gaudy blue cable straggled like a varicose vein down the side of the table and across the ancient marble floor.
Electricity had been novel and brought light to dark corners, ridding the obnoxious smell of candlelight and, later, gas. Radio had been appalling and to a vampire's ears was nothing but static and crackling warbles of sound. The advent of the telephone had been useful, however, and was one of the few modern technologies Marcus could appreciate. Television and movies had been novel for a while, bringing images and news from distant places, and securing their roles as the governing body of their kind across the globe, not simply in Europe, Africa and Asia.
There was yet a wireless technology that would penetrate the granite and marble walls within the castle. The 'vein' would have to stay.
The computer technician pushed a stack of Marcus' beloved newspapers, spilling them over. It was the proverbial match to the gasoline that was the vampire's displeasure. Marcus rose in a fury only to be stopped before he could take a step.
"Excellent!" clapped Aro happily. "You've accepted at last," he said in delight. "I'm so pleased to do this for you, Marcus." Aro strode over to the human, noticing the man was sweating profusely. Aro ran his hand over the sleek monitor as it flickered to life. "Fascinating," he murmured, then turned to his brother. "I'll show you how to use it. I've had a... well, a crash course, you could say," he joked.
Marcus instantly understood where the second installer had disappeared.
"Thank you," Marcus said diplomatically though is voice was strained and more of a growl. He moved to straighten his stack of papers, glaring at the installer.
"Come, come, my brother," Aro laughed knowing exactly why Marcus was annoyed. He didn't even spare the installer a glance as he spoke. "They were hardly damaged," he teased. When he saw his words only made Marcus more irritated, he nodded with a sigh. "Very well."
Marcus fell on the human with incredible speed, his face contorting into a demonic mask before burying against the man's neck. There was no scream, only a choking gasp of surprise. The aroma of adrenalin and copper filled the room like a mist. The sound of the panicked heart raced for a moment like drums on a battlefield before thudding heavily to a stop. It was over in an instant. Marcus dropped the body to the floor and stepped back.
Smiling indulgently, Aro pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Marcus with an unsubtle hint about the blood covering his lips and chin.
Marcus ignored the offer. "I don't need your permission to feed, Aro. Nor do I need to ask whom I choose as my prey," Marcus sneered, insulted. "We do this because we agreed to, not because we allow each other to."
"Of course we do, brother," Aro agreed in sincere obsequisness. There was even a hint of hurt in his voice.
"And don't condescend to me," Marcus challenged again.
Aro tilted his head. "It's not like you to be irritable. I'd almost think you were channeling Caius. I meant no insult," he pointed out in a light and friendly tone. "Come, please, sit and talk to me more of your trip," he encouraged.
"You already know everything," Marcus said dully, swiping his hand across his mouth.
"Mmm," Aro hummed as he stepped over the body and sat gracefully in one of the few chairs. "I do so miss Carlisle, though. Don't you?" he asked and continued without waiting for an answer. "He had a way of bringing a unique perspective to so many things. His joie de vivre seemed so odd I found myself enjoying it for simply being different."
"As opposed to the usual joie de pouvoir?" Marcus asked lifelessly. "Are you bored at last?"
"Oh, my, no! No," Aro answered happily, "I find there is still much beauty and wonder to be found in the world. Take your progeny, for example! I simply cannot wait to meet him."
"Ever the politician," Marcus said, giving the computer's mouse an indifferent shove. "You speak of beauty and wonders, but only seek to learn how best to exploit them for you own purpose."
"Marcus, Marcus.... ever the cynic," Aro parroting back the observation with a tsking sound. "Call for the boy."
Marcus sighed and nodded.
"Oh, and I wanted to tell you that we dealt with the Barsklia issue," Aro informed him.
The name Jean-Claude Barsklia had been brought to their attention only a month ago. He was a private investigator who was too good at his job. Heidi had collected a sixteen-year-old girl during one of her many forays to gather humans for 'a unique tour of the Volterra underground.' The girl's father turned out to be a man of some influence in Indochina who had hired Barsklia to find his daughter when she disappeared in Greece during her holiday.
The human slave market was only one of their many methods to bring prey into the city. No humans were taken from Volterra itself unless they were tourists, and those tourists were carefully lured to the city through illegitimate and well-paid travel agents. There were never itineraries or travel plans left behind for people like Barsklia to follow.
"Oh?" Marcus went through the motions of conversation, but it was clear he wasn't interested in knowing more. Aro allowed him this indifference and ignored it.
"A large sum of money was transferred to his account before he conveniently disappeared." Aro leaned back in the chair and rested his foot on the body of the technician making an ottoman of his corpse. "There were also incriminating letters left behind that one might infer he 'joined the other team', as they say. In any case, Heidi and Thomas are setting up a new tracking system so we will know which humans are brought here and which are legitimately sold.
"And speaking of Heidi," Aro continued, "she asked if you had any taste preferences for her next trip."
Marcus shook his head and absently pressed a few keys on the new computer.
"I rather fancied another batch from Nepal," Aro idly mentioned. "They remind me of the old days with their earthy smell. I've told Heidi to avoid the French. All I taste is cigarettes."
Marcus snorted. "And Americans taste the way I'd imagine plastic would with their diets of chemicals and processed food."
"What do you think of starting a commune of organic farmers to harvest from?" Aro asked in all seriousness.
"I'd find the notion ironic," Marcus said without humor or irony. "Harvesting organic farmers, indeed," he muttered.
"Do you remember the nomads from Germania? Ahh, now there was a feast," Aro reminisced. "All these genetic crops and chemical preservatives... Thank goodness they've finally realized how bad margarine is."
He knew Aro enjoyed forcing him into casual conversations such as this. The fact made him feel even more blasé about the act of holding an actual serious discourse. "Perhaps your friend Carlisle has some ideas." His insouciance over the issue was more than evident. The Cullens could have fed off birds for all he seemed to care. "Some insight to keeping the diet of his herd more traditional and untainted. I'm sure it's considerably harder to do with omnivores."
"We are what we eat," Aro agreed with a sly smile, using his foot to rock the body beneath his shoe.
Marcus rolled his eyes, hating this game that Aro forced him to play time and time again. He had to answer because Aro would never let it go. He had to identify the food the human had last eaten based on the taste or smell of the victim's blood. Caius also loved to join this game if it dragged itself into their audience chamber. He loved to humiliate Marcus in front of the guard.
It was better to get it over with now. "Coke-a-Cola and olives."
Aro wrinkled his nose. "Is that a normal combination?"
"How would I know?" Marcus snapped annoyed. "It didn't last long before the blood was peppered with the taste of his fear."
A longing smile crossed Aro's face. "Il nettare della morte," he drawled. "Such a sweet and fading note on the tongue." He stood suddenly and smoothed the wrinkles from his jacket. "That is why there will never be True Blood, no matter what the moviemakers try to imagine. They're simply incapable of taking reality," he looked up and smirked, "that far. The idea is too mortifying for them."
"What is that?" Marcus asked with uncharacteristic curiousity.
"A show on American television several years ago," Aro answered.
Marcus looked at Aro skeptically that he would have detailed knowledge about old American television shows, and seeing his brother's incredulity Aro felt the need to explain.
"We dined on the script editor last fall."
Marcus nodded, understanding, but turned away just to have the conversation be finished.
"You'll send for Rolle?" Aro asked again, but both knew it was not a yes or no question.
"Of course," Marcus said.
Aro headed toward the door saying, "Wonderful. And I'll send Thomas to..." he chuckled suddenly, "clear away the dirty dishes."
§∞•••∞§
Halifax, Nova Scotia
"I forgot how nice this car is," Carlisle said, over the noise of the Aston Martin's monstrous engine.
"I doubt that," Edward chuckled.
Edward was not the brand-loyal type, but he truly loved this car manufacturer above all others. After the Vanquish, he'd bought the v-12 Vantage. He test-drove the Aston hybrid, Valor, but was unimpressed with it's performance and held on to the Vantage two more years in order to get this car: The new Aston Martin DB10 Valkyrie, or as Emmett put it, Edward's wet dream.
"Even if it were possible to forget anything," Edward continued, "no one could ever forget a car like this. They'd forget how to blink first." Then Edward cringed at the noise of a branch scraping the undercarriage of his car.
"You could slow down," Carlisle pointed out. "It's just the driveway."
With a frown of agreement, the car slowed to a turtle's pace of only thirty miles and took the winding path with the same ease, but less G-force. The lights of the house began to peek through the storm-tousled trees.
Gravel crunched under the wheels as the car came to a stop and both climbed out. Carlisle gently closed the door and ran his hand long the side of the car as if stroking a favored steed. He smiled in gratitude and patted his son's shoulder. "Thank you for the drive, Edward."
Edward did not mention how many times today Esme had wordlessly asked him to spend time with Carlisle. Instead, he simply replied, "You're welcome."
Carlisle looked at him a moment longer, his thoughts a confused jumble, then glanced at the house finding no desire to do anything at all. "I think I'll go for a walk," Carlisle said as he turned away from the brightly lit house.
Edward watched him walk away and ran his hand through his hair at a loss how best to help his mentor and father. His thoughts and doubts were silent to everyone except Edward, and even knowing these thoughts offered no guidance in how best to soothe Carlisle or help him work through his depression.
Esme came onto the porch and watched as Carlisle disappeared into the woods at a slow human pace. She glanced at Edward. Should I join him or will it only make it worse?
"He needs you," Edward told her, and Esme silently slipped from the porch and went to catch up to her husband.
Edward stood and watched the trees they had vanished behind, hearing Esme catch up with Carlisle. He heard them greet each other and kiss, and then he heard the clock in the family room chime midnight.
Edward.
Bella's voice in his mind reached him as if she were standing next to him. Midnight! In a blink of an eye he was standing in their bedroom door. The sight that greeted him stunned him into immobility.
Bella was standing at the window looking out at the dark yard. Only the light on the bedside table was on. Her hair fell over her bare shoulders in waves. Her eyes met his in the reflection of the window. She had prepared for him, prepared for their time together. She was nude.
Edward stepped into the room and leaned back against the door to close it gently behind him. He stared at the sight of her; her legs, her hips, her waist, her perfect skin. She met his eyes through the reflection of the glass. She had changed so much since those shy awkward days at Forks High School. He'd thought she was beautiful then. She was absolutely stunning now. Her confidence, even nude, called to him like a siren. She argued that it was simply her confidence in his love for her and nothing more.
He took a deep breath to sigh. Instead, he was destroyed by her scent as he breathed in. He could taste her on the air. Edward tensed, fighting to control himself. The tether that always connected them snapped taught, vibrating between them.
Bella felt it, too. Arcs of static raced between them. Even through the reflection of the dark glass of their bedroom window she could see Edward's eyes turn black. She could not look away from them to see if her own eyes were the same, but assumed they were by judging the change in his demeanor. He reached up with one hand and tugged at his shirt, pulling the top fastener free with a pop as if it were held by a snap and not a small black button. There was tiny pinging sound as the button flew across the room and hit the mirror above their dresser.
Bella smiled and shook her head at him as he slowly dropped his hand to the next button. It, too, broke free and flew without a sound, landing on their bed.
Using only his eyes, Edward directed her to the bed. When Bella turned to look at him, another button flew and landed neatly in a cup. Their smiles widened at the coincidence, almost finding the humor in it, until the fire they saw in each other eyes snuffed it out. Bella stared at his chest and licked her lips prompting another button to go flying faster than the others as Edward shuddered at the sight of her tongue peeking through her lips. She met his eyes again and backed toward the foot of the bed.
There was a scraping sound as her foot nudged against the broken footboard they had hidden under the bed. It had fallen victim to their energetic activities several weeks ago. Bella did not need to shift her shield for Edward to know exactly what she was thinking in that moment. The memory of that night and the sound the cracking frame had made turned the next button into a lethal projectile that embedded itself into the wall.
Bella scooted back over the bed with Edward stalking across the room toward her. When he stopped at the foot of the bed, Bella stopped retreating, less than halfway to the headboard. Edward looked at her right leg and without a word Bella steepled her knee. His eyes never left hers as he lowered his mouth to it and pressed a kiss to the top then traced it with the tip of his tongue. He meaningfully looked at the left leg and she complied again. Edward gave the same attention to that knee before bringing his burning gaze back to her.
Still leaning slightly over the bed, he stared at her lips, licking his own at the memory of those lips on his. His gaze dropped to her chin that he loved to nibble on and down the smooth column of her neck. Bella's breathing increased as if it were his hands touching her. The strong rise and fall of her breasts drew his eyes lower still. His erection became painful as he watched her reaction to him. His ravenous scrutiny made her nipples tighten and perk up as if they were reaching out for his touch. Lower and slower his eyes traveled over the shallow indentations of her ribs and smooth stomach. His eyes fell at last on their quarry.
He held his breath as his gaze stilled over the bare skin before him. Moisture glistened at the edges of the soft folds and one word shot through his mind and body as his eyes snapped back to hers.
Mine!
The look he gave her almost made Bella come on the spot. His shirt hung open from his shoulders. She could see the tension quake across his chest with the need to possess her. Edward lowered his head, looking at her now through his lashes. A low growl rumbled from him. He knew exactly how it affected her to see him, hear him like this: pure predator.
She lowered her knees to the sides, spreading herself for him. Edward placed his open mouth on the inside of her knee, licking and nibbling at her skin as he lowered himself to the essence of her. He kissed her there as he slid his arms under and around her hips. A warm and heavy feeling spread through her body as she lowered her head onto the bed to enjoy the sensations of his feast.
His demanding lips tugged and pulled at her bare ones. His mouth slid side to side over her, gently burrowing against her. Bella's slid her hand back and forth over her stomach to match his movements as she slowly writhed on the bed. Her breaths were nothing more than voiceless moans, stating and stopping as his kisses moved intimately over her. Her anticipation started to build as he savored her.
Bella gasped as he flattened his tongue against her and his arms tightened around her. His slow licking motion, first up one side then the other served its purpose exactly, and the honey he was starving for replenished itself as her body readied itself for him. His arms tightened again as he pressed his mouth harder to her, his teeth lightly dragging along the over-sensitive skin.
Bella's breathing stuttered as if she were trying to say his name. Their wordless affair continued as he responded by torturing her clit, first delving the tip of his tongue against it and then sucking it between his lips. The game of push and pull continued until she felt the wetness build and overflow its confines, sliding slowly from her. She knew it would not make it far before Edward would capture it. She wasn't prepared for how far he would let it wander, though. As his tongue chased it and pressed mercilessly against her, Bella flung her arms out onto the bed and bucked uselessly against him. Her struggle in his arms only brought the fire in him to a scorching inferno and Edward growled again, this time the sound shot right through her hips as his tongue explored and capture all it could.
He pulled her to him hard, shifting her body several inches down the bed as he plunged in for the kill. His breaths were harsh against her, his tongue burying itself deeply into her, lapping at the source now, growling when he couldn't get deep enough. Edward pulled her up, almost onto her shoulders. His arms shifted to hold her hips to his chest, his neck arched down to keep his face against her. The room began to spin about them. Bella reached for him and snagged the top of his pants in her fingers, half ripping through the cloth and the other half pulling the zipper apart. She reached in and freed him, clutching him in her fingers. A loud growling groan vibrated directly into her along his twisting tongue.
Her orgasm only fed his endeavors and spun his hunger out of control. His mouth ravaged her now as she stroked him hard. His tongue fell into step with her hand: in and out while his lips sucked all he could get from her. As her second climax ripped through her, Edward gasped and followed her, spilling himself over her arm and the scar James had given her so many years ago.
Spent almost to exhaustion, they did not move. He rested his cheek against her inner thigh, holding her against him with less force now. They trembled, breathing hard as they tried to recover from the moment.
Bella reached up to his clasping arms and ran her finger over his wedding band. A love-drunk smile spread over his face. He bent and kissed her chastely and lovingly one more time before lowering her body to the bed.
Edward lay down beside her and smoothed his hand over her hair. "Did you call me?" he asked, the only words he had spoken since she had called to him in his mind.
Bella's answer was a breathy laugh.
With a happy and contented sigh, they cuddled together on top of the covers exchanging Eskimo kisses.
After a long moment and their fading post-coital bliss, the passion sobered in Edward's eyes and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Bella knew exactly what caused the change in him. It was exactly as they knew it would be. Bella could feel the light and easy happiness drain from herself as well as her thoughts, too, turned to what Rolle would be doing right now.
"Jasper," Edward whispered to her a moment before there was a light knock on their door.
Even though he knew Edward already knew the message he was delivering, Jasper said aloud, "Eleazar called back. He wants to know if we'd be willing to talk with the Romanians," he explained through the door.
"Call Carlisle," Edward answered. "We'll be out in a moment."
They listened to Jasper's footsteps walk away, then Bella reached up and stroked Edward's cheek. "Who are the Romanians?" she asked.
Taking her hand in his, he pulled it to his lips and kissed her wedding ring. "They were the leaders of our kind long ago. Even before the rise of Rome."
"The Volturi defeated them?" Bella asked. Edward only answered with a nod.
Bella thought about what she knew about humanity during that time in history. Nothing more than scattered tribes ruled by fear and superstitions, they warred with each other violently, seeing the rise of such people as Agamemnon, Nero, Atilla the Hun, Alexander the Great... names that seemed more myth than actual historic fact. It had been an age of kings and barbarian tides. Without realizing it, her shield shifted over Edward and her own insignificance in the enormous arc of history made her feel very small.
"I feel the same," he whispered. When Bella met his eyes again he nodded again. "I know you sometimes feel I've been around so long, but I feel the same as you when I compare my life to Carlisle's. I can't even imagine what it would be like to live for eons such as the oldest of our kind." He shook his head. "To live in that era? To think of yourself as a God among men? Preying on their fears and their beliefs as easily as you plague their lives, only to witness the age of enlightenment as mankind conquered science and reason, solving the riddle of their own evolution, the mystery of the atom, the mastery of space travel? Watching those like you go from feared, to hunted, to finally being vanquished into the realms of mythology, nightmares and dime-store dramas?"
"How did the Volturi defeat them?" Bella asked.
Edward smiled wryly. "Like most men who came to power in that age, they grew arrogant."
"Why do they want to talk to Carlisle?" she asked.
Edward sighed heavily, remembering what Jasper said about Eleazar calling. "Apparently, they know something about Rolle that we don't."
§∞•••∞§
Paris, France
Paris at night was a place like no other on earth. Sitting on top of the Arc de Triomphe, the sounds were common enough: the traffic noise from the circle below, the wind whipping over the walls, and the chatter of tourists asking each other in a variety of languages to take their picture. None of these were unusual for any tourist attraction around the world. What made this place unique wasn't the history behind the stone carvings, or names, or the dictators who had stood in the arc's enormous shadow. Sitting on top of the arc made you feel like you were sitting on time immemorial. Napoleon lurked beside the bricks. Hitler sauntered in the shadows. John Kennedy and his young wife danced in the heat ripples over Eternal Flame. They were all here. It felt like a portal to everyone you had ever known; their life forces drawn to this ancient place merely by your presence.
Rachel leaned back into Rolle's arms as they sat in the dusk watching the lights come on all around them in the surrounding city: pinks, golds, whites, and greens. The sky was streaked in dark purples and grays. The streets were fluid streams of whites and reds in both directions of the Champs-Élysées.
"You've been here before," Rolle said.
Though it was not a question, Rachel said, "Yes, many times. We have affiliates that we work with here. I come every year or so." She curled her fingers into his on either side of her body where his arms wrapped around her. "What about you? Have you ever been here before?"
"No," he answered softly.
Rachel laughed and motioned to some tourists on one side of the arc who were posing with the Eiffel Tower in the background. They realized if they held their hand up in just the right place, it looked like they were holding the distant tower in the palm of their hand. Soon, there were a half-dozen people doing the same thing.
Rolle chuckled along with her and nuzzled into her hair with a sigh. He couldn't have explained why, but he knew their time together was soon coming to an end. He brought one of her hands up in front of them, caressing his thumb over her fingers.
"What's your favorite time of year?" he asked, his tone indicating nothing except a desire to hear her talk.
Rachel cuddled back against him with a smile. "Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "The time between fall and winter, I think. The leaves have all changed and most of them have dropped. The winds pick up. It rains more often."
"You like the rain," Rolle repeated, a touch of surprise in his voice. When she nodded, he asked another. "What's your favorite color?"
"R-red, I guess," she said hesitantly after a moment considering her answer.
She felt Rolle's chest bounce with laughter behind her. "I'll take that as a maybe today, and maybe not tomorrow."
"Hey, don't tease," she scolded, bumping backward against him. "What about you?"
"Blue," he answered without hesitation. "That deep, deep blue that's so blue it's almost black."
Now Rachel laughed. "I'll take that as a maybe," she teased.
"What about your favorite instrument?" he asked, pulling her closer.
"To listen to?"
"Yeah."
"Piano. What about you?"
Rolle did not answer quickly this time. He rested his chin on her shoulder and stared out to the La Grande Arche as the colored lights began to reflect off its smooth surface. When he answered, his voice was low and full of meaning. "Cello."
His answer surprised her. "Do you play cello?"
He took one of her fingers between his, sliding his fingertips over her skin. "No, but if I had to pick an instrument that sounded like what my soul would have sounded like... that would be it."
Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion at his choice of words, but just as she took a breath to ask, the cell phone in Rolle's pocket buzzed with a single glass pinging sound.
She sat up and turned to face him. She knew by the resigned and guarded expression on his face who was on the other end of that call.
§∞•••∞§
A/N: As always, my thanks to my previewers: Irishgirl, Milalencar, Songster, and LolaShoes. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted.
joie de vivre
[Joy of Life]
joie de pouvoir
[Joy of Power]
Il nettare della morte
[The nectar of death]
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