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Chapter 12: Love has led me here, the Death of Eurydice
The more time he had spent with Rachel, the more Rolle felt the imperative conviction of his promise to Edward and Bella. It had been sixty-six years since he had been intimate with anyone. Gillian hadn't been his only lover, but she had been his last. She had replaced every other encounter he'd ever had. Even though he was incapable of forgetting them, nothing compared to her. She had shown him how pale they had been, how incomplete. Though he had found satisfaction, he had no idea how insignificant those affairs had been until her light had shown him how it could be. She had found and filled all the dark corners of his heart; empty spaces he didn't even know existed.
With her absence, he knew them all now.
Rachel's warmth and tender kindness couldn't fill those places, but she had tried. After almost seventy years, she had been a light rain on barren land and he drank her in like a greedy thief, stealing that moment with complete disregard, but the consequences were there waiting for him with a frothing grin.
Rolle clenched his teeth, ignoring the monster that waited impatiently for him. He breathed deeply through his nose, focusing all his strength on his memories of the Cullens. He pictured Rosalie quietly turning cards over in a game of solitaire. He listened to the soft slapping sound of the cards hitting the table. He thought of Emmett tinkering with the remote control for his gaming system, trying to increase the sensitivity of the device. He remembered Jasper smiling softly as he helped Esme with the flowers around the house, and the sounds of freshly stirred dirt being mixed with compost.
The train slowed to its final stop at the airport and without looking up, Rolle made his way to the check-in counter, presenting his folded, slightly worn ticket and still-damp passport. He made his way to the gate for Sienne, Toscana without looking up, staring at some invisible point in front of him near the floor. A small grin pulled at his lips as he entertained the vision of Alice posing in front of him, asking for his opinion about different shoes. He recalled each pair of the seventeen shoes she had fashioned for him, including the nine changes of socks, nylons and tights. He let it play in real-time in his head, remembering his dismay about what he should say to her about them even though he thoroughly enjoyed the entire event.
Rolle handed over his ticket to the agent at the door and made his way down the jet way with his shoulders shaking in silent laughter, recalling Alice's reaction to his declaration that a particular pair of sandals were 'really very green.' Her ensuing explosion resulted in a name and style that meant nothing to him: Zanotti Studded Peep Toe Platform Sandals. The only thing her rant included that made him gape was the twelve hundred dollar price tag.
As Rolle took his seat, he lifted his toes and looked at his own shoes. He had no idea what they were called or who made them. They were black. Rolle's black shoes, was what he called them silently in his mind. They were comfortable, but doubted naming them could fetch more than the fifteen dollars Esme had spent on them. Thoughts of Esme brought the scent of roses and varnish to his memory. He remembered Carlisle best by smell, too: sage and rubbing alcohol.
Thinking of Carlisle brought on an enormous wave of ennui and pointless motivation. Rolle couldn't fight against the sense of being pulled along by unseen currents sweeping over him and battering him from all sides.
An announcement in French filled the cabin. It was repeated in Italian, then again in English. The captain was reporting a delay due to a mechanical problem with the plane.
Thoughts of Carlisle weighed heavily on Rolle. It felt like he was covered in a heavy tar, sliding over him, covering him, and pressing him down. He couldn't move against the force of it as it flowed over him. He could only move with the will of the heavy blackness as it drained his strength and resolution.
Rolle had no idea how much time had passed, but they were exiting the plane. He was vaguely aware that they were being directed to another gate and a replacement plane.
The tar pulled him along, making him to follow the people around him, knowing he had a role to fulfill even if it simply meant taking directions from others. Rolle knew he'd have to get used to this feeling. This was exactly the way he would have to be for the Volturi in order to keep Edward and Bella safe from Caius.
Bella. She wasn't like Gillian except in her kindness, but Rolle couldn't help himself from connecting the two women simply by what they represented to the men who loved them, and whom they loved. To Rolle, though, she was simply his friend and the center of Edward's world. That was enough for him. As he stood with the small knot of passengers waiting to board another plane, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the only possession he had taken with him from Duncan's Cove: a small loop of purple string. Bella had taught him how to play Cat's Cradle with it. She'd shown him Owl's eyes, cup and saucer and the soldier's bed. Rolle remembered the girls in primary school spending their recess time playing these games. The mischievous young boy he'd been had never been interested in such frivolous pursuits, but spending that time with Bella as Edward watched on had meant the world to him.
It had made him even more obsessed with protecting her.
He followed the other passengers onto the new plane and took his seat again, letting himself think of Edward. He knew this would be the hardest. He couldn't think of Edward without thinking about music. They had spent hours talking about it, playing, sharing favorite pieces, trying to trick each other with improvisations based on composers that the other had to guess at. They had gone through most of Edward's CDs discussing the merits of each, often letting the conversation ramble off into opinions about music in general and the evolution of music across the world.
"Avez-vous besoin de quelque chose, monsieur?" a flight attendant asked with a practiced repetitive tone.
Rolle looked up and realized they were already in flight. He met the attendant's gaze, but she gasped and stepped back. Her eyes were wide and pupils dilated in fear.
"J-Je suis désolé" she stammered, walking backward several steps before hurrying away.
Rolle followed her with his eyes, but did not need to know what she was saying to know that she left out of fear. He could smell the cloying adrenaline swirl around him.
She knows, he thought to himself, letting the observation morph into another person who knew. Edward had asked him about it once. Perhaps the stewardess only knew he was dangerous, but Edward had learned the truth. Rolle remembered the conversation easily, recalling every detail as the demanding memory absorbed him, putting him back into that moment again as if it was the first time.
~•~
"They described you," Edward said softly.
Rolle could feel the damp earth and leaves against the back of his pants. He could feel the sunlight speckled on his face through the shadow of leaves.
"What did they describe? Blonde weird music guy? Maybe it was Sting or Bowie," he joked lightly.
"No," Edward said, avoiding his eyes.
"Why not? Bowie qualifies as weird," Rolle argued with a chuckle, but Edward didn't laugh even just to be polite. "What are you talking about?" Rolle asked more serious to suit Edward's odd mood.
"Peter and Charlotte," he answered. "They're friends of Jasper."
Edward did not continue, and Rolle simply shrugged. "Okay. I can see Jasper having friends."
"Rolle!" Edward snapped suddenly.
Rolle held up his hands in confusion. "What?"
"They said you kill, not for food. That you were a murderer," Edward answered. "That you're..." He couldn't bring himself to say it.
Rolle's humor vanished. He pursed his lips in a frown and completed Edward's sentence for him. "Methodical? Deliberate? Cold?" He huffed through his nose and rose off the ground. He walked to the remains of an enormous fallen tree. He could feel the heavy carpet of moss under his fingertips and the thin layer of dew that clung to it.
"That you're an assassin," Edward added low.
Rolle glanced over his shoulder at his friend as he considered this title. He couldn't watch Edward's face as he admitted to it. "That's as good of a description as any, I guess," he whispered with a shrug.
Edward was quiet a long moment before he asked, "Humans?"
Rolle swallowed just as he had that day before admitting, "I've killed both."
"Were they all bad?"
Edward's question did not confuse him, but the tone of the question did. Edward sounded guilty, himself.
"I don't know," Rolle answered honestly. He could only be truthful with Edward, because Edward... was his first and only friend since he had died. "It doesn't matter now," he said muttered. "There's no forgiveness here."
~•~
Rolle snapped out of the memory when the plane landed with a harsh knock, causing several passengers to shout in anger. Irritation flamed through him: having to leave Rachel because he was beckoned like a dog, the delays, the landing. Everything about the past few hours began to boil inside him. He glared at the passengers fussing with bags. He elbowed his way past baggage claim. He snapped at the agent at the car rental.
It wasn't until he was speeding north out of the city that he began to focus again on his destination and Gillian. She had often talked of traveling the world with him. She even had a small map book that had all the places she wanted to see with him and things she wanted to experience with him. She had drawn pictures throughout the book. He thought of her reaction to seeing the Italian cypresses lining long stretches of the road like guardians protecting travelers. She had drawn something like it using charcoal, the pencil-thin trees scattered across the hilltops.
The Alfa Romeo he had rented slid through the easy meandering country roads. As he got closer to Volterra, he noticed the remaining signs of the mining activities that the area was known more than a millennium ago. Oddly eroded divots in the earth pockmarked the slopes and fields and large heaps of tailings dotted the landscape. The edges of both were softened with the erosion of time. He had no such luxury to erode his existence or his memory. His only salvation was to put his resilience to use protecting those he cared about.
Volterra, the symbol of eternal darkness, rose over the horizon in the north like the dawn that would soon rise in the east. The irony wasn't lost on him. The Alfa sped him forward through the old city walls. Nearly every structure in Volterra was built with native rock and so nearly every building had the same yellow hue. Large flat pavers created the narrow roads and sidewalks. The color was only broken here and there by flower boxes and potted plants under the windows.
Rolle headed straight for the old castle without a second thought and went to the southeast gate. As he approached the castle he began breathing deeply through his nose, his shoulder tensing with the first sensations of the complulsions he knew would begin to overwhelm him.
He didn't question if it was the correct building or even if it was the correct entrance, but he knew the gate would be locked. He pulled the Alfa off the street and half into the weeds along the Via di Porta Selci road. Rolle blinked his eyes hard, crushing them closed and shaking his head as he tried to stay focused.
Knowing only that Marcus was already angry about his late arrival, Rolle steeled himself and leapt easily to the top of the forty-foot wall. From his higher vantage, he allowed himself to pause and view his surroundings. The village continued to slumber peacefully, despite the monsters and demons in their midst. The north end of the city was wrapped in a heavy fog that had crept upon it from the valley below.
Rolle turned his attention to the center of the fortress. The square below was empty but for several cars parked within its walls. He lithely dropped to the damp cobbles below. They were worn smooth from heavy use over time, yet moss still grew between the cracks. He stood still a moment as he surveyed the fortress walls and the large bastions on both ends, waiting until he knew where Marcus was. He already knew what he would have to endure for that information.
The force of minds and motivations crushed him: a hundred problems were multiplied by a hundred possible paths. Every thought had unlimited possibilities. Every event, every observation, every influence and every sensation had meaning and potential for every being in and around the castle, and Rolle knew them all.
He staggered and threw out his hand to catch himself from falling over as it felt like a large hand had pushed him. Rolle sank back against the wall, swallowing hard against bitterness in his mouth, taking long deep slow breaths. He clenched his jaw and waited for the worst of it to pass: the jealousy, greed and need for power. His entire body clamped down to prevent him from acting on all the warring possibilities and vague obsessions.
He took his head in his hands, palms tight against his eyes and his fingers clawing into his hair. Will and desire clashed with one another. Some were hungry. Others were sated. Some were restless. Others were content. He fought against the impulse to act on any of it, wanting to both fight and run away.
He threw his head back, cracking it hard against the rock wall behind him repeating Edward and Bella's names in his head until finally he knew exactly where Marcus was. His legs shook under him as he pushed away from the wall. He waited for his body to steady under him before he headed toward a door to his right. His breath stuttered and he gasped, holding it tight in his chest, clenching his fists to keep them from shaking.
Rolle walked down the length of the wall to a door he knew he would find hidden in the stonework. One stone was set smaller than the others and he pressed his palm against the rough surface of it. It slid in an inch and a lock clicked before the door seam appeared for a moment before swinging in.
Closing his eyes a moment before entering, Rolle pictured Edward in his mind's eye. He remembered seeing him the first time in Chicago. There was careful wariness in his eyes that day. They both recognized each other for what they were. It didn't stop Edward from coming over to talk to him between performances, and it didn't take long for Rolle to recognized Edward's feeling of separateness. Together, they were like two mirrors set facing one another; both broken, but for different reasons.
As Rolle pushed open the hidden door and entered the castle, part of his mind registered the dark passage within. Another part of his mind saw something entirely different.
He entered a large light-filled room, the Cullens smiling around him, welcoming him. Rolle let the warmth surround and overtake him. They were each special to him, each unique, and each of them completely integral to the whole. It was Edward he always sought out, though. The man was the embodiment of patience and control, of conviction and potential. Rolle treasured Edward's innocence the most. He wasn't innocent of guilt; neither of them was! But Edward's heart was still naïve of its potential. More than anything else, Rolle understood that.
There was no sound in the dark hall before him, just as there was no sound from the pale carpet under his feet in his mind's eye. Rolle was searching Edward's eyes now, looking for what he knew had to be there, and that was when he saw her. A smile pulled at his lips in the cold damp corridor, but he only felt the warmth of her smile on his face. He knew then, just as Edward knew, that Bella was Edward's match, his partner, the other half of himself.
Rolle blinked in the dark, feeling it all over again as if for the first time: equal parts of exaltation and terror for his one true friend. He swore then and there to dedicate his demonic life to ensuring Edward would never be ripped in half by the loss of his love. He would never feel the bloody shards of a broken heart in his hands. Edward would never have to say goodbye to his lover, his life, or his sanity.
Bella was walking toward him now with a smile on her face, happy to see him. She held out her arms to hug him in greeting, but as he stepped into the circle of her arms, it wasn't Bella any more. Gillian stood before him and embraced him. His watery smile broke the stream of tears on his face.
"I've missed you," Rolle whispered desperately to her.
He knew before he arrived at the chamber that Marcus was with Aro, but that was good. A fragment of Dicken's cemented him on his path as he descended into the fifth circle of Hell.
And thus I begin my new life, in a new name, with everything new about me. I felt as if I were in a dream. The remembrance of my old life is fraught with so much want of hope. Whether it lasted a year, or more, or less, I do not know. All I know is that it was and cease to be, and there I leave it.
§∞•••∞§
Halifax, Nova Scotia
The plane rose steeply from Stanfield International and raced east to meet the dawn. The flight was filled with a variety of international travelers on their way to various locations for a wide assortment of reasons. The four rarest individuals on board were no different, except that they were immortal and headed to a meeting with titans. All four of them were consumed with their own fears, and none of those fears involved the plane crashing.
Esme took Carlisle's hand in her own and laced her fingers through his.
"I'm okay," he reassured her.
Esme smiled indulgently and shook her head. "No, as a matter of fact, you're not."
"Esme..." Carlisle sighed.
"Stop," she said, gentle yet firm. "I don't know who you think you're suddenly married to, but I know you, Carlisle Cullen. I know you better than I know myself." She squared her shoulders and lowered her voice even more. "I know depression as well as you do, and I know how we both chose to handle it in the past," she said, referring to their suicide attempts: hers when she was mortal, and his when he was immortal. "You know the symptoms of depression, and you know better than most how difficult it is for one of... us... to shake it."
He knew what she said was true. It was an unfortunate fact of their enduring nature. When it represented strong positive events, such as Edward finding Bella, it was something to take comfort in. When it represented the opposite, however, it could make simply existing unbearable.
"I know," he breathed. "I'm not sure what you want me to say," Carlisle confessed.
"I don't need you to say anything, darling," she assured him, reaching out to stroke his jaw. "I just want you to make me a few promises."
Carlisle was nonplussed. "Promises?"
She nodded. "Promise me that you won't do anything foolish in Volterra that will annoy Caius." Esme looked meaningfully at him, expectant.
Carlisle had paused waiting for her to mention the other things she wanted from him. When he realized that she wanted an answer to this now, he immediately complied. "Of course! I would never do anything to put our family in harms way."
"Or yourself," she made him add.
Despite his emotional turmoil, Carlisle smiled lovingly at his wife. "Or myself," he added softly.
With a nod, Esme added, "No matter how bad you feel, promise that you will always think of the family that loves you unconditionally."
As if he could ever forget. "I promise," he said dutifully.
"Promise me that you will never shut yourself away from me, even if you know deep in your heart that I cannot help you fix whatever is broken." Her voice quavered a moment before she regained her composure with a delicate sniff.
Carlisle's shoulders sank as she said this and he realized how much his behavior had been frightening her. He took her chin in his fingers and raised her face to his, lightly kissing her lips. "Cross my heart," he said earnestly, making the motion with is other hand. He sealed his promise again, kissing her fingers entwined with his.
His sincerity made her smile briefly, but she had saved the hardest promise for last.
"And, Carlisle, I want you to swear that you will not leave me alone in this existence. Don't protect me if you put yourself in harms way. Don't push me away when I stand beside you. You promised we would be together forever... and I can't...." Her voice shook again and she stopped to dig deep for her strength to say what needed to be said. "I can't bear the thought of it without you."
"Esme...!" Carlisle cried softly. His heart broke at her words.
"You promise me that we'll be together forever, even in death," she said so low her voice was barely a hiss. She couldn't stand even the thought of it and she dropped her head onto his shoulder.
"Shh," Carlisle soothed, stroking her soft caramel hair. "Shh." He kissed her hair, nuzzling his nose against her until her gentle shuddering stilled. "I have no wish for death, my love," he assured her. "I just feel lost. Like time has swept me up and spun me til I'm disoriented and dropped me to the ground again. I'm only stumbling, Petal, but never doubt that you are, and have always been, the reason I haven't fallen."
Esme raised her head from his shoulder searching his face for reassurance.
"I swear to you, we will always be together," he said earnestly. "In this life or another."
~•~
Edward and Bella sat nearby unable to ignore the conversation between Carlisle and Esme. Edward's expression was particularly pained, hearing not only their words, but also the underlying thoughts that sparked them. Esme's fearful images nearly overwhelmed him as she envisioned a hundred scenarios of Carlisle dying and leaving her alone.
When he looked up, he found Bella tensely chewing on her bottom lip and her brow pulled down with worry. He raised his hand and rescued the tender flesh from her teeth. Bella looked up with a start.
"That's my lip you're trying to remove," he teased sweetly in an attempt to distract her.
When fear filled her eyes, it stole the breath from him. He turned suddenly in his seat, taking a breath to speak. It was only his vampire abilities that recognized her hand blurring into motion, clamping over his mouth to keep him from speaking. He quickly looked around to make sure no one had seen her. When he looked at her again, she shook her head sharply.
Bella's face was filled with anguish and confusion as she grabbed his hand and clutched it, staring at it as if she expected it to do something. Edward tightened his fingers around hers, but that only seemed to make her even more upset. She shook her head sharply and, reaching for her purse, she pulled out pen and paper, scribbling a message to him.
You can't hear me!
Edward looked at the note and his eyebrow shot up in surprise, but she was scribbling furiously again.
Don't say anything! Esme is already frightened.
Placing both hands over her shaking one, Edward stared into her eyes, reassuring her with his implacable love. A long moment passed between them until Bella felt overwhelmed by his steady calm. She found it odd when he deliberately took a very deep breath through his nose and released it slowly, but when he inclined his head toward hers, she understood that he wanted her to mimick him. Bella realized she'd been holding her breath and did as he bid her. Her first attempt was a shudder, but the second was a deep full breath and she immediately felt tension release from her shoulders.
With a tender smile, Edward took the pen from her hand and pulled the paper toward him. His handwriting was more like calligraphy than script.
You thought I could hear you?
Bella nodded, and took the pen from him.
I can't control my shield! She underlined this with a dark heavy line.
Her hand shook again as she wrote. Edward took the pen and thought for a moment before writing.
Try to shield Carlisle.
Bella created the visual in her mind as she had learned to do shortly after her change. She pressed the walls of her mind out and pictured it enveloping Carlisle. Edward immediately started shaking his head as soon as Carlisle's mind lost its voice.
I can't hear him now.
She took the pen as she concentrated on reaching Edward's mind. She carefully watched his expression, waiting for the softening of his butterscotch eyes that always accompanied his realization that she was utterly his in both body and mind. Bella watched and waited and felt bitter disappointment when she realized he could not hear her still.
Why can't you hear me?
Edward sighed as he considered it. The most obvious answer would not make her feel any better. He gently took the pen from her fingers, but wrote quickly.
You're under a lot of stress and it may be affecting your control. You'll get to a point when you have constant control of your shields, but in the greater scheme of our lives, you're still very young. Even if you were still mortal, you'd be considered young. Perfecting your control will come in time.
Bella took the pen from him.
But I needed this, I needed this time with you before we get there. I need that connection to you!
"Trust me, sweetheart, I need it, too," he said looking deep into her eyes.
Help me, she mouthed, still unwilling to add to Esme and Carlisle's own worries by letting them overhear her dilemma.
"Let's prac—" he started to say, but Bella pressed her fingers to his mouth again, shaking her head and inclining it toward Esme. She pressed the pen back into his hand.
Let's practice some calming exercises to help you focus.
Bella nodded quickly and looked up into Edward's face hoping his guidance could help her. She was confused by the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his lips until he slowly leaned over and pressed those same lips to hers in a tender caress.
His nose nuzzled against hers, his lips sliding over the tender barriers as he kissed her with his eyes open, focused lovingly on her own. Each light touch had a thousand meanings, but the intensity in his eyes could have contained volume after volume of text that defined his love for her. His lips held his adoration. His taste held his devotion. His tongue held his longing. He sighed into her kiss. His left hand came up between them and reached under her chin, dragging the back of his fingers, and his wedding ring, along her jaw. Edward traced the cool metal along her skin, deepening the kiss and letting his fingertips stroke lightly down her throat. His hand slowly drifted down her collar like it was caught on a breeze and came to rest at the top of her breast. The pads of his fingers slid off the side of the mound until his palm cupped her reverently.
Bella soft moan hummed into his mouth. She relaxed into his touch as she pressed her fingers through his hair. In the familiarity of his influence over her body, her mind opened easily to him and he heard her voice in his head, repeating the same phrase over and over like a mantra.
I love you I love you I love you I love you...
"There's my Bella," he whispered.
§∞•••∞§
A/N: My love and respect to Irishgirl and Songster. I simply cannot call them merely previewers, because they do so much more than that. They are story editors, copy editors, critics and analysts, and keep me on track in so many ways that I simply cannot say enough to express my thanks. This story would have floundered without you guys. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted for always being on top of her game. She validates my chapters for posting with amazing speed.
MUSIC: Run, by Snow Patrol
http://www (dot) vevo (dot) com/watch/snow-patrol/run/GBF060400114
Love has led me here, the Death of Eurydice
The Myth of Orpheus
http://www (dot) renaissanceastrology (dot) com/orpheushymns (dot) html
AEROPORTO DI SIENA SPA in Sienne, Toscana (aka: Siena, Tuscany) is the closest airport to Volterra
"Avez-vous besoin de quelque chose, monsieur?"
[Do you need something, sir?]
"Je suis désolé"
[I'm sorry]
Pictures of Rolle's drive to Volterra
http://www (dot) panoramio (dot) com/map/#lt=43 (dot) 4014259&ln=10 (dot) 8611111&z=4&k=2
Via di Porta Selci
Street names found from Google Maps of Volterra
A Summary of the Circles of Hell (Dante)
http://ezinearticles (dot) com/?Dantes-Inferno---A-Summary-of-the-Circles-of-Hell&id=1709342
Rocca Vecchia
http://www (dot) castellitoscani (dot) com/volterra (dot) htm
Volterra is one of the most important historical Tuscan town, first great Etruscan 'metropolis' (or as the ancient said 'lucumonia') then Roman settlement.