RAUM

De Immortalitate – Immortality

Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

Chapter 19 – Prey

"Forma lepida et liberali captivam adulescentulam de praeda mercatust."

"He has purchased as a prey a young female captive of charming and genteel figure."

(Plautus, Edipicus, I, 1)

Bella's POV

When we last saw Bella (Chapter 16)...

"Bella," a man called me, standing in the doorway. He wasn't Antonius nor Sextius, and I didn't know his name, but he was a servant I had already seen at the house. "The master wants to see you immediately. Follow me," he urged.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The servant led me outside. "Hurry up," he insisted.

Had Antonius found a way to defend us against Felix? Or was he in danger? Whatever had happened, the thought that I was going to meet him made me run as fast as I could.

But the master who had required me wasn't Antonius. Outside the villa, with an unknown man by his side, Felix was waiting for us. I felt my knees weaken when I saw him. His huge frame, the tension I could see in his muscles, and the menacing expression on his face had frightened me when I had met him for the first time, even before I knew what he was. On instinct, I spun toward the house, but the servant who had led me outside moved behind me. Even if I tried to run away, he would block me in no time.

"Take her to Volterra," Felix told the man beside him.

Antonius' words came back to me: Felix thinks that I need to be detached. In order to teach me this lesson, he takes the people who are most important to me. Did Felix know that I loved Antonius–that he loved me too? My chest clenched, considering the pain Antonius would suffer when he discovered that his father had taken me.

"No," I croaked, trying to follow Felix as he moved toward the atrium. "Please, wait!" I would beg him, if it meant sparing Antonius another sorrow. I didn't manage to take but a couple of steps, though.

The unknown man who had been waiting outside tugged at my arm and made me climb into a chariot. Without even glancing at me, with long strides Felix disappeared from my sight, hidden by the columns of the entrance.

A new, long journey began. On my first trip, when I had been taken by Felix and his men, I was leaving behind my memories: I had just lost my parents, our friends, and other loved ones. I was afraid I would be hurt, raped, and tortured. But on this second journey, away from Antonius' villa, I was leaving behind the hope that the future could bring something good; I was also terrified by the thought that Antonius or Esma could be in danger.

For days, we traveled almost without rest. The man who drove the chariot avoided speaking to me. It seemed his only concern was to reach his destination as soon as possible. When I told him that I was cold and pleaded for a blanket or a cloak, the only answer I got was a slap in the face and the order to shut up.

I drifted between sleeping and waking, lulled by the movements of the chariot.

When the man stopped to rest, he tied my hands and feet, so I couldn't even try to escape. Finally, one night I was told to get down from the chariot. We had arrived.

I looked around, doubting that I had gotten his words right. We were surrounded by an unbroken forest, where a narrow path was the only sign of human presence. I stayed closed to the chariot, squinting to see where the path led, but the man roughly took my hand and began to walk through the woods. I stumbled over a rock and some shrubs scratched my ankles, but I managed to avoid falling. I stiffened when I saw that the man was going toward a hole in the ground.

He didn't slow his pace, and he tugged harder at my arm until we entered a cave. It looked like a labyrinth and reminded me of the catacombs where my parents had taken me on occasion. Those buried rooms had always scared me, even when my father explained that they were places to honor other Christians and showed me some religious symbols engraved on the tombs. The corridors were narrow and dark; oil lamps provided the only light, casting haunting shadows on the walls. I caught other voices, but couldn't see other people. The man closed me in a room and left, taking with him the only lamp so I was left in complete darkness.

I curled up in a corner, and touched the walls, trying to figure out how large the prison was and if there were any other exit. The stone walls were wet, and something sticky covered them on their lower part–I cringed, realizing that it was mold. The entrance was closed by a wooden door. I tugged at the handle, but it was locked. "Please," I pleaded, "somebody help me!"

Silence.

I tried again, and a muffled sound reached me. Had someone heard my voice? Punching on the door, I kept screaming until my throat felt sore, but got no answer. Resigned, I sat on the ground. I licked my lips and swallowed; I hadn't eaten or drunk anything for hours, and my lips felt dry and cracked. A gust of wind entered the prison, coming from above. Leaning against the wall, once again I went around the prison, but couldn't find another door, nor a window I could reach. The wind was increasing, and so was the cold. I curled up in a corner and tried to sleep.

The next morning, I found that the place where I was held resembled a large cave. A hole in the ceiling–a long fissure, similar in shape to a giant snake looming over me–provided light and air. The voices I had heard in the corridor might have come from other cells like mine, but from my prison I couldn't hear them anymore. Were there other people like me? How many? What would happen to us?

The same man with whom I had traveled returned. From then on, he brought me some food and water once a day. He showed me a lavatory that I could use when he took me there–its stench was nauseating. He didn't talk with me, and I knew better than ask him anything. The bruise on my cheek–a visible memory of my previous attempt to get an answer from him–still hurt.

I stared at the crack in the wall as the last ray of light vanished. The short winter days allowed me just a few hours of scant, gray, light; it was the only way I had of telling how long I had been there. A few days went by, but nothing changed.

My guard–I still didn't know his name–opened the door, and he walked me along the corridor on our way to the lavatory. For the first time since I had arrived, I saw another door opening. A different guard was leading away a boy.

The man who was guarding me gave them a look. "Who has requested him?" he asked.

"Master Aro told me to prepare his dinner. He says he's in the mood for something young," the other man murmured.

I tried to look at the boy. His eyes were fixed to the ground; he was dirty and unsure on his feet. How long had they kept him in his prison?

Something young...the words continued to echo in my mind. I was going to faint. It can't be...it can't be! I told myself that the boy was going to serve a banquet, and tried to deny what I was already imaging. But the thought that I had just met someone who was about to be slaughtered wouldn't leave my mind.

Every night I had offered my pain to God, begging Him to give me the strength to endure it. But when I prayed for the boy I had seen in the corridor, my sobs kept my prayers incoherent and I fell asleep crying.

A noise in the night awakened me; voices and footsteps resonated in the corridor. From their sound, I surmised that a group of people was approaching. I could hear their voices, but not what they were saying. They stopped in front of the door of my prison. Was it a good sign? Was someone coming to rescue me? Or was I about to face something even worse? I curled up in a corner, as far as possible from the entrance.

The door opened, and for a brief moment the light from the lamp of the corridor filtered into the cave. I noticed that a tall man had just entered the cell, but before I could see him properly, the door was closed and darkness overtook us. He didn't speak; he didn't come toward me. I blinked, but I couldn't see more than a shadow. I couldn't even hear him breathing.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

He didn't answer, but I heard him taking a ragged breath.

I tried again. "Are you going to hurt me?"

He made a strange sound, as if he were pushing himself against the wall.

I trembled. Memories of Iacomus and the stable in Antonius' villa flooded through my mind. Tears began to stream down my face.

The man made a shushing sound and finally spoke. "Don't cry, Bella," he whispered to me, slowly, as if every utterance were costing him inhuman pain.

His words made everything crumble: it was his voice! It was deeper, more resonant than I remembered it, but I had no doubts. Antonius! Was he a prisoner as well? Would he rescue me? It didn't matter: I stood up to run toward him.

But he stopped me, his voice harsh. "Don't move, Bella, stay close to the wall!"

Why? What has changed in him?

"Antonius...it's you!"

He gave a strange sound, like a strangled sob. When he spoke again, it was as if every word was torture. "I can't come close to you. Be very still and stay calm," he muttered.

"Did they take you as well?" I asked. "Are you wounded? What happened at the house?"

"Bella, listen to me," he murmured. "I'll try to explain whatever I can, but not now. If you want to talk, I'll listen as long as you like, but I can't speak much."

My legs trembled, as if they could no longer hold me up. For days, since I had been imprisoned there, I had envisioned Antonius coming to rescue me. It had been my only hope, the only thought that had given me enough strength to take care of myself as well as I could in that place, knowing that I had to survive. I had to be brave for him–for us. But never, not even in my worst nightmares, had Antonius arrived in the prison and then just rejected me. Still standing against the wall, I couldn't believe that he was so near to me but wanted to stay so far away. Being in his arms again, losing myself in his warm embrace would have meant everything to me; but he was denying me. I felt new tears on my cheeks, but I rapidly wiped them off and managed to avoid weeping loudly.

"Don't cry, my beloved. Sit down and try to rest," he articulated slowly.

Beloved? Had I heard him right? Did it mean that he still cared for me?

The silence enveloped us again. Antonius had told me that I could talk to him, but I had so many things to tell and ask that I couldn't decide where to start. Was he keeping me far from him of his own will, or did he have to pretend that I didn't matter to him, as he had when he sent me to the farm?

A soft sound broke the silence: it was raining. The cold wouldn't be easy to endure. Shivering, I rubbed my hands over my shoulders.

"Don't move." Antonius' voice came as a surprise. I didn't know how long it had been since the last time we had spoken. "I'll give you my cloak. Just don't move," he said.

"But you'll be cold!"

"Don't worry," he said in a rush. A moment later, I felt that he had left something just in front of me. It was his cloak. I hesitated; he had said that I had to stay still, and I didn't want to go against his wishes. Another whisper helped me make a decision: "Take it."

I draped the cloak around me. It was odd: the garment was as cold as if Antonius had left it outside for the entire night. I inhaled; it smelled amazing, but the delicious scent didn't smell like him. Regardless, just the thought that it had been wrapped around him made me feel as if Antonius were embracing me.

"Thank you," I murmured.

I looked up toward our only source of air and light. Not even a ray of moonlight could filter through the black, rainy night.

My soul waits for the Lord more than sentinels wait for the dawn, said the Psalm.

Indeed I was waiting for the dawn. On the new day, I would see again the man to whom I belonged. I was confident that, face to face, talking to each other would be easier. Once again, in my prayers in front of God, I chose Antonius, for better or worse.

The night wore on for what felt like an eternity, until I fell in a fretful slumber. My first thought upon waking up was that Antonius was with me. I blinked and squeezed my eyes to see him. The milky light, filtering from the fissure, signaled that dawn was arriving; I could discern his features better.

I froze.

I shook my head forcefully. Wake up! I told myself. It's a nightmare! Wake up!

"Bella..." The anguished whisper came from him. It wasn't a nightmare.

"No," I shrieked. "No!" A scream bubbled in my throat, then broke out in full force. "What happened to you? What have they done to you?" I couldn't bear to look at Antonius and believe what I was seeing.

I trembled, I sobbed, I pulled my hair. Antonius didn't say anything and let me calm down. When I stopped crying, I heard again the muffled sobs that he had emitted the previous night. Slowly, I turned myself to face him.

In front of me, the light revealed a monster. I have never thought that you are a monster, I had told him at his home, when we had talked about what Felix had done to my family. But now...

Gone were Antonius' piercing green eyes. Two red flames were staring at me.

Gone was his body, the body of the first man who had loved me. The white marble statue in front of me had taken Antonius' features.

He bowed his head and slipped down until he was on the ground, with his forehead leaning against his knees. Was there a chance to reach the man I loved? We weren't separated just by a few feet of clay. The gap that Antonius' change had created between us was insurmountable. Was he still hidden somewhere, behind the haunting creature in front of me? I kept my eyes shut, fearing that at any moment...I couldn't resolve to admit what I was afraid of. What had Felix done to us? Antonius–my shelter, the man who had made me feel safe and loved in his arms–had become a danger to me. I glanced at him. Sitting on the ground, still, slumped–I had never seen him so distraught. How could I possibly imagine what was he going through? In the days since I had been taken away from the villa, I had had at least the hope that he would come and rescue me. He hadn't had even that. I recalled the fear I had seen in his eyes when he had told me what Felix was brewing for him. That time, I had been at his side. I had promised that I would always choose him. Instead he had just been rejected by me.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "Can I come closer?" I was surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.

"No." His tone was hard.

I sat in silence, watching him while his fingers dug into the ground as if it were made of sand. How could he do that?

"Bella?" he called, his voice strained. "Did they harm you?" He still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain on his face.

"No," I croaked. My voice was still rough.

"Talk to me, please."

I tried to clear my throat. "What can I say?"

"Whatever you want, until I calm down," he clarified. I watched him swallowing. "Tell me a story that you used to know when you were a child–talk to me in your native language," he suggested.

I looked around me, thinking about what could I tell him. The ancient myths that I had studied at home were all scary. I noticed a little spider crawling on the wall, and inspiration struck.

I began: "Arachne was a girl who liked weaving very much." A sob stopped the words in my throat.

Antonius motioned for me to go on.

"But she became too proud of her talent," I continued. "She said that she could weave even better than Athena, and the goddess got angry and punished her. Arachne was transformed into a spider. This way, she continued to weave, again and again, but her work became fragile and lost its color."

Antonius was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"I remember the tunic you made for me," he said quietly.

I smiled at the memory.

"I never had a chance to thank you for that," he recalled. "Esma gave it to me when..." He paused. He shook his head, as if he were trying to chase away a bad memory. "Tell me how you learned to weave," he instructed.

"My wet-nurse at home taught me to weave and embroider. When I think about the decorations I can put on a tunic or on a cloak, it's like drawing. I can dream that the things I embroider will tell a story."

He sighed and looked at me.

"Are you better?" I asked.

"Not really."

I waited, but he didn't speak again. Leaning his head back against the wall, he stared at the ceiling of the cave. His face was rigid.

"Can you talk to me now?" My voice came out in a whisper.

"I'll try. Felix decided to damn me to this condition, thinking that he was giving me a great honor." He grimaced. "I have killed, Bella," he hissed. As he stared at the hole on the ceiling, his eyes narrowed into slits.

I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I couldn't bear the thought that Antonius had done to other people what Felix had done to my family. Since he had Felix's same instincts, would he...would he kill me, too? I began to tremble as I considered the horrifying possibility. I could accept that death would come soon, but not that it would come from the man I loved, from the one who had made me feel protected and cared for...

A pained expression marred Antonius' features. "I didn't want to," he rasped. "I don't want to be like this!"

He couldn't be like Felix! I had seen Felix just after he had slaughtered my parents: he seemed satisfied, not tortured as Antonius was. I tried to move toward him, but he stopped me.

"Felix is sure that I won't be able to control my...thirst," he said, as if every word was ripped from him.

It was enough to stop me.

"You don't want me to be close to you because you are afraid that you will kill me," I acknowledged.

I shuddered as his crimson eyes bored into me. "I won't," he stated. "I won't hurt you," he vowed. I couldn't tell if he were more eager to reassure me or himself.

I knew how much Antonius felt responsible for the people Felix had slaughtered. If he couldn't restrain himself, if he had harmed me in any way, I was sure that it would be his destruction. We had been ready to fight for each other, trying to escape from Felix. Instead I had become the instrument of Antonius' torture. I had to fight to save him, even if it meant that I had to save him from himself. Could I? Could my–our–love be great enough to withstand the change of his nature? His body had changed, but his actions so far told me that he still was my Antonius.

"I was afraid of you when we met," I told him quietly. I recalled that first day in his villa and how frightened I was. "I have been afraid of you...many times," I admitted. "But you have never hurt me. You could have done whatever you wanted with me, disposing of me like the slave I am. But you didn't. You have fought for me. I still trust you, Antonius."

He looked at me and finally I recognized him. Like when we were at his home, he was fighting to keep me safe. My Antonius wasn't lost. Together, could we face the future?

Thanks for writing. Only you can write your review!

Bella quotes the Psalm 130, De profundis.

A/N

Romanward gratias agit to Camilla10, LJSummers, Duskwatcher2153, Marlena516, and Jmolly. They're outstanding! Thanks to Project Team Beta.

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