Love Never Dies
Wow, thanks for all the reviews. Some said they didn't understand how Bella would fit into all this. Trust me she will, and if you don't understand how, well I'm not about to give anything away, but I suggest you either go find the plot summary for Francis Ford Coppola's version of Dracula, or watch it. That'll tell you all you need to know.
Plus if any of you have ever read 'I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You', then it's a similar principle to that story.
Anyway on with the show
Act III: Prima Donna
Christabelle
I stepped out onto the terrace, feeling the cool air wash over my dewed skin. Inside, the ballroom had become muggy and stifling; the scents of ladies' perfumes mingling odiously with the stench of sweat and wine.
As I stepped out onto the terrace, I let the moon's sylvan rays fall over me, basking in their glow. Tonight had been the night of a lifetime.
As I leant on the marble balustrade, curtained by creeping ivy, I thought back on the strange sensations I'd experienced, the moment I set eyes on Signore Aro Volturi.
I knew those feelings, had experienced them before, but not this intensely. Never this powerfully.
One glance from those curious red eyes was enough to send my world spinning on its axis.
"Signorina Renzi?" his familiar voice washed over me like a physical caress, sending shivers down my spine. I turned and met Aro's direct gaze, hiding my instinctive reaction.
"Signore? I am here," I breathed, and this close, I could only bask in his unnatural beauty. His hair was perfectly straight and gleamed like a raven's wing, his skin like alabaster through which imprisoned moonlight welled; his face, while undeniably mature and experienced, held a sensual beauty all its own.
My eyes crept down, over the expensive material of his pale-coloured suit, a mix of gold and ivory on patternless material. Everything about him was elegant and yet understated, even down to the strange crest he and his brothers wore around their necks.
"I was concerned about you. When you left you looked rather flushed," he murmured, in that breathy voice which sent surges of magnetic attraction flaring over my skin. It was like a physical draw, pulling me to him. Lulling me in, like a lullaby.
"Thank you, Signore Volturi. Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary; I was just a little…hot," I replied, watching him as he stepped forward, confident and refined, his hands held behind his back. I turned back to the view of the Piazza della Pergola, trying to tell myself that these feelings were nothing more than figments of my imagination.
"Perhaps we should stroll," Aro offered his arm to me gallantly, and I obliged, unable to see any other way out of this situation. My instincts told me it was fast becoming dangerous. I would not risk my heart again.
My thoughts went to my Giacomo, and then back to the present as I walked beside this impossible, beautiful man.
"How old are you, Signorina Renzi?" Aro suddenly asked me, and I was inwardly taken aback by his question. It was far more friendly and informal than I was used to. I liked it.
"Such an impertinent question so early in the conversation…how promising," I laughed, before I realised I was being flirtatious. What was wrong with me?
"Do I amuse you?" he asked me gravely, yet with a slight smile on his austere lips. It put me at my ease.
"Yes, you Signore Volturi. But you mystify me as well. I cannot make you out," I sighed, narrowing my eyes at him playfully. Indeed I couldn't read him at all, couldn't tell what kind of a man he was.
His brothers had been easy enough. The elder-looking, Marcus, had been bored. There was no other word for it, just bored. Like there was nothing in this world that could interest him anymore, as if everything fascinating and beautiful had been sucked from it. I wondered what had happened to him to make him like this.
Caius, on the other hand, was not bored but just plain haughty. He believed himself superior to everyone in the room, and was emotionally cold and distant. I had seen the barely veiled contempt in his eyes as he suffered Carmenita's attempts at fawning over him.
But Aro…he was veiled, a mystery. I could not read him.
He suddenly pulled me from my ruminations.
"Please, my dear, call me Aro. And what were you thinking just now to put such a perplexed and thoughtful expression on such a young face?" he asked plaintively, almost like a child.
"Why would you wish to know what's going on in her mind?" a horridly familiar voice tittered from the shadows as Carmenita stepped forth. "I wager there's nothing in there except dust and daydreams."
She laughed, expecting perhaps an answering laugh from Aro, as I felt myself flush in anger. She was always hovering over me, like a vulture waiting to strike, and I despised her for it.
"Ah but Signorina, it is all in personal taste. I personally find dust and daydreams to be far more refreshing than mere vanity and the dry obsession of most people I meet," Aro replied smoothly, his tone carefully cool and blank, as he tugged me forward. I stared at him, then at Carmenita as she flushed at the veiled insult in his words. She sent me a venomous glare, before sticking her nose in the air and flouncing past in a tantrum.
"Thank you for that, Signore. Carmenita forgets her place sometimes," I murmured, glancing at my escort as he stared after the prima donna.
"No need, my dear. And please, it's just Aro," he replied, as he handed me up some steps and onto an isolated part of the balcony. I turned and leaned back against the wall, so I could look at him, in all his beauty.
"Women like Carmenita will always seek another place than the one they have, convinced it is never good enough and that another shall usurp it, all in the pursuit of vanity and ambition," I sighed, as Aro looked at me strangely. He looked…thoughtful.
"Is she always thus?" he asked genially, before taking a place beside me. I nodded.
"She is as prickly as a thorn bush with blight. The rose is still blooming, but it is rotten at the core, and the pain you will suffer for your efforts are not worth the trouble of examining it," I replied off-handedly, remembering so many years of her obnoxious behaviour, so certain she was better than the rest of us.
"You are wise and perceptive beyond your years, Signorina Renzi," Aro murmured, and I felt shivers ripple down my spine. His eyes were intense, and I wanted to fall into them.
But at his words, I involuntarily closed my eyes. So many years of suffering and darkness, which I did not wish to remember.
"Thank you, Signore," I whispered, fighting for control as the defensive part of me rose up to snarl and rattle the bars of its cage.
"Please, it is just Aro to you," he replied softly, and I sensed him move closer, taking my hand.
"Then it is just Christabelle to you…Aro," I sighed his name, feeling it trip off my tongue, calming and sensual. With that I opened my eyes, and exhaled heavily.
"Something I said has troubled you," he murmured, and I shook my head.
"Nothing. It is nothing," I whispered, almost to myself. For one moment, I caught a frustrated look crossing his face, before it was replaced by his social mask.
"Your name, Renzi? Italian yes?" he suddenly changed the subject, and I was glad of it.
"Yes, my father was Italian. He was a violinist," I explained, and he nodded. "My mother was English, and she was a singer."
"Like mother, like daughter," Aro murmured, but I shook my head as sad memories rose up.
"No. She wasn't a classical singer like me. Typhoid took her before she ever had the chance to take to the stage," I almost sighed the words, and even I could hear the sadness in them. Drawing on all my strength, I locked the painful memories flashing across the surface of my mind, and met Aro's eyes again.
"And your father?" he asked gently, and I stiffened.
"After my mother's death, he couldn't be bothered with a little six-year old girl so he sent me away to a boarding school while he drank and whored himself to death. I did not mourn his death," I replied coldly, and I sensed the amusement in his eyes rather than disgruntlement at my coolness. That was the reaction I got from most males, unless they were just pig-headed then they would keep talking until I wished to scream.
Suddenly Aro snapped his fingers delightedly. "Of course! I knew I recognised your name from somewhere!"
"What?" I asked, staring at him, as he seemed to jump from point of interest to another with an inhuman speed.
"Renzi! Are you related, by any chance, to the great Anna Renzi, the famous soprano of the seventeenth century?" he asked enthusiastically, and I wanted to roll my eyes. Now he got it.
"Yes, I am. You're not the first to make that connection," I sighed, crossing my arms. His red eyes twinkled with amusement as he faced me.
"Now we know where you got your astounding talent from, my dear!" he joked, and I felt myself go cold. Yes, of course, because the only way I could be talented was because of some old ancestor from two hundred years ago.
The acerbic tenor of my thoughts must have echoed in my tone, as I drew myself up and turned away. "My gift is my own, Signore, and no one else's."
A moment later I sensed him move closer to me, his hand touching my shoulder. At his cold touch, I shivered but refused to meet his eyes.
"I apologise, my dear Christabelle. I did not mean to give offence, and you are right. Your gift is your own, your very own. None could have done what you did tonight, with such passion and uniqueness," he complimented me warmly, and yet I did not feel patronised. It was a sincere compliment.
"Thank you, Aro. That will probably be the last compliment I hear from anyone for the rest of my life," I whispered, my lips drawn up into a wry smile. Aro frowned.
"What do you mean?" he asked, confusedly. "You shone like a star tonight, like a graceful swan about to take flight."
"But this swan will never take flight, not as long as Carmenita has her way. Soon, no doubt, I shall be relegated back to the role of understudy in the chorus, so I am no threat to her limelight. I'm afraid this swan will never get the chance to fly," I finished, feeling slightly foolish at my descriptive words. Aro watched me inscrutably.
"You have a gift for expression, il mio piccolo cigno. But you are wrong, the swan shall have her time to fly, and she shall soar above the heads of the lowly and the unworthy and they shall bow down to her in envy and wonder," he replied earnestly, a strange light gleaming in his eyes. I forced a slightly uneasy laugh.
"Now who's showing a gift for expression?" I teased him, and he laughed. Suddenly he took my hand, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks and to the surface of my skin.
He was so close.
Achingly slow, he bent his head and kissed my hand, before he reversed it and kissed the inside of my wrist, directly over the point where my pulse throbbed. It jumped under his kiss, and I could have sworn he felt it.
Abruptly, my clothes felt too tight, and my breath came short as I watched him raise his proud, noble head and look me in the eye.
"I mean what I say, il mio piccolo cigno," he breathed. "Soon, you shall be free of this cursed, undeserving place."
My smile turned sad. "I wish I could believe you, Aro. But I fear…"
"What do you fear?" he asked me gently, as I trailed off uncertainly. Should I tell him about Giacomo? About how I feared we would never leave this gruelling existence?
"I…"
"Aro, there you are, my friend!" a familiar voice called, and we both turned to find Giovanni, Caius, Marcus and Carmenita bearing down on us. And…
I mentally groaned, stiffening.
And Giles Kenilworth, fifth Duke of some tiny little part of England that most people hadn't even heard about. A gambler, compulsive drinker and womaniser, and the constant thorn in my side for months. He would not leave me alone.
He sent me an appreciative look, looking perfectly dapper and handsome himself in his fashionable clothes which had nothing on Aro or his brothers, but I bristled indignantly as his gaze went places it had no business being.
He had been pestering me to be his inamorata, but I would not give in. I detested the man, with his peacock mannerisms and his haughty mind. I would not join the long line of mistresses he'd had and discarded when he'd tired of them.
I would not be that stupid twice in a row.
"Ah and Signorina Renzi! The mystery explained!" Carlo was jovial enough, and I suspected he had had too much wine, although there was no sign of it in his cheeks.
"We had wondered where our little ingénue had gotten to," Carmenita said through gritted teeth, her powdered face set with a simpering smile as she glanced at Aro.
Giles stepped forward, opening his mouth and I braced myself to decline whatever cleverly worded attempt to get me alone he might deliver, but there was no need.
"Actually, Carlo I had been about to come in and look for you. I have a business proposal for you," Aro cut across Giles, and the latter sent him a furious glare. I inwardly laughed.
"Oh?" Carlo looked politely interested, but his eyes gleamed behind those odd spectacles he always wore.
"Yes. As you know in two months time it is the San Marcus Day festival. I should like to hire Signorina Renzi for the festivities, if you could spare her," he finished charmingly, as Carlo, Giles and Carmenita all stared at him. I did too.
If he was going to hire anyone for such an honour, it should have been Carmenita. It was a deliberate snub to her.
And the first signs of hope for me.
"Ahh, she does not have the voice for it. I will be much better suited, Signore," the prima donna pronounced dismissively. I bristled.
I was standing right there, for goodness' sake! Had all attempts at civility fled from her mind?
"That is a matter of opinion, Signorina. While you may possess greater experience and knowledge, Signorina Renzi's voice is far purer and lovelier than any I have ever encountered," Aro retorted smoothly, and I saw the diva bristle angrily.
"Signorina Renzi will have duties to see to here," Giles suddenly spoke up, and I glared at him. What duties?
"Signore, I have no idea what you are talking about," I rebuffed him coldly, wondering what he would look like after I had slapped him black and blue.
Giles' smile tightened, as he stepped forward and took my elbow. He smiled genially at the rest of the company.
"If you'll excuse us, Signores, Signorina. Signorina Renzi and I have some things to discuss," he rattled off smoothly. I stared at him, enraged, but let him drag me away.
I was going to kill him.
Aro
I narrowed my eyes as the ash blonde dandy all but dragged Christabelle away. I could see the anger in her lovely eyes, and felt something strain within me to be set free.
I would deal with him in a moment.
I turned back to Carlo.
"Well, now that's being taken care of, we can discuss Signorina Renzi coming to us permanently," I said to him, investing my words with a significance he would understand but Carmenita would not.
Carlo stiffened, but inclined his head. "I shall be sorry to see her leaving us, but it seems I have no choice."
"You don't," Caius suddenly chipped in, and I stared at my brother. It was unlike him to wade in on my side of the argument. Usually he would oppose me just for the sake of being annoying.
"This is ridiculous!" Carmenita exploded, before turning to her director. "You cannot seriously agree to this!"
"In addition, I understand you will be putting on a performance of La sonnambula. I look forward to Signorina Renzi's interpretation of Amina," I continued, as Carmenita snarled even more.
"She does not have the voice! You cannot seriously let these…unimportant dandies dictate who stars in your theatre, Carlo!" she screamed, as all three of us narrowed our eyes. She was playing dangerously close to the line. One more step.
"Carmenita! I decide who performs in my operas!" Carlo replied angrily, drawing himself up. Carmenita shot me a victorious glance, before it turned into horror at his next words. "I think Christabelle shall make an excellent Amina."
"I cannot believe this!" Carmenita exploded, before throwing her hands into the air dramatically and flouncing away in a temper.
Carlo sighed in relief, before he leaned close to me. "I hope you know what you're doing, Aro."
"Oh I do, old friend. I do." I murmured, before the sounds of a struggle reached my ears.
I frowned, then anger filled me when I recognised Christabelle's voice.
"How dare you, you filthy-!"
Her tirade was abruptly cut off, as I turned and stalked towards the sound of the struggle.
To be continued.
