*** This story contains some mild language, suspense, romance, and some frightening images and situations—13 and older, please.
In the Grip of Twilight
By:
Olivia Tannis Moore
Chapter Twenty Seven:
Into the Darkness
"The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned…"
--W.B. Yeats, "The Second Coming"
After changing planes in New York, I managed to stay awake for a small portion of our transatlantic flight to Italy. But the past few days with all its planning, and so little sleep, had taken its toll on me, and I dozed off and on until we arrived in Florence in the dead of night.
It was a long, bumpy ride from Florence to Volterra in the mustard-colored mini-bus. The bus driver was a middle aged man who only grunted when we'd boarded, his dingy-grey cap sitting high on his head over a scowl. It appeared he didn't like this particular route, at this particular time when the moon was just a sliver in the sky. He put the small bus in motion before we could get to our seats, leaving Edward to steady my wobbly trek down the narrow aisle.
The bus was empty except for an elderly couple who sat at the very back and spoke in hushed whispers to one another. Once we had settled into our trip, my eyes wandered back there from time to time as if I expected them to disappear into the dark silence. Their silhouettes, swaying with the movement of the bus, were all I could see.
I was disappointed that we made the trip in the dark whereas I couldn't see the Tuscan landscapes that were so picturesque in travel brochures and foreign movies. When I looked out the dusty bus window, the hillsides were just vast shadows sprinkled with the yellowy lights of Italian villas. I imagined the carefree faces of those people going about their normal routines while I was embarking on the wildest of roller coaster rides with mythical creatures they thought only fictional.
Edward seemed to understand that I needed this time during the bus ride for reflection, and so he said little. Sleep could prepare me for the physical drain of the coming weeks, but I had to prepare mentally for Volterra and the Volturi, for there was no doubt in my mind that it would be a rigorous chess game that we couldn't afford to lose.
I assumed we were very close to Volterra when Edward stiffened in his seat beside me. He stood, leaning over and above my head to peer out into the inky blackness. His nostrils flared as if he had caught the scent of something and was trying to figure its direction. He lowered the window a fraction and sniffed the night air again as his eyes scanned the countryside. I waited, not wanting to interrupt his intense concentration. But I wondered if it was the infamous Volturi Guard I had heard about. Maybe they were out scouting the hills and hunting for prey to take back to Volterra…maybe the people down in the warmly lit villas weren't as carefree as I'd originally thought; perhaps their homes were even brightly lit for a reason, and with that thought I shuddered uncontrollably.
"What is it, young man?" the elderly man from the back asked in garbled English. His voice seemed to carry from a distance, yet the couple sat only four rows behind us.
Briefly, Edward turned to the back where the couple sat. "Nothing. I just need a breath of fresh air," he said politely, which must've appeased the man for he said nothing more.
After a few minutes, the road surface abruptly changed and we were jolting along on some sort of cobble stone road. I could hear the wheels of the bus throwing pebbles against the undercarriage and the engine shift and whine into a lower gear as we climbed the hillside. Yet, as jostling as the ride became, Edward remained steady at the window, and didn't move from his position over me, keeping his eyes on the passing trees.
"Edward?" I asked quietly, hoping he would tell me what held his attention. I didn't think I could go on much longer watching his tense figure as he searched for something out there beyond the curving road.
But he held his hand up, his gaze still fixed out the window, in a silent plea for me to wait.
Abruptly, we began to slow as we came upon the towering and mottled walls of what could only be Volterra. Straight ahead, there were two great iron gates, just as medieval in design as the bulwarks surrounding the city. A pendant lamp hung from thick chains to illuminate the gates on each side.
It was only then as we came to a standstill that Edward eased back into his seat. "We're being followed…watched," he told me, his face as stoic as a statue.
Not a breeze stirred outside the bus. It was if the land surrounding us was on the cusp of a storm and was bracing for the impact. My heart was racing as I bit my lip and gazed out the window where every shadow now seemed coiled, ready to spring.
I was edgy… a movement at the watch post caused me to jerk my head toward the gates. But then I sighed in relief as the bus's headlights illuminated a thin man with red trim on his uniform. He strode to the folding door of the bus and climbed the steps to speak with the driver. The conversation proceeded in the flourish and soft syllables of the Italian language, but it also held a steely urgency.
"What is he saying?" I asked in a raspy whisper.
"Something's going on," Edward told me in a hushed tone. "They've been given instructions to check passengers before they enter the city."
***
(See you tomorrow—thanks for reading. OTM )