Bella woke slowly, stretching underneath the duvet. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, clarity returning when she glanced around the room, looking for Jacob or Harry.
She threw back the duvet and heard something fall to the floor. Looking down and rubbing her eyes (she had barely slept the previous night, her body trying to convince her it was 1 pm when she'd been trying to get to sleep at 10 o'clock local time), she saw a scrap of paper.
She picked it up and turned it over, revealing Harry's messy writing.
We're downstairs.
Breakfast finishes at 10, and checkout is at 11.
H.
She threw the note into the garbage, walked into the restroom, used the complementary (unused) toothbrush and toothpaste, and splashed water on her face in an attempt to wake herself up. She exited the restroom and ensured no one had left anything behind before leaving the hotel room.
Bella knew her therapist would have something to say about this. He'd helped her realise she had an unhealthy fascination with vampires. They'd devised a plan to help her avoid seeking them out (as much as she could when her father had invited one to live with them).
She thought he'd want to spend the subsequent few sessions asking her questions like "Why did she choose to go ?" and "How could she act differently if she found herself in the same situation?"
She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind - there was no point imagining her therapist's reaction until she was sitting in front of him.
If she survived to attend the next session, she thought, the Volturi could order you to be killed.
She was concerned about how little the thought bothered her and made a mental note to bring it up with her therapist.
Bella snorted self-deprecatingly at her sense of accomplishment when she made it downstairs without falling, mood lightening when she saw her companions (dare she call them friends?) standing at the bar. Harry seemed to have gotten over his annoyance from yesterday, sipping his coffee while talking to Jacob, who was slumped over the bar, an uneaten cornetti on a plate by his hand.
"If you're not going to eat it," she declared when she reached them, snagging the pastry, "I will."
"Have it," Jacob replied quietly, "I wasn't hungry anyway."
"Do you think you'll be up for a three-and-a-half-hour car journey?" Harry asked, glancing at her over the other's slumped shoulders.
"Wouldn't that be very expensive?" Bella asked, "Taxis aren't cheap."
Why go by car when you can Apparate? she mouthed.
"I'd like to return to the room - or one in a different hotel if necessary. I'm not too fussed."
"You do look… a bit off," she remarked diplomatically (Jacob looked more like a corpse than the vampire standing beside him), "and that fever appears to be getting worse."
"I'd paid for two nights in case we needed it," Harry declared, placing his half-empty cup of coffee on a coaster. "I'll walk you up the stairs."
"Don't - you'll try to guilt me into letting you or Bella stay with me. I was the one stupid enough to travel to a foreign country while feeling sick, so I'll face the consequences on my own."
"Jacob-"
"No."
"But-"
"Again, no."
"You-"
"That's my final decision on the matter. If you want to do anything, leave a large bottle of water and some aspirin in the room," Jacob said.
"I'll get the water," Bella stated, walking towards the exit.
She filled her bottle and the one Harry had given her from a public drinking fountain, returned and walked up the stairs, arriving in time to meet Harry at the hotel room door.
"How is he?" she whispered, eyes flicking to the closed door.
"He's lying in bed, trying to get back to sleep. I'm worried about that fever - I've been giving him potions that should make him feel better. Despite what my former Professor would say, I am decent at Potions (I'm even better when people aren't throwing ingredients into the cauldron), so he should be improving, not getting steadily worse."
"Could he be having an allergic reaction to it?" Bella blurted, saying the first thing that came into her head.
He froze, becoming as still as only a vampire could (she was secretly relieved - Harry was different from the Cullens, and she didn't know how to deal with a vampire that didn't follow the norms), seeming to forget to breathe.
"I doubt it…" he muttered, "but I wouldn't know which one even if he was - an antidote for the wrong ingredient could make his condition worse. I might have to leave him with the nearest branch of the Italian Wixen hospital and hope they can diagnose and make him better before Obliviating him."
"I doubt it's anything that bad," Bella declared reassuringly, "he probably just needs some sleep. He'll be better once we return from Volterra, don't worry."
"I'll worry anyway," he murmured.
"While I think of it, why were you going to drive to Volterra?" she asked. "You could Apparate there in a second."
"Jacob may have been persuaded that he slept through one flight: he wouldn't believe he'd slept through a second. I also didn't want to have to Obliviate him again - it was pure luck that it worked the first time without removing any extra memories. Amateurs using the spell could irrevocably alter a person by removing key moments from their life. I'd rather someone in the hospital do it - they're trained on how to cast the spell successfully and less likely to… I don't know, accidentally make Jacob forget where he lives or the names of his friends," Harry explained.
…
Oh.
She hadn't thought of that.
She stayed quiet, thinking back over her actions.
She'd been selfish - hitching a ride to Italy, being happy that circumstances meant Harry wasn't willing to bring them back to America… even feeling pleased that Jacob-
"I'm guessing you still want to come with me," Harry declared tiredly, interrupting her self-recriminating thoughts. Bella didn't reply, but something on her face must have shown her thoughts since the vampire sighed, yanked the bottle out of her hand more forcefully than he should, and turned around. She had barely blinked when he was facing her again, the hotel door swinging shut behind him and the bottle no longer in his hand.
He held out his arm and, when she grabbed it, spun away in the dizzying sensation caused by Apparition, dragging her with him.
Almost eight years.
That was how long it had been since they'd gained a new member.
They'd allowed Eleazar to leave when he requested it, sure that he'd soon return. Doing without him would be a mild hindrance, but they had patience.
Not that they'd turn away a vampire with a lesser version of the gift while they waited.
Especially when he practically landed at their feet, Aro noted.
Unlike Eleazar, Pierre's (1) power was contingent on him drinking the blood of humans - and being able to stop drinking when he found a suitable candidate.
From accessing the French vampire's memories, Aro had seen that for every new vampire created, he had drained six potential vampires (he was particularly annoyed at missing out on the Spanish woman who could have redirected physical and mental attacks).
There was something in the newest vampire - that couldn't be denied.
Pierre had tasted something in his blood that sang with something… more, in addition to the power of making others trust him.
Not that Aro had seen (or felt) him use that power - he was still alive only due to Caius' curiosity, a fast-disappearing commodity.
Granted, he was the first British vampire they'd had in Volterra since Carlisle left.
Aro also couldn't read his mind when he tried - thankfully, the twins' powers worked on him.
Though he'd almost say the Brit had prior experience with Jane's: it had taken an astonishing six seconds before he'd started screaming (during his brief exposure, he'd only lasted a second before ordering her to stop).
It made for a nice consolation prize - even if no one knew they had him.
That ghastly British self-proclaimed "Dark Lord" had tried to gain their alliance for his war, but when asked what he'd give them in return, he'd had the temerity to threaten them.
He was soon sent packing, but Caius had advised sending someone to watch over the proceedings, so Pierre had been sent to watch the human war.
Aro had been interested when he'd returned with a friend, which grew to fascination when he'd seen Pierre's memories.
He'd known about the magic people but hadn't thought about them in centuries, so realising that he might have gotten his hands on a magician-turned-vampire was magnificent.
So far, the Brit was a disappointment, sitting in the corner of the throne room, not moving since the last time he'd tried reading him - not even feeding on the humans!
(Though his scent would grow faint randomly, despite literally not moving an inch.)
Crack!
Aro's senses came alive, analysing the new sound. He noticed that Caius was doing the same to his left, as were all the vampires nearby - including the Brit.
As usual, Marcus didn't move or show interest in the proceedings.
"Not a broken bone," Alec mused, "- no scream of pain".
"Nor is it that "Dark Lord" returning," Jane declared. "Two new scents, but none are his."
Heidi sniffed.
"Interesting - a vampire with a human - and he hasn't fed from her."
"Well then," Aro said, "invite them in! It wouldn't do to behave like bad hosts."
Felix and Santiago ran out of the throne room, and he heard them offering to show their guests around a second later. The male answered affirmatively, and a quiet gasp brought the guard's attention to the British vampire. When no other reaction was forthcoming, most grew bored, but Aro saw Marcus take a slight interest in the unfolding events.
He held out his right hand, eyes widening with the information gained from the brief skin-on-skin contact.
That was an interesting relationship bond.
(A.N:
(1) OC.
The backstory I created for anyone interested: Pierre was born in 1850 in the slums of Paris. He was drafted to fight in the Franco-Prussian war, where he contracted smallpox. Not wanting to die in the medical tent, he snuck out one night, aiming to reach a particular tree. He made it and was happily watching the stars as he died.
Except he didn't.
A hungry newborn fed on him but accidentally injected him with her venom when she was startled by a gunshot. Pierre, full of bloodlust and not thinking straight, drank from hundreds of French soldiers, accidentally helping the Prussians win. Sickened by what he'd done (helping Prussia win. He didn't care about drinking human blood), he fled south, ending up in Volterra.
Aro was willing to let him stay, hoping he'd turn out to have a useful power. When he didn't seem to, he almost ordered him killed until he realised Pierre could tell which humans would have powers if they were turned into vampires when he was drinking from them. Aro, delighted, kept him - it was a lesser version of Eleazar's power. Still, it would be adequate until the vampire returned.