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A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews. If I haven’t responded personally to yours yet, I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to get to it, I promise!
Additionally, I forgot to add another disclaimer, so here it is. The story’s title comes from the song written by the amazing Andrew Volpe of the equally awesometastic band, Ludo. I highly recommend that you check out the song, as well as all of their other spectacular songs, but know that it is not mine in any way, shape or form.
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Chapter Two
Cat and Mouse
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The burning in his throat intensified as his dark as pitch eyes followed the slow movements of the grinding, moaning bodies. The stench of sweat hung heavy in the air, wafting up his nostrils. Under the cloak of the repulsive scent was the sweetest hint of blood. The latest techno music blared from various speakers placed strategically throughout the poorly lit club. It was meant to drill all rational thought from a person’s mind and though it succeeded to a certain extent, Edward could hear every thought issuing from the dancing crowd’s mind, most of which were geared toward the sexual sort, the sort that made him extremely uncomfortable.
A brief flash of bare, round breasts pressed tightly against a toned, pale chest filtered through his head, momentarily imprinting itself into his memory. However, much to his relief, the image was a bit obscure, the thinker obviously unsure of the accuracy of her imagination.
Grinding his teeth, Edward attempted to push said thought from his mind, but as the couple rubbed the most sensuous parts of their bodies together, the image returned, flaring brilliantly in his mind, an unknown flame gathering near his groin. Rolling his eyes at his body’s reaction, he shifted on his stool, crossing one leg over the other, his left ankle resting atop his right knee. Very human.
Edward released a sigh as he speculated the scene around him. It was always the same, regardless of which club he decided to haunt for the night. There were hordes of young, horny people thrashing about wildly in their interpretation of modern dancing. Having been raised in a time where a person was taught the steps to various dances, he couldn’t understand how this qualified as dancing. To him, it merely looked like humans having sexual intercourse with their clothes on, their bodies as tightly pressed as they were. His mind reading abilities weren’t necessary to know that the couple on the fringe of the crowd was doing just that - engaging in an act of sexual release, though it didn’t seem to stem the flow of their erotic thoughts.
Thoughts that Edward heard and therefore reacted to. Even if he was no longer human, his body still reacted accordingly.
Stupid mortals, he thought bitterly.
He fought hard against the natural urges his own mind was sending throughout his body and found it was best if he concentrated on finding his meal for the night. A grimace twisted his full mouth at the thought. It wasn’t that he had an aversion to hunting humans per se, but it bothered him immensely that he had to hear their last thoughts, their dieing thoughts, their last burst of humanity before he effectively extinguished the glowing candle that was their life.
The natural urges to copulate fled his mind as he thought of his last hunt, of the desperate train of hectic thoughts that raced through his victim’s mind. The man had known as soon as he saw Edward that his death was coming, though he, Edward, wasn’t exactly sure how he knew. He just did, which made it all the more difficult for Edward to kill him. As his teeth ripped into the man’s fleshy neck, a colossal of images flickered through his mind: a beautiful brunette with a baby on her hip, eyes of a startling blue staring out from underneath a thatch of inky black hair. By that time, it was too late; he could not have retracted his teeth even if he wanted to. The warm blood was already coursing down the sides of his throat, relieving the difficult itch that he’d finally agreed to scratch.
Expelling yet another puff of air, Edward banished the thoughts of his last hunt from his mind. Now, he had to focus on the hunt at hand. He had denied his body of blood for nearly three weeks, and the lack of substances was finally taking its toll. He hated starving himself, but if he could delay the death of an innocent (even though he tried his hardest to hunt down the scum of the earth, which is much more difficult than many would believe it to be.), he would try his absolute hardest to do just that.
As his eyes scanned the crowd yet again, he couldn’t find an individual who was without company. Everyone seemed engrossed in someone else; all the Italian men had succeed in snatching up all the women, regardless of how bella they were. Edward felt like pouting, though he knew it would get him absolutely no where. It might work for Isabella, griping until she received what she wanted, but for him, it was not an option. Instead, he would have to let his instincts take control of his rational chain of thought, something that was very difficult for him to do. Even though Edward was over two hundred and ten years old, he could never fully give himself over to the monster within until those moments in which his teeth began to secrete venom and his target was in sight.
Come on, Edward. You know you have other devices at your expense that will make any women in this ridiculous place completely and entirely yours.
This thought briefly recalled to mind a comment that Heidi, another member of the Guard and one of his few friends, had said about him. “You dazzle people, Edward. Positively dazzle them.”
Snorting in derisive laughter, he decided that no harm could be done if he tried to “dazzle” one of the poor mortals who would become his dinner. If he could spare their lives, he would, but he knew it was impossible. Besides, he would never purposely subject someone to the life of a vampire. Not if he could help it.
It didn’t take very long for him to track down his prey once he’d decided on the method he would use. He merely rose from his seat, straightened the hem of his plain black tee shirt and made his way toward the bar, where he would order a drink and God forbid, actually consume it. His stomach would be in hell until he managed to regurgitate it, but he would do it. He had to do it.
He. Needed. Blood.
As soon as he sauntered over to the bar and ordered a Scotch on the rocks with a twist, there was a woman on either side of him, staring up into his face with an expression that Edward could describe as “dazzled”. And thoroughly so, he might add, all without speaking a single word. Upon receiving his drink from the pretty bartender, he raised his glass to both women and tossed it back, a grimace settling on his face. At his small acknowledgement, both women’s thoughts went directly toward the sexual, the one on the right picturing him sans tee shirt and the one of the left getting straight to the point: she was calculating his abilities in bed based on his appearance. And they were very high; he smirked at this.
It was her thoughts that he focused on and as he rifled through the array of words, images and all of the other things associated with the mind, he found that she wasn’t a very nice person. That she had done her fair share of wrongs and while they might not be criminal, they were bad enough. She had encouraged her brother-in-law to cheat with her, effectively ruining that marriage. Yes, she was much worse than the blonde-haired woman to his right. It was decided then.
She would be his dinner for the night.
Leaning toward the redhead, he lowered his lips to her ear, careful to avoid brushing his cold skin against her flushed epidermis, and said, “Do you want to get out of here?”
The woman’s eyes darted up to his, her brows slightly higher than their normal position. For a brief moment, Edward believed that she would decline, but then a huge smile spread across her face and her thoughts were these: Finally! A good lay; it‘s been too long. She was getting much more than a mere “good lay”. Oh yes, much, much more.
Edward laughed cryptically. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He held out his hand and she slipped hers into it. A shiver rippled up her spine, settling at the back of her neck, setting the hair on edge. However, as her thoughts flickered across her mind, he found that she enjoyed the sensation, thinking it was a precedent of what was to come.
He led her out of the club, the thumping music disappearing as swiftly as a swirling mist. The woman clutched at his arm, running her fingertips over his icy skin, feeling the muscles carved out of stone that lurked under the pale layer. Edward tried to enjoy the sensation, the urge to press her against the wall and capture her lips with his own, the animalistic urge to rip her lips right from her face and lap up the blood, which flowed forth.
What a disgusting notion.
As soon as they left the comfort of the sidewalk, the woman started veering toward the lot, but he tugged gently at her arm.
“Where are we going?” she asked in thickly accented English. “Isn’t your car over there?”
Edward shook his head. “No, I walked. Come, it is this way.”
The woman hesitated, but upon seeing the reassuring look in Edward’s eyes decided that she would follow this angel into the very pits of Hell as long as he was there beside her. He cringed at this, not wanting to mislead her, but it was necessary. She would either be his dinner or he would suffer until his next meal; hunting opportunities outside of Volterra came very rarely for Edward, despite how high up in the Volturi hierarchy he was.
Her hand slipped into his grasp again as he led her past the mouth of an alleyway, his touch light as he could manage. Yes, a false sense of security was necessary to properly lure the prey and keep their thoughts clean before he took their lives. Perhaps that was where he always went wrong. As soon as they were obscured by the darkness, Edward wheeled her around quickly and pressed her against the rough brick. An excited squeak escaped her and she grabbed the sides of his face, gave a hard tug, and pulled him toward her. Her mouth was warm, wet and messy against his and while he tried to act as though he was enjoying it, he could not. Such an intimate act was not to be openly mocked, was not to be acted.
Pulling his lips away from hers, he began to kiss the edge of her jaw line, his tongue flicking out to lick the pulsating vein behind her skin. A tremor ran through the woman and she clutched at his head, her fingers sliding into his bronze hair and latching on tight. She gasped as he continued to lavish her jaw, throat and shell behind her ear with deep kisses, his tongue as cold as a glacier and seeming to grow chillier with every velvety caress.
His kiss is deep, so deep. So pleasing. Oh my, more of that! Yes - yes! That’s the melody! Right in the - oh Christ above, yes! YES!
Edward focused on keeping her thoughts positive as he dragged his tongue along the length of her jugular, trying to find the juiciest part of her neck. Once he found it, where the pulse was beating the strongest, he skimmed his teeth along the surface of her skin, drawing a small line of blood.
She gasped again. “W-what’s your name?” she panted.
“Edward,” he replied simply. “And yours?”
“Verona,” she said, her breath ragged, for he had let the edges of his teeth carve a small ditch in the valley between her neck and shoulder. He lapped up the blood like an eager puppy, rational thought quickly fleeing his mind.
Again, he dug the tips of his razor sharp teeth into her neck, nicking and cutting the thin membrane that was her skin. He thought she would be frightened, but she held tighter to him, her hips bucking against his sporadically. Occasionally, she gasped, panted and emitted low moans of pleasure, all the while her thoughts were nothing short of pleasurable. Though he himself was not drawing an ounce of personal pleasure from the moment, he was glad that she would be at peace with herself as he sunk his teeth into her neck and took her life.
The beast inside began to roar unhappily at the lack of blood, scratching his throat and increasing the burn. It would continue until it was satisfied, Edward knew, and therefore decided he would take her life in three. . .two. . .one --
Venom poured of his mouth as his teeth ripped into her throat. Verona screamed, but it was not a scream of pain. Rather the opposite, Edward found as she pumped the lower portion of her body against his in a wild, almost primitive way. More, her mind screamed, though her thoughts were much dimmer than before, a mere glimmer in Edward’s cavernous mind. When he tore a strip of flesh away from her neck, anxious to get to the web of veins, arteries, and capillaries lurking under the sheen of her skin did she really scream. A scream of pure terror.
However, before her thoughts could turn toward death, he had sucked the life out of her. Her form slumped against him, her head of bright red hair resting in the crook of his neck. Redrawing his teeth from her neck and picking off bits of flesh and vein tissue, he straightened and cradled her body against his own. She was still warm, inescapably warm, and the thought of causing her death seemed to sadden him, no matter how horrid a woman she’d been in her human life. Before him, she had been just that: a human. A pretty woman by the name of Veronica who was in Italy on the vacation of a lifetime. A tour throughout Europe. She would’ve been heading home on a plane in a mere seven hours time.
Cursing himself into the deepest realms of Hell, Edward began the slow process of getting rid of the body, getting rid of the evidence. As he sank into his dark thoughts, he did the necessary work as quickly as he could. All too soon, he was finished and it was time to go back to Volterra. Thank the Lord, he thought to himself as he sprinted to his Vanquish, thrust the key into the ignition and sped away into the deep darkness of the night, unseen but unheard.
X - - X
Furious.
There was no other word to describe the emotions, which trembled through the form of Isabella. She could hardly control her shaking hands, which she was clenching into tightly balled fists so she could convince herself that she had much more control than most vampires her age. That she was not as weak as Edward claimed she was.
Edward.
She mentally spat the name as though it was some deadly poison working its way through her system. He was one of the main reasons why she was always so desperate to prove herself, to prove that she was just as strong as he, if not more so. Gnashing her teeth, she threw yet another contemptuous look at the closed wooden door in front of her, wondering exactly what was going on behind the thick barrier. Though she should’ve been able to hear the words being spoken, she could not. A layer of the thickest, most efficient soundproofing had been plastered to every inch of space to ensure the secrets were kept within the room. The only one who knew what was going on was the one person that Isabella couldn’t stand - and he just so happened to be absent, too.
Releasing an irritated snarl, she whirled around and stalked back toward her room. Normally, the others carefully avoided her when she was in one of her “moods”. Supposedly, she was much more annoying than a child to be around when she didn’t get her way. The thought sent another wave of pure anger roiling through her and she was struggling to keep her composure; in mere minutes, she would be stropping around, pouting like a small child. She could feel the mood creeping up on her, and she tried her hardest to suppress it.
The last thing she needed was to prove Edward right.
God, she hated not knowing what was going on -- and there was certainly something amiss in the castle of Volterra. She just knew it! Why else would Aro, Caius and Marcus, the leaders of the Great Volturi, quickly scuttle into the impenetrable room at the same time when Edward was away from the fortress? Resisting the urge to squeal in fury as she was severely lacking information, Isabella focused on making it back to her rooms without breaking anything. For her, she would be a minor accomplishment, one that showed Edward she could control her temper if she simply put her mind to it, a sentiment that Aro and Demetri reminded her of on a nearly daily basis.
Ah, Demetri. The thought came out as a sigh, and Isabella found anger momentarily forgotten. He might not have been the kindest of vampires, but he was one of the most glorified in the Volturi and for that, Isabella liked him. As far as he was concerned, she felt more strongly than that. To him, it was love or some cryptic form of it. Yes, she would lavish him in attention and he her, but that was another one of the benefits that came with Demetri. Besides, it wasn’t like he was unattractive, quite the contrary, actually. He was handsome in a devil-may-care sort of way, one that sent thrills up and down her spine when she thought about him and his scarlet eyes, dark brown hair obscuring them from view. Isabella might not love him the way he loved her, but she could honestly say that there was a strange level of affection between them, a connection she shared with no one else in Volterra.
Of course, there were many vampires in Volterra who didn’t favour very much simply because she was much more talented than they were and therefore, one of Aro’s favourites. She’d even wormed her way into Caius’s good books for her extremely loyal service to the Volturi.
As she rounded the corner, she very nearly slammed into the tiny form that was Jane. Both females halted, glaring at one another down the bridge of their fine noses. The tension hung thick in the air, so plausible, one could taste it if they truly wished. Jane’s round, ruby eyes pierced through Isabella like a swift blade as it felled as enemy. That was what they were, were they not? Enemies, vying for the attentions and affections of Aro. Before Isabella had come along, Jane was Aro’s favourite. It was no longer the same. Instead, they were seen as equal and therefore treated as such. They both detested it and while Isabella pouted, Jane sought attention elsewhere, particularly in her brother; Alec’s comforting embrace and the thoughtful words of one Edward Masen, who was probably the singular person who despised Bella as much as she did.
Isabella was the first to speak. “Jane,” she greeted stiffly, inclining her head ever so slightly.
Jane sniffed in response. “Bella.”
The way the name rolled off her tongue sent a wave of rage sweeping through Isabella’s form. She knew the little brat had picked up the name from Edward, who’d probably told her that she detested it. And he accused her of acting like a childish brat.
Jane stepped around Isabella, the hem of her black cloak skirting around her slim ankles. Isabella twisted around to watch the small child float gracefully down the hall, and at the sight of her fragile, retreating form, her curiosity piqued.
“Going somewhere?” she questioned aloofly.
The angel-like girl whirled around, a brilliant smile on her face. Her teeth shone the dull light of the hall like a beacon on a dark, misty night. “Yes,” Jane responded. “I am.” She took a few steps in the direction she’d come, stopping when she was only a few feet away. “Aro has summoned me to the --,”
“No!” objected Isabella.
At this, Jane chuckled airily. “Yes, it is so. Seems like you are no longer the favourite, dearest Bella.” She winked ostentatiously at Isabella, chortled, and whirled around, stalking down the corridor and out of sight before Isabella could so much as move, for she was too far gone in her shock.
Jane, summoned to the Impenetrable Room? Jane? She refused to believe it. Though Jane was in the possession of a formidable talent, one that could render any enemy useless, her gift was much stronger. While Jane could only target one, Isabella, like the small child’s twin brother, could attack numerous persons at once. Therefore, she was much more valuable than Jane was.
Isabella considered her two options. Her first being that she stick to her path, go back to her rooms and wait until Aro came to her, the second being that she follow Jane to the Impenetrable Room and find out what she needed to know on her own. She knew if she attempted to get into the Room sans a summons, she would be punished, though not severely. Denied hunting rights was the typical type of punishment she received. However, if she used her gift, slipping into the room and casting an illusion so that no one could see her - well, she would just have the advantage of knowledge. The only person who would know of her treachery would be Edward, and he wasn’t expected back at the castle until dawn or later.
Expelling a breath, she turned on her heel and travelled the path she’d come, retracing her steps by following her own scent. By the time she reached the Impenetrable Room, Jane was slipping into the room, her red eyes glowing with adoration as she stared into the face of Aro. Isabella skid to a halt, her breath catching in her throat. It was no use now. Aro would know if she tried to use her gift, she hadn’t calculated him into her quickly formed scheme. Grinding her teeth again, she turned to leave when she heard Aro’s voice calling out behind her.
“Isabella, my dear!” he cried happily. “Just the beautiful vampire I was looking for.”
She could practically hear the smug smile falling off Jane’s face. Ecstatic that she was to be included in whatever was being discussed, she pivoted on her heel so she faced her master to whom she was loyal to the extreme.
“Master!” she returned, quickly sweeping into a curtsy.
Aro chuckled, taking Isabella by the hand and raising her to her full height. “Now, now, child, such gestures are uncalled for,” he giggled in his characteristic way and Isabella found a smile twitching its way onto her eager lips. She did enjoy attention. Then his face turned momentarily serious. “Have you seen lovely Edward? It seems that no one else has.”
The smile fled and was quickly replaced by a grimace of distaste. However, she was quick to cover it up -- for as much as she despised Edward, Aro loved him. Though he had many favourites in the Guard, it was easy to tell which ones he enjoyed the most. Unfortunately for Isabella, while she was one of them, so were Jane, Alec and Edward, the three vampires in Volterra she could do without.
“No,” she said, turning her grimace into a frown as swiftly as the wind. “I have not. Perhaps he is still hunting,” she suggested lightly.
Aro nodded in agreement. “He does take a long time selecting his prey. . .” He sunk into thought for the briefest of moments before returning to his normal state. Another smile lit up his face. “Well, I’ll simply have to inform him of what’s going on later - or perhaps you could do that for me, my dear Isabella.” He placed a papery hand on her shoulder and his smile softened, turning into one of soft and tender affection. “Come now, my darling. There is much to discuss.”
He ushered her into the Impenetrable Room and as she crossed through the threshold, she noted how silent it was. If she knew magic did not exist, she’d have thought a spell was cast to block out all noises, but the thick clumps of black foam on the five-metre thick stone walls told her otherwise. As she stepped further into the room, she heard Aro admonishing Jane for trying to slink into the room, instructing her to alert him as soon as Edward returned to the castle. Like an obedient little girl, she conceded to his instructions and left, but not before throwing a dark glare at Isabella, who smirked in return.
Aro shut the door and floated into the room, resuming his seat in between Caius and Marcus. Caius had a strangely eager look on his face, like something of utmost importance was happening and as always, Marcus looked utterly bored. Now, he was inspecting his fingernails, his features arranged into a mask of boredom. Why most did not understand why Marcus could be so miserable after losing his wife all those years ago, Isabella found that she could empathise with him.
“Isabella!” Caius greeted, opening up his palm for her to take. She slipped her hand into his own and as protocol demanded, she turned it over, placing a kiss on the black stone ring all three of the Volturi leaders wore. “How good it is to see you. You are looking well.”
“Thank you, Master,” she responded automatically, bowing.
Unlike Aro, he did not dismiss the gesture, but rather it made him sit up straighter in his throne-like chair. Out of all the Volturi, he always seemed to think himself the King, despite the fact Aro was generally acknowledged as the main leader.
Aro cleared his throat suddenly, though the noise was unnecessary. Isabella turned her attention to her master at once, instinctively tightening the muscles in her shoulders to draw the line of her body into a more precise line, a regal one. Aro placed his hand against her cheek, his skin like powder on hers. She tried to suppress the shudder, which rolled through her at the contact, but found herself to be incapable of it. She threw an apologetic look at Aro, who merely chuckled in response.
“Oh, Izzy,” he murmured affectionately. “If you wanted into the Room so badly, all you had to do is ask. I would have granted you access. We were just trying to decide whom we should send on the - ah - mission.”
At his last word, Isabella perked up. Damn her curiosity! “Mission? Of what sort, Master?”
“One that requires two of my greatest Guard members,” Aro said fondly. Pride swelled in her chest like a balloon, filling her up to the point where she felt as light as air. Able to float on his praise for as long as she desired. “Of course, I am talking about you, my dear,” his thumb traced a circle on her cheek, still reading her thoughts, “and -,”
Before he said the name, Isabella knew which would fall from his lips. It was inevitable.
“Edward.” He tested her reaction, his hand dropping from her face momentarily. “I know you do not always get along -,”
“Do not always get alone?” she repeated, stunned. A strangled laugh escaped her. “We’ve never gotten along! He hates me and I loathe him.”
Aro chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “My, my, dearest Isabella. Surely you do not loathe him. That is a mighty strong word.”
“But I do! He treats me like a child and always thinks that he is superior to me-,”
“Which he is,” injected the usually quiet Marcus in an equally subdue tone. It was so quiet, Isabella barely heard the male vampire speak. She turned her flabbergasted eyes to him, but saw that he’d once again resumed his bored position, this time staring off vacantly at a spot on the wall.
“However you feel about him, Isabella,” continued Aro as though the interruption had never taken place. “I am assigning this task to you and him. It is very important you get over your differences and cooperate. It is a pressing issue, one that must be looked into right away.”
Isabella inhaled sharply, her mind immediately conjuring images of the Immortal Children which she had never seen, but had heard enough about to draw herself a perfect picture. “What is it, my Master?” she implored, her voice dropping below a whisper. “Not an -- abomination -- surely?”
Aro laughed openly. “Heavens no, child! Carlisle would never do such a - a silly thing like that. He is very smart and abides to the singular law we possess.” As he spoke, Isabella noted there was a hint of adoration in his voice, though it was accompanied by sadness as though this Carlisle fellow left a mark in his dormant heart when he left. This was not the first time she’d heard of Carlisle, but it was the first time the name had been spoken from Aro’s lips. “He always has,” he continued, his voice still a hint too fond for Isabella’s liking. “However, I have received word that two more might have joined his numbers and I need you -,”
“To investigate,” she finished for him, a wicked smile forming at her lips. It’d been such a long time since he’d asked her to go out on a mission, one where she was forced to inquire after the aims of other, much smaller covens and several nomads. Usually, it was Edward and Demetri who teamed up and collect their charge. Even though they hated one another, they seemed to work together as magnificently as friends of old.
Aro smiled in return. “Yes, my child. It is an investigation that will require your gift.” He sent her a deep, penetrating look that suggested there was much more to this quest than a standard inquiry.
“And Edward?” she asked, wondering of his importance to the scheme.
“He is needed for the very same reasons you are,” was Aro’s reply. “To further convince my dear friend Carlisle of the lie we have been constructing. You are there to make them believe it; Edward will read their minds and see if it is working. If not, you can make the necessary adjustments until they believe you, my darling, which I know you can do.” He grinned at her again, to which she responded with a smile of her own. “Just make them believe, Isabella. That is your task and yours alone."
Although she was forced to work with Edward, she couldn’t have felt happier. She just wondered how long her bubble of happiness would last until Edward burst it.
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