"Welcome, guests! Welcome to Volterra!" I could hear Aro sing from the big turret room.
The rest of them, maybe forty or more, filed in after the couple. Some studied the setting like tourists. A few even snapped pictures. Others looked confused, as if the story that had led them to this room was not making sense anymore. I noticed one small, dark woman in particular. Around her neck was a rosary, and she gripped the cross tightly in one hand. She walked more slowly than the others, touching someone now and then and asking a question in an unfamiliar language. No one seemed to understand her, and her voice grew more panicked.
Edward pulled my face against his chest, but it was too late. I already understood. As soon as the smallest break appeared, Edward pushed me quickly toward the door. I could feel the horrified expression on my face, and the tears beginning to pool in my eyes.
The ornate golden hallway was quiet, empty except for one gorgeous, statuesque woman. She stared at us curiously, me in particular.
"Welcome home, Heidi," Demetri greeted her from behind us. Heidi smiled absently. She reminded me of Rosalie, though they looked nothing alike–it was just that her beauty, too, was exceptional, unforgettable. I couldn't seem to look away.
She was dressed to emphasize that beauty. Her amazingly long legs, darkened with tights, were exposed by the shortest of miniskirts. Her top was long-sleeved and high-necked, but extremely close-fitting, and constructed of red vinyl. Her long mahogany hair was lustrous, and her eyes were the strangest shade of violet–a color that might result from blue-tinted contacts over red irises.
"Demetri," she responded in a silky voice, her eyes flickering between my face and Edward's gray cloak.
"Nice fishing," Demetri complimented her, and I suddenly understood the attention-grabbing outfit she wore… she was not only the fisherman, but also the bait.
"Thanks." She flashed a stunning smile. "Aren't you coming?"
"In a minute. Save a few for me."
Heidi nodded and ducked through the door with one last curious look at me.
Edward set a pace that had me running to keep up. But we still couldn't get through the ornate door at the end of the hallway before the screaming started.
22 FLIGHT
DEMETRI LEFT US IN THE CHEERFULLY OPULENT RECEPTION area, where the woman Gianna was still at her post behind the polished counter. Bright, harmless music tinkled from hidden speakers.
"Do not leave until dark," he warned us.
Edward nodded, and Demetri hurried away.
Gianna did not seem at all surprised by the exchange, though she did eye Edward's borrowed cloak with shrewd speculation.
"Are you all right?" Edward asked under his breath, to low for the human woman to hear. His voice was rough–if velvet can be rough–with anxiety. Still stressed by our situation, I imagined.
"You'd better make her sit before she falls," Alice said. "She's going to pieces."
It was only then that I realize I was shaking, shaking hard, my entire frame vibrating until my teeth chattered and the room around me seemed to wobble and blur in my eyes. For one wild second, I wondered if this was how Jacob felt just before exploding into a werewolf.
I heard a sound that didn't make sense, a strange, ripping counterpart to the otherwise cheery background music. Distracted by the shaking, I couldn't tell where it was coming from. "Shh, Bella, shh," Edward said as he pulled me to the sofa farthest away from the curious human at the desk.
"I think she's having hysterics. Maybe you should slap her," Alice suggested. Edward threw a frantic glance at her.
Then I understood. Oh. The noise was me. The ripping sound was the sobs coming from my chest. That's what was shaking me.
"It's all right, you're safe, it's all right," he chanted again and again. He pulled ne onto his lap and tucked the thick wool cloak around me, protecting me from his cold skin.
I knew it was stupid to react like this. Who knew how much time I had to look at his race? He was saved, and I was saved, and he could leave me as soon as we were free. To have my eyes so filled with tears that I could not see his features clearly was wasteful–insanity.
But, behind my eyes where the tears could not wash the image away, I could still see the panicked face of the tiny woman with the rosary.
"All those people," I sobbed.
"I know," he whispered. "It's so horrible." "Yes, it is. I wish you hadn't had to see that."
I rested my head against his cold chest, using the thick cloak to wipe my eyes. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.