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Our Flesh is a Tomb

Summary:
Ada been through an excruciating two week transformation, but the question still remains, will she take the form of vampire or wolf? Jacob’s lonely, he’s been on the run for weeks now and avoiding the answer. Will he attend the wedding or won’t he? Fate’s waiting there for him in the shape of a blonde wolf, or maybe even a blonde vampire.


Notes:
Jacob/OFC. Post-Eclipse, Pre-Wedding. Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, except Ada, all rights belong to the wonderful Stephenie Meyer. Rating is subject to change.


1. Introduction: Stories

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Introduction: Stories

It had been years since I’d been in this part of town. Years since I’d been in this country, but everything still felt the same. The way my feet pressed against the cobblestone street, the sound my sneakers made against each little block was like a message from a god somewhere up there telling me never to leave, to stay here for the rest of my life. I smiled to myself as the sun washed across my face and down the rest of my pale body. The rest of my life seemed so far off. My friends… even my family that was so often on my mind seemed like a distant thought. Dying wasn’t even a lingering thought in my happy little mind as I continued down the street towards my destination. It must have been this place that made my heart spring to life like it did. It must have been the buildings and the cutesy store fronts alongside the rustic cobblestone streets that kicked my heart into full speed pounding against my rib cage in a fury of pure delight.

There was little foot traffic on the narrow street and the sidewalk by now, the sun was just beginning to set behind some of the tall buildings leaving a cool shadow in their wake. Stilling smiling, I tightened my sweater closer to my chest. I almost to my destination, slightly skipping when I skidded to a suddenly halt. There was someone there, down the dark alley to my right. I could smell them. It was a sickly sweet smell that stung my sinuses like mentholated cough drops. I turned my burning eyes towards the alley and forced myself to stop moving towards the scent. It was a dangerous scent. A scent I was taught to fear not by my parents or family, but by instinct. I had never actually smelled it before, but I knew what I had to do. It took all my strength, and what was left of my happiness, to pull myself from the mouth of that alley and continue on quickly to my destination. Keep moving, keep moving, I told myself. Don’t go back that way, don’t do it! I was practically yelling and screaming at myself. My insides dragging me back that way, but my emotions and conscience pushing to go on and as quickly as possible.

I pushed open the door of the small clock shop, instantly the clicking of the many mechanisms filling the air.

“Ah, good afternoon, Miss,” the short, owlish man said, straightening his tie from behind his counter. I smiled gently, the scent of that thing far from my mind and striding up to the counter where he stood, holding a newspaper in hand. “What can I do you today, dear?” His voice was gruff, obviously a chain smoker in his off time maybe even a pipe smoker as well.

“I have this watch,” I stuck my hand into my small handbag retrieving a gold pocket watch, a slender gold chain following from behind. I set it softly on the counter. He picked it up in his little hand, pulling up his glasses that were dangling at his neck to his nose. He inspected it quietly with scrutinizing eyes.

“Ah, yes,” he smiled as he found the factory label on the inside of the little round door that protected the glass face of the clock itself. “I haven’t seen one of these in years.” Excitement plated in his tone. “Years…” he mused.

“Well,” I thought about how to put it without sounding like a complete ass, “It’s broken.” I groaned to myself. Idiot. Of course it was broken, why else would I be here?

“Of course it’s not.” He smiled, flipped over the watch, and gently popped the backing open. He pulled his magnifier light towards him and set the lens in front of himself. He held the watch under it as he scrutinized it a little more. “There’s a slight chip on this back gear that’s causing the connecting gear to slip and not catch the teeth like it should.” He looked up at me and frowned. “But I can’t fix it here. My tools are not quite sensitive enough to fix a delicate piece of art like this.”

“Oh,” the coloured drained from my face.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you come upon such a fine timepiece?” his thick Austrian accent sticking to his words.

I collected my happy thoughts and pushed them into my voice box. “It’s my father’s, and now it’s mine.”

“It’s such a lovely piece of Swiss workmanship. Beautiful.” He turned it over in his hand. “18 karat gold, Russell and Son. London and Liverpool. About 1872... maybe ‘73.” It seemed to be a bunch of nonsense to me. “You should really have this insured. I would say no less than $10,000, American.”

I smiled, “Of course.” Slightly bewildered… 1873, I was almost positive-

“I apologize for not being able to help you, but let me give the card of a good restoration artist,” he chuckled, interrupting my thoughts. He pulled a card from one of the drawers behind the counter and held it out across the counter for me to grab.

“Thank you anyways,” I said as I put the card and the watch back into my bag.

I found myself on the street, completely distracted at this point, angry with myself for even coming down here in the first place. It had gotten much darker since I’d entered the little shop. I halted again suddenly realizing the direction I was heading. I felt myself lose control of my feelings as that scent from earlier crept up from behind me and whirled around my face. I huffed, a deep breath expelling it. I spun on my heels, but it was too late. His arms were around me, dragging me into the dark alley.

* * *

My head spun and my thoughts were clouded as I opened my eyes. The darkness was blinding and the scent was building from all around me. I reached my arms out in hopes of finding, something… anything with in reach distance to pull myself up on. As I lifted my right arm, something slid against. I recognized it immediately as my leather handbag. I quickly ripped it open and dug through it furiously, blindly. My hand it something cool and square. My heartbeat quickened as I pulled out my cell phone. “No Service,” the screen announced. If only I had been smarter to get the calling plan that included all of the European nations, and not just the ones I frequented. I flipped it open and illuminated a tiny area around me, some expensive flashlight. I scanned it around the area and pulled myself to my feet, using great care to be as quiet as possible. The floor around me was empty and it seemed to be some sort of concrete. I slipped quietly towards one end of whatever it was I was in. It was so sudden I didn’t expect it, a groan from behind me. I stood solemn without another movement. And yet it rang out again.

“H-” the voice rasped. I turned on my heels and moved silently towards the noise, when my little light fell upon a person laying a few feet in front of me.

I bet down to the figure and touched her hair. She jumped slightly as my hand made contact with her face. “Who are you?” she asked in a soft, muffled voice.

“Ada,” I smiled, looking down at her, trying to comfort her. Bruises covering her face along with a cold sweat. “How long have you been here? And,” I paused, “where exactly is ‘here?’”

She took a moment to grab another breath, before saying, “I don’t know, a few days. This is some sort of storage building. There are piles of boxes all around us.” She was right. She was leaning against a few herself.

A door a few feet away from us flew open clattering against the walls of the building. A light flooded the room, causing us both to turn away. I quickly scooped up my bag and threw the phone into it, zipping it shut.

“Ah, I see our sleeping beauties are awake,” a cold voice laughed. The smell was so strong again it dizzied me. I heard the scuffled of feet outside the door, as the cold voice grabbed us both by the scruff of our necks, dragging us to our feet. “Now walk, and if you act the slightest bit suspicious, I’ll kill you myself.” I could see the voice’s face now. Long, thin with a perfectly pointed nose, he had dark mahogany hair that rested just above his pale ears. His skin was an odd tone of white, translucent. His veins were pulsing with rage. We shuffled out the door and into the dimly light alleyway that I did not recognize. He walked quickly to the mouth of the alley with both of us in tow. The woman having a hard time keeping up, she tripped over her feet and her weak knees buckled. She fell with a thud. I turned quickly to help her back up.

“Leave her,” he scowled. I turned to her pleading eyes just as another man moved from the shadows. I jumped back and started towards the entrance where the first man was leading me. I turned back over my shoulder to see the other man scooping her up and then following us.

There was a small group of people here, curiously chattering with each other. Some with shopping bags, others with cameras. Tourists, I thought to myself.

“Okay, let’s go,” he smiled to the group. We were herded out of the alley way by a few men who moved from the shadows. “Everyone on the bus.” There were at least five of them, the crowded in around us, acting like they were tourists, but I knew better. I gave each of them a quick look-over, guessing my chances of running and actually making it. They all wore black jackets of some sort, but it didn’t disguise the bulk beneath them. The looked like stone, marble to be exact. Each had a pale complexion and stony features. Strong men, and I was a simple, weak girl. I frowned, doomed.

There it stood a common tour bus, but the writing on the side was anything, but something I could read. It looked almost French, maybe… Italian. I recognized it now. I only knew a few words, none of which were on the side of the bus of course. I knew something was terribly wrong, I could feel it, but I didn’t try to argue, fearing it would only make my situation worse, and got on to the bus. People filed in around me and behind me. I took a seat next to the window and a young couple sat down next to me.

“Caio, il mio nome-” the young lady said with a fierce English accent.

“I speak English,” I mumbled, cutting her off.

“Oh, good,” she smiled, obviously in chatty mood. The perk in her voice gave her away. “I’m Catherine and this is Thomas,” the man next to her leaned over and waved. “We’re from Leeds, and we just couldn’t pass up such a deal.”

“What deal?”

“Deal? Well, the whole tour, you know? Across Italy and beyond.” She eyed me suspiciously, and continued. “This tour we’re on, right now. Super cheap. Practically free.”

“Almost too good to be true,” Thomas laughed.

I didn’t. This was sick. Herding people together, luring them in and then… and then what? What were they going to do with us? Throw us into a factory, forced labor, maybe? Maybe it was some sick thrill they’d get from kidnapping us and taking us where ever they pleased. Maybe even kill us. I shuddered. It seemed so distant to the thoughts I had earlier today when sunshine spread through my body. Was it still today? What day was it? How long had I slept?

I looked over my shoulder to try and find the woman who was held in the room with me, she was no where in sight.

“Um, where are we exactly?”

Catherine gave me a look of pure confusion, “Tuscany of course.”

“And, uh, what day is it?”

“Sunday,” she smiled, “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just a little car sick,” I lied. She smiled again, another fake smile and turned away.

Sunday? If I remembered correctly it was Saturday when I roamed the streets of Vienna looking for the clock shop. An entire day I had slept, I must have been drugged… The bus jerked to a start and pulled away from the curb. The cold voice came over the P.A. system in the bus.

“Now as we move along these small streets we’ll be looking as some…” His voice rattled on about architecture and historical sites. Suddenly, one word caught my mind, “To get into Volterra we’ll be taking a small country road that leads directly into the city, through the only entrance.”

Volterra. I shuddered. I had heard of the town before, fairy tales and fables passed on from generation to generation in my family. Stories of missing women and children, unexplained deaths, and… and vampires. I was frightened of the city as a child, deathly scared. My grandfather had made sure that I would never enter the city’s walls by frightening me like he did. I pushed the thoughts of those stories from my mind. They were just that, stories.