A Singer's Prelude
The beginnings of the la tua cantante story. The first chapter starts in Florence in 1600, as the Volturi are introduced to the idea.
Rating 4.5/5 Word Count 909 Review this Chapter
Panic gushed through the crowd like a recently opened artery. The rogue vampire had flown across the room to drain the poor opera singer, and now the audience was in a flurry of terror. The hunter had been so consumed by his thirst that he didn’t realized his fatal mistake.
One really shouldn’t display vampiric abilities to a roomful of humans, especially in Florence, and definitely not in front of the Volturi.
Well, this rogue vampire had just broken all three rules.
He hadn’t really thought of the consequences. Truthfully, he hadn’t really thought at all. After catching the aroma of the now-dead woman, he’d been consumed by thirst. Venom had flooded his mouth, and he would not be sated until he had every last drop of this delicious elixir that sang to every particle of his existence.
His doom had been secured the moment he smelled the siren’s blood. She smelled fruity yet tangy, like a raspberry or lemon, he couldn’t decide, but that mattered little. Soon enough, she would be dead. He followed her scent’s trail all through Florence, and found the end in a palace theater. There, with lights shining on her as if she really could summon a man, was the source of the dizzying aroma. She was singing some piece of music to a room filled with humans and the Volturi. The hunter, however, hadn’t been bothered with these details because he’d finally reached his holy grail. Nothing else mattered. He could not tear his eyes from her.
There she was, the sweetest scent that he ever smelled. In less than a human heartbeat the vampire was on the stage, snapping the performer’s neck and drinking his siren’s blood. Much to his dismay, some strong pairs of hands tried to pry him from the corpse before he’d sucked her dry. Finally the hands gave up, and he thought he was left in peace. Moments later, though, he and his prize were hauled out of the theater before he, or the audience, could truly make sense out of what had occurred.
Once outside, the predator finished drinking from his prey while he continued to ignore all else. The last drop eventually was drained, and he then lifted his gaze to the seven pairs of black eyes glaring at him. Two male guards, who looked ready and able to dismember him, stood in front of three males and two females, who all wore black cloaks. One of the guards stepped forward and grabbed hold of his throat.
“Non ancora, Leonardo. Sono intrigato da questa situazione,” scolded one of the cloaked men. The guard released his grip and threw a hateful glare at the rogue as he backed away. “Dobbiamo andare a Volterra.” The guards nodded to the command, grabbed the hunter, and the eight set off to Volterra. Under cover of darkness, they nearly flew to the stronghold in the Italian countryside.
Once inside the castle, the Volturi led the hunter to the round room.
The rogue uttered a low oath. He knew he was doomed. No one ever had disobeyed the Volturi so flagrantly and gotten away with it. Oh well, he thought. At least I had a good last meal.
One of the black-haired vampires then glided forward, and curiously held his hand up to the guest. “Sono chiamato Aro,” said the vampire. Curious, and knowing he had no other options, the rogue placed his hand in the outstretched one.
A gasp came from Aro. In that brief skin-to-skin contact, Aro saw everything about the unbelievably strong pull of the blood. The call was like the mythological Siren women; their sweet songs could not be ignored, and would bring a man to his doom. Aro’s mouth filled with venom just imagining the temptation, the delicious flood… Was it possible that what he had witness actually took place? With the combined thoughts of the rogue, and what he’d seen at Palazzo Pitti, his doubt was feeble. If the rogue’s memories could be trusted, then he had caught the girl’s scent from across Florence! Her trail of scent had led the hunter right to his prey. What a wonder, a gift! Aro had never heard of anything like it, or he certainly would have already sought out a singer for himself. Oh, to be lost in such a blood-passion… Aro had to once again swallow the venom pooling in his mouth. But the irony! The human’s blood called to the poor rogue as a siren calls to her prey, right as she finished Euridice, the new opera. Aro could barely contain a chuckle at the thought. The opera singer’s blood sings. How terrifically ironic. Like a swan-song, this delicious human morsel had ‘sung’ right before her death. “La tua cantante. Incredibile!” he exclaimed.
“Per favore perdonarmi per i miei peccati,” pleaded the prey. Certainly he had committed many sins, but he hoped the Volturi would forgive him for the most recent one.
Aro had half a mind to postpone the execution so he could learn more from this rogue, and so he opened his mouth as if to reply, but the white-haired Volturi spoke first. “Non perdoniamo. Non dimentichiamo.” Caius’ condemnation stilled the already quiet room. If a dust-mote had fallen, one could have heard it. Aro closed his mouth and nodded silently as screams echoed throughout the room. Soon, all fell silent once more. No more songs from the singer or for the listener.