Beguile // Demetri Volturi

Chapter 13: Volterra

It was official, I hated the ocean!

It took me two hours, two long hours of swimming, to reach the main land of Greece. The lighthouse in front of me was small and white, and the window was painted teal, along with the round metal roof that stood over the moving light.

I threw my suitcase onto the nearest boulder, which I had turned into a makeshift raft for my backpack and camera case, then I hoisted myself up and out of the water. Jellyfish clung to my exposed legs and arms, and I shook every limb in an attempt to remove the sea creatures. I had inadvertently swam into swarm of them an hour into swimming, and the stinging buggers had wrapped around me and held on for dear life.

Their bodies were yellow and dome-shaped, and their stingers were short and layered, reminding me of ruffled skirts one might have on a prom dress, and the stingers were tipped in a nonsensical pattern of blue and white.

The smaller ones fell off with relative ease, but the bigger ones, those required more finesse. I slipped my hand under their gelatinous bodies and gently pushed. Their tentacles slowly disentangled themselves and once they had been removed, I tossed them back into the ocean.

Free of jellyfish, I flung my backpack and camera case over my shoulder and with my left hand, I grabbed my suitcase by its worn handle and took off running.

I ran and ran, not daring to stop until the sun finally broke the horizon. I had been mindful to keep out of sight, sticking to fields, olive farms, vineyards, and the occasional forest. And before the sun's golden rays could touch me, I dove into a thicket of trees.

My body was covered in ocean salt and I put my stuff down. Stripping down, I rummaged through my suitcase and found a suitable change of clothes. Stepping into fresh panties, I shimmied on a pair of black skinny jeans, and after hooking a clean bra, I tossed on a long-sleeved blouse that was white in color with delicate embroidery of teal, orange, green, and fuchsia. The colors were bold but they had been stitched in a delicate manner and they were fashioned to look like four-petalled flowers. Once dressed, I stepped into a pair of flats and pierced my ears with the thin wire of my earrings. They dangled low, reaching a few inches past my chin, and the polished silver reflected what little light snuck through the canopy of trees.

I grabbed my old clothes, threw them into a plastic bag, then tossed that bag into my suitcase. While I wrapped a thin scarf around my head, and tucked a few stray hairs back, Demetri began tracking me. Anger bubbled deep within me and without thinking, I nullified his gift. No sooner had I done that, I snatched the handle of my suitcase and took off running.

I had been doing fairly well until I reached small town of Zhejë, Albania. A man had been working in the field, plucking olives, when he had fallen and cut his palm. I smelled his blood a mile away, and as soon as I smelled it, I veered off course and lost all sense of what I had been doing.

It wasn't until I held his limp body in my hand that I had realized what I had done. Freckles of blood decorated my face and I stared down at the man's lifeless body. His eye were cornflower blue and his hair was short and black. His face was free of wrinkles, but he had the faintest scar across the bridge of his nose. His tan skin held a grey pallor to it, and in his hands were olives.

I was clueless on what to do with the body. Demetri and Felix had taken care of them for me. I scanned the area and found a small clearing on the other side of the property. With suitcase in one hand, I tucked the body under my other, pinning him against my hip, and lugged him over to  the clearing.