THE UNDYING | TWILIGHT

8. Taste of Luxury

"This way is more effective."

The rest of their ride was silent, except for the occasional spitting sound that arose when Dahlia's fingers found their way into her mouth. With every cough that came from the poor girl, Heidi smiled a little brighter. Such a stupid little thing, but even she can be tamed.

Dahlia still had her fingers in her mouth when she saw the castle gates for the first time, and they were so magnificent she nearly forgot about the unpleasant taste. 

I've gone back in time, she thought as the car approached the gatehouse: a massive structure comprised entirely of brown stone, complete with an iron portcullis that rose to grant them entry. It was so authentic Dahlia's mind could easily travel back to the Middle Ages, to a time when the air was thick with the stench of death and the rotting corpses of plague victims were stacked on top of each other and burned in the courtyard. Dahlia could almost see the mounds blazing bright like torches.

When the car stopped, Heidi handed Dahlia a pair of high heels and told her to put them on before exiting the car, but Dahlia refused them, saying, "I can't walk in those."

"Put them on, or I'll have them surgically attached to your feet."

"Can you really do that?"

"Do you want to find out?"

Frowning, Dahlia reluctantly took the shoes and slipped them on, but after no more than ten steps out, she had them back in her hands and was walking barefoot across the courtyard. When Heidi caught her, and she caught her right away, she nearly ripped the shoes out of her hands and beat her over the head with them, but she restrained herself and allowed the girl this brief moment of comfort.

"Welcome," Heidi said to the girl as they ascended the stairs and entered the main keep, "to the Palazzo dei Volturi."

On the outside, it looked like a medieval castle, but inside it was a palace, with smooth marble floors and grand staircases that went higher than Dahlia's eyes could see. Inspired by medieval architecture, the hotel's design was oozing with luxury, a characteristic reflected in every detail, even the color palette, which consisted largely of deep reds and golds. Dahlia thought she would have to pay a great fine just to stand in the lobby.

"Wait here while I check you in," Heidi said.

"Check me in? You mean, I get to stay here?"

"That's the idea," Heidi replied before walking toward the front desk.

I get to stay here? Dahlia was so happy she nearly leapt with joy. A girl like me in a place like this. Stuff like this only happens in dreams! She had to pinch herself to be sure she wasn't dreaming, and when she realized she wasn't, a huge grin spread across her face. This is the best decision I've ever made!

With an overwhelming sense of self-confidence, Dahlia approached the bar, where two young women, dressed for a night in the city, were sipping cocktails and discussing their plans for the evening. Apparently, the two Americans were eagerly awaiting their date: a handsome Italian gentleman who'd agreed to show them the city's nightlife.

Dahlia hopped onto the bar stool next to them and ordered a drink of her own. "This place is really fancy, huh?"

One of the women glanced her way. In a matter of seconds, she analyzed Dahlia's style and posture and came to the conclusion that she was not worth talking to, so she turned away and resumed her conversation with her friend.

Dahlia's face burned red with embarrassment. I don't get it, she thought. I look just like them: my hair is styled, my nails are manicured, and I have no hair — anywhere, but I'm still not good enough for them. We're in the same place, yet I'm still beneath them.