by D C Young
Marcus appeared out of the darkness and shoved Björn away from the dead soldier, but it was too late. Rallah was dead. Björn ran off into the forest and Marcus followed at a safe distance, determined to keep the Viking from hurting anyone else that night. As morning scared away the darkness, Björn returned to his human form. Marcus was there to tell him what happened.
“I killed my own soldier? How can I go on!” Björn wailed.
Marcus slapped him in the face, “You must, or his death will be a true tragedy. Learn from your mistake and become a better man.”
“Man? I am no longer a man! I am some kind of monster who should be put down,” Björn cried.
Marcus stood over Björn and said, “Those are the words of a coward. Björn Ironside is no coward, is he? Perhaps you would feel better if it had been Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye who had been your victim? Things could have been a lot worse as you can see. You can survive this, and even thrive. There are rules you must follow, but this is not the end of your life. It is actually a beginning. A re-birth, if you will.”
The words sank into Björn and gave him strength, “What must I do?”
Marcus felt the sun rising and raised his hood, “The first thing we must do is find a place for me to wait out the day. Then you must return to your home, mourn your soldier as the victim of a wild animal, and then ask your blacksmith for the strongest chains he has. Once the sun goes down, I will bind you with the chains and tell you everything I know about the life of a werewolf.”
“I hope I can remain sane for all of this, Marcus. It was not the sort of thing I thought I would ever have to face. Life as a man is quite difficult enough as it is.”
Oh, my dear Björn. You will soon realize that werewolves like you and vampires like me are just the very tip of the supernatural iceberg.”
“What do you mean, Roman?”
“Imagine, Björn. If creatures like us exist, what else could be out there hiding under the cover of darkness? Or worse yet, not even bothering to hide?”
“It sounds as if, even as strong as we both obviously are, that there are things out there that even we should fear.”
“That is the truth of the matter, friend. There are even more nefarious creatures abroad in this world some of whom live entirely to see our destruction. Nothing gives them more pleasure than this. But do not worry, I will teach you how to defend yourself against these new enemies and more importantly how to recognize them for there are some who you will not want to believe mean you harm.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the dødehekse, the dead witch. She is beautiful and sensuous and can rip the vein from your neck and devour every drop of your blood faster than I can move the distance of one hundred feet.”
“Odin’s beard!” Björn gasped. “That’s fast.”
Chapter Seven
1606 A.D.
The four immortal newcomers had survived the trip across the Atlantic, stood in the darkened sidelines of a fierce battle between English settlers and native warriors, feed voraciously on the fallen fighters and walked over six hundred miles to the marshlands in the south. They’d followed along the eastern edge of the great mountain range later to be known as the Appalachians, and when they arrived at a great river valley where the mountain range ended, rolling smoothly to the plains below in a series of beautiful hills. It was in that valley that Julia Agrippina first caught the scent of the ‘Others’.
“There are immortals to the east,” she’d said suddenly as they bathed in the cold river water.
“You have caught a scent?” William asked. Instinctively, he raised his head and sniffed the crisp night air. “I smell it too, Julia. It’s a small coven as far as I can tell. A settled one, they’ve been living in the area for a long time.”
“I was hoping your keen sense of smell would provide some confirmation, William. What else can you tell?”
“There are three of them. An ancient vampire, a male as old as you are, Julia, if not older. A female who is fairly young and there is a wolf among them too. He is older than I am by many centuries but not as old as his vampire counterpart.”
“Are they hostile? Do they know we are close by? What are we going to do now, Julia?” Petronilla asked in a panicked voice. Adelin immediately went to her side and took her in his arms, stroking her blonde hair to comfort her.
“We must find them and join them,” Julia said, simply. Then added, “It would be rude of us if we didn’t. The ancient one has known of our arrival in the territory ever since we fed after the battle and I was re-energized. I felt his presence as well but I was unsure what it was until we entered the valley.
A week or so after setting out from Cape Henry, the group was making their way down a wide beautiful river towards the coast. The scent of the three immortals became stronger and stronger until it was unmistakable. Julia led the group down into the low river delta country and across a land bridge to a small island. There was only one house on the island but it was a large log cabin. Smoke was rising from double stone chimneys. When they entered the yard, there were three immortal beings standing on the front porch of the house waiting for them.
“Bienvenue,” the woman said in a regal voice.
“Marie?”
“William? Oh, William is that you?”
“It has been many years, de Guise, but I see that time has been good to you. As have your new companions.”
The woman laughed mirthfully, and then replied, “I always seem to end up in the company of lycanthropes. Your kind is just always so… so manly, perhaps.”
“Old friends, I assume,” Julia said softly to William Wallace. Then she asked, “Who are the ancients?”
“This is Björn Ironside Ragnarsson and I am Marcus Antonius,” the tall, dark-haired man to Marie de Guise’s right replied.
“How in God’s name did you get here?” Petronilla said, asking the question that was on the minds of her three companions.
“We came here with the Spanish in 1565, to Saint Augustine. It was difficult to remain undetected within such a small settlement and one tires of eating alligators after a while.” Marie chuckled as she made the comment, and then continued. “We made our way north, things got wilder and we found native settlements from which we could feed. When we arrived in the river basin here, Björn found deer and other wildlife in abundance to entertain himself, so we decided to stay. The Spaniards called this place Sapelo, but we made sure they didn’t stay long.”
“Things tend to be better when the hunting is close enough to access but far enough to maintain anonymity,” Adelin pitched in. “I should know, hunting big European cities is always difficult unless there’s a plague.”
“So right you are!” Marie agreed.
“Seven immortals in the New World,” Adelin mused, “Perhaps we will make a good go of it now.”
“Come inside and share our hearth,” the large, blond Viking finally said.
“Gladly,” Petronilla said, answering for them all.
“There is something other than immortals walking the woods tonight,” Marcus announced, sniffing the crisp air. “Björn, can you smell it? I think we might even be better off behind the fort walls tonight.”
Björn put his head in the air and took a deep breath. His expression changed immediately.
“The fort it is, Marcus. And the sooner the better. It knows our numbers have swelled.”
“What knows?” William Wallace asked as he closed the door behind them.
“The dødehekse,” Marie replied.
Chapter Eight
That evening after I’d dropped Tammy off at Mary Lou’s and Anthony was well into his boxing class, I slipped away from the gym and drove directly to Detective Spinoza’s office. When I pushed his door open, he was seated at his desk sipping a glass of whiskey; he’d been expecting me.
“Veronica couldn’t make it,” he said before I could sit down across from him. “Why’s that?”
“New boyfriend. Apparently, they’re on
a trip.”
“What? You didn’t just leave it at that did you, Spinoza?”
“Of course, I did, Sam. You know how testy Veronica can get when you try to get in her business. Why? Do you know something I don’t?”
“As Tammy would say, you’re absolutely clueless, Detective. Veronica’s new boyfriend is exactly the same person I’m looking for. I need to talk to Björn… immediately!”
“Okay. Okay, Moon. Take a chill pill,” Spinoza said defensively. “I’ll get her on the phone right away.”
I tapped my hard, long fingernails on the edge of his desk paying extra care not to leave any indentations in the expensive hardwood surface. It took him three tries but finally on the forth, someone answered the phone.
Spinoza stammered uncomfortably on his end of the line for a few minutes before finally handing me the phone. Surprisingly, it was Julia on the other end of the line.
“Oh, my goodness, Julia! It’s so good to hear from you.”
“It seems I have caused you some deal of alarm, Miss Moon. I wasn’t under the impression that we were that close.”
It was strange to hear her use that sarcastic a tone with me even though I knew well enough how straightforward and direct she could be.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, Julia. I was actually trying to get in touch with Veronica. It’s kind of important.”
“You’ll have to make up your mind, Samantha. It is, or is it not, important? Detective Spinoza sounded positively desperate.”
“It’s very important, Julia. To be honest, I’m glad I got you on the phone instead of Veronica because I know for sure that I won’t have to spell any of what I have to say out to you.”
“Well, now you have me intrigued, Samantha. How can I be of assistance?”
“I need you at Elysium. Tonight. I don’t know why you and the others left so suddenly, and without saying a word, but I… I mean, we… have a serious problem.”
“What’s the matter, Samantha?”
“There’s a very old witch in town and I think she’s after me.”
***
Normally, Julia was not the sort of vampire who took orders or ultimatums from others. But when she’d heard the word, dødehekse come out of my mouth, it sounded as if she’d started to make her way back to L.A. that very minute. I could hear her shuffling around, probably packing a go-bag and occasionally giving muffled instructions to someone.
Suddenly, she said, “Samantha, excuse me for a few moments.” Then I heard her shouting. I’d never heard Julia raise her voice to anything louder than a firm snarl, but right then she sounded like she was tearing someone a new one on the other end of the line.
“I don’t care if you feel like you just got here, so do I. I have my reasons and I don’t have to explain them to you, Viking! Now, go put a leash on your vampire cat and get your behinds ready to leave. There’s trouble at home and I’ll be damned if you two sulky children make the world come down around our ears just so you can fuck a few more times! There are beds at Elysium too in case you forgot. Now, move it!”
After the dust had settled, I carefully said, “I guess I’ll be seeing you all soon then?”
“Be at the house at midnight, Samantha. Don’t be late.”
Before I could respond there was a click in my ear. She was gone. I handed the phone back to Spinoza and sank down in my chair.
“Julia’s dragging Veronica and Björn back to the Hollywood Hills tonight. It didn’t sound like she gave them much of a choice either.”
Spinoza sighed, downed the whiskey in his glass and poured himself another measure.
“She’s quite a broad, ain’t she?”
“I guess you could say that.”
Chapter Nine
1562 A.D.
The thought of crossing the Atlantic Ocean in search of the New World barely awakened Marcus Antonius’s sense of adventure. He had seen new worlds several times before. As Julius Caesar’s right-hand man, he had not only visited new worlds, but he had conquered them, making them part of the glorious Roman Empire. The queen of one new world had seduced him and then killed herself thinking he had died in her arms. Soon after he had joined a new world that he had no idea existed. Since then, with every sunset a new world dawned.
New worlds bored Marcus, but his sense of duty kept him going. That’s why he had agreed to lead his new companions to the latest New World. He hated trusting the Spaniards, with their bastardized version of Latin, to give them safe passage, but that‘s where the Viking became useful.
“Björn, how are the preparations coming?” Marcus asked. Björn Ironside had grudgingly dressed in the latest Spanish fashions, and his discomfort radiated from the high neck of his blouse and through the ridiculous pantaloons.
“Fine, Marcus. I have the greatest carpenters of Barcelona working on the crates for the soil samples we are taking to the New World. I got a few questions, but I was able to persuade them that I wanted the samples to compare Spain with what we find across the sea,” Björn explained.
“Good. I am glad to hear that you didn’t resort to the Viking form of persuasion,” Marcus said through a sneer.
Björn shoved Marcus, “I’ve learned restraint in my six hundred years, Marcus, but that doesn’t mean you can insult me any time you like.”
Marcus enjoyed antagonizing the werewolf, “Come, come, Björn. I only jest. This will be a long journey for all of us, and much of that time I will not be able to speak with you.”
“Yes, well I think you will miss those conversations more than I will. I look forward to traveling on the open sea once again,” Björn said.
“And the Straits of Gibraltar?”
Björn frowned, “Yes, it will be the first time since my re-birth that I have traveled the Straits. I wonder how much it will have changed.”
“And how much it will affect you? That is what I worry about,” Marcus said. Even though Björn had lived more than six hundred years, seeing the point where your life changed so dramatically can shake even the oldest of creatures.
“Don’t worry about me, Marcus,” Björn said in a tense voice, “worry more about Marie. She’s still a fledgling vampire. This voyage will be a harsh test for her.”
Marcus said, “I understand, and I am preparing her for it.” He walked out of the villa’s main room and down the hall to Marie’s room. Marcus knocked on the solid wood door and entered before she had a chance to answer. As he walked inside, Marie was brushing her hair as if she was about to turn in for the night. Marcus smiled at the woman’s inability to break out of her old habits.
“Marie, you are now a nocturnal creature. No need to prepare for bed just yet,” Marcus said. He noted she was also dressed in a nightshirt befitting a noble woman of France or England, than Spain.
“Marcus, I am well aware of what you made me,” Marie said, “and what I do and do not need. And yet, that does not change what I enjoy doing.”
Marie’s flash of attitude made Marcus smile. The small flicker of flame that burned in her eyes reminded him of another woman who he had lost more than fifteen hundred years before.
***
When Marcus first saw Cleopatra, in what historians now called 41 BCE, the fire in her eyes was not a small flame, but an inferno. He had summoned the Queen of Egypt in hopes of getting a taste of her gold for his army. Marcus could see that she did not like the idea of Caesar’s right-hand man beckoning her. Marcus did not care what she liked, but her method of travel into Tarsus did impress him.
Cleopatra made sure all eyes were glued to her barge as it sailed on the Cydnus River. Painted with gold and draped in purple cloth, the barge exuded wealth. Cleopatra relaxed on a bed surrounded by attendants who fanned away the summer heat and offered her juice and sweets. To the casual observer, it appeared she did not care one bit about her surroundings and barely noticed the people watching her arrival. To Marcus, it was obvious that Cleopatra missed nothing and was taking account of everything, from the sandals on his feet t
o the number of spears his honor guard carried.
Marcus did not fall in love with Cleopatra that day, but he did find himself admiring her as his first true equal. He immediately had a dinner invitation sent to Cleopatra, promising to introduce her to the best food of the region. Within an hour, the invite was returned unopened, accompanied by an invitation for Marcus to join her for dinner.
“Does she think I will poison her?” Marcus muttered to himself. He came to the conclusion that Cleopatra wanted to hold a place of power, which amused him. Does she not know that the entire Roman Empire is my place of power? Marcus thought. “Fine, I will dine in Cleopatra’s apartments tonight. But she will sleep in my bed in the morning,” he boasted to his servants.
Marcus made Cleopatra wait an extra hour before he arrived for dinner, thinking it would throw off the meal’s timing and send the Egyptian queen into an anxious fit. When he arrived though, she appeared relaxed and amused.
“Do all Romans have such a poor sense of timing?” Cleopatra asked with a smirk.
Marcus responded, “No, but the ones who rule Rome have many responsibilities, which means something as trivial as dinner sometimes must be delayed.”
“I expected as much,” Cleopatra said and clapped her hands. At the signal, dozens if not hundreds of candles were lowered from the high ceiling. Marcus marveled at the display, wondering how the queen’s servants had achieved such a spectacle in the few hours they had been in Tarsus.
“Very illuminating, my queen,” Marcus said, “it will make the meal much more enjoyable now that I can see your beauty more clearly.”
Cleopatra nodded her head at the flirtation, “I decided that if we were going to play this game of cat and mouse, I wanted to make sure I could see my prey clearly.”
Marcus’s dark eyebrows twitched at the insinuation that he was the mouse. He knew that Cleopatra was a formidable opponent. Caesar had told him enough to make that decision long ago. But Marcus never dreamed that Cleopatra would consider him someone she could conquer. Throughout the meal, Marcus and Cleopatra bantered back and forth, sizing each other up, looking for sensitive spots and weaknesses.