Spartan Heart, Part Two

by Kristine Cheney

  Dorien approached her. His sculpted chin quivered. A sob escaped his lips. The coolness of his fingers graced her cheek so tender. “Leo! Close the casket. Philip, take my wife to my bedroom! Don’t let her out until I command it! Thessalus and Paraebates, help me re-bury my son.”

  His brothers nodded in submission. Evangeline bared her claws; she was prepared to fight. Convulsing and struggling in Philip’s iron grip was of no use. His ice blue eyes were sad and apologetic. But she knew he wasn’t about to let her go. “No! My baby! You’re going to destroy him! Please, I’m begging you…don’t do this!”

  Celeas pressed the casket lid closed with a soft audible click. In a single jump, he was on the ground. Her brothers began to fill in the grave.

  The baby’s cry permeated the moist, night air. “He’s crying! Can’t you hear him?” she screamed. Her breaths came short and raspy. It felt impossible to inhale air. The throb and burn in her chest was consumed by a silent inferno.

  They were ignoring her!

  Their shovels sent scoops of loose dirt thudding into the grave. Celeas stopped in an instant. “What’s that noise?”

  Thessalus threw his brother a murderous look. “Come on, not you!” But his head suddenly jerked upright.

  Celeas shoved Thessalus’ shoulder. “You heard it! Don’t deny it!”

  Thessalus looked to Dorien. But Dorien growled his opposition. “What is the matter?” he thundered.

  Thessalus craned his neck. “Don’t you hear that?”

  * * * *

  Dorien filled with rage. “I didn’t hear...”

  Evangeline thrashed helpless in Philip’s arms. “Dorien, please! Listen! Don’t you hear him?”

  The sound of his wife’s tear-filled pleas ripped Dorien’s insides apart. Holding up his hand for silence, he strained to hear through the howls of the wind. Every muscle in his chest constricted in panic. The weak, faint cry of a baby suddenly pricked his ears. His head jerked down towards the partially covered casket. Dorien landed inside the grave. With the mad swipe of his muscled arm, the debris was cleared away. Popping the latch, his nose filled with the sticky sweet scent of lotion. The lid slowly creaked open. Gazing down, his heart filled with horror.

  Dorien’s head fell forward. Lukas looked as he always did. The babe was a darling, sleeping angel.

  His son was dead!

  Dorien’s body wracked with anguish. He reached the lid to close it. But the brightest, vivid, immortal green eyes suddenly opened and pierced into his soul. Lukas opened his tiny mouth and wailed in famished weakness. He suckled his cherubic fist in an effort to pacify his rampant hunger.

  “My son!” Dorien choked. He cradled his newborn.

  Philip, Celeas and Thessalus stood stunned and speechless. Dorien jumped out of the grave with Lukas in his arms. Evangeline screamed and thrashed to escape the hold of her brother. Philip released her in an instant.

  Running towards her husband, Evangeline slipped and fell at Dorien’s feet. Tears flooded down her beautiful face. Her outstretched arms trembled in reach. She couldn’t contain her sobs. “My baby! Give him to me! My precious baby Lukas!”

  How could this be happening?

  “He lives, Evangeline! Our son…he lives!”

  Lukas wailed in misery. His babe smelled the richness of his mother’s nourishing milk. Dorien placed his fitful son in the safety of his mother’s loving arms. “He’s weak! He needs to feed!” Dorien whispered. He couldn’t stop shaking his head in disbelief.

  Evangeline was uninhibited by modesty. She unlaced the ribbons of her nightgown. Dorien and his brothers couldn’t tear their gazes away, not even for a second. Evangeline cradled her beloved son to her breast. Lukas latched on to his mother and nursed from her hungrily. His baby was ravenous. Evangeline threw her head back in joy and screamed into the night. She reclaimed her lost child and covered his precious raven head with her kisses.

  Dorien fell on his knees before his wife. “Forgive me, Evangeline. I-I didn’t know. I could not hear him.”

  Paraebates’ rubbed his chin. “You mentioned half-breed infants share a supernatural bond with their mothers…enough to walk the fine line of life and death. It would seem this mystical connection doesn’t sever after an immortal babe draws its first breath.

  “Lukas is Elias’ identical twin. Without a doubt, Elias is the larger, dominant brother. Perhaps Lukas needed a little more time to develop before he was ready. We only assumed he was stillborn. Half-breed children do take longer to develop. I think our Lukas was just a little premature.”

  “My smallest angel wasn’t ready yet.” Evangeline cooed at her baby. Lukas’ tiny head wriggled and rutted as he suckled in bliss at his mother’s breast. “Oh, Dorien. He’s so beautiful.”

  Dorien pressed his lips against the sweetness of her mouth. His senses reeled and throbbed with warning. The pillows of her lips felt cold. Their pink color was tinged with blue. Her body trembled with fever. A fluid-filled cough wracked her lungs. Evangeline’s skin was pale; she struggled for every haggard breath. Rocking back and forth on her knees, her balance was awkward and unsteady. “Dorien, I don’t feel so good.” She collapsed and fell back unconscious.

  Dorien caught Evangeline and Lukas with the blurred swipe of his arms. Their son wailed for more milk.

  Paraebates’ large, cold hand felt Evangeline’s brow. “She is burning hot with fever! We must call Eliza, now!”

  * * * *

  Evangeline was stirred by the cool, tugging sensations of her children nursing at her breasts. She was too weak and tired to lift her heavy head. It was almost impossible to speak. “My babies?” she whispered.

  Dorien’s weary eyes looked haggard. Lines of distress covered his forehead. His face was tense. It was a rare occurrence to see him riddled with such fear and worry. “The babes are fine, my love. They are well…even our Lukas.”

  Evangeline tried to smile, but her lungs felt like a raging furnace. Her body ached all over. It was difficult to breathe. Her lungs rattled thick with fluid. She felt like she could drown.

  “Eliza is here. She is going to make you better.”

  “What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel like I was hit by a truck?”

  “You have pneumonia. Eliza thinks your immunities are low from all the stress you have been under. It doesn’t help that you lost a lot of blood birthing the children. Your body is tapped and weak.”

  It was useless to try and move any of her muscles. Every muscle was paralyzed. “I feel awful.”

  “You are very sick. Please, try not to talk. You must save your energy.”

  Evangeline coughed and sputtered. The metallic taste of copper was overwhelming. Blood oozed from her mouth.

  * * * *

  Dorien clenched his fists. “Eliza, come quick. She is coughing up more blood! Perhaps we should move her to the hospital.”

  Eliza closed her eyes in agony. “There’s no use in taking her to the hospital. There’s nothing they can do there that we aren’t already doing for her here. This pneumonia is fast and aggressive. I’ve seen it so many times. Evan’s prognosis is quickly deteriorating. None of the antibiotics are working. We are helpless to do anything more but wait for a miracle and pray.”

  The woman’s tough exterior finally cracked. Her shoulders wracked with her sobs. Dorien rushed to her side. She allowed him to pull her into the shelter of his comforting embrace.

  His brothers rapped lightly on the door and entered. Releasing Eliza to Paraebates, Dorien lowered himself in his chair and leaned forward. His cold cheek burned from the heat of Evangeline’s hand. The rage of her fever scorched his forehead.

  But the babies didn’t seem to mind. They were content to slumber next to their mother. Philip, Celeas, and Thessalus each took a precious, sleeping infant. Dorien felt the firm, fatherly squeeze of Paraebates’ hand on his shoulder.

  “Fear not, Dorien. Have you forgotten about the nectar?”

  Dorien’s head jerked in confusion. “What?”r />
  “The vials of Ambrosia from Phebus and Demona! You should have two of them.”

  Dorien’s heart filled with hope. “With everything that has happened, I didn’t think about it. I’m such a fool!”

  Evangeline stirred. He knew she had overheard their conversation. “No! I’m not…ready. We want…more…children.”

  Dorien clenched his fists His wife fought for every elusive breath. He could feel her struggle. Evangeline feared her ribs would break from exertion.

  “You have already filled my lap with three beautiful babes. I cannot lose you. Just say yes! Share eternity with me and our children. Nothing is worth risking us. We can always adopt if we want more little ones…we will have as many as your heart desires.”

  Dorien’s chest felt ripped and gutted open. He would have preferred being run through with a blade. The thought of losing the woman he loved was nothing short of complete annihilation. “Please, Evan! Please say yes.”

  The fire in her copper stare was nearly extinguished. She gazed at him and pleaded. “Take care of…my sweet…angels.” Their color clouded over with glaze. Evangeline’s soft fingers searched for his arm. Her eyes brimmed with the tears that rolled down the sides of her face. “I love you, Dorien!” Her head fell aside in weakness.

  Dorien gritted his teeth in anger.

  He wasn’t about to let her go!

  “Paraebates! Go into the library. Behind the painting of Evangeline is a safe.” Dorien gave him the combination with his thoughts. “Get me a vial of the Ambrosia. I want to keep it close…just in case.”

  Paraebates nodded and left him. He returned with a single, blue-tipped vial and dropped it into the safety of Dorien’s hand.

  Dorien’s head jerked towards Evangeline. “Eliza! Evangeline’s heart! What is wrong with it?”

  Eliza grabbed her stethoscope and placed it against Evangeline’s chest. Dorien shuffled his feet in pace across the floor. With a nervous swipe, his fingers raked through his cropped, raven hair. His insides felt like they would disembowel.

  Eliza’s voice echoed with panic. “She’s going into cardiac arrest! Her heartbeats have reduced by half!”

  Dorien didn’t need any instruments. He heard what was happening. The dull thumps of her heart were slowly fading away. Stopping his pace, his fists clenched tight in anger. “What is happening to my wife?” For some reason, he needed confirmation.

  He needed to hear Eliza say it.

  Beads of sorrow flooded down Eliza’s face. Her usual glow was gone. “The fluid is filling her lungs. It’s flooding into her heart. I’m so sorry, Dorien. It’s too late! She’s dying!”

  Dorien roared. He cradled Evangeline’s limp head and wept. The softest honey-wheat curls spilled like sunshine between his fingers. With each inhaled breath, the sweetest smell of blueberries filled his senses. He cried and kissed the velvety plump sweetness of her lips. “Evangeline, please don’t leave me. Please, I beg of you. Stay. Just stay with me. Don’t you know how much I need you?” He smoothed her beautiful, ashen face.

  Paraebates raised his voice. “Give it to her now, Dorien! We shall gladly pay the price for her wrath and anger! Her heartbeats have again receded by half! Give her the wretched nectar!”

  All of their eyes flew to Evangeline. She gasped and choked for air. Sick, sucking pops were grotesque, like the squish of a large insect between your fingers. Evangeline’s dull copper eyes grew large with panicked desperation. Her hands shook and curled into claws. Dorien felt what she was experiencing; it was violent. Dorien’s head fell back in agony. His wife felt every horrid second of her drowning. The gurgles of hollow bubbles drifted from the roiling cauldron in her chest.

  Paraebates yelled. “She’s drowning in her own fluids! We are losing her! Do it now, Dorien!”

  Dorien popped the top from the vial. The liquid glided down Evangeline’s throat without a sound. They waited. The beat of her heart slowed to twelve beats per minute. Eliza administered chest compressions in an effort to move the fluid away from Evangeline’s lungs. Dorien shuddered. Thick, moist sponge-like sounds reverberated in his ears. He turned to Paraebates. “The nectar…it isn’t working!” Dorien spied the blue rubber top resting on the floor. He recognized it right away; this vial had come from Phebus. Picking up the tube, he smelled the nutrient additives of tap water. He grit his teeth and silently cursed the minion’s dead soul to Hades.

  He had intended to kill only one of them in the pit!

  “Paraebates! The last vial from Demona! Please Pops, go now!” Dorien choked. Evangeline’s lethargic pumps now slipped to three beats a minute. Paraebates returned with the red-topped vial. The top popped into the air like the rocketed cork of a champagne bottle. Dorien poured the liquid contents into her mouth. Evangeline’s heart fell eternally silent.

  All heads jerked upright. The anguished wails of Elias, Helena, and Lukas echoed throughout the house in unison. They knew the precise moment their mother’s heart stopped beating. Dorien roared in anger. He was too late! The life of his wife had slipped through the cracks of his fingers. Dorien sobbed in loss. He rocked Evangeline’s lifeless body. “No, Evan, please. Don’t make me live eternity alone. Come back to me, my love. You have taken my existence with you. Please come back.”

  Dorien shook his head and rubbed his face against the soft skin of Evangeline’s cheek. The popping and settling of fluids in her drowned lungs made his body want to wretch. Immortal muscles cinched tight from flex. He fought from falling physically sick. His chest threatened to collapse from the pressure.

  Their children felt like he did. They screamed their agony downstairs. Dorien tried to caress their thoughts and somehow soothe their intelligent awareness. But all three of them knew their beloved mother was dead.

  Eliza sobbed. Paraebates held her tight in an effort to comfort her. Philip, Celeas, and Thessalus ran into the room. They sought to console their King. But Dorien could not be comforted. He would never be consoled.

  Ever.

  Dorien’s arms swung repeated fisticuffs in the air. “Leave me! Leave me with my wife!” he commanded in misery.

  Not one of them could escape their grief. Anguished sobs was the only wretched sound in the house. Torment escaped the lips of his brothers. Dorien physically jerked to hear the slam of the bedroom door. The grip of eerie silence had come to destroy him.

  Thousands of years existing as a statue never prepared his heart for truly being alone.

  Boiling rage roiled and billowed. It consumed him completely. He fought the urge to break and destroy everything around him. Dorien stomped towards the dresser. Catching reflection of his cast in the mirror, hatred glared back from his decimated reflection. The truth of his existence now mocked him. Every reason for immortality was now gone. He was gazing into the soulless eyes of a dead man. His head fell limp to his chest. Curling his lip in disgust, Dorien despised himself.

  “You killed her! You sentenced her to death!” he yelled in misery. Dorien punched the mirror in a blurred whoosh of air. He closed his eyes to the volatile explosion of shatter. Jagged shards of glass shot across the room in a storm of projectile missiles. His clenched hand smashed through brick and mortar. It crumbled like dust around his hand. Embedded into the wall, Dorien jerked back in violent madness. With a mad swipe of his arm, trinkets on top of the dresser whirled across the room. Everything failed to annihilate his pain.

  Like a man possessed, he cried and mourned. Every bit of his psyche walked the fine razor’s edge. Dorien teetered on the brink of his sanity. Cursing the world, he no longer wanted to be in it. Hadn’t he sworn to protect his wife? But he failed her…miserably. Nothing held its value anymore.

  If he went to Demona, would she barter the return of his mortality?

  His babes still cried in their misery. The sounds of their torment tore him apart. Dorien closed his eyes tight. To think of his love for them, loyalty became a conflict in an instant. The children were all that was left of her. How could their babes live
eternity without their mother? Would they ever know how much she had truly loved them?

  Helena was her mother’s daughter. Dorien’s gut cinched tight with pain. To think of his daughter’s soft honey-wheat curls, would he always see Evangeline staring back at him through his little girl’s copper eyes? Burying his face in his hands, Dorien wept. Her last words still haunted him. She asked him to take care of her babies. Sucking in a breath, he shook in sudden realization. Crying out in anguish, this knowledge devastated him.

  She had sentenced him to eternity without her.

  Falling on his knees, his head hung in despair. Every muscle in his immortal body chorded. Never would he love again. Covering his eyes, the memory of her voice still echoed throughout his mind. Dorien memorized every sweet note she drenched with chords of her love and tenderness. He would remember the way she laughed and how she chose to cherish others. The warmest tenderness accompanied her velvety touch. Her love had been unconditional. She had suffered much to give him the eternal gift of his children.

  But Evangeline could never be replaced. Dorien would give up everything to have her back in his arms, even his worthless immortal soul. Already he missed the tranquil submission of getting lost in the fiery storm of her eyes. Never again would he feel the softness of her curves lying beneath him. Like a fool, he had allowed her to slip out of the grasp. He had lost the woman he loved forever.

  His children stopped crying. Cold, dead silence filled the house like a thick blanket of smoke. Fear of the quiet made his body jerk. Dorien sensed someone behind him. The feel of cold hands rested firm on his shoulders. The weight of his head was a burden too heavy to lift. Gritting his teeth in anger, his growl rose from the back of his throat. “I told you to leave me!”

  “And you told me to come back!”