by London Casey
Kane saw the dagger, and understood when Villius twisted one hand into his hair and yanked his head back.
They were going to manufacture evidence.
Two other men held him down. Not soldiers—they had the look of civilians, and rough civilians at that. It gave him better odds; they wouldn’t have the same discipline.
He focused, waited for Villius to raise the dagger—and kicked out at the man holding his left arm.
The man shouted in pain and let him go, clutching his chest. Kane kept moving. With his strong arm free, he elbowed Villius before he punched the second man in the jaw. The grip on his right side loosened, and he jerked free.
But before he could take advantage of his freedom, Villius grabbed his hair again and pinned him to the ground. “Hold still, or I may slit your throat by accident. Hold still, damn you!”
Kane disobeyed, and got one good lick in before the two men recovered. One of them slammed their fist into his stomach. He tried to double over, and pain exploded in his earlobe.
Villius cursed, let him go. “You skewed my aim, you idiot. I hit the wrong part of his ear.”
“We can make it—”
Kane didn’t understand the rest. The man’s Latin was so bad he could barely follow it. It took all his focus to understand the men who did speak it well.
Two sets of hands yanked him to his feet, held him while Villius bound his wrists.
“Now try and talk your way out of this.”
They pulled Kane out of the shadows, and he finally realized where they were. Down near the bath house, outside the main gates. Villius made a show of dragging him to the nearest gate. The sun was setting behind him, and Kane could make out every detail of the gate, and the soldiers who rushed to open it. Elizabeth would have loved the pure visual drama of it.
“I caught him, trying to escape! He’s got the bloody ear to prove he did it.”
A murmur ran through the guards. By now everyone would know about the earring found with the last victim. But his ear was newly cut, in the wrong spot. How did Villius plan to pass that off?
Kane found out a moment later.
“I say we do it right here. Get rid of him, now, before he can kill again.”
A couple of them nodded—and he recognized them as the soldiers who were with Villius the first time he confronted Kane. This had been a setup from the off.
He struggled in earnest now, because he would get no help here.
Villius punched him again, hard enough to knock him sideways. He was hauled to a post next to the gate, with a pair of blood encrusted shackles hanging from the top. Hands untied him, only to yank his left arm up and lock the shackle around his wrist. He couldn’t fight his other arm being locked into place; the battle with Villius and his cohorts left Kane’s bad shoulder throbbing.
A dagger cut away his shirt, exposed his back to the stares of the soldiers. They must have seen him train with Marius, since the reaction to his scars was minimal. Villius appeared next to him, and unfurled the object in his hand. Kane’s breath lodged in his throat.
It was a scourge—he remembered seeing a similar one in Gordon’s room. The ugly, studded whip had been his prized possession. The only reason he never used it on Kane was because he did not want new blood on it.
Villius jerked his attention back by digging his fingers into Kane’s chin and applying pressure until their eyes met. “You will die tonight. And I’ll make sure it’s as slow and agonizing as possible.” He snapped the scourge next to Kane’s feet, and all three lengths of rope bit into the ground. The sharp pieces of iron knotted into them jangled against each other. Kane closed his eyes, forced himself to breathe. “Pray to whatever god you like—they won’t save you now.”
He let go and walked behind Kane. The scourge snapped in the dirt again. Kane tried to relax, but every muscle tensed, waiting for the first blow.
When it came it knocked him off his feet.
He screamed against the gag, the agony in his back like a thousand knives cutting at him. His fingers gripped the chain, and he fought to get his feet under him. Villius waited until he did before the second blow threw him into the post. The third blow came right on top of it.
He couldn’t catch his breath. Couldn’t feel anything but the fire searing into his back. He knew he would not survive many more of the vicious blows.
The ropes snapped again, and he braced himself, knowing this time it may blast him into unconsciousness—
“Drop it, Villius, or die where you stand.”
Marius’s voice sliced through the silence, with such fury Kane expected Villius to bleed just from the sound of it.
“I was—” A scream cut him off.
Kane tried to stand. Gentle hands closed over his wrist. “Hold still for me.” He swallowed. It was Appia standing next to him. “Oh, Kane,” she whispered. “I am sorry it took us so long to find you.”
She released the first shackle, and a strong arm caught him around the waist as his knees buckled.
“I’ve got you.” Quintus held him while she freed his right arm, easing it down to his side. “He will pay, for harming you.”
Marius limped into sight, his bow slung over one shoulder, and removed the soaked gag. “Breathe, Kane. I know the first breath is going to be the most painful, but take it in.”
He obeyed, and fought the scream that clawed up his throat. The second breath hurt as much, and the third. He expected it to hurt for quite some time.
“Beth,” he whispered. He didn’t think Marius heard him. He barely heard himself.
Marius cradled the back of his head, waited for him to focus. “Elizabeth is safe, in my home, surrounded by men I trust. Quintus went to check on you, and saw the signs of a struggle. If he had not notified me that you were missing, we would have found you too late.”
Kane closed his eyes, and opened them again immediately. The darkness intensified the agony in his back.
“I am going with you, Marius.” Appia touched Kane’s scarred cheek, tears sliding down her face. “We will take care of you, however long you need it.”
She disappeared before he could put together any words.
“This is going to hurt you, Kane, and I am sorry for that. You’ve been hurt enough already.” Marius draped Kane’s left arm across his shoulders. He fought the scream in his throat, managed to strangle it to a harsh groan. “I want to move fast, Quintus. He’s bleeding more than I would like.”
“It will be more painful for him.”
“You think I don’t know?”
Kane wanted to tell Marius not to blame himself. But he couldn’t get his mouth to work.
“Fast, then,” Quintus said. He tightened his grip on Kane’s waist. “When you’re ready, captain.”
“One moment.” Marius turned his head, spoke over his shoulder. “Demetrius—see that Villius is locked up. I will deal with him in the morning. No food or water, and no visitors. Take all his weapons, his shoes, his armour. I want him stripped of anything that marks him a Roman soldier.”
A voice responded behind him. “Sir.”
“Now, Quintus.”
They lifted Kane. After a raw cry, he slumped against their support. Only flashes of their rush up the steep hill registered, beyond the raging in his back. One image came in sharp and clear—his first sight of Elizabeth.
She stood in front of the praetorium, dressed in a white woolen gown, her hair blowing around her. Her eyes widened at first sight of him, but she limped forward, and took his hand as they carried him through the doorway, up the stairs to the courtyard, and into a bedroom at the back of the building.
“Carefully,” she said, her voice like a balm on his pain. She let go of his hand, and he was lost. Until she brushed her fingers over his hair, along his cheek, pausing at the cut in his ear. “Tell me you believe Kane now.”
The hesitation from Marius told Kane that he was alive, but not in the clear. He was certain their conversation had—
“Let us take
care of him first. Then we will—”
“What? Leave him vulnerable again? He was taken out of your home, Marius. Where you told me he would be safe—”
“Enough,” Kane whispered.
“Jackson?” Elizabeth knelt beside him, brushing hair off his forehead. “You’re going to be just fine.”
“I know—how bad.”
She swallowed. “Then I’ll find a way to get you home.”
“Beth—”
“Quiet. We’ll talk later. I want you to let them take care of you now.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. The soft scent of lavender calmed him, and oddly, helped ease a bit of the pain.
“Stay,” he whispered.
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere. You are stuck with me for a good long time.”
He closed his eyes. That would do, for now.
Elizabeth covered her mouth to keep from screaming.
The long cuts on Kane’s back bled sluggishly. They would have been worse, if not for the heavy scar tissue, but there were so many of them. Several crossed over each other, and those were the wounds Appia dealt with first.
“Can you handle blood, Elizabeth?”
She pulled herself together. “Yes. What do you need?”
“Sit next to me, hand me what I need as soon as I ask for it. If you can read my mind on some of them, that will be even better. Marius—I brought Eógan and Hild with me. Have them ready to bring hot water on a regular basis. I’m going to need plenty of it, all the time I am working on him.”
Hild had prepared a tray of supplies while Elizabeth waited for Kane to be brought back. Appia refused to tell her anything when she returned; she just kept Elizabeth busy until the men showed up, carrying Kane between them.
Now he lay face down on the sleeping couch, feverish, and moaning low in his throat every time Appia touched him.
“I know this hurts you, Kane.” Appia brushed hair off his sweat slick forehead. He opened his eyes, the normally clear grey so dark with pain they looked almost black. “I’m afraid it will get worse. I have something that will help you sleep. Please let me give it to you.”
He started to shake his head, then looked past Appia, his eyes closing after he met Elizabeth’s tear blurred gaze.
“Yes,” he whispered. His voice was raw, like Villius had whipped the warmth out of it.
“The green cup, Elizabeth. Hand it to me, and then help him take it.”
She picked up the stoneware cup, gave it to Appia, and sat on the stool next to the end of the couch, near Kane’s head. She flipped her braid over one shoulder, slid her hand under his right cheek, and lifted when Appia nodded. The older woman held the cup to his lips, feeding him the liquid a bit at a time to keep him from choking.
Once he finished, Elizabeth lowered him to the bed. He closed his eyes, and after a few minutes she watched his muscles relax.
“It will work on him faster than usual, because he is already weakened.” Appia held out her hand. Elizabeth took it, fighting back tears every time she looked at Kane’s back. “If you need a break, you can leave for a bit.”
“No.” Elizabeth took a shaky breath. “I’m not leaving him.” He wouldn’t leave her side, no matter how bad her injury.
“All right.” Appia leaned forward, checking Kane’s breath. “He is out, and it’s time for us to work.”
Watching Appia clean, and in some cases stitch, the wounds on his back left Elizabeth feeling about as useful as a piece of furniture. She handed over bandage, and water, and clean cloths as Appia asked for them, but even Eógan could do that, if he stood still long enough.
Both he and Hild kept bowls of hot water coming through the night. Even after the worst of the lashes were stitched, Kane still kept bleeding.
“There has to be an irritant in this wound. Hand me the scissors, Elizabeth. I need to open the stitches.” When Appia did, fresh blood burst out of the gash. It was the deepest wound, the one that worried Elizabeth the most, because it was so close to his heart. “Hold him down. This may wake him.”
Elizabeth pressed down on his left shoulder, and understood what Appia meant a second later. Her fingers dug into the wound.
With a harsh gasp Kane bolted awake.
“It’s okay.” Elizabeth leaned in, whispered against his ear. He relaxed, enough for her to push him back to the mattress. “I’m here, Jackson. Just focus on my voice.”
“Bloody—hell,” he whispered. “Beth?”
“Right here. I’m not going anywhere.” She chattered, to distract them both from Appia’s invasive fingers. “Did you know the wall was built entirely by the Roman army? Most people think it was slaves, but the soldiers built it, with not a slave in sight—” He shuddered under her hands, and tried to pull away. “Kane, you need to hold still for me. Please, just hold still—Appia—”
“Almost—ah, got it.” Her bloody fingers held a sharp piece of metal. “A souvenir, from the scourge.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “Villius used a scourge on him?”
Too late, Appia realized what she said. “This is the least damage I have seen from its use. He is young, and strong—and you are both welcome here as long as he needs, to recover.”
“Thank you.”
“I am sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. You had enough to deal with, knowing he had been beaten. Can you help me while I re-stitch this last wound?”
Elizabeth nodded, moving back to Appia’s side. By the time they finished, she was bloody and exhausted, and Kane had thankfully passed out again.
Appia stood, even bloodier, and just as exhausted. “I will have Hild bring in water for you to clean up, and a fresh stola. Are you hungry? Never mind—I will send a tray; you can eat when you are ready.”
“Appia.” Before she could stop herself, Elizabeth hugged the older woman, tears threatening again. “Thank you for—everything.”
“It was my duty, and my honor. He will move past this, sweet girl. Trust his strength, and his love for you. Both will help him now.” Appia rubbed her back. “You are staying here with him, and so am I, until he is recovered. Marius is pretending to be unhappy about it.” Elizabeth managed a smile, and Appia laughed, kissing her cheek. “Now, I will leave you to rest. I have some cleanup of my own to do. It’s near dawn, and Marius will be waiting on news.”
After another squeeze, she freed Elizabeth and headed for the doorway.
“Mistress!” Servius appeared, flushed and breathless. “My master bids you join him. People are at the gate, demanding entrance.”
“This early?”
Servius clasped his hands together, his fingers shaking. Elizabeth knew what he was going to say before he spit out the words.
“There has been another murder.”
Pain woke him. Sharp, continuous, burning pain.
Kane lay still, focused on breathing. He was on his stomach, cool air brushing his bare back, his left cheek. Warm, soft fingers caressed his wrist, the back of his hand. He switched his focus to that touch, to the lavender scent that told him it was Elizabeth.
Voices filtered in past the pain. Arguing voices.
“You have proof now that he didn’t do it!” Elizabeth kept her voice low, but the anger in it kept shooting the volume up. “Villius gave him the perfect alibi, in front of witnesses.”
“I am aware,” Marius said. “But I—”
“What? Have to keep up appearances?” Elizabeth paused, her voice quiet when she spoke again. “Doing that nearly got him killed. You have a murderer here, Marius, but it’s not Kane, and you damn well know it.”
Marius sighed, and Kane braced himself for the man’s next words. “You are correct, on both counts.” Tension leached out of Kane, and he was so relieved he almost didn’t hear what Marius said next. “But I have another murder on my hands. This time a civilian, and a woman. There are already people screaming for vengeance. What am I supposed to tell them?”
“The truth. You’re looking for the killer.” Her hand sl
id down his arm, and he knew she reached for Marius. “I will do whatever I can to help—”
“You will help by taking care of your husband, and keeping well out of the path of whoever is killing my people.”
Kane couldn’t agree more. He wanted to agree verbally, but his body told him he was far from ready for conversation. He started by trying to open his eyes.
Elizabeth broke off mid protest and leaned in. “Jackson?” It must have been bad. She only used his first name when she was scared, or in the midst of—he would not think of lovemaking, or loving her. He ignored his body, even as it responded to her touch, her scent, her. “Hey,” she cradled his left cheek. “Welcome back.”
She smiled, but tears swam in her eyes. Eyes that were dark with exhaustion.
Marius appeared behind her, just as exhausted. “You had us worried, Kane.”
“How—” He swallowed, tried again. He didn’t recognize the raw whisper coming out of his mouth. “How long?”
“Three days.” Elizabeth gently brushed hair off his forehead. “You developed a fever, and it took all of us to bring it down. Appia finally went to bed just an hour ago.”
“I am going to join her.” Marius leaned down, laid his hand on Kane’s wrist. “It’s good to have you back. Now rest—both of you.”
He limped out of the room, his gait slower as he leaned on the crutch.
Elizabeth watched him leave, worry on her face. It deepened when she looked down at Kane. “Are you hungry? Appia left some broth, and some bread for you. We need to work you back up to solid food. Oh, God—”
She let him go, covered her face with both hands.
“Beth.” He inched his left hand across the mattress, and stretched his fingers until they touched her knee. Her head snapped up. “I’m here. We will—take the rest day by day.”
“Right.” She scrubbed at her face, then leaned in and cradled his cheek. “Let’s start with some broth, then some sleep.”
“First,” he whispered, his throat more raw with every word. “Kiss me.”
“Kane—are you—”
“Need you.”
She brushed her lips over his, and kissed him, gentle but thorough. His head swam by the time she pulled away.