by Julia Mills
Exasperated at being caught and even more frustrated that it had happened at all, Cyn gave a long suffering sigh and let her head fall into her hands. “Don’t make me do this, Adele…please. I’m already mortified, not to mention, in way over my head with him.”
True to form, her best friend in the world would not allow her to wallow. With a swat to her forearm, Adele ordered, “Now, stop that shit right there. No pity party for you, Miss St. James. It’s time to pull up your big girl panties and grab what you want with both hands.”
Looking between her fingers, Cyn wasn’t surprised to find Adele up and pacing around the room with her hands waving in the air like she was leading a marching band down Main St. “God knows I’ve watched you pine for that man forever,” she spun and pointed her finger. “And do not even try to tell me that you haven’t. I’m not blind, missy. I see how you look at him when you think no one’s watchin’ or how you smile at the phone when you know it’s him.”
Sitting down and scooting her chair forward until their knees touched, Adele pulled Cyn’s hand from her face and continued with a scowl. “He was here, you big dope. He came to you. You didn’t have to break your cardinal rule of never chasing after a man, this one came to you!”
Hitting Cyn’s knee with her own hand for emphasis, the little redhead was all but screaming as she finished with, “So stop all this whining and belly aching and hop to it. You have a date with Mr. Sex-on-a-stick and with God as my witness, you will be there if I have to knock you out, dress you myself, and shove you into his car when it shows up at your front door. Do you hear me, Cynthia Louisa?”
Cyn cringed at the use of her given name. The only time she ever heard it was when she was in trouble, which pretty much summed up what was happening at the moment. Adele did have a point. Roman had come to her. Maybe it was time to go for what she really wanted. What was the worst that could happen? God knew she’d survived crashing and burning before.
Leaning forward, she gave her best friend a big hug, “Thank you, Addie. That was just what I needed to hear. Wanna come to the mall with me tomorrow morning?”
Hugging her back, Adele chuckled. “You know I do and the coffee’s on you this trip.”
The ladies laughed and teased while Cyn packed up the reports she was supposed to have been working on, shut down her computer, and locked her office. When they reached the parking garage, the girls hugged goodbye and Cyn laughed out loud as Adele said, “Tomorrow, I’m getting those details, just you wait and see.”
Cyn’s confidence held out until she passed a couple walking hand-in-hand just outside the City Park. As she sat waiting for the traffic light to turn green, she watched them kiss and memories of kissing Roman came flooding back. Her head fell forward on the steering wheel as she groaned out loud. “What was I thinking? An evening alone with Roman Marinos…I’m doomed.”
Chapter Two
Standing at the window looking out over the gardens of his estate, Roman couldn’t help but picture Cynthia standing amongst the colorful blooms. There was no doubt in his mind her beauty would outshine them all. Her smile was brighter than the sunlight. Her sparkling lavender eyes danced when she was happy and enchanted when she was excited. Her short, platinum locks felt like spun silk as they flowed through his fingers and her perfectly pouty lips begged to be kissed.
Her tall, curvy body was made to be worshipped and he was the only man up to the task. She was all he had been able to think about for as long as he could remember and now that he had kissed her, she dominated every vestige of his entire being.
He had seen how meeting Katarina had completely transformed his friend and Supreme Commander, Viktor’s life. The uptight man he had traveled the world with for almost three thousand years was like a teenager again. It was a miracle to witness but, now that it was happening to him, the General was scared shitless.
The draw of a King’s fýlakas tis kardiás mou, or keeper of his heart, grew stronger with each passing year, but Roman had never fully grasped what it would be like to finally have her in his arms. He remembered his conversation with his Unum after his conversion to immortal warrior. It had been tenuous at best, considering he had made the transition with little to no knowledge of the outcome.
Springing from the earth like a seedling in the spring, Romanus gulped the clean fresh air of the desert, surprised to be alive and fearing for his immortal soul because he had not crossed over into the Elysian Fields. The sun, warm and nurturing, beat upon his bare skin as he looked first to the east and then to west, trying to discern in which direction his blessed Greece sat waiting.
“I see you fared well, agapité file. Here is a clean tunic.” Spinning to the left, Romanus threw his hand in the air to block the onslaught of the sun and took two quick steps back.
“It cannot be. You cannot be real.” Quickly looking to the left and the right to find any indication of his location, he stammered, “Have I been sentenced to Hell? Are you the ferryman, come to carry me across the River Styx?”
The specter, the same he remembered from the battlefield, shook its head and smiled. “Why must you always be so obstinate? It is I, Viktoras, your Supreme Commander. The man who took you in when you had nowhere to lay your head. The man who put a sword in your hand and gave purpose to your life. I am the King who came to you as you drew your last breath and gave you the gift of eternity. I am your Unum and I am here to teach you the way of our kind.”
“This is a dream. You cannot be here.” Then pleading, “Why do you haunt me still, specter? Have I not suffered enough?” Stumbling backward, Romanus landed on the scorching sand. The General grabbed the hot bits of rock and let them slide through his fingers while keeping his eyes on the phantom determined to drive him insane.
The longer he sat in the sweltering heat the more the reality of his situation became clear. The sweat that ran down his back, the blisters growing on his buttocks, feet, and hands, and the constant yearning in his heart to believe the man he owed his very existence to was indeed alive and well, won out over all his ill-conceived notions.
“I am not dreaming. This is not a mirage,” became a continuous mantra in his mind.
Jumping to his feet, Romanus snatched the tunic from the man he now believed to be his Commander, threw it over his head, then slid his feet into the sandals thrown in front of him and stood staring. Thankfully, Viktoras was of sound mind and filled the silence with a question. “Now, are you ready to be reasonable and discuss all that has transpired in the last thirty days since your death?”
Unfortunately, the question caused the General to once again doubt his sanity, “Thirty days?” Romanus bellowed.
Motioning for him to follow, the Commander turned and began walking towards a tent in the distance. Jogging to catch up, Romanus’ stomach cramped with hunger and his gums ached as if his teeth no longer fit the space they had occupied since his childhood. Entering the pavilion, reminiscent of those they had used while battling the Phoenicians, the scent of blood filled his senses. He salivated like a dog outside the butcher’s shoppe and with no further thought, snatched the brass canteen from Viktoras’ hands and downed the wonderfully warm liquid in one gulp.
Wiping his hand across his lips, he saw the tint of blood upon the back of his hand just as the coppery aftertaste of what he had just consumed hit his taste buds. Running from the tent, Romanus barely reached the sand before expelling the contents of his stomach.
Weaker than before and still spitting the blood from his mouth, the General turned to his Commander and wailed, “Why? What have you done to me, daímonas?”
“I have done nothing but grant you the gift of eternal life,” Viktoras calmly answered, stepping forward to hand Romanus a wet cloth to wipe his face.
Stumbling away, the General spat, “But at what cost? My immortal soul? It is as I feared. You are sent from Hades.”
The Commander stopped and shook his head. “Why must you fight your destiny, Romanus? I tire so of your stubbornness.” Vikto
ras took another step forward, to which the General took two backward to escape the demon’s touch, causing the Commander to sigh. “Stay out in the sun and waste away if that is your wish. But know that you will not die. You will only suffer…terribly. When you have had enough, I will be waiting in the tent with more sustenance and the answers to all your questions.”
Staggering to the closest rock, Romanus sat with a heavy thud. Shivers wracked his body as fire burnt through his veins and his stomach cramped as if it were trying to escape the confines of his skin. Cold, clammy sweat drenched his body even though the rays of the blazing sun above continued to beat upon him like the slaver’s whip.
Looking across the vast desert, Viktoras’ words echoed through Romanus’ mind like an omen passed down from the gods…“You will not die. You will only suffer…terribly.” The truth of the demon’s words only served to torment the General and assure that whatever evil had befallen him was most definitely from Hades himself.
Unable to stand it anymore, the agony eating away at what little sanity he had left, Romanus tried to stand but only made it as far as his knees. He would face whatever fate had befallen him as long as the demon parading as his Commander would bring an end to his torture. Dragging his pain ridden body, one pull of his hand at a time, across the scorching sand, the General slowly made his way to the tent.
Pain wracked every fiber of his being. His vision blurred. His body shook with such force he felt as though his joints would dislocate. Only the steel resolve that had seen him through many campaigns pushed him to continue towards his goal. Finally reaching the shelter, he rolled onto his back and collapsed as soon as the top half of his body was under the cover of the roof.
Fighting to catch his breath, the scent of blood once again hit him with the force of Zeus’ lightning. Convulsions unlike anything he had ever known rattled his battered body. The breath was forced from his lungs. His head flung back so hard he heard the crack of the bones in his neck. His hands curled into fists so tight that his overgrown nails bit into the calloused skin of his palms.
More cracking of bone reverberated through the tent as his back bowed off the cloth covered sand and his arms flung wide. His toes curled against the bottoms of his feet with such fiery intensity that he believed they would be torn from their sockets. As his eyes rolled back in his head, he glimpsed his Commander kneeling beside his head and thought he heard him say, “Why must you always fight the inevitable?”
Opening his eyes, unsure if the memories flashing through his mind like mismatched pieces of a child’s toy were all part of a dream or reality, the General brushed the matted hair from his forehead and rolled to his side. Taking in his surroundings, his visions began to take shape. They formed one coherent recollection, which brought back the horror of his present situation, at the same time that Viktoras walked through the tent flap and proclaimed, “Romanus! It is good to see you back among the living.” Setting down a large clay hydria, he added, “We have much to discuss.” Then pointing to the fire in the center of the structure over which a hare was cooking on a spit and freshly baking bread lay on the iron grate, he continued, “You need to eat. Your continued resistance to your first meal has left you poorly nourished.”
Irritated at being chastised like a wayward child by his former Commander and feeling out of sorts, Romanus slowly climbed to his feet and sarcastically spat, “Am I not to live on the blood of others? Am I not a demon of your own making?”
Ignoring his question, Viktoras went about brushing spices over the hare and taking the bread from the fire. Pouring the water from the large hydria to a smaller one with a spout, the Commander then filled a large cup. “Drink this.” He shoved the cup into Romanus’ hand. “Come eat. I will no longer entertain your immature taunts. You know in your heart and soul that I am not a demon nor would I ever cause you harm. Put aside the petulance of your juvenile nature and face the reality before you.”
Swallowing his pride and choking back the vile comment that burnt the tip of his tongue, the General stood and walked across the tent, sitting as far from his Commander as possible while still able to reach the food. His attempt to act aloof was obliterated by the loud growl of his stomach.
Barking with laughter, Viktoras pointed at the food. “Eat.” Sitting down across from the General, his smile turned to a scowl as he continued, “Unless you like suffering, in which case you can sit there and glare in my direction while I enjoy what the gods have blessed us with.”
Hands clenched at his sides, teeth grinding together and his stomach growling like a tiger, Romanus finally relented, if for no other reason than to have the strength to fight the demon should he choose to attack. “It looks good. Thank you for your kindness.”
Taking the food Viktoras offered, the General had to admit to himself, if no one else, that he owed whatever version of his Commander this was the courtesy of at least listening to what he had to say. Before his death, the man, had, after all, been his surrogate father for most of his life, had taught him everything he knew, and made sure he was cared for even after his death. There was no way the gods would allow a man with such honor to become a demon in his afterlife…was there?
They ate in silence until only the bones of the hare and the crumbs of the bread remained. Viktoras leaned back on the cushions behind him, stretched out his legs, and asked, “Do you think that you can put aside your prejudices and listen to what I have to say?”
Several long, tense moments passed as the two formidable warriors stared into one another’s eyes. Romanus could not deny the kinship he felt for the man reclining across from him. Nor could he dispute that he appeared to be the same man who had picked him up out the gutter, fed him his first meal in weeks, and gave purpose to his life.
Still unable to speak the words, but needing to hear what the Commander had to say, the General gave a single nod of his head. Viktoras took a long drink of his wine, looking over Romanus’ shoulder as if watching pictures of the story he was about to tell, and began to explain. “While I was in prison awaiting the inevitability of my sentence, Zeus spoke to me.” He took another sip of his wine then looked at Romanus. “He explained to me, just as I explained to you on the battlefield, that because of my loyal service in life and the injustice in my death, I was being given a second chance, an opportunity only the most devoted could receive. The gift of eternal life.”
The Commander’s eyes stayed riveted on Romanus’ as the silence between them grew. The General felt the weight of Viktoras’ stare like a stone around his neck as the irrevocable truth of the situation settled all around him. The man he had called friend, had followed into battle countless times, would have followed to Hell had he commanded it, was indeed returned from the dead. Not a demon, not a specter, but something…more.
Leaning forward, Romanus nodded, “Continue, please.”
A knowing smile crossed Viktoras bearded face. “But of course.” He cleared his throat. “We have become what is known as the Kings of the Blood. We, along with others loyal to us and our cause, will form a fraternity unlike any other, with the sole purpose of protecting those who cannot protect themselves. I am known as the Unum, the One, and have been given command of our kind.”
“You, General, in this life as in the last, are my second and will be known as the Sigontáro. Together, we will find those of like mind and purpose and upon their acceptance, bring them into the brotherhood.” Again the Commander paused and sipped from his cup, but the look in his eye said there was much more to be said.
Watching Viktoras stand, Romanus followed suit. “Walk with me.” He opened the flap on their shelter and motioned with his free hand for the General to exit. Securing the tent, the Commander joined him and they began to walk across the cooling sand as the sun exited the sky. “What we are about to discuss will, at first, be difficult for you to accept. It goes against all you were taught by the priests and their attendants in the temples, but it is essential to what you have become and how you will live.”
After almost a hundred yards of silence, Viktoras began again, “The best explanation I can give you is the one I received from Zeus himself. Our world is not simple. Everything, even gifts such as ours from the gods, have a price. Ours is twofold. We died. Our hearts ceased to beat. Our lungs no longer drew breath. We were buried beneath the earth for thirty days and rose as the sun touched the horizon on the night of the thirty-first day, reborn and functioning just as we had prior to our demise…with one vital difference. By the power of Zeus that now runs through our veins, we were made immortal.”
Stopping, the Commander turned towards Romanus and once again looked at him with the intensity of battle. “Listen to me carefully and hold your tongue until I have finished,” Viktoras commanded. “Although you will live life as you always have, you will now also need to consume life’s essence once every new moon.” The General opened his mouth to speak, despite the orders he had received, to which his Commander held up his hand and continued to speak. “This is the darkest night of the month at the darkest time of the night and that is when you shall feed. It should be given willingly and accepted gratefully. You will take only the smallest amount you need to replenish the powers bestowed upon you and then, and this is very important, Romanus, you will leave your donor unblemished.”
Dropping his hand, Viktoras asked, “Do you understand?”
Romanus nodded, then asked, “I must drink blood to survive?”
“Yes, and you must not kill to do it. If you do, your life will be forfeit. Zeus’ great lightning shall strike you down where you stand and the ash of your remains be blown to the four winds.”