The Dark-Hunters, page 17
Julian stared in disbelief. “Repaid you? Have you any idea the number of times I’ve saved your life in battle? How many beatings did I take for you? Can you even count them all? And yet you dared mock me.”
Iason laughed cruelly. “Everyone except Kyrian mocks you, you fool. In fact, he defends you so strongly that it makes me wonder what the two of you do when you wander off alone.”
Squelching the rage that would leave him vulnerable to Iason’s blade, Julian barely ducked the next attack. “Stop it, Iason. Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”
“The only thing I regret is that I let a thief into my house,” Iason bellowed with rage, and swung again.
Julian tried to duck, but Penelope ran at him from behind and pushed him forward.
Iason’s blade caught him across the ribs.
Hissing in pain, Julian drew his own sword, then deflected a blow that would have left him headless had it made contact.
Iason tried to engage him, but Julian did nothing more than defend himself while trying to keep Penelope out of the thick of the fight.
“Don’t do this, Iason. You know your skills are inferior to mine.”
Iason pressed his attack. “There’s no way I’m going to let you keep her.”
The next few seconds had happened so fast, and yet Julian saw them unfold in sharp, crisp clarity.
Penelope caught Julian’s free arm at the same time Iason swung his sword. The blade narrowly missed Julian as she slung him about. Unbalanced, Julian tried to extract himself from her, but with Penelope in the way, he staggered forward at the same time Iason did.
The instant they collided, he felt his sword sink deep into Iason’s body.
“No!” Julian shouted, drawing his sword out of Iason’s stomach as Penelope let out a scream of pure, tormented anguish.
Slowly, Iason fell to the ground.
Dropping to his knees, Julian tossed his sword aside, and pulled his friend into his arms. “Dear gods, what have you done?”
Coughing up blood, Iason stared accusingly at him. “I did nothing. It was you who betrayed me. We were brothers and you stole my heart.”
Iason swallowed painfully as his pale eyes bored into Julian. “You never had anything in your life you didn’t steal from someone else.”
Julian trembled as guilt and agony washed over him. He’d never meant for this to happen. Never meant to hurt anyone, least of all Iason. He’d only wanted someone to love him. Only wanted a home where he was welcome.
But Iason was right. It was all his fault. All of it.
Penelope’s screams echoed in his ears. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled it as hard as she could. Her eyes wild, she wrenched the dagger from his waist.
“I want you dead! Dead!”
She plunged the dagger into his arm, then pulled back to strike again. Julian grabbed her hand.
With a feral shriek, she wrenched herself away.
“No,” she said, her eyes crazed. “I want you to suffer. You took from me what I loved most. Now I will take the same from you.” She ran from the room.
Overwhelmed by his grief and anger, Julian couldn’t move as he watched the life drain out of Iason’s body.
Until Penelope’s words sank into his dazed mind.
“No!” he roared, rising to his feet. “Don’t!”
He reached the door to her chambers in time to hear the children screaming. His heart shredded, he tried to open it, but she’d bolted it from the inside.
By the time he broke into her rooms, it was too late.
Too late …
Julian pressed his hands against his eyes as the horror of that day washed over him anew, and he felt Grace’s soothing touch on his skin.
He would never be able to purge the sight of them, the fear in his heart. The absolute agony.
The only thing in life he’d ever loved had been his children.
And they alone had loved him.
Why? Why had they had to suffer for his actions? Why couldn’t Priapus have tortured him without hurting them?
And how could Aphrodite have let it happen? It was one thing for her to turn a blind eye to him, but to let his children die …
That was why he’d gone to her temple that day. He’d planned to kill Priapus. To cleave his head from his shoulders and mount it on a pike.
“What happened?” Grace asked, dragging his thoughts back to the present.
“By the time I got there, it was too late,” he said, his throat aching as raw grief tore through him. “Our children were dead, killed by their own mother. Penelope had already slashed her wrists and lay dying by their side. I called for a physician and tried to staunch the blood.” He paused. “With her dying breath, she spat in my face.”
Grace closed her eyes as his pain washed over her. It was even worse than she had imagined.
Dear Lord, how had he survived it?
Over the years, she’d heard numerous horror stories, but none could compete with what he’d been through. And he’d suffered it all alone, with no one to help him. No one to care.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered, rubbing her hands over his chest to comfort him.
“I still can’t believe they’re gone,” he whispered, his voice laden with grief. “You asked me what I do while I’m in the book. I just stand there, and remember my son’s and daughter’s faces. I remember what it felt like when their tiny arms wrapped around me. The way they ran out to meet me when I came home from campaigns. And I relive every moment of that day, wishing I could have done something to save them.”
Grace blinked back her tears. No wonder he’d never spoken of it.
Julian drew a deep, tormented breath. “The gods won’t even grant me insanity to escape those memories. I’m not allowed even that much comfort.”
After that, he spoke no more of it, or of anything else. He merely lay quietly in her arms.
Amazed by the strength of him, Grace sat for hours, just holding him. She didn’t know what else to do.
For the first time in years, her therapist’s training failed her completely.
* * *
Grace came awake to bright sunlight streaming in through her windows. It took her a full minute before she remembered the night before.
Sitting up, she reached over for Julian and found nothing but an empty bed.
“Julian?” she asked.
No one answered.
Throwing back the covers, she got up and quickly dressed.
“Julian?” she called as she went down the stairs.
Nothing. Not a single sound, other than her heart beating fiercely in her ears.
Panic began to set in. Had something happened to him?
Grace rushed into the living room where the book was lying on the coffee table. Flipping through it, she saw the blank page where Julian had been. Relieved he hadn’t somehow returned to the book, she continued searching the house.
Where was he?
She went to the kitchen and noticed the back door slightly ajar. Her frown deepening, she opened it wider and walked out onto the deck.
Grace looked about the yard until she saw the neighbors’ children sitting on the grass between her house and theirs. But what stunned her most was Julian sitting with them as he showed them a game with rocks and sticks.
The two boys and one of the girls were sitting next to him, listening attentively while their two-year-old sister toddled between them.
Grace smiled at the tranquil sight. Warmth flooded her, and she wondered if that was what Julian had looked like with his own children.
Leaving the deck, she walked toward them.
Bobby was the eldest of the children at nine, then his brother Tommy was a year younger and Katie was barely six. Their parents had moved in almost ten years ago as newlyweds and though they were friendly enough, they had never been much more than passing acquaintances.
“So, then what happened?” Bobby asked as Julian took a turn.
“Well, the army was trapped,” Julian said, moving one of the rocks over a stick. “Betrayed by one of their own. A young hoplite who had sold out his comrades because he wanted to be a Roman centurion.”
“They were the best,” Bobby interrupted.
Julian scoffed. “They were nothing compared to the Spartans.”
“Go, Spartans!” Tommy shouted. “That’s our school mascot.”
Bobby shoved his brother, knocking him over. “You’re interrupting the story.”
“You should never hit your brother,” Julian said, his voice both stern, and yet strangely gentle. “Brothers are supposed to protect one another, not hurt each other.”
The irony of his words wrenched her heart. It was a pity no one had ever taught his brothers that lesson.
“Sorry,” Bobby said. “So what happened after that?”
Before Julian could answer, the baby fell and scattered the rocks and sticks. The boys shouted at her, but Julian calmed them while lifting Allison up and setting her back on her feet.
He touched the baby lightly on the nose, making her laugh. Then he set the game up again.
As Bobby took his turn with a rock, Julian began the story where he’d left off. “The Macedonian commander looked around the hills where the Romans had his army cornered. There was no way to outflank them, nowhere to retreat.”
“Did they surrender?” Bobby asked.
“Never,” Julian said with conviction. “Death always before dishonor.”
Julian paused as the words echoed in his mind. Those words had been engraved on his shield. As a commander, he had lived by them.
As a slave, he’d long forgotten them.
The boys moved closer.
“Did they die?” Katie asked.
“Some did,” Julian said, trying to banish the memories that surged through him. Memories of a man who had once known no master save himself. “But not before they set the Romans back on their heels.”
“How?” the boys asked anxiously.
This time, Julian caught the baby before she interrupted their game.
“Well,” Julian said, giving Allison her small red ball. She sat on his bent knee and he held her in place with one hand around her waist. “As the Romans were riding down upon them, the Macedonian commander knew the Romans would expect him to pull his forces together into a phalanx, making them easy prey for the Roman cavalry and archers above. Instead, the commander ordered his men to disband, to aim their spears toward the horses, and break apart the Roman cavalry lines.”
“Did it work?” Tommy asked.
Even Grace was getting interested in the story.
Julian nodded. “The Romans hadn’t expected such a tactic from a civilized army. Completely unprepared for the move, their troops scattered.”
“And the Macedonian commander?”
“He gave a mighty battle cry as he rode his horse, Mania, across the field, and up the hillock where the Roman commanders were retreating. They turned to attack him, but it did them no good. With fury in his heart over the betrayal, the commander cut through them, leaving only one survivor.”
“Why?” Bobby asked.
“He wanted him to deliver a message.”
“What?” Tommy asked.
Julian smiled at their eager questions. “The commander ripped the Roman standard to shreds, then used the cloth of it to help the Roman staunch the bleeding of his wounds. With a lethal grin, he looked at the Roman and said, ‘Roma delenda est.’ Rome must be destroyed. Then he sent the Roman general home in chains to deliver the message to the Roman Senate.”
“Wow!” Bobby said in awe. “I wish you were my teacher in school. I might actually pass history if you were.”
Julian ruffled the boy’s black hair. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t care for the subject either at your age. All I wanted to do was get into mischief.”
“Hi, Miss Grace!” Tommy said as he finally caught sight of her. “Did you hear Mr. Julian’s story? He said the Romans were bad men.”
Julian looked up to see Grace standing a few feet away.
Grace smiled. “I’m sure he would know.”
“Can you fix my doll?” Katie asked, handing it to Julian.
Julian let go of the baby and took the doll. He popped its arm back in place.
“Thank you,” Katie said as she threw her arms around Julian and hugged his neck.
The longing on Julian’s face stung her heart. Grace knew it was the face of his own daughter he saw when he looked at Katie.
“You’re very welcome, little one,” he said hoarsely, pulling away from her.
“Katie, Tommy, Bobby? What are you doing over there?”
Grace looked up as Emily rounded the side of the house.
“You’re not bothering Miss Grace, are you?”
“No, they’re not bothering me,” Grace said to her.
Emily didn’t seem to hear her as she continued fussing at the children. “And what’s the baby doing out here? You’re supposed to stay in the backyard.”
“Hey, Mom,” Bobby yelled as he ran to her. “Do you know how to play Parcelon? Mr. Julian showed us.”
Grace laughed as the five of them returned to the front yard, while Bobby’s excited chatter echoed around them.
Julian had his eyes closed and looked as if he were savoring the sound of the children’s voices.
“You’re quite a storyteller,” she said after he moved to join her.
“Not really.”
“Really,” she said emphatically. “You know, it got me to thinking. Bobby’s right. You would make a great teacher.”
He smirked at her. “Commander to teacher. Why not call me Cato the Elder, and really insult me while you’re at it?”
She laughed. “You’re not as offended as you pretend.”
“How do you know?”
“I can tell by the look on your face, and the light in your eyes.” She took his arm and led him back toward the deck. “You really should think about it. Selena got her Ph.D. from Tulane and she knows the faculty there. Who better to teach ancient civilization than someone who actually lived it?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, she noticed the way he shifted his bare feet against the ground.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m enjoying the feel of grass,” he whispered. “The way the blades tickle my toes.”
She smiled at the childlike action. “That’s why you came outside?”
He nodded. “I love to feel the sunshine on my face.”
And in her heart, she knew he’d had way too little of it to feel. “C’mon, I’ll make us some cereal and we can eat it on the deck.”
She led him back up the five stairs to the deck, and left him sitting in her wicker rocker as she went inside and poured the cereal.
When she returned, he had his head lying back and his eyes serenely closed.
Not wanting to disturb him, she stepped back.
“Do you know, I can feel your presence all over my body? With every sense I possess?” he asked, then opened his eyes to pin her with a hot stare.
“No,” she said nervously, handing him his bowl.
He took the bowl, but didn’t elaborate on his words. He just sat there quietly eating his breakfast.
Absorbing the warm sunshine, Julian listened to the soft breeze as he felt Grace’s calming presence beside him.
He had awakened at dawn to watch the sunrise through her bedroom windows, and had spent an hour just letting Grace’s body soothe his.
She tempted him in a way he’d never before known. For a minute, he allowed himself to think of staying in this time.
But then what?
He only had one “skill” he could use in this modern world, and he wasn’t the kind of man who could live off a woman’s charity and like it.
Not after …
He ground his teeth as the memory burned him.
At fourteen, he’d traded his virginity for a bowl of cold porridge and a cup of soured milk. Even now, after all this time, he could feel the woman’s hands on his body, removing his clothes, grabbing feverishly at his skin as she showed him how to pleasure her.
“Ooo,” she’d cooed, “you are a pretty one, aren’t you? If you ever need more porridge, you just come back and see me any time my husband’s not home.”
He’d felt so dirty afterward. So used.
Over the next few years, he’d spent more nights sleeping in shadows than in warm beds merely because he wasn’t willing to pay that price again for a meal and temporary comfort.
And should he ever get his freedom again, he didn’t want to …
Julian clenched his eyes shut. He just couldn’t see himself in this world. It was too different. Too strange.
“Finished?”
He looked up to see Grace standing by his side with her hand outstretched for his bowl. “Yes, thank you,” he said, handing it to her.
“I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He watched her leave, his gaze lingering on her bare legs. Already, he could taste her skin on his tongue. Smell the sweet scent of her body.
The woman haunted him. It wasn’t just the curse. There was something more. Something he’d never encountered.
For the first time in over two thousand years he felt like a man again, and with that feeling came a longing so profound that it sliced through his heart.
He wanted her. Body and soul.
And he wanted her love.
The thought jolted him.
But it was the truth. Not since his childhood had he felt such a gut-wrenching ache for someone to hold him tenderly. Someone who would tell him that she loved him and mean it from her heart and not because of a spell.
Leaning his head back, he cursed. When would he learn?
He had been born to suffer. The Delphi Oracle had told him as much.
“You will suffer as no man has ever suffered.”
“But will I be loved?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
He had walked away crushed by her prophecy. Little had he known then exactly how much suffering lay before him.
“He’s the son of the Goddess of Love and not even she can stand to be near him.”
