The Immortal Scrolls (13 page)

The magistrate announced for the start of the fight. The man threw his spear at Androcles. It missed by inches. Then he started swirling his spiked ball above his head. The man with the net started circling Androcles in a teasing way. Androcles watched but did not fight. His head was fuzzy and his vision blurry. The crowd started to yell and boo. The man with the spiked ball swung at Androcles and hit him in the head. His helmet went flying, and Androcles fell to the ground. The other man threw his net over Androcles. The crowd cheered.

“Father,” said Lucian as he entered the box. Amara scowled when she saw him. She was furious Androcles was losing.

“Yes, Lucian,” said Tiberius calmly. He wasn’t at all concerned for his gladiator. “Legatus, may I introduce my son Lucian. He oversees training of the gladiators. Lucian, this is the Legatus Antonius Lucilius Scaeva.” The men nodded at each other. Then the legatus turned back excitedly to the game. “And his beautiful wife Araceli.”

“I…” said Lucian awkwardly as Araceli smiled politely at him. He was slightly taken aback. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in all his life. Araceli turned away and continued watching the games intently. She was sitting on the edge of her seat with a grave look upon her face. Lucian refocused and spoke to his father. “You have to put a stop to this fight. Something is wrong. I believe Androcles was poisoned or drugged.”

Araceli and Amara turned their heads sharply toward the two men as they overheard this bit of information.

“The match has already begun. You can’t call it off,” protested Antonius. The other ludus owners chimed in agreement.

“Magistrate, you must end this game,” Amara yelled, to everyone’s surprise. The magistrate turned to look at her. “If there is cheating you must let us investigate and refight our gladiator.” She spoke calmly now and never broke eye contact with the magistrate. He seemed entranced for a moment.

“Yes, I must,” the magistrate said slowly. His head snapped suddenly and looked back at the games. He walked to the edge of the box to make an announcement, but it was a moment too late.

Androcles lost his sword in his effort to free himself of the net. One of the other men picked it up. He was defenseless as he stood up. The noise of the crowd sounded muffled in his ears. Androcles felt the sword pierce his stomach with a sickening burning sensation. Then he felt the triton puncture his back. He stood for a second and then fell to the ground.

“No!” Araceli screamed. “Androcles!” She fainted in her seat. He couldn’t hear her over the cheering of the crowd, who were now chanting with their thumbs down.

The group in the box turned to look at the arena. Antonius stood smugly, watching the dying man, without a care for Araceli.

“No!” Amara growled. She stood up and raced out of the box.

“I’m sorry, Tiberius,” said the magistrate as he shook his head.

Tiberius followed after Amara. Lucian noticed Araceli and rushed to her side. He grabbed a fan from a slave and fanned her face as he supported her neck. She started to open her eyes. She stared up at Lucian’s handsome face. He smiled at her. His square teeth were surprisingly white, straight, and well taken care of.

“Are you all right?” he asked her. His voice was gruff.

“Androcles,” she moaned.

Lucian wondered how this beautiful, young aristocrat knew his best new gladiator.
My dying gladiator
, he thought regretfully.

Antonius heard the other wives talking rapidly and looked over to see what the fuss was about. He was enraged to see Lucian touching his wife. “You!” Antonius called angrily. Lucian looked up and let go of Araceli. Then he stood up and left after his father. Antonius went over to his wife and helped her sit up.

“Are you well, my love?” he asked, concerned, though underneath he felt the ugly stings of jealousy as she concerned herself with her former lover.

“Yes, I think so,” she said shakily.

“Women faint sometimes when they are with child,” one of the wives said reassuringly to Antonius.

Antonius gave her a brief nod and a curt smile.

The magistrate was making an announcement to the crowd. He gave the thumbs up to the gladiators, and they hauled Androcles back to the cells for treatment.

“Excuse me,” Araceli said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.” She wanted to go check on Androcles. She wouldn’t let anyone stop her.

“Where do you think you are going?” Antonius asked incredulously.

“You know…” she said, smiling so he wouldn’t catch on. “To go…” she said, smiling again, hoping he would think she needed to relieve herself. And he did seem to think that was the case.

“Take a slave with you,” he said. Antonius grabbed a glass of wine from the hands of a slave and turned back around to speak with the magistrate.

Araceli rushed off. She stopped and asked how to get to the gladiator cells. The men looked at her like she was crazy but pointed the way.

Amara, Tiberius, and Lucian stood in a closed room. Androcles lay bleeding to death on a table in the room.

“Do something, Tiberius,” Amara commanded. Her fangs were out. She smelled the blood and was doing her best not to lean over and finish Androcles off.

“You know nothing can be done. It is not the full moon yet,” said Tiberius. Tiberius could care less if he lived or died.

It pained Lucian to see Androcles fall. He had seen Androcles’s potential and grown fond of him.

“Then I will do something,” said Amara as she stared at Androcles.

“I forbid you, Amara!” Tiberius yelled.

“You forbid me?” Amara yelled back defiantly. “Do not presume to forbid me from doing anything, Tiberius.” Her fangs flashed dangerously at him. “If you cannot make him into a wolf, then he shall become a vampire.”

“I will have no part of this,” said Tiberius, and he stormed out of the room, leaving Amara and Lucian alone.

“What is it you value in him so much, Amara?” Lucian asked her curiously. “You paid too much for him. You made sure he was fed better than the others.” Amara didn’t answer. “You desire him, don’t you?” he accused. Lucian shook his head sadly and left. He knew she had killed his mother so she could have his father. Now she seemed done with his father and on to her next prey.
I will destroy her one day
, he thought.

Amara stood over Androcles for a moment and then bent over and bit into his neck. She drank his blood ravenously. It was more even delicious because she desired him. Amara stopped suddenly and stood up again. Then she tore open her wrist with her fangs and let the blood drip into his mouth. Androcles lay motionless for a few minutes. Then his eyes popped open and he reached for her arm. He grabbed it and put it to his mouth. He drank her blood greedily. He stopped suddenly, and his body began convulsing. Amara watched with big, fascinated eyes as he began the change. Androcles yelled as his body twisted and writhed in pain. Amara could hear his heartbeat slowing until it took its last stubborn beat. Then it was over. Androcles lay motionless on the table with his eyes closed. His wounds began to heal and close, leaving the skin perfectly smooth. Even his leg healed more but remained slightly scarred.

“Androcles,” she said. He did not respond. Amara leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Androcles, wake up.” Her voice echoed in his head, and his eyes popped open.

Androcles gasped for air in vain, for he no longer needed to breathe. However, he had kept his human reflexes. “What did you do to me, woman?” he growled with bared fangs.

Amara smiled, revealing her own fangs. Androcles looked at her as if he were really just seeing her for the first time. She was a monster—a beautiful monster, but still a monster. He had always thought there was something off about her and realized his human judgment had been clouded.

“Arise, Androcles,” Amara said, smiling. “We must get you out of here unseen. You will lay low at the ludus and pretend to be healing. In the meantime you will feed with me and become the most powerful gladiator the house of Habitus has ever had.”

“Feed?” he asked, confused.

“Blood,” she said. “You must have blood to survive. You are no longer human. You are a vampire.”

“I am a devil,” he said angrily.

“You are a god!” she corrected. Androcles looked away. Amara tossed a cloak at him.

“Cover up,” she ordered. He found it difficult to go against her. “You cannot be seen until a reasonable amount of time has passed. You don’t want to give us away.” She looked menacing. Androcles covered himself with the cloak and followed her out. They walked quickly to the exit.

“Lady Amara,” said a fragile voice. They paused in their tracks. Amara held a hand out to Androcles, commanding him to stay put and not turn around.

Androcles’s heart melted when he heard the tiny woman’s voice. He knew it was Araceli. He could smell her blood. He wanted to turn and embrace her, but he couldn’t disobey his new master Amara.

“Lady Araceli,” she said, surprised. “How did you get down here? What are you even doing down here? This is no place for ladies.”

Araceli’s face was streaked with tears. “I know. I came to see how fares your gladiator Androcles.”

“You shed tears for him,” Amara said as she studied Araceli. “Do you know him?”

“Yes. He—he is a friend,” she said.

Amara looked coldly at her. “Gladiators have no friends. In any event, he will survive in time. You’d better get back to your husband, lady.”

“Thank you,” Araceli said, sounding relieved.

Androcles could feel her. He could feel her every emotion, her pain, her sorrow, her relief, her love for him. Her emotions struck him so hard it was like reading her mind. He marveled at this sensation. Emotions from every angle started to flood him. He felt anxiety, despair, pain, and desperation from the other men in the cells. He could even feel Amara’s emotions. She radiated anger, lust, and jealousy. Every sound was magnified. He heard Araceli’s soft footsteps as she retreated.

“Come, Androcles,” Amara ordered.

“Does she bother you so much?” he asked curiously.

“Your little friend?” Amara said mockingly, but he could feel her jealousy. “What makes you think she bothers me?”

“I can feel it,” he said.

“Empath,” said Amara as she stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Androcles. “Sometimes we have special traits we carry with us when we change.”

“Do you have a special trait?” Androcles asked. Amara didn’t respond and walking. “How do you know her?” she asked. They exited the arena and walked quickly back to the ludus.

“She was my lover,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That cannot be. We cannot mix with humans in that way. Do you understand me?” she threatened.

“And what is Tiberius if not a human?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, Androcles, you know nothing of what is out there, do you?” she said, laughing. “Tiberius, Lucian, and all the other gladiators are werewolves.” She watched Androcles’s eyes grow large with realization. “You too were to become a werewolf if you had survived until the full moon. You were to be bitten and changed.”

“And your companion, the one who fancies men?” he asked.

“He is one of us,” she confirmed. Amara looked over at the setting sun. “You feel it, Androcles. Can you feel your power increasing with every second as the night comes? Let’s return and clean you up. Then I will teach you everything.”

Androcles walked behind her. He was glad to be alive…well, somewhat. And he didn’t care what Amara said. He would be with Araceli. No one and nothing would come in his way.

“So you went ahead and did it anyway?” Tiberius yelled at Amara. She was there in the villa with Androcles. Lucian and Callixtus watched from a safe distance. Tiberius made a disgusted noise and stormed out of the room, yelling all sorts of curses.

Lucian followed his father. He passed by Androcles. “I am glad you survived, even if you are an abomination.” Amara hissed at him angrily. She was proud of what she was and considered herself a goddess. Lucian left the three vampires alone in the room.

“Well, my children,” said Amara, “it is time to hunt. Androcles, wait for us outside.”

Androcles left the room quietly and obediently.

“You got what you wanted after all, Amara,” said Callixtus.