The Lost Centurion (The Immortals Book 1) (18 page)

Once she tingled from the harsh treatment, she looked at her reddened hands and kneeled to the floor. It was her ritual. After every appointment with one of her clients, she had cleansed her body from their memories. This time, she had rubbed her skin until it had bruised, hoping to bring back Marcus’s marks on her. For a moment, she felt his lips moving over hers, his fingers tracing circles over her wrists. The sweet taste of his blood flooded her mouth and she gasped at the intensity of the sensation.

Loud banging on the door intruded in her bliss. Carlo entered without giving her time to cover herself. He didn’t flinch at her nudity and tossed her a heap of white fabric. She caught it and discovered it was a soft terry robe. The man tilted his head to the exit and reached out to grab her, but she didn’t let him.

“I don’t need any help.” She stood and donned the robe, then crossed her hands over it to close it at her chest.

Carlo shrugged then held the door open for her. They walked back to the hallway, but the man passed the room with the rugs and pillows and led her three doors past that one. He knocked, and from the other side the chubby girl answered, “About time.” The man let Diana inside, but remained by the entrance, guarding the door.

The room was small, a dark curtain made of heavy fabric filling the wall on the left. An iron wrought chandelier hung from the beamed ceiling. The other three walls were covered with a burgundy-and-cream striped wallpaper. A big poster bed without a canopy dominated the place, its headboard high and made of intricately carved and dark, almost ebony-black wood.

“At least you don’t smell anymore.” The girl showed Diana a walk-in closet that opened under an arch onto the right wall.

Diana entered the closet and was surprised to see it was almost as big as the bedroom. The place also contained a vanity table with a delicate-looking chair and an antique mirror. Clothes sorted by style were displayed on hangers covered in black satin and shoes were stored in frosted-glass cabinets.

The girl passed her and headed to the dresses section, where she opened a drawer, took out a white lace bra and matching panties, then scrolled through the hangers and picked a white cocktail piece. “Change into this.” She handed Diana the dress, then tapped her right foot on the floor. “What are you waiting for?”

Diana had never liked undressing before other people. All her clients, aside from one exception, had liked to watch her remove her clothes one item at a time, and she had hated it.

“Do you want Carlo to help you?” The girl’s eyes shot toward the bedroom where the burly man stood by the door.

Diana removed her robe and draped it over the back of the chair, donned the underwear, then the dress that reached her knees, giving her a virginal look. The fabric hugging her skin was light, probably silk, and made her feel clean. She would have liked for Marcus to see her dressed like that. She didn’t resemble an escort, but a college girl, someone he would have been proud to go out with.

“Sit.” The girl pointed at the chair. “I’ll see what I can do to make you look presentable.”

When Diana didn’t move fast enough, the girl’s eyes lit and she opened her mouth to call the burly guard. Without a word, Diana raised one hand to stop her, pulled the chair out from under the vanity table, and sat.

The chubby girl, denied her sadistic pleasure to see Diana beaten by Carlo, took her revenge by insulting her. She enumerated all Diana’s flaws, starting with the vulgar color of her skin, not pale enough and blemished with sunspots, to the shape of her eyes that made it impossible for the girl to apply makeup on them, to her lips too full to wear any lipstick, to her torso so undeveloped she resembled a pre-pubertal boy, to her legs that were too muscular. The list never ended.

When the girl smeared a glob of foundation over the scar on Diana’s sternum, Diana grabbed the girl’s wrist and stopped her. Her stepfather had given her that scar when she had finally fought against him, and nobody was allowed to touch it. Nobody but Marcus.

“How dare you!” The girl raised her free hand to slap her, but to Diana’s surprise, the hand remained in mid-air. “Sire—”

From the reflection in the mirror, Diana saw the man only when he crossed the archway. His steps were so quiet it looked as if he were gliding over the floor. The girl bowed deeply before the vampire, her lower lip trembling.

“You are dismissed, Laura.” The man walked to the vanity table and stopped behind Diana, his hands over the back of the chair. “I see you are ready for me.”

Diana heard the girl’s retreating steps, the bedroom’s door opening and closing, and hoped at least Carlo had stayed behind.

The man brushed the skin between her shoulder blades with the manicured nail of his right index finger. “I am pleased with you.”

Bile filled her mouth and she couldn’t help but jerk away from him.

“You’ll sit tight and be thankful for my interest in you.” He didn’t need to lower her to the chair.

At his words, Diana felt the compulsion to obey him and sat back. Tears wetted her eyes when he lowered his hand and slid a finger inside her dress to caress the swell of her breast, then he traced the scar on her sternum, pressing his fingers on it.

“That must’ve been exquisite pain.” He removed his hand and bent to brush her crown with his lips. “You’ll be perfect for the ceremony.”

Diana wished her hair had fully grown. She had felt his mouth on her scalp and it had repulsed her.

He regarded her with an amused expression, his hand lowering toward her chest again. “It will be so much fun breaking you.” At the last moment, the corner of his mouth turned up, and he leaned to whisper into her ear without touching her. “Someone else has already tried, but I won’t be as clumsy as the ones who came before me.” He paused, his eyes went to her scar. “And when your change is complete, your skin will heal to flawless perfection.” He straightened. “Your friend the centurion will join us for dinner.”

Diana’s heartbeats became frantic.

The man laughed. “His life depends on how well you behave. I’ll lift the compulsion now and you’ll do as I say or your centurion won’t even reach the dining table.”

She felt his hold on her body lessening.

“Will you obey my will?”

She nodded.

“You may speak.”

“Yes.”

“
Yes, I will, sire
.”

Diana’s throat tightened, pain shot behind her eyes.

“You may speak.”

Clarity of vision came back to her. She massaged her neck. “Yes, I will obey you, sire.”

“You are promising.” The man smiled down at her, then his expression changed and he became serious. “Do you know who I am?” He gestured for her to answer.

She swallowed, then nodded.

The man raised an eyebrow.

“You must be Claudius, Virgil’s nest’s sire.”

The vampire beamed. “Poppet…” He extended an arm for her to take. “Shall we?”

Diana stood from the chair, turned to face him, then rested her hand on his and walked out of the dressing room and into the bedroom. Carlo had left after all.

“Do you like your room?”

She was puzzled by his question and hesitated.

He gave her another of his condescending smiles. “You have permission to answer.”

She didn’t know what he wanted her to answer and said the first thing that came to her mind. “It’s elegant.”

“Of course it’s elegant. I want my vestals to be treated well.” Claudius patted her hand, then led her out to the hallway.

She ignored his last statement, her worries leading all her thoughts back to Marcus’s safety. “May I ask a question?”

Claudius stopped walking and pivoted on his heels, eyebrow raised, a cold smile tugging at his lips. “What do you wish to know, pet?”

She thought of how phrase her question. “How did you find me?”

“One of my lineage’s best-kept secrets. A useful gift I inherited from my sire, the ability to sense my bloodline anywhere in the world.” He regarded her with an even colder smile. “You are Virgil’s progeny, therefore mine as well since I sired him. I can track you down wherever you are by the signature of your blood. I’ve always known where you were.” Claudius laughed at her shocked expression.

“But then why didn’t you send your people sooner?”

“Because I like to play cat and mouse with my prey.” He paused, then laughed again with more mirth this time. “I usually find useful to have a bargaining chip to use against the Immortal Council. The vampire who came back to me the night you were kidnapped reported an immortal had done the deed. It was too big an opportunity to waste by claiming you right away. Next time I would have dealt with the Council, I would have used it to gain more freedom for my nest. Little did I know what kind of gift you were bringing me.” He grabbed her arm and turned to resume the walk.

Suddenly, her senses were overwhelmed and she froze, but Claudius made her move with a sharp pull of her wrist. “Come.”

Diana kept her trembling knees in check before the vampire decided to impose his will on her again to do his bidding. For the briefest of moments, she had heard Marcus’s thoughts and felt his anguish and frustration as if it were her own.

****

A fall storm caught the Romans unaware. Lightning and thunder took central stage in the afternoon sky while people hurried home before the streets became too crowded. The wind howled through the cypresses trees, and fat drops of water fell all over the city in what soon became a torrential rain. Unaware of nature’s tantrum, Marcus looked at the piece of folded paper lying at the bottom of the small cardboard box. His hands were shaking badly and he couldn’t lift it. He had opened the box fearing the worst, and at the sight of the innocuous-looking piece of paper, he had let all his pent-up worries out in a scream that had stopped several people on their tracks.

Before someone could ask if he was okay, he ran back inside the house and closed the outer door behind him with a kick of his boot. He strode across the atrium and went to sit on the stone bench facing the rain water pool to calm his nerves. The open-air atrium with the garden at its center dated the building back to that Roman house he had planned so long ago. Three full stories had been added all around that central opening, but to his relief, the original rectangular marble tub representing the core of his home had remained untouched through the millennia. He had spent hours watching the liquid surface reflecting the sunrays and illuminating the whole place with white, soothing light.

Slouched on the bench, eyes on the cascade of rainwater falling down from the sky above directly into the pool, Marcus took a moment to regulate his breathing, then picked up the folded paper from inside the box, and opened it. “Oh, gods… oh, gods…” He stared at the printed copy of a picture of Diana taken with a low resolution camera, probably a cell phone. Still shaking, he passed the back of his hand over his eyes, then looked back at the image. She was so small, hugging herself, laying on what looked like a rug. Her clothes were torn and dirty and barely covered her. Her skin was bloodied and marred with bruises. At the bottom of the printed paper, there were a few words.

“Surrender yourself if you want her to live,” the message said in black sharpie. “Tonight. Alone. Unarmed.” An address followed the warning.

Marcus read the words several times. The address he had been summoned to was in Castel Gandolfo, one of the ancient villages surrounded by volcanic lakes and bordering the rich outskirts of Rome where the medieval castles were located. It didn’t surprise him that the nest owned property in an exclusive area, but he found it twisted that the chosen hamlet was Castel Gandolfo, the pope’s famous summer vacation place.

Marcus raised his eyes to the column of water filling the pool, then touched the cell phone screen to check what time it was. He swore. It was rush hour in Rome and it was still pouring. The traffic on the Raccordo Anulare, the circular highway surrounding the inner city, would be bumper to bumper. Given the quantity of rain that had fallen, lots of roads were already closed. He had to hurry and leave the city before he got stuck in traffic.

Running toward the private garage where he had his car parked—a black Alfa Romeo that was the only item he brought with him wherever he lived—he called Alexander, who had left a dozen messages for him already. Messages Marcus hadn’t listened to because he had muted his phone. He didn’t have any recollection of having done so.

“Marcus, thank the gods you called back. I need to—” Alexander’s voice came out distorted. The storm was disrupting cell phones signals.

Marcus interrupted him before the call dropped. “You won’t believe this, but the Vatican and the vampires are neighbors. Diana is at Castle Gandolfo—” He heard the static in the middle of his sentence, but kept talking, hoping Alexander could still make out his words, and gave him the nest’s full address. “I’m headed there right now. If I don’t come back… you’ll know what to do.” The line on the other side went silent. He had reached the entry of the underground private garage he had chosen because it was only one block from his house.

The garage doorman, Emilio, welcomed Marcus with a big smile, then he tilted his head toward the small window on his right. Outside, the dark sky was illuminated by hair-raising lightning that seemed to strike closer and closer above the roofs nearby. “Looking for some thrills tonight?” He was a kind-hearted grandfather who enjoyed spending time in chitchats.

Any other time, Marcus would have humored him with a few innocent tales, but tonight, he only had one message to deliver. “If my friend Alexander should come by, give him the spare keys to my Alfa, okay?”

Emilio frowned at the request, but showed Marcus said keys hanging from the panel on the wall beside his desk. “Sure.”

Marcus waved his right hand in a good-bye and headed to his stall, where the Alfa waited for him under a protective white cover. He tossed the cover aside, then entered the vehicle. The familiarity of his car’s smell, the softness of his leather seat adapting to his body like a glove, and the purr of the engine gave him a moment of respite from his worries. He breathed his car in and closed his eyes.