He nodded to the manager and handed him a bag of denarii in return, the girl stepped forward and out of the care of the manger and into Cimon’s for the night. He led her to his room and quietly closed the door behind them. His heart was in his mouth and he still didn’t quite know what he wanted from her. This wasn’t his wife, but maybe he could pretend just for one night that she was.
Her name was Arete and she was Greek. She’d also sprained her ankle, which he was able to help heal. But she definitely wasn’t Callie, and any lingering illusions that he might have had, she immediately went about shattering. With her in his bed any thoughts of his innocent and wholesome wife were dispelled as she lived up to the knowing look in her eyes which he matched and encouraged.
It was only when she lay sleeping in the early morning light, and he lay staring into space, that he allowed himself to explore his thoughts. When he saw her slumbering form lying next to him, he could imagine that this was Callie. And he could pretend that he’d woken up from a horrible dream to find her sleeping quietly beside him. But he could only make the illusion last for a moment before the truth crowded in and eroded his fantasy.
Callie would never have done the things he and Arete had done together last night. His wife had been pure and innocent, in fact they both had been. But that part of him was long gone. Not just devoured by the hunger inside him, but by experience of the world and exposure to carnal knowledge. This girl had satisfied his needs, but he hadn’t fed from her, the hunger and desire she’d satisfied hadn’t been for essence, it had been for a much more human commodity.
The truth finally filtered into his conscious mind. Cimon the shepherd, who had been Callie’s husband, was gone and he was something else now. When it had happened he didn’t know, but the other soul was an integral part of him now, they had merged and would continue to do more so over time.
It had been a steady insidious integration that had made them something completely different. Maybe he’d known it was happening, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it? Little things, like the strange turn of phrase, the knowledge of something that he couldn’t have known, and the skill with a weapon he’d never used before. Even the preference for certain foods and prejudices he’d never known he’d had. Speaking Aramaic had merely been the start.
He closed his eyes. He had to get a knife, he shouldn’t be without one, even though he had other qualities now that were as good, if not better, but it was wrong for a man to go without one. This wasn’t his thought, it had bubbled up from the other soul, but it was part of him now and he wanted that knife in his belt.
Cimon the shepherd had been replaced with Cimon the Greek. He looked across at his sleeping companion. He’d paid for the night and it was still early, and it was a pleasant way to pass the time. Smiling, he reached over, letting his fingers slide gently over her warm skin, savouring the delicious moment when she woke and reached for him in return.
Shelpa found him sitting quietly on the wall of the terrace later that morning. She stood beside him stroking his thick dark hair, which had recently been cut in the Roman fashion.
“Why so glum? Wasn’t she what you expected?” she asked casually.
“Not exactly,” he replied staring into the walled garden.
“You mean she was a man?” Shelpa exclaimed. “That was a good disguise, I’d never have guessed, but you wouldn’t have minded that. So what’s wrong?”
He looked up at her and smiled. “She wasn’t a man, she was a she, but she looked like my wife.”
She was stunned. “But she was young; your wife couldn’t be that young.”
“Shelpa, my wife’s been dead for ten years,” he explained, slightly exasperated that she didn’t remember this.
“Did you kill her?” she asked, sitting down next to him. He looked at her. They’d never talked about this in all the years together. He’d refused right from the beginning to discuss with her the things that had mattered to him and over time it had become a habit and in return she’d never divulged any personal information to him. Yet despite that they’d become close and had even come to love one another.
“No, I didn’t, I didn’t make my first kill. But she died later anyway. You knew that, didn’t you?” he asked, curious that maybe she didn’t know.
“Well, I do now. So she looked like your wife, but surely you didn’t believe it was her ghost, did you? Ghosts don’t appear like that, they –”
“No, I didn’t.” He cut her off. “I don’t know what I expected. But I discovered something that I’d been trying to avoid.” She looked at him, for once not talking and waiting for him to continue. But she did take his hand. It was a strangely compassionate gesture and quite unlike her usual insensitivity.
Encouraged and moved by her interest he continued. “I always believed that I could go back to Mount Helicon and my village, that I was still that same person. But last night, though she looked like Ca…” He stopped, Callie’s name was private. He corrected himself and continued, “Though she looked like my wife, she wasn’t and it turned out that it was a good thing, because I’m not that man any more. She’s dead and so is the boy who was her husband.
“I’d been avoiding that fact, but now it’s clear, someone else is living in our cottage and tending the flocks. We’re gone, nothing but a memory for some of the people in the village.”
He finished and looked sadly away into the garden. Shelpa squeezed his hand. “When I went back to my family after a few years, my mother was dead and so was my father but I already knew that. My brother was an invalid and my sister married with three children.
“One was named after me. It was supposed to be in honour, but I didn’t see it like that. It was as if the little girl was stamping over my memory and obliterating me. So I know what you mean. The world moves on and we have to move with it.”
Cimon gazed at her, surprised at her empathy and this unexpected disclosure of information of her past.
“You’re merging, Cimon, it takes time for the souls to fully integrate. But you’re changing. Some things never go, but others will cease to matter and different matters will become important. You’re right, the shepherd from Boeotia is dead, but soon he’ll be someone new. A combination of that shepherd and someone else. Three for one if you like. A trinity of souls residing in one body.”
He gazed at her, finally understanding what she’d been saying to him and feeling it happening in him already.
“Do you know who he is yet? I assume it’s a him. We tend to attract the same sex, but sometimes, there’s a combination. That’s always interesting. But I think we’d know already if that was the case with you.”
“It’s a he and that’s as much as I know so far, but he likes to have a knife with him.” Cimon showed her the knife he’d taken from the kitchen that morning. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do until he found a better one.
She grinned at that and reached out to stroke his hair again. “Tell me when you know more, I like to know who I’m sharing my bed with.” She stood and then bent down and whispered into his ear, so that he had to strain to hear. “I love you, you know that. Well, as much as a creature like me is capable of love.” Then she walked away back into the house and only once did she glance back to smile.
Chapter Eight
Cyrus walked beside the carefully tended flowerbeds admiring the brightly coloured plants and the smells that drifted in the warm breeze. One of the compensations of becoming a Rabisu were the heightened senses, which made this beautiful garden an exceedingly agreeable environment to be in.
He’d been called here by the Roman matron who’d lived in these gardens for over three hundred years. Somehow she’d managed to stay in the same place without being discovered, though to alleviate suspicion she moved constantly from one private house to another. Houses that she’d owned as a mortal, so she still considered them home.
He could see Julia now, sitting with her ladies in the shade. She saw him at the same time and dismissed her att
endants so that they had disappeared by the time he arrived at her informal pavilion.
She stood as he approached. “Cyrus, thank you for coming. My apologies for asking an elder to visit someone of my meagre years, but it causes less attention this way.”
Cyrus walked up to her and took her hand. “It’s perfectly understandable, Julia. I’m free to move around and as we both know you’re restricted in this age.”
She grimaced. “In any age. At times, I’m so frustrated to be a man in a woman’s body. You have no idea how exasperating it can be. The other way around would be fine, I’m sure, but this way, no, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Cyrus was used to her tirade. “I’m sure there are compensations.”
She smiled at that. “The novelty soon wears off, believe me. Please sit and have some wine. It’s very good.” She sat down and poured him a drink. Then she came straight to the point as was her way. “I’ve heard that there are some new wielders in town. Have you heard anything?” she asked handing him the cup.
Cyrus was taken by surprise. “No, I haven’t. But there are always wielders, some friendly, some not. What’s so special about these?”
Julia took a breath and answered, “They’re new. Not ones we’ve seen before. They haven’t liaised with any of the other wielders. Not even the ones who’d kill us at the slightest opportunity. We think they’ve come from the east and are a new sect dedicated to killing any creature who doesn’t fit into the accepted world order.”
Cyrus considered what she said. He’d known threats like this before. They came up every so often and normally it was the foolhardy and unlucky who didn’t live through them.
Julia spoke again. “They’ve killed three already. One in Ostia, another on the road to Rome and the third last night. All youngsters in their youth but it’s clear that they mean business. Cyrus, you have a fledgling staying at your villa. I suggest that you get him out of Rome as quickly as possible. He’s getting a reputation as a healer and a good one. That’s the sort of thing that’ll attract their attention.”
Cyrus nodded. Julia was right, Cimon and his naïve healing would attract attention. He hadn’t realised that the boy was getting a reputation, which was an oversight on his part and he would have to warn Shelpa to be on her guard wherever they went because he doubted she would be able to persuade the boy to stop healing.
“Do the other wielders know about him yet?” he asked.
Julia shook her head. “He’s subtle and his healing takes time, but his fame will spread. In the provinces he might avoid notice, but here in Rome, rumours and fame spread like wildfire. Our local wielders will notice him before too long. The other healers are older and avoid the attention, but he’s young and he wants to help.”
“A dangerous combination,” Cyrus commented. Julia nodded.
Cyrus stood. “Thank you, Julia. I’ll get them out of Rome as soon as possible. Will you call a meeting?”
She stood as well and adjusted her stola. “It’s not my place to. You’re the oldest here.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “But you have the network and the contacts. Let’s break with convention for the time being. You have my permission to call a meeting and implement whatever force is necessary. I will of course be willing to help in whatever way I can.”
Julia smiled. “Thank you. I’ll call the meeting as soon as possible. Would tomorrow be all right?”
Cyrus opened his arms. “You choose. But yes, tomorrow’s a good idea. Will you have more information by then?”
“Oh yes, I’ll know where they’re staying by then,” Julia replied.
Cyrus nodded. He’d no doubt that Julia would have the necessary information by tomorrow evening.
Cyrus went straight back to his villa and searched for Shelpa, but could find no sign of her, though he found Cimon sharpening a knife in his room.
“Do you know what wielders are?” he asked cutting straight to the point.
Cimon looked up and nodded. “They kill us with spikes of metal and send us back to hell. I know of them. Though I’ve only met one.”
Cyrus came into the room. “You don’t seem scared?” he queried
Cimon shrugged. “The one I knew let me live. She was my Uma but she took pity on me.”
Cyrus considered what he said. “They’re not all like that. You were lucky. Most will kill you, even if you heal their mother. They kill at the first opportunity.”
“Do you blame them?” Cimon asked. “We take their lives without rhyme or reason. They fear us. And what you fear you destroy. We’re something to be hunted, nothing more. And all good hunters kill their prey.”
“You’re young to be so cynical,” Cyrus told him.
Cimon shrugged. “My Uma told me that there were wielders who would let a Rabisu healer live, but others would kill them, just because of what they were. And then I discovered that there were Rabisu who could use their powers to heal people, whilst other Rabisu don’t discriminate between the innocent and the wicked and thrive on their power. Maybe we’re all just the same really, just in different skins?”
Cyrus nodded. “I agree, but I’m surprised that a child of Shelpa is saying this to me.”
Cimon looked at him. “And I’m surprised that Shelpa’s maker is agreeing with me.”
Cyrus laughed outright at that. “We mustn’t be harsh. We’re both very fond of her. I would even say that we both love her. But for the life of me I don’t understand Shelpa at all. And I would imagine that she frustrates you as well. Because I know that she doesn’t understand you in the slightest.”
Cimon grinned and glanced at him. “She said that I was similar to you and not like her other child.”
Cyrus threw his head back. “Thank the gods you’re not. I couldn’t stand that arrogant self-satisfied idiot. Think of Shelpa and take away the charm and allure, then add a narcissistic temperament and a touch of cruelty and that was Agis. I hope we never hear from him again.”
“Do you think we will?” Cimon asked quietly.
Cyrus shook his head. “Bastards like him keep turning up and give the rest of us a bad name, like you said. Unfortunately he’s not the only one. There’re others like him who make Shelpa and her self-centeredness seem tame by comparison.”
“Have you seen her pretending to be a goddess?” Cimon asked shyly.
Cyrus smirked. “Oh yes, many times and she likes you to watch. Have you found that?” Cimon nodded. He was silent for a moment. “She hasn’t spoken much to you, has she? From what I can gather, your relationship is a physical one. Am I right?”
Cimon was silent, but eventually he nodded. Cyrus continued.
“Let me explain a little about Shelpa.” Cimon glanced at him curiously, obviously eager to hear more about his maker.
“She was only seventeen when she was merged. It was a mistake. I was a guest at her father’s house and she took a shine to me. That night she slipped into my room, I was expecting another visitor, so I mistook her for that person. She was sweet, the sweetest I’d ever tasted before or since. It was terribly self-indulgent of me and I broke all the rules of hospitality, but I couldn’t help myself. So I merged her.” He smiled at the memory.
“She got rather more than she was expecting. And so did I. She’d lived all her life in her father’s house but he was a classic bully, who regularly hit his wife and children. Shelpa never went out, because according to her father she was too beautiful and men would try and steal her.
“I suppose he was right there. I did steal her. But she‘d lived a closeted existence, with no say in anything at all. She was used to being adored and praised and then in the next breath struck for saying the wrong thing. She jumped at her chance of freedom and never looked back. But that unhappy and powerless start in life has stayed with her.”
Cimon was quiet for a moment then he asked. “She killed her father, didn’t she?”
Cyrus nodded. “Unlike you and me, she killed at her first feed. I don’t blame her, an
d of course it shaped her hunger. But if you consider how much hate she had inside her it would’ve been hard for her to stop for anyone, least of all for the man who she blamed for all her family’s unhappiness.”
“Now I understand why she doesn’t talk about her previous life. But what about her merged soul?” Cimon asked.
Cyrus shook his head. “That’s not for me to say. Let her tell you herself. The other soul is personal, as you’ll find out.”
Cimon nodded. “Do you think she feels guilty that she killed?”
Cyrus shook his head. “She doesn’t think about it at all. She’s dismissed it from her mind and enjoys the moment and cherishes her freedom without thinking why she lives like that.”
Cyrus stood and looked at the young man sitting on the bed. “This wasn’t what I came to talk to you about. There are wielders in Rome. New ones who’ll kill you, even if you do heal their mothers. You and Shelpa have to go. I’m sorry, I’d like you to stay but it’s not safe for you here any more.”
Cimon stared at him; he was about to say something, but kept quiet. Cyrus nodded.
“You’re right, there’s nothing you can do. You’ll have to leave this to the older ones like me and maybe in time it’ll be your turn to deal with it.”
“How did you know what I thought?” Cimon asked curiously and a little affronted.
Cyrus tried to placate the tense younger hunter. “I can see the colours around your body. You didn’t kill on your first feed so like me you still have some humanity inside you. It shows in the colours you emit. ”
“You can see them?” Cimon asked, surprised. “I thought only wielders had that ability?”
Cyrus smiled. “Quite a few of us can. It helps us to spot the wielders in the crowd just as it helps them to spot the white cloud of the white hunter, hence the name. You might be able to see them in time. Shelpa can’t, but then she doesn’t try.” He stood and turned to go. “If you do see colours around people, look for those with black spikes, they’ll be wielders. And keep away,” he warned Cimon as he left the room, leaving the younger Rabisu curious and brimming with more questions.