Jules tore down the cobbled street, through a plaza and into another, weaving in and out of the crowds of sightseers and locals celebrating Carnevale.
It was too much. All of it – too much.
She was bound to a curse because of a power she had no access to. She was bound to a curse because of a love she’d never felt. She was bound to a curse because an ancient Coven-leader-High-Priestess-bitch-witch had coveted something that wasn’t hers.
And because of all of that, her best friend had been dragged into the mess with her. Or he was Lianna’s best friend.
She was getting the dregs of Lianna’s life – including her lover.
“You want to be loved.”
“Not if he doesn’t love me for me.”
“But he loves Lianna and you are Lianna.”
“No, I’m not! You are Lianna and I am … me!” Her shout rang off the walls and cobbled street around her. Birds scattered with a flutter and squawk at the end of the street. A couple of people stopped to stare at her. She stared back before moving on, hands shoved into the pockets of her parka and slouching against the cold.
Thoughts a babble in her mind, she wandered, aimless, past churches and through piazzas, completely unaware of anything but dodging the people she passed.
Until the grumbling in her stomach became so loud, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.
She patted her pocket, relieved to feel her phone – she had a credit card tucked in the back of the case. She glanced around to find a place to eat.
Her gaze stopped and skated up the sixteen granite columns to the domed roof of the building in front of her.
The Pantheon.
“We’ve been here before.”
“No, I haven’t. Lianna di—"
Her head swam. She staggered sideways, vision shifting.
“Lianna! Lianna, come away from there!”
A woman stood a few metres away, her white stola flowing around her, brows pushed together in displeasure, gesturing impatiently. Four other women dressed just like her stood waiting behind her.
“Lianna. Don’t let them touch you.”
She pulled her arms in close, but she needn’t have bothered. The crowd milled around her, but nobody was closer than two arm-spans. They kept their distance, much like for someone who carried plague.
“Do I have plague?”
“No, we’re a Vestal Virgin.”
Ah, Goddess. Another vision. “Not now. Not now.”
“Yes, now.”
She tried to push out of it, to grab onto the internal voice and separate herself from it or the memory or something; to reach for clarity where there was fog and ache and confusion.
But it was no use. The tourists that surrounded her in their jeans, warm jackets and beanies, holding their phones up to film and take selfies, dissolved, becoming people in tunics and togas, their heads bowed, hands raised, offering food and floral arrangements, dropping them at her feet as she stopped. Their lips formed words seeking blessings, their need pressed into her. She couldn’t catch her breath.
She lifted her hand to rub her aching head, the sleeve of the white gown she wore falling back to show gold armbands twining up her arm like snakes. Bracelets Clodia had put on her only this morning and told her never to take off as they were a gift from the Goddess.
But they were tight and stung her skin and ever since Clodia had put them on her, she’d felt a little strange. As if she wasn’t quite herself.
Perhaps she should go inside the temple and pray. She looked up at the Pantheon of Agrippa. It wasn’t Vesta’s temple, but it would be cool and quiet and she could collect herself in there. And Vesta wouldn’t mind if she was prayed to from another temple, even if it was Agrippa’s.
“Lianna. Where are you going?”
She didn’t answer, just kept moving towards the Pantheon.
“And this brings us to the Pantheon of Agrippa, or Roman Pantheon as it’s mostly called.” She stumbled to a halt, looking around to see who spoke in that loud, nasal voice. They weren’t speaking Latin. They were speaking … English!
English. A language that didn’t exist when she was alive. Because she wasn’t alive. She was … Jules.
Jules focused in on the voice, the words as the world spun around her.
“Now simply known by most as the Pantheon, it was built in 126 AD during the reign of Hadrian. Its most notable feature is not the sixteen granite columns on its facade. Can anyone guess what it is?”
Someone bumped into her. “Sorry, love. Just trying to hear what our tour guide is saying.”
Jules blinked, trying to focus on the woman in front of her – her wide smile, her brassy hair, the outrageously pink coat she wore. “Um … tour guide?”
The woman pointed at a man who was saying, “The Pantheon’s most notable feature is the fact that the circular building has the exact same diameter as its height and the dome itself is bigger than the one that graces St Peter’s Basilica.”
“Interesting.”
“It is.”
She blinked, the Pantheon rising in front of her. The brassy woman and the tour group were already gone, replaced by another.
What just happened?
“You had a vision.”
“Then why aren’t I knocked on my arse and out for the count?”
“I have no idea. Perhaps you should figure it out.”
“You think?”
A flash went off in front of her, blinding her.
She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the flare of light from her eyes. Then gasped.
It was night.
When had that happened? How long had she been lost in a vision? Hours apparently.
Shit.
She spun around to figure out which direction she needed to go and came to a halt.
Bastien stood there, Tomaso and Violetta at his side.
Oh Goddess. What must he think? She swallowed hard. “I—”
“Are you okay?”
She snapped her mouth closed and breathed in sharply. He was worried about her? “I’m fine. I’m sorry I ran off like that. I just needed to think.”
“You don’t have to apologise. There’s a lot to take in.”
“There is.”
He erased the distance between them in a few steps and took her hand in his.
Calm flowed through her. His touch. It was like home – friendly, familiar, warm. Even staring into his white eyes was a balm.
Soon to be gone forever.
She forced herself to smile past the threatening tears even though he couldn’t see it and answer him. “Shall we go?” She took his arm and headed down the nearest street.
“Are you okay to try again? It’s okay if you’re not up to it—”
“No. I want to. I need to.” For you.
“Then why do you sound so sad?”
She bit her lip and looked down at the cobbled street they walked down. She shrugged, not wanting to mention him leaving her again.
“Jules.” He touched her cheek briefly, his mouth curling into a sad little smile. “You know you can tell me anything.”
“I know. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is freeing you—”
“Us.”
She nodded. “From this curse.”
“You don’t look so good, Jules,” Tomaso said as he came up beside them, Violetta on his other side.
“I’m okay. I just had another vision.”
“You did?”
“Are you okay?”
She bit her lip. “Yes. Obviously.”
“But … you’re not unconscious or sick?”
She told them about what had just happened.
“That’s amazing. Do you know how you did it?”
“I don’t.”
“Tell me exactly what happened and what you were doing.”
She glanced at Tomaso. “Can we get something to eat first? I’m starving.”
“Of course. We’ve got time.”
“Even if we didn’t, we’d get her something to eat,” Bastien growled.
“Of course we would,” Violetta said. “Come on, there’s a pizza place on the corner there that looks a little less busy than the rest. We should be able to get something there and make it down to the Forum by midnight.”
“Pizza okay?” Bastien asked her.
“Sounds perfect.”
As they walked towards the hole in the wall serving pizza, she couldn’t help but grimace at the thought of going down to the Forum again. A part of her didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to find where the curse had been created, didn’t want to break the curse in three nights and see this lover of Lianna’s look at her and realise she wasn’t the same. Wasn’t enough.
“What about Bastien?”
Bastien. She glanced up at him. Yes. She had to do it for Bastien. He needed to be freed so he could finally live his own life. And then she could get on with her life too – possibly more loveless and lonely than before, but that was a price she was willing to pay for him.
“But you’ll have your magic. And Sebasti—”
She winced as the voice that was Lianna mentioned her lover’s name. “Yeah.”
Violetta ordered as they found a seat at a little wobbly table, wolfing down four slices and a big bottle of water. When she was done, still having time to kill, they wandered through the slowly emptying streets. The cool night air caressed the heated skin of her face as they came out next to the Tyber. She wanted to stop, to stay, just stare down at the lights twinkling in its black surface.
“Do you feel like talking about what happened at the Pantheon now?” Bastien asked softly.
She nodded and started to relate how she’d found herself in front of the Pantheon and how the vision had slowly crept in. “I think I was young – I was being escorted by other Vestal Virgins. But I didn’t feel well. The gold armbands Clodia had put on me that morning hurt and I just wanted to go into the cool of the Pantheon and pray to Vesta in peace and quiet.”
“Gold armbands. Lianna always wore them. She couldn’t take them off—” He stumbled.
“Bastien.” She pulled him upright.
“Is he okay?” Violetta asked, turning to face them.
“I’m fine.” He waved them on.
Jules frowned at him, but he pulled her on, asking, “Do you think it could have been the tour guide? What he said? You love learning new things.”
“It could have been because you got shoved. Or the flashes.”
“No. They came after. He’s right. It was the information.”
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You’re a genius.”
“Why is he a genius?” Tomaso asked.
She told him.
“That is genius. Should we give it a little trial?”
“How?”
“As we get to the concourse where it hit you hardest last time, I’ll tell you something I know about the Colosseum, and we’ll see what happens.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t think of a better way to see if this information would help.
Shouts and cries started pressing into her mind as they drew closer, prickles chasing over her skin. By the time she’d stepped onto the concourse, images wavered through her mind: crowds of people rushed around her, their excitement about today’s upcoming spectacle in the Flavian Amphitheatre made nausea roll in her stomach.
“Do you know how the Colosseum got its name?” Tomaso asked. She shook her head. “There was a monstrous statue the Emperor Nero commissioned of himself to show the Roman people how great he was.”
She nodded. She could see the ghostly silhouette of the statue, the men who had stopped to lean on its base. Guards moved the men on, but not before she heard them agree to meet at the feet of the Colosseo same time next week.
“So, people started to call the monstrous statue Colosseo.” Tomaso’s voice filtered through to her. “The statue of Nero was eventually knocked down but the nickname Colosseo had, by that time, transferred to the amphitheatre.”
“That’s funny. I always hated that statue.”
“It’s an eyesore.”
The vision faded enough for her to see three curious faces staring at her.
“It worked.” Kind of. Ghost-like people rushed towards a Colosseo lit up by sunlight but also curiously draped in night, with lights colouring its exterior.
Bastien’s ghost-like eyes glowed as he looked down at her. “I knew you’d find a way.”
Always such trust. She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”
“Jules? Are you okay?”
“Can we just move back? I need to catch my breath.”
They bustled her back across the road, far enough away that the press of history wasn’t so bad.
Tomaso clapped his hands together as she leaned against a wall, taking in deep breaths. “This is wonderful. It seems, my friends, we have a plan. Let’s head home and look up interesting facts.”
“Go home? But why don’t we just try now?”
“That little fact only got us a few feet onto the concourse.”
“But you must know more.”
“I do, but not nearly enough to get you all the way to the Vestal Temple and beyond.”
“But … I don’t want to lose another night.”
“Better that we’re fully prepared than run out of facts and lose you to a vision for another two days.”
“He’s right, Jules.”
Her excitement fizzled out, her shoulders sagged, exhaustion making itself fully known. “I feel like I’ve just put another barrier in our way.”
Tomaso touched her shoulder. “On the contrary. You’ve just found us the way through the maze. Violetta, how about you and I head back and start searching up information? We’ll meet you back at the villa.”
With that, he and Violetta hurried across the road and when they were far enough away, disappeared, their magic taking them back to Tomaso’s home.
Even at this distance, the magic shoved at Jules, making her stumble.
Bastien caught her, held her to him. “You okay?”
“Yep. Fine. Just disappointed.”
“Don’t be. This is good news. Just concentrate on that.”
“He’s right.”
As they began to walk away from the Colosseum, the press of the past faded almost immediately. As they passed the Area Sacra di Largo Argentina with its community of cats, Jules had a sudden memory from her vision and stopped.
“Jules? What is it?”
“Clodia said something about an army of cats when she started her spell.” She frowned over the memory. “Do you think that was a punishment she meted out to those who displeased her, like you did? Maybe some of these cats are actually the ancestors of people she cursed.”
He shook his head, mouth cocked a little on one side. “No. I think that punishment is unique to me.”
“Maybe I should come back and check these are all actually cats after I get my powers back.”
“Yes, we should.” He turned, reaching out to cup her face, a deep frown furrowing his brows. “What you said before, about me leaving you. You don’t have to worry about that. I promise.”
She wrapped her cold fingers around his warm wrists, trying to steady herself, blink away the tears. “Don’t make promises you might not want to keep.”
“It might be you who doesn’t want me with you.”
She chuckled, a hoarse, broken sound. “Never going to happen.” She expected the voice to say something, but it stayed curiously silent.
Their breaths mingled visibly in the air between them for long moments, then he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, their warmth lingering as he pulled away.
She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, his scent all around her. Oh Gods. It hurt too much to think of him going away, but despite what he said, she wouldn’t hold him to her. He deserved his freedom.
He smiled as he tucked her arm in his again. “Tell me more about the Rome you see.”
Her voice was hoarse by the time they made it back to the villa. Once inside, Violetta insisted she go upstairs to rest and leave them to search out the reams of information they’d need for their try tomorrow night.
“But don’t you need my help?”
“It’s best if we tell you things you might not have heard.”
“Bas can stay,” Tomaso said. “He and Violetta will know best what you’ll find interesting.”
Bastien made a sorry face, but before he went to join Tomaso said, “I’ll be up before I change.”
“Okay.”
She headed upstairs, frustratingly aware she only had two more nights to get everything right. The thought of breaking their curse and freeing Bastien should make her happy – instead, she struggled not to break into tears.