“Are you ready?” Bastien asked.
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound very confident.”
“Shut up.”
The clocks struck twelve in the city around them, signifying the change from the eleventh to the twelfth. She came to a stop opposite the Colosseum, clutched Bastien’s arm even though he was still recovering from his change just over an hour ago – so much later than the day before.
Screams and the vibration of pain from the ruins opposite thrummed through her.
Tomaso lifted the folder he carried. “Shall I read this out to you? Or do you want Violetta to do it?”
She wished Bastien could do it. But she couldn’t ask him – even if he wasn’t blind – because he was too weak still. “You do it,” she said to Tomaso.
“Everyone okay with that?”
“Absolutely,” Bastien said, his voice husky and threaded with pain.
“Let’s do this,” Violetta said. “Before the security guards come back this way.”
Jules nodded. She swallowed hard then whispered to Bastien, “Don’t let go, okay?”
“I won’t.” His hand slipped down to hers, squeezed.
Together they stepped off the curb.
At least if she succeeded, she’d be happy to set Bastien free to pursue his own life. And she’d have the second-hand love of her lover to—
She winced as the curse stabbed her in the chest.
“Jules?”
“Fine,” she said, straightening up, rubbing her knuckles against her chest surreptitiously. “I just thought something I obviously shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, I’m having problems with that too.” His voice was strained. He looked worse than he had when he’d come downstairs after his change.
“Do you need to sit down?”
“No. I just need to stop thinking about what we’re here for.”
He leaned on her more heavily as they walked forward. She held on tight, struggling to keep herself upright in the face of what the curse threw at her.
“I think we need to start now,” Bastien said as they drew even with the others at the edge of the concourse.
“You okay?”
Bastien nodded stiffly. “Just the curse making itself known.”
“And what about you?” Tomaso asked Jules.
She rubbed the side of her head. “It’s loud in here and my vision is starting to fog. I can see ghostly people over there.”
“Right then, let’s get started before it gets too bad. Try to empty your mind and open it up only to the flow of information I read.”
She nodded and took a step forward as Tomaso began to speak about the Colosseum and surrounds.
Shouts. Screams. Jeers. Cheers. They rose to greet her, louder and louder with every step. Pressing in.
“Concentrate on what Tomaso is saying,” Bastien whispered – or maybe he shouted. It was hard to know over the noise wrapping around her.
“On our left, you will see the remains of the ancient fountain the gladiators used to wash in after a match. Unfortunately, there is little left of this remarkable piece of Roman ingenuity due to the fact Mussolini drove over it in a tank because it was in the way of his parade!”
“A tank. Wish we’d seen that.”
“It would have been awful. How could he destroy something with so many stories?”
She could see the fountain, ghostly gladiators washing themselves in the late afternoon sun, slapping each other’s backs. A woman ran up and gave one of them a hug.
“Aww.”
“He’s all sweaty.”
“You’re just jealous because you’ve never hugged a man like that.”
She was jealous. It had been so long since anyone had touched her with kindness or affection, except Esta – and her cousin didn’t count.
Lianna longed to be touched. Ached for it.
Wait. What? No. You’re Jules. Not Lianna. Don’t give in to it. Listen to Tomaso. Listen to …
A sharp pain in her shoulder. “Ouch.” She reached up to rub it, turning to see who had thrown whatever it was, ready to give them a serve. The words died as her gaze met the most beautiful peridot-coloured eyes. No, they were white eyes. Now peridot. Strange. But not strange.
The owner of the eyes strode closer until he stood so close he could touch her. Then he smiled down at her, his fingers brushing over the sting on her shoulder. It disappeared. “Scuzi, bella,” he murmured. “This was not meant for you.”
Oh. His voice. It was like a caress. As she looked up at him, the world spun.
“Lianna.” She blinked. Looked down at the young girl before her, dressed all in white. “I didn’t think we were supposed to talk to strange men. Won’t Clodia be angry?”
“Not if we don’t tell her,” she whispered, touching little Esta’s nose through the veil, delighting in the smile that lit the young girl’s face. She let her young companion drag her away, but she couldn’t help turning to look back at the man, his broad shoulders and tapered-in waist limned by the sun. He glowed.
He watched her with his unusual eyes, which oscillated from peridot to white. His features were strangely unclear, but she knew he was handsome, with a devilish smile. And the aura of power emanating from him – she’d never come across anything like it. Who was he? She longed to find out. Maybe she would. It couldn’t hurt to discover his name. She held up her hand, indicating she wanted him to wait there – that she’d be back in one hour. Would he understand?
He nodded.
Excitement tingled through every pore as she followed Esta through the crowds to the temple. One hour. Then she would return to the fountain and assuage her curiosity …
“Jules. Jules? Can you hear me? She’s coming around, I think.”
Jules opened her eyes and looked up to see three faces looking down at her. Their expressions were hidden in the night’s shadows, their heads haloed by the lights of the Colosseum behind them. “Shit.” She forced herself to sit and clutched her head, groaning. “I passed out, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
She rubbed the heels of her hands into her aching head as she stared at the hulk of the Colosseum opposite them. “How far did I get?”
“Further than before,” Violetta said, a strange smile pulling at her lips. It wasn’t very reassuring.
“How far?”
“Almost to the entrance of the Forum.”
She groaned. Still not close enough. “What time is it?” Bastien was still in human form, so at least there was that. She really didn’t think she was going to be able to do this without the feel of his hand in hers.
“It’s twelve-thirty.”
Bastien changed at two last night, so given the regression, he had until one, maybe one-thirty. “Okay. Let’s go again.”
The world swayed as she went to stand. She sat down with a plop.
“Take it easy,” Violetta muttered.
“I can’t take it easy. We don’t have time.”
“You won’t be able to try again if you can’t even stand without falling over.”
“She’s right.”
“I don’t have time to baby myself. Look at Bastien.”
“He looks terrible.”
The curse was really punishing him tonight – or was he nearing his change?
“It’s time to be his hero. I need to put on my Wonder-Woman-big-girl-pants.”
“Did we pack any of those?”
She huffed out a laugh.
“Jules?”
“I’m good.” She took a few steadying breaths then pushed to her knees. The world swayed a little, but not as bad as before. After a few more deep breaths, she made it to her feet.
“You good?” Bastien said.
She took his outstretched hand. “I’m good. Let’s go again.” She glanced over at Tomaso. “Could you stand closer and talk louder? I could barely hear you over the ghosts in my head.”
“I didn’t want to be too loud in case there are guards around. My spell on the equipment and some of the surrounds won’t cover the noise we make.”
“I’ll take care of any guards if they come running,” Violetta said.
“But Jules won’t be able to take the magic you use.”
“I’ll move as far away as I can without losing sight of you. That should help mitigate the problem.”
“Do it.” Jules was happy to put up with more pain if it kept everyone else safe from being caught.
They let Violetta go ahead then moved off. Voices and screams rushed at her, but Tomaso stood right beside her this time, talking loudly. She still had to concentrate on his words – the noise of the past was louder this time – but she heard enough to keep the visions at bay.
As they drew closer to the Forum, the visions pressed in on her, closer, louder. The buzz chasing over her skin turned into a prickling pain. The urge to stop, to turn around and run back the way she’d come, or submit to the darkness creeping at the edges of her vision, increased with every step, every harsh breath, but she couldn’t give in. Couldn’t give up. This was something she had to do if she wanted Bastien to go free. If anyone deserved more than her best effort, it was her best friend.
“That’s it, Jules,” Bastien said, his breath hot on her ear, his voice barely audible above the noise around her. She clung to his hand as the bits of history Tomaso related conjured up images of what it must have been like in ancient times – visions she remained in control of. The further they went, though, the harder it got. Her head was full, so full, it felt too heavy on her neck. So heavy it might just fall off.
“Off with his head.”
“They didn’t do that here. That’s more a French Revolution thing.”
“Or a Queen of Hearts thing. Off with his head. Off with hishhead. Offwishhishead!”
She giggled.
“Why is she giggling?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jules! Concentrate.”
She took in a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m good. More. Louder.”
Tomaso started shouting information, his lips almost up against her ear. The words helped to build a wall against the visions.
“Ahead is the rostra where speeches were made to the Roman people.”
Her vision shimmered and she blinked rapidly to clear it. It was difficult to see what she knew was before her – the ruins. All she could see was a man standing on a rostra, temples and other marble buildings shining in the sun behind him. “Many a senator stood on the rostra here to talk to the people of Roma, but you could also find any man with a voice and a thought and the will to speak having their say. It’s thought that Julius Caesar himself ...”
His voice disappeared into the angry shouts of the crowd throwing things at the man on the rostra, his gestures and expression impassioned, pleading with them to listen.
“Lianna. Where have you got to? I need you in the temple now.”
Clodia, her white gown flowing around her, her anger evident even with the veil shrouding her face, moved through the crowd nearby, obviously searching for her but not seeing her. The golden bands on Lianna’s arms tightened, but she held out against their insistence – she’d already done her service for today and was wrung out. She needed more time—
A hand gripped her arm and pulled her around a corner, out of sight of her High Priestess. She looked up. His face was hidden in shadow, but she knew him, his touch, the tall, muscled strength of him glowing with power, his beautiful eyes. “Sebastio.”
“Meet me at ten at our usual place.”
She nodded, breathless as he lifted her veil to kiss her, lips lingering, hands cupping her face in that way she adored. “I love you,” he said, before letting go and disappearing into the crowd.
She hadn’t returned his words of love. She would make certain he heard them tonight.
Tonight.
She pulled her veil over her face to hide her smile and moved out quickly into the crowd towards Clodia. Thankfully, the High Priestess hadn’t seen her meeting with Sebastio. Lianna hated the need to keep their love a secret, but she would not be free for another few months, so she had no choice.
She had no idea how she would keep the secret for that long, but she would. It was imperative. She couldn’t give him up, so hiding and secrecy was the only option.
“Jules. Listen to Tomaso. Don’t let anything else get between you and his voice.”
She gasped for breath as the voice she knew so well echoed through her mind.
Bastien.
“He’s talking to you. Not me.”
“I can’t feel him.”
“Hold more tightly. He’s there.”
“It would be easier if you kept your memories out of my head.”
“I can’t. They’re your memories too.”
She didn’t have the energy to argue, so gripped Bastien’s arm more tightly, leaning into him. He stumbled, too weak to hold his own weight, let alone hers. She loosened her grip. She could see Violetta standing on some stones at the end of the path, something about her stance suggesting worry and fury. She had to get this done. “How far?”
“Not far,” he said. He stumbled again. Goddess, what was this doing to him? She let go of him.
Ghostly figures crowded around her. Darkness edged her vision, Tomaso’s voice a bare whisper in the distance despite feeling his breath flutter her hair as he spoke right next to her ear. Her head rang with the cries of the ancient crowd surrounding her in the midday sun. Except, it wasn’t day. It was the middle of the night. And the buildings around her were no longer shining monoliths to Rome’s glory, but rubble and dust.
She gasped, trying to catch her breath. Her heart pounded and her knees trembled. She stumbled, caught herself, kept going.
“Jules? Jules, are you okay?”
She nodded.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t touch you to help you. Even holding back my power I could still send you spiralling into a vision or hurt you if I did. Can you keep going?”
“More … info.”
Her head swam as they made their way down into the ruins, the pain increasing. Her companions were mere shadows around her, their presence, their words, helping, but every step was a nightmare as her vision schismed between the past and the present. But she had to do this. Had to.
They passed the Temple of the Priestesses of Vesta.
“Home. Where I’m keeper of the holy flame.”
“No. That was me. You’re Jules Stevens, Coven librarian.”
“Failed witch.”
“Don’t call yourself that.”
The repartee with the Lianna-presence gave her something else to cling to. Breath sawed in and out of her chest, the pain intensifying with every step she took.
Something warm slung around her shoulders, squeezed. “Jules. You’re doing it.”
Bas.
One step. Another.
And another.
For Bastien.
Her lungs squeezed. Tears streamed from her eyes and she could barely see – not the ruins, not the images of ancient temples and buildings she knew so well.
Oh Goddess. It wasn’t going to be enough. She was fading, falling, neither here nor there. Not Jules or Julianna or Lianna. She was nothing but pain and a screaming rage that filled her ears and took everything from her.
“The magic of the pentacle. Look, there it is! She’s found it.”
“I knew she would.”
“Tomaso, help me get Jules up. She can’t touch it any longer. She’s already bleeding.”
“My power.”
“Pull it right back and touch nothing but her jacket. The combination of your jacket and hers should act as enough of a shield to protect her from anything you can’t keep from slipping out.”
She was lifted, relief shuddering through her as the pain lessened, but the world still spun around her, nausea a sickening roil in her stomach. She was put down to lean against a large stone. Bastien’s arm went around her again, his lips near her ear. “You did it. You did it.”
“By Eros’s grace. It’s glowing faintly. Can you see it? How could we have not seen this before, Violetta?”
Jules barely had a moment to register the joy of her success before Bastien’s cry of pain lit the night. His entire body tensed then jerked violently, the arm around her shoulders a crushing weight, bearing them both to the ground.
“Bastien!”
“Jules, run. Get away.”
But she couldn’t. Couldn’t let go of him. The magic of his change, the darkness and pain, sucked her into their madness and everything was gone.