Davius stopped running to stand in the rain, letting it cleanse his mind, the cool, melodic tapping on his skin helping him gather his thoughts. He was being haunted by a god he had no knowledge of, a god older than the gods of Olympus. It was now living among them, Moira the first of what could be many victims. Or perhaps the second, if he believed the news reported by the old philosopher days prior. What would stop it from destroying all who he cared for? In the shower of rainfall, he decided he would seek the creature out and see to its ruin. He had faith that his gods were stronger than any beast this new world could summon.
“Tuatha De Danann,” he whispered up to the pouring heavens. “Hear me. I call upon the great Daghda, he who lives in the storms, to strengthen me now. Show me the path I must follow. In the name of the goddess Danu, accept my humble plea.”
Thunder bellowed in response, followed by a crackle of lightning.
Renewed, he returned to the dry warmth of the villa, shaking the rain from his hair. He was immediately struck by the strong aroma of incense, its dense vapor wafting throughout the residence. He realized the dinner guests had left, the hallways now cluttered with pacing slaves. A few wept, consoling each other with murmurs of kindness and gentle displays of affection. Priests from the Pantheon hurried past them, herbal smoke billowing from their censors.
Davius knew instantly that she was gone.
No sooner did the presentiment occur to him did a young slave boy appear from around the bend, tears streaking his sullied face. He wrung his hands, looking up at the surrounding faces with mournful eyes. “She has passed,” he informed them as he trembled.
Open displays of lamentation echoed throughout the halls. Davius searched frantically for Gaia, but she was absent from the crowd.
“Pluto has cursed this home,” he overheard a woman sob in fear.
He pushed past them, alarmed that he could not find her. The hallways leading to the guest quarters seemed to stretch endlessly before him as he hastened around their twists and turns. His pace slowed when he finally reached Moira’s doorway, where a group of weeping slaves stood, wrapped in each other’s arms.
The room was aglow with slender, waning candles, casting thin shadows across the walls. Eridus was seated at her bedside, his customary pacing absent, his head resting in his hands. Robed priests surrounded Moira’s body, singing soft hymns as they blessed her body with herbal essence, preparing her for her journey to the Underworld. She was covered up to the neck with light material, which rolled gently in the wind. Two gold coins rested on her eyes, a kind gesture from a slave master, assuring she would have the payment required so the ferryman Charon would give her safe passage across the river Styx.
The wound at her neck no longer bled, her body finally drained of life. Davius pictured her alive, the innocent cherubic beauty with warm brown eyes who giggled when young slave boys brought her flowers, wearing them proudly in her auburn hair.
Davius pulled his gaze away from her, scanning the room for Gaia. Eridus caught his eyes. His face was soaked with tears, his body completely succumbed to lachrymose. “She is looking for you,” he managed, the whites of his eyes shot through with blood from weeping.
Davius nodded, grateful to withdraw from the mourning room. He exited the guest halls to greet solitude, where he paused. He closed his eyes, steadying his breath, letting his intuition guide him.
He found her in his room, crumpled on his bed. She lifted up her head as he entered, her sweet face damp and corrupted by sorrow. “She died in my arms.”
He tenderly took her into his. “You did everything you could,” he assured her.
“My gift is to nurture and care for those I love, I feel as though I have failed her,” she sobbed. “Her death was unlike anything I have ever seen before…maybe we are cursed.”
He swallowed, afraid to divulge his recent revelations. “Eridus is a kind and just slave master,” he reminded her. “He treats us better than any patron in Rome. His business dealings are fair, his close associates humble. There is no reason for this house to be cursed.”
“The gods are not always fair.”
“My gods are,” he muttered, before he could stop himself.
She sniffed, lifting her face from his chest. “You never speak of your gods. Our gods, I suppose.”
“There was never reason to. The gods of Olympus have served us well in this life. Moira’s death was unnaturally soon, that I will not argue. One day its nature will be revealed, but I am certain it will have nothing to do with this house and its morality.”
“Thank you for saying that.” She wiped the tears from her face, her hand still streaked with Moira’s blood.
He grabbed the water basin near his bedside, taking her hand in his and dabbing it softly with a cloth. The gesture made him smile. “Remember when you bathed me once, not so long ago?”
She returned the smile, a tiny spark coming back into her eyes. “It seems like an eternity has passed since that day.”
“I think I wanted to marry you from that moment.”
“I think I may actually accept your tender words today.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek, but he swerved to catch her mouth. He managed to pull himself away, placing the water basin back on its table.
“Can I stay here with you tonight?” she asked.
Davius was torn. “I would love nothing more. But Eridus…”
“He will not retire to his room tonight. This happened years before you came, when another slave girl died. I was too young to remember the details of her death, but I remember he did not leave her side until the funeral pyre. He stayed awake throughout the entire evening, soothing himself with wine. I have no doubt he will be the same tonight.”
“Another slave girl…” Davius frowned, disturbed by the revelation.
Yet Gaia was lost to her own thoughts. “I do not understand what kind of creature would do that to her. It could not have been a human, but there are no beasts capable such wounds so close to the city. It must have been a monster of some sort, a lower god.”
Davius didn’t respond, silently hoping she wouldn’t recall the morning of his first arrival, nor connect Moira’s death with the news they’d heard in the forum on Neptunalia.
“Nevertheless,” she continued, “I cannot sleep alone …I am not feeling very strong right now.”
He took her face in his hands, lifted it so that her eyes met his. “You are a strong woman, Gaia,” he said firmly. “We are allowed moments of weakness. You loved Moira, so of course your emotions are heavy at her passing. You would not be the beautiful person I know you to be if you did not feel sorrow over her loss. But do not fret, I will humbly be your anchor until you feel strong again.”
Her eyes glistened with gratitude. “I love you.”
He kissed her once more, briefly on her lips. “And I love you. Now please, sleep. I will watch over you tonight.”
His words relaxed her finally. She sunk down into the softness of his bedding, curling into the bundles of blankets. He aligned his body with hers, inhaling the sweet floral perfume of her skin as he sifted through her hair with his fingers. She was asleep within moments, tiny snores escaping from her mouth as her breathing steadied.
His thoughts floated back to Moira and the creature in his dreams. He decided he would leave the following evening while the house slept and return to the temple to search for clues that would reveal the creature’s whereabouts. He promised himself he would not rest until he’d put an end to its existence.
Gaia suddenly stirred.
“... house of the lost gods …”
