David caught up to her, gently guiding her back down the stairs into the parlor, the room where he spent the majority of his waking hours. He moved towards the granite fireplace to stoke the glowing embers into combustion, the enkindled flames soon illuminating the room, revealing stately furniture with silk upholstery, several bookcases, and an extravagant grand piano. The room was painted in reds, with deep crimson wallpaper stretching from ceiling to floor, the latter covered by rich carmine rugs.
“Many of these furnishings came along with the house,” David explained with a chuckle, noticing her befuddlement at the pretentious instrument. “I myself have never played.”
He lit a match to ignite the candelabra perched atop it, the burst of light revealing weathered yellow keys that had almost been masked by the piano's distractingly shiny paint.
Satisfied that the room was now warm and inviting, he gestured her towards the loveseat, and after noticing the chattering of her teeth, offered her a blanket that was folded over an adjacent chair.
She burrowed under it gratefully, removing her hat and letting the damp spirals of her dark hair fall around her neck.
He removed his sack coat and hung it near the fireplace before taking the chair, reclining so that his long legs stretched out before him, letting the growing heat of the fire dry his clothing.
“You look so young without your top hat and coat,” she remarked, admiring him.
“Well, I haven’t aged in centuries,” he pointed out, good-naturedly.
“How strange to remain frozen in time,” she remarked.
“I agree,” he replied softly, his eyes drawn to the crackling fire.
“May I have a cigarette?”
He gestured towards a small pine box on the table near where she sat. Grateful, she opened it and fiddled for a moment before lighting her prize with a satisfied flourish. She fought against the subsequent coughing, wiping a bit of escaped spittle from her lips with the back of her hand. “So, what happened next, after you transformed?” she asked, bringing them back to the task at hand. “Does Lucius live here in this house with you?”
David nearly choked in surprise. “Oh, heavens no.” He found himself stumbling for words. “Lucius has not walked this earth for quite some time. In fact, it was I who killed him.”
Old Man Jacob suddenly interrupted them, entering the room with a hobble, the thin silver tray of sandwiches and tea he held rattling as he moved. He set the tray down on the nearest table, pouring David’s companion a cup of tea from an elegant china teapot and placing it, along with a craftily prepared finger sandwich, in front of her. David was surprised at his efficiency, realizing he must have acquired the impromptu meal from his own kitchen, as David’s own remained perpetually empty.
“Why thank you, sir, I am positively ravenous,” she nodded to him, shoveling the food into her mouth without the slightest regard for manners.
David grinned sheepishly at Jacob’s mystified face before waving him away. “Thank you, Jacob. You may retire for the evening.”
“Yes, sir. Please ring if you need me.” The old man bowed his head, taking one final peek at the strange woman devouring food in his employer’s sitting room, before shuffling off.
Once he left, David’s companion set down her sandwich and met his eyes. “Did you bring me here to kill me?” she bluntly asked.
David frowned and looked away, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. “You cannot imagine the loneliness I have felt over these centuries. To have someone to speak openly to, who knows what I am…” he trailed off, unnerved by his open vulnerability. “I brought you here for that reason alone.”
She nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Then you must continue.”
David continued to stare, transfixed by the fire, as he opened his mouth to continue.
CHAPTER 4
THE IMMORTALS
ANCIENT GREECE, 44 B.C.
The evening was tranquil, the surface of the Mediterranean smooth and black, interrupted only by the hull of a ship as it slid through the water with the ease of a lover. Davius stood motionless on its deck, the soft wind caressing his hair with gentle fingers. The slumbering city appeared in the distance, the torches that burned at its borders flickering in the darkness like summer fireflies.
"We are nearly there."
From behind him, Lucius appeared, joining his gaze towards the approaching land. The two stood comfortably in silence, Davius enjoying the rhythmic lull of the water lapping against the sides of the ship.
Rome had recently descended into chaos. Conspiracy and revenge ripped apart the sturdy fabric of the empire, sending its citizens into a sheer panic. Attempting to restore the Roman Republic, and fearing the absolute power of one man, several powerful senators ambushed Julius Caesar, brutally stabbing him to death. What these few idealistic aristocrats hadn’t anticipated was the reaction to the beloved dictator’s assassination, the common citizens of Rome wasting no time in setting the forum and its surrounding structures ablaze in ferocious rebellion. The anarchy frightened Lucius, who argued that the instability of Rome was quite possibly the worst setting for two unusually wealthy, very secretive blood drinkers.
Davius agreed, and they abandoned their home to find safe haven in Greece. Lucius pushed for Athens, claiming that it was the most logical choice, as he owned property there which he could easily reclaim. Davius speculated otherwise, suspecting Lucius’s motives for relocation were more influenced by the recent influx of philosophers to the city, rather than simple repossession of property. Regardless, he concurred, and they left swiftly under the cloak of nightfall with as many possessions as they could manage.
A stream of silver moonlight peeked its way through the heavy clouds of the night sky, casting a sliver of light across the ocean waves. Davius inhaled deeply, letting the cool vernal air caress his lungs, wondering absently if breath was even essential to him anymore.
It had been five years since the night he was transformed.
Life as an immortal blood drinker had come easily to him, embracing the ways by which they fed with ease and unquestionable skill. In the beginning, Lucius kept vigil, an ever-present mentor, as Davius found himself entranced by the seductive hunt and conquest of his victims. The power coursing through his body as he latched onto their submissive necks proved itself insatiable, the rush of pleasure as he engorged himself on their essence, intoxicating. He was so enamored by his new life, that it wasn’t long before any lingering memories of human life faded, the love between Gaia and the slave boy from Gaul simply an ambiguous recollection.
He also discovered that the thrill of the hunt was only one of the gifts this new life offered, ecstatic the day he realized his remarkable speed. Although inevitably exhausting if pushed for too long, he could now dash across villages in a matter of seconds, his body traveling so fast, it was as if he flew. Lucius never cared much for the power, content with his nightly strolls, yet for Davius, it became another obsession. He found himself giddy as a child as he darted through forests for sport, leaping from tree to tree in an ironic homage to a youth he’d long passed.
Lucius, in the meantime, had busied himself with acquiring material possessions. Delighted at having a new companion, he set to work to ensure that their lives lacked nothing short of the absolute pinnacle of luxury. He spared no expense, indulging in his conspicuous tendencies without hesitation. He renovated their humble temple into a magnificent residence that soon became the envy of Rome. It boasted pools, gardens and elaborate statues, all erected of the finest marble. He imported art from Egypt and Africa, their vestibule becoming a gallery of world treasures. It even piqued the interest of Julius Caesar, who expressed the desire to dine with them before his brutal, untimely demise.
But they had left that all behind now, abandoning Lucius’s domestic masterpiece to the mercy of a raging mob.
The ship made its way towards a secluded part of the beach, which offered more privacy than the Athens harbor, the elevated city growing larger and more intimidating as they edged closer to the docks.
It had taken great persuasion on Lucius's part to have them sail at night; the captain threw quite a fit, tossing out accusations and mumbling about superstitions before Lucius threw a bag of gold at his feet. After picking it up and examining one of the polished coins with a crude bite, the man nodded, and arrangements were made. Now Davius could sense the seaman’s anticipation upon their arrival, tapping the deck anxiously with his boot as he navigated the ship to harbor.
Lucius remained pleasantly unaffected. His ring laden hands rested neatly on the edge of the ship as the wind picked at his black curls. “Almost home,” he remarked softly.
No sooner had they reached the dock when several men appeared. They carried blazing torches that illuminated the swords precariously sheathed at their sides. They numbered at least twenty, their collective stance revealing their intent. “Who are you, strangers, that greet us at so late an hour?” one called out.
