Lucius frowned, thinking he was disappointed. “Come now,” he said, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. “I know this is not how we lived in Rome, but we must make do. When I lived here many years ago, I wanted to remain hidden. Unfortunately, we must live that way again, lest we bring any unnecessary attention to our presence.”
“I know, my dear brother, I was only chiding you,” Davius patted his hand reassuringly.
Lucius looked relieved. “Come, let me show off the dining hall. You will love it—it will remind you of Rome.”
He led him down the main corridor to a vast chamber lined with couches, creating a rectangular border around a single elongated table. Candelabras set in gold cluttered every corner, draped with deep purple fabric. The table left no room for platters of food, but was instead covered with exquisite ivory carvings of daemonic creatures and glossy black pottery. Davius lifted a sculpture of a particularly repulsive looking beast, its face a distortion of manic laughter, with a lengthy, protruding tongue flopping out of its mouth and oddly situated, bulging eyes. He laughed at the absurdity of it. “Where on earth did you find something like this?”
“It is from my past, far before we met. Is it not lovely?” He lifted the sculpture out of his hands to admire it himself, before setting it down lovingly amongst the other oddities. “Come, there is more.” He gestured for Davius to follow as he maneuvered down the hallway.
Davius complied, surprised that the farther they walked, the larger the home seemed to be. Room after room unfolded until they reached a final hallway that led to a sizable unopened door. Lucius paused before he pushed it open, adding exaggerated flourish as he revealed what was hidden behind it.
Davius gasped in spite of himself. It was a garden so exquisite that it rivaled any that he could remember in Rome, save for the absence of the customary open atrium that allowed sunlight to stream through. Instead, the ceiling was covered with translucid fabric, permitting enough moonlight to filter through to coax the plethora of nocturnal plants below it into blossom. At the center of the garden stretched an enormous pool, tendrils of bougainvillea wrapping its lovely fingers around the granite borders. Bursts of exotic jasmine complimented the two great fountains that flanked the pool, both fashioned after the Greek god Pan, two chubby little nymphs with mischievous smiles and horned foreheads, complete with tiny cloven feet. They poured water into the pool from smooth black vases, the streams catching the speckled starlight that peeked through from above.
Davius couldn’t help but grin, recalling a conversation he once had with Lucius, where he made the comment that although they were wealthy enough to partake, they would never be able to use the customary Roman bath houses, lest they burst into flames. How it must have pained Lucius to keep such a secret from him.
“Shall we?” Lucius grinned.
He nodded, and slaves appeared at Lucius’s beckoning. They undressed, draping their garments over the outstretched arms of the exsanguinous, vacant-eyed slaves before entering the steaming bath. It was large enough that they could sit across from each other comfortably, the water churning around them pleasantly tepid.
Lucius stretched as one of the revenants retrieved his goblet of blood wine. Tendrils of long black hair slithered in the water around him.
Davius relaxed, enjoying the sensation of warm water against the chill of his skin. Steam soon rose up copiously around them, threatening to smother the inflorescent plants that crowded the room. A single bud of jasmine fell from one of the bushes, becoming a dancing white star as it chased the swirls of moonlight sparkling across the water’s surface. Davius caught it in his hand, examining its tender construct as he inhaled its sweet scent. He frowned, the aroma wrenching the memory back into the forefront of his mind, the smell of Gaia’s skin, the sound of her twinkling laughter. He threw the flower away from him in frustration.
“Davius, you must tell me what troubles you so,” Lucius implored him, observing the shift in his mood.
Davius cast his eyes downward, unsure of how to proceed. He decided upon honesty. “I met Libraean.”
Lucius’s eyes widened with surprise. “I have not heard that name in many years.”
“So, what he says is true? That I was not your first successful protege, it was actually him?”
Lucius sighed, setting his goblet on the edge of the pool. “He was not a success.”
Davius stared at him wordlessly, an intentional gesture meant for him to continue.
“I told you that I tried to make others like us, but could never quite achieve it. Libraean was not a human when I met him, he was a halfling, a beast with the attributes of a man, like a centaur or the god Pan,” he gestured to the statues behind them. “He was like that before I transformed him with my blood, and I believe that was a part of my failure.”
“He seems to think his disfigurement is a penance for his transgressions.”
Lucius snorted in disgust. “He was always carrying on about good and evil, how feeding on humans was the epitome of immorality. There is no stark dichotomy in this realm or any other, those polar oppositions are an inconsistent human construct. If he chooses to live his immortal days as a self-righteous martyr, then that is his business. I have no room in my life for erroneous absolutes.” The water around him began to bubble, heat expelling from his skin as he spat out his words. “Did he tell you that he kills daemons? That he serves a god of light? I am sure he filled your head with all sorts of nonsense. The god of light is another foolish concept, a being who has never taken corporeal form. The idea of it, apparently, is beneath him. But although he holds himself in such high esteem, he is just as capable of flaws and egotism as any other manmade god. God of light, indeed,” he snorted.
“He said that you created daemons as a way of punishing humans for worshipping that god, instead of you.”
“Utter nonsense! Daemons and angels, nymphs and centaurs, dragons and harpies, chimeras and sirens—they are all manifested out of the minds of humans. No god creates an otherworldly creature. They align themselves however they wish. Fortunately, most of them align themselves with me.”
“So, my creation is not part of some vendetta between you and this god whom you oppose?” Davius pressed.
Lucius’s golden eyes smoldered against the dense haze surrounding them. “Absolutely not, I have yet to even meet him. I really wish you would have alerted me to this conversation you were having in my absence.”
Davius didn’t respond. He retrieved his own goblet from where it stood and sipped it, wincing slightly as he realized it had cooled. “He also told me something about Gaia.”
“Oh?” Lucius relaxed, grateful for the change in subject. “You have not spoken of her in years.”
Davius swallowed, hoping the human emotions plaguing him earlier would remain buried. He finished his glass, trusting the blood would help him keep his wits about him. “He told me that she was with child when she died...my child.”
“Is it true?”
“I do not know. It could very well be. He also mentioned the gods of my youth. He said the reason that I am able to bear the power you have given me is because I am the Daghda, reincarnated.”
Lucius looked at him solemnly. “That I believe to be true. It is what your father supposed, which is why he offered you to me so easily. He believed that by me granting you immortality that it would empower your gods, carrying them into many generations to follow, eventually leading to eternal power for your people.”
Davius was stunned. “I never felt like a reincarnated god when I was human.”
Lucius laughed. “Of course not. Humans have a strange way of ignoring the obvious. Your father did not have time to teach you the secrets of the Druids, but you know sorcery all the same. You bent the weather to your will and invoked the protection of the Morrigan as a child. You have always been powerful, even before I gifted this new power to you.”
Davius let the information settle before he offered his thoughts. “I think I would like to avenge Gaia’s death,” he said finally. “I believe that murdering her assailants will help me to put my human life behind me. I have no interest in anything the halfling said. He seemed misguided by his own wayward bias. Please understand, I have fully embraced this path and believe our life is wonderful, but I do not think I can rest until I have tasted the flesh of that wretch that calls himself Nirus.”
Lucius nodded, surprising Davius with his easy persuasion. “Then we shall,” he agreed. “But returning to Rome is out of the question. We cannot risk another voyage, Davius.”
“I know you do not enjoy the speed by which we can travel on foot, but there may be another way. I have an idea, if you would be open to it.”
“Of course.”
Davius sat forward, sending a wave across the bath. “If what you have told me is true, I have brought the Celtic gods here simply by my presence, since I am a Druid, the most spiritual sect of my people, the truest believers. I should be able to invoke the Morrigan, the shapeshifting goddess, as I did long ago when I arrived in Rome, and ask her if she will aid us in our journey.”
“Amazing.” Lucius was genuinely impressed.
Davius’s heart began to pump excitedly at the notion, grateful for Lucius’s compliance.
