She had finished her meal and was now curled up on the loveseat nearest to the fireplace, completely wrapped in the wool blanket he provided for her earlier. Color had crept back into her face, the narrow slant of her jawline barely visible above the blanket’s folds. David was once again struck by her unusual beauty, imprisoned by ravaging sickness. Her expression was fixed with intrigue as she peered up at him with wide, grey-blue eyes. “Did you do it?” she asked. “Did you shapeshift into ravens?”
He nodded, moving towards a glass decanter of scotch situated on the end table, a purposeless arrangement he kept up for appearance’s sake. He removed the glass stopper and sniffed it, hoping it hadn’t grown rancid with neglect. Satisfied, he drained the amber liquid into a glass and handed it to her.
She accepted it wordlessly, her slender arm snaking out from beneath the thick blanket.
He resumed his seat across from her, his eyes following the swirling floral patterns of the parlor’s claret wallpaper. “I cannot find words to accurately describe the sensation of shifting into a body that is not your own,” he said honestly, resuming his tale. “It was nearly as painful as my vampiric transformation, yet it was a dull and throbbing pain, a sensation very much like being squeezed. Once the process was over, however, Lucius and I soared easily through the skies, our travel only lasting a mere handful of hours. It was both strange and wonderful to see the sun again, to bask in its warmth without fearing the flame. Once we arrived in Rome, we perched and waited until nightfall before returning to our former residence. We found our home much like the rest of the city, in shambles. What little furnishings Lucius had been able to part with when we left had either been stolen or shattered to pieces.
“She was waiting for us when we arrived, draped across a pile of tapestries that our ransacking thieves had apparently deemed invaluable. She collected us lovingly to her chest, whispering incantations until our bodies shifted back into their rightful proportions.”
“Morrigan waited for you there?”
“Yes. She neglected to inform us of that part during our conversation. Apparently, she had decided we required supervision. We were grateful for it, for both of us ached from the exertion, Lucius collapsing to the ground, gasping for breath. She waited patiently for us to regain our senses before offering us the clothing she had found around the house. I could still taste the salty air in my mouth, my senses still buzzing with avian intensity.”
“My God,” she murmured, taking a sip from her glass. A thought occurred to her suddenly. “Do you require rest?”
David smiled. “I don’t need much sleep, but I will indulge in it during the daylight hours to pass the time. At the current moment, I have your company for that.”
Satisfied with his response, she returned the smile, reaching for the end table to procure one of his rolled cigarettes. “Please continue then.”
“Rome, as I mentioned before, was in complete disarray. Weeks of rioting had ruined her aesthetic beauty, the aftermath of Caesar's assassination settling over the city like a malevolent fog that choked its citizens, many of whom stowed away in fear that chaos would erupt again. The Roman Republic was shattered, the furious and grief-stricken lower class now a force to be reckoned with. Roman patricians with no overt political affiliations maintained their daily affairs quietly in the background, those who either criticized or supported Caesar were nowhere to be found. Many, like us, found refuge in Greece, others in Rome’s many territories.
“Nirus, an open supporter of Caesar, was hidden in the home of his daughter, Delicia, who usurped him in his weakness as head of his estate. It only took a little digging to discover his whereabouts, for the household still demanded its frequent supply of fresh slave girls from the local trader.
“Although we were surprised at Morrigan’s initial appearance, she left us alone to our conspiring, her specter fading in and out over the course of the next few days, playing the part of the perpetual overseer.
“Although Delicia’s gender rendered many weary, she soon won over most of Rome’s affluent society, obstinately throwing dinner parties in the wake of the recent disaster. She chose to inhabit the home of none other than Eridus, whose murder had never been solved. With no heir nor family to claim his estate, the purchase price was reasonable, and Nirus had snatched it up expeditiously in the hopes of running his own lucrative winery. He ended up being unsuccessful, the once lush vineyards a desert of brambles and shriveled vines stretching beyond the desolating property. Upon his spurious disappearance shortly after, Delicia assumed complete authority of the villa, eager to bring to life the rich soil that had once proven so fruitful.
“She called a meeting of investors and the quiet allies of her father to her home, with the promise of a grand Roman feast, the likes of which hadn’t been seen for months. It piqued the interest of many an affluent Roman who had grown tired of the perpetual gloom that had settled over the city. It was during this event that we decided to strike.”
David stood and headed back towards the window. He watched as the onslaught of continuous rain created pools in the consecrated earth below. He envisioned the rats who lived inside the dilapidating Lardone crypt, scurrying frantically as the water rising rapidly around them rendered them immobile. Their beady eyes reminded him of Nirus’s, hideous black orbs trapped within a face disfigured by the advanced stages of disease, a disgusting specimen rotting away by his own determination. Although many years had passed, David found himself still shuddering at the thought of him. ANCIENT ROME, 44 B.C.
The night fell later than usual with the approaching vernal equinox, dusk settling around Davius as he dressed for the feast. Its soft orange glow filled chambers which had been haphazardly furnished to accommodate their brief stay.
Davius was unable to place his mood, consumed by a purposeful melancholy that haunted his typical detachment. As the tumultuous events of the past few days settled, he’d succumbed to morbid contemplation. Memories of Gaia were becoming increasingly vivid, the devastation of her loss prying its nimble fingers into his mind. He sat on one of the stone benches, unable to peel his eyes away from the frescoes he had once worked so painstakingly on. The image of the lovers, tangled in each other’s arms, seemed to dance in the warm citrus hues of sunset.
He wouldn’t let himself believe that Gaia’s womb swelled with life as she died. Eternal life had robbed him of the ability to produce offspring, a thought which hadn’t occurred to him prior to his transformation. He would never know a paternal bond, never feel a child’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger. Lucius had positioned himself as his only family. Even so, Davius was beginning to question his intentions and loyalty. Lucius openly pined for Morrigan, who did not return the sentiment, preening about like a cat when she made her brief appearances. He grew increasingly bothered by her obvious preference for Davius, whom she continued to lovingly refer to as “her Daghda.”
The endowment frustrated Davius as well. He was still unable to recall any memories of past lives before his human one, visions of that life consuming his mind. Yet, as discouraged as he was, he allowed their invasion, hoping the fresh taste of agony would transmute itself into the powerful energy he needed, not only to destroy his enemy, but to rebirth their new ally, the Morrigan.
His thoughts were interrupted by the swish of Lucius’s robes as he appeared in the doorway. “Well?” he asked. “Do I look the part of an inconspicuous Roman?”
Davius startled at his appearance, realizing he had shorn off his thick, spiraling locks, leaving a patch of black curls clustered at the top of his forehead in a perfect imitation of an authentic Roman hairstyle. The absence of his long mane accentuated his slender frame, exposing his long pale neck and dramatic facial structure. “You look so different,” he remarked.
Lucius smiled, the exaggerated size of his teeth dominating his angular face. Davius thought immediately of a snake, its large head beholding slanted eyes and striking teeth. “I know better than to ask if you will do the same,” he remarked, wryly.
Davius snorted, a smile creeping across his face as he raked his fingers through his beloved unkempt curls. “Highly unlikely.”
“So I assumed.” Lucius joined him where he sat, following his eyes towards the image of the embracing lovers. “Soon, my friend. Soon you will have your vengeance and we can move on from this place for good.”
As if on cue, Morrigan surfaced from the shadows. Davius could still smell the aroma of wet earth each time she grew near, her scent now filling the room as she approached with one of her birds on her shoulder. Its beady eyes met his in silent greeting; a strange camaraderie had evolved between them ever since he had shifted into corvidian form.
“Why did you cut your hair?” she addressed Lucius in surprise. “It was your one beauty.”
He reddened, the color creeping up his exposed neck. “It will grow back by tomorrow’s nightfall. It is another one of the curious laws we are bound by. Our appearances will never change, no matter the esthetic alterations.”
She frowned. “So I will forever keep the form of the body you find for me?”
Lucius sighed. “I honestly do not know. You are a shapeshifting goddess. You may be allowed to retain your power after you transform. We will only know once you have turned.”
She nodded, though her face looked visibly perplexed. Their exchange was interrupted by a loud rapping at the door. Morrigan disappeared as quickly as she came. Davius rose to his feet as Lucius opened it.
The litter they requested had arrived, the decorated wooden plank dressed in luxurious beige fabric. Four shirtless slaves held each corner on their shoulders, patiently awaiting command.
“I will need it back before daybreak,” the owner reminded Lucius as he paid him, eyeing them both suspiciously.
“Absolutely, sir, thank you again,” Lucius soothed, pressing a few extra coins into his palm to pacify any lingering apprehension.
The man nodded, snapping his fingers at the entourage who immediately fell to their knees so the two of them could enter. The litter was fitted with ornate pillows stuffed with lamb’s wool, and both men reclined on the plank comfortably. They were lifted smoothly into the air, the transition barely disturbing the elegant beige drapery that surrounded them on each side. Although they were concealed, Davius found solace in knowing the night was still and they could move through the city undisturbed. Lucius was uncharacteristically quiet, staring off into nothingness, apparently lost in his thoughts.
“Please forgive me for making the promise to Morrigan,” Davius broke the silence. “You have not been the same since.”
Lucius turned to him, surprised. “Humanity seems to be creeping back in you after all.”
“I only wish to make peace with you, Lucius,” Davies explained. “You are the only family I have in this world.” His entreatment was only partially earnest; he was still wary of Lucius’s motives, but preferred not to be at odds with his maker.
He sighed, but Davius could tell he was secretly pleased. “This is true. And soon our family will grow by one more as the Morrigan joins us, although one can only speculate how those events might unfold.”
Davius shifted in discomfort. “Do you think it will work?”
