Each of its digits ended in a vicious talon. Its long white tail, ending in a nasty set of spikes, whipped around like that of a cat. Its wings of thin, chalky flesh hung from folded, seemingly crumbling bones.
The thing crouched at Lydia’s side, still five feet tall at the shoulders despite the way it more or less folded its torso down to meet its squatting legs. It looked hungrily to Stefan and his bodyguards, who reached for concealed weapons. Instead of pouncing, the thing reached out with one disturbingly long arm to close the window.
“There have been angels in the skies,” it said in something akin to the echo of a roar. The demon’s speech gave Stefan a view of its mouth, which was naturally filled with row upon row of gleaming black teeth shaped much like a shark’s. Its eyes narrowed. “One of them very strange. Best not to be careless. We wouldn’t want them eavesdropping.”
“Stefan,” Lydia smiled, “meet Harrow.”
* * *
“You are welcome, my love,” Lorelei murmured into Alex’s ear.
His face split into a self-conscious smile. Her words broke his aimless stare at the ceiling of the darkened suite. Once again, Alex lay on his back in the bed, with Taylor curled up against him over his left arm and Lorelei laying against him on the right. It was enough body heat that they had kicked off all but one thin bed sheet.
“I might have to thank you a lot more for this tomorrow,” he said. He kept his voice low. Taylor slept soundly, having been driven to grateful exhaustion by the other two.
She kissed his neck. “Sleep, love. We will see what tomorrow holds.”
* * *
Scipio had been on the wrong side of everything all his life.
He was on the wrong side of his family, and so he joined the Legions rather than follow in the family business. He got on the wrong side of his centurion in Gaul for showing too much leniency on the natives after they’d been crushed in battle. He came home to find himself on the wrong side of his wife for having plundered so poorly-again, a result of his being too merciful toward a conquered people.
He was also on the wrong side of his wife’s lover. That she had taken one shocked him, but in hindsight, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. She was always too good to be true. In the chaos of Caesar’s return and the mess that followed, Scipio’s wife brought him down a dark alley where her lover and several other men waited for him. He woke up on the wrong side of the cages in the slave market, where a minor aristocrat named Opilio bought him.
A year later, he was on the wrong side of his owner’s villa when Felix and his men arrived to speak with Opilio about certain debts. Felix-Scipio didn’t know the rest of his name and didn’t care-tended to handle such discussions in a physical manner. So did his men.
Roman slaves were expected to defend their masters, even to the death. A couple of Opilio’s slaves were silly enough to have done just that, and they paid the natural price. Scipio did not. He remained in the pantry where he had been upon Felix’s arrival and pretended not to hear Opilio’s pleas or his cries. Scipio felt no loyalty to the arrogant, degrading fop. Opilio should have known better than to get mixed up with such rough individuals.
All Scipio wanted was his freedom and a fresh start. Revenge on his wife and her lover might have been nice, but a new life with a genuinely decent woman would be nicer. He might have gained that from Opilio if he worked hard enough and showed enough loyalty…but not loyalty like this. This was just a fine mess. Opilio was a fool to have gotten himself into it, and there was no hope for Scipio if he should get mixed up in it, too.
He pretended not to hear Opilio’s troubles, but then he heard Opilio’s son cry out. He heard Opilio beg for mercy for Marcus, which was entirely the wrong thing to say to a man like Felix when he was angry.
At all of fourteen years old, Marcus had played no role in Opilio’s troubles. Yet now he screamed in terror.
Scipio got to his feet. He grimly headed straight into the wrong side of the mess.
In the doorway, he saw Julian. They had fought together in Gaul. Julian looked up in surprise to see his old comrade in a slave’s tunic. He opened his mouth to speak. Julian had always been quicker with his mouth than his blade.
Whatever he said, Scipio didn’t listen. The boy’s cries drowned it out, anyway. Scipio snatched the gladius out of its scabbard on Julian’s belt. Julian naturally raised his right hand to throw a punch, but Scipio caught it at the wrist. With a single, precise swing, he hacked through Julian’s arm at the elbow.
Julian screamed. Scipio slammed the pommel of the sword into his nose, shoving him out of the way. He found two men inside, plus Opilio (who hardly counted as a man in Scipio’s opinion) and Felix. One of Felix’s men held Marcus to a table with his arm stretched out for the cutting, while another held a club around Opilio’s throat. Felix stood over Marcus with a large axe he could never hope to wield in combat. He was momentarily dumbfounded by Scipio’s arrival. They all were.
Felix, therefore, was something of a gift from Mars. Scipio put the gladius through his throat before he cried out.
The others jumped to their feet. Opilio’s captor gave up his grip and lunged for Scipio, but the flailing, whimpering aristocrat made for an awkward obstacle. He inadvertently ruined the thug’s first swing. Before the thug had his balance again, Scipio grabbed him by the shirt and ran him through.
The last rounded the table by the time this happened, but then turned to flee. Scipio caught up to him as he reached the door. The man fell lifelessly out of the doorway, right beside Julian.
In the stunned silence that followed, Scipio saw to Marcus’s shaking condition. He spoke to the boy in calm, measured tones, reassuring him that this would not happen again. Felix was gone. His men were gone. His father would resolve the debts.
He was on the wrong side of Opilio in that moment. The aristocrat rose behind him with a thug’s club. Opilio couldn’t reward a slave who had killed free Romans, even in defense of his master. Besides, Opilio needed a scapegoat for what had just happened. Someone had to take the blame for killing five men in the midst of a friendly visit between business partners.
Opilio didn’t want Scipio to be on the wrong side of the necessary explanations.
Chapter 15:
Elliott Bay was pretty at night, and prettier upside down.
Rachel came to that conclusion sometime after four in the morning, after her entertainment all drifted off to sleep. She had no place better to be. She considered stretching her wings in flight, but decided against it. That would naturally be the exact moment that Alex would be attacked by demons or flying ninja monkey robots or something equally silly.
Instead, she hung upside down from the balcony rail with her feet wedged between the bars. Her hair dangled freely. Despite the pull of gravity, her somewhat damp dress clung to her body just closely enough to meet what little requirements of modesty Rachel felt.
She saw a ship come into port. Watched a tug come out to meet it. Listened to the sound of cars rolling by on the Alaskan Way Viaduct. Heard two feet settle on her balcony rail.