Chapter XXV Felix
Chapter XXV
FELIX
F elix’s dreams took him home.
In Rome, on the Aventine Hill, stood a temple.
This was not unique. Rome had many temples, some small, some grand, and Mercury’s temple was fashioned somewhere between.
Grand, but not overt. A good place to raise a motherless boy, whose father was driven by a compulsive, ancient need to stay in motion.
Felix dreamed of his first taste of wine, the proper stuff, not the weak and watery swill the other children got. This was the wine grown-ups sipped after a good heist. Felix didn’t know what they celebrated, and the wine tasted icky besides. Too bitter. Made him sleepy.
He dreamed, and his dreams were pressed by milky poppy sap.
Felix reasoned, beyond all doubt, that if Loren’s face swam before him, surely he must have made it to Elysium. Odd. He couldn’t remember being particularly heroic in life.
‘Thank Isis,’ Loren said. His cheeks were ruddy, cinnamon eyes swollen. Had something made him cry? Felix would fight whatever had. Felix would . . . ‘Sit for me. ’
Everything hurt. Nothing hurt. ‘Is my da’ here?’
‘Your father?’ Loren’s brow scrunched. ‘Felix, where are you?’
But of course his da’ wouldn’t be in the blessed realm. Too much priest blood on his hands.
Where was Felix? Half in this world, half the other. Ghosts tugged the hem of Felix’s tunic, dragging him, asking, begging . . .
He should lead them to their rest. He had a job to do.
If only he weren’t so tired himself.
Felix’s eyes drifted shut.
‘No, no, stay with me, Felix, please.’
He ran barefoot through fields of blooming poppies, carnal and red, while the world bled out behind him.
Hands were on Felix’s skin, and he was going to vomit.
‘Get off,’ he slur-snarled. ‘Get the fuck off.’
The touch retreated, leaving him cold in the dark.
‘Felix,’ Loren said. ‘Please. I know you’re tired, but you must wake.’
Felix’s stomach rolled. Spit and bile dribbled from the corner of his mouth, pooling on the tile. He gagged and shook and choked and shivered. If poppy sap tasted bitter going down, it was worse coming up.
‘You’ll suffocate on your own spit lying like that. I’m going to touch you, but only to move you upright.’ Hands returned, and Felix flinched, but they did as promised, navigating him to sit against a wall before pulling away. Scratchy rope bound his wrists.
Loren knelt before him, the worst thing Felix had seen.
‘You can’t be here,’ he croaked.
‘Nice to see you, too,’ Loren said with a sniff, but his words lacked heat. ‘Tell me I smell or that my hair is ugly again, and I’ll know you’re awake for good. ’
Beneath bone-deep weariness came a selfish thrill of relief. Loren had defied impossible odds, survived, all to claim Felix from a room of relics as the city caved around them. He blinked rapidly. His fever left him sticky, coated in thin sweat with stomach acid dripping down his chin.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘Can’t smell anything past my own vomit.’
‘No, keep your eyes open. I’m going to cut you free, all right?’
Loren drew a sword from his belt. Felix recoiled, drawing his elbows back far as he could with his bindings. ‘And take my hands off? Tools of the trade. I need them. Check my pocket for a knife.’
‘I wouldn’t . . . ’ Loren sighed, but patted Felix’s side. ‘Empty.’
‘Damn.’ Felix’s breath came in shallow, slow pants. If he dipped into sleep, for only a moment . . . He dug his nails into his palms, the bite keeping him conscious. ‘I liked that one. Wood and iron. The little etching. Valuable. Could resell it.’
‘Keep talking.’ Loren stood and disappeared. ‘I’ll find something. Gods, this room is creepy. So many strange items.’
‘He’s a collector,’ Felix murmured. ‘This is where he keeps his collection. His things.’
‘About that.’ A clatter rose as Loren sorted through a box. ‘You did a bastard thing. I don’t know what deal you made, but—’
‘Two horses for the helmet.’
‘There’s more to it than that.’
‘In exchange for me, then.’ Felix’s eyes had shut again, a detail he wasn’t aware of until rope snagged against his wrists. Loren had returned, clutching a rusty dagger.
‘You thought you could spoil the place for me. Hurt me so I wouldn’t come back.’
‘Seems I went to too much effort. Look around, the place spoiled itself.’
‘Don’t joke.’ Loren’s pretty lips flattened.
Felix had kissed that mouth, licked away the pinch that appeared when Loren was frustrated or overthinking.
‘You have all these defences to keep yourself from being hurt or used, but once you dare let someone inside, you’d give anything to keep them safe.
That isn’t fair. Don’t you see? To get inside your walls, I came to know you, too.
Am I meant to be flattered you gave yourself up for me? How little you value your life?’
‘Nothing to value.’ Felix’s head lolled. ‘I’m no one’s prize.’
Fibres snapped as Loren sawed. ‘Sounds like you were perfectly prizeworthy to Servius. Did your clever brain even attempt to escape?’
‘No point.’
‘No – are you listening to yourself? Felix, the point is that I’ve never known you not to have a plan, and another plan on top of that. The point is that you gave up. Why?’
The floor rumbled, tiles chattering, jostling Felix’s thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall his reasoning for staying. Hours ago, he’d struggled to understand it himself, but here, lost in a haze of poppy sap and stirring memories, it felt the most obvious answer in the world.
‘I’m done running,’ he said. ‘I have – something still to do. A task.’
The dagger froze. ‘A task?’
‘You told me we were meant to meet. I was meant to come here.’ Felix swallowed another bout of nausea. ‘Don’t you still believe that?’
‘You aren’t making sense,’ Loren said, though his face paled like he’d seen a ghost.
‘I always make sense. You’re the one who . . .’ Felix broke off in a cough as rope fell free. He felt delirious. Beyond himself. ‘You signed with Julia. That doesn’t make sense.’
‘Don’t change the subject. I can handle myself.’
Felix stared at him as though for the first time. ‘How did you find me?’
‘Now you ask.’ Loren threw his hands, exasperated. ‘It’s a long story, but we don’t have much time. Can you stand?’
A grin twitched. ‘You’re just like those Greek tragedies you love. ’
‘What, dashingly heroic?’
‘Melodramatic.’
‘You’ve lost it.’ Loren hauled Felix to his feet, slinging his arm across his shoulder.
The world lurched as they stumbled to the door.
In the dark hallway, away from the suffocating hum of Servius’s charged and cursed collection, Felix picked up the sound of stones pattering the roof.
The air reeked of all things burning, a rankling, sickly-sweet stench.
Loren limped Felix along, searching for a way out.
‘Wait,’ Felix gasped, lungs scorched. ‘The helmet. Not leaving without it.’
‘Forget the helmet. Do you think I care if you put it back now? Mercury won’t mind.’
‘Mercury will mind.’ Felix dug in his heels. ‘I can’t lose it. I – I need it. My task. It’s mine.’
A candle flickered to life against the dark.
‘Did you ever stop,’ said a voice, ‘to consider why that is?’
Felix nearly vomited again.
Orange flame carved shadows on the planes of Servius’s face, reflecting in his colourless eyes. He stood centred beneath an arch, hands gloved and boots laced.
This was the man who had killed Felix’s father, who had made Felix watch and who hadn’t felt a scrap of remorse for either life he ended that day.
‘The hunt around town, the stunt you pulled at the vineyard, none of that was necessary,’ said Servius. ‘Had you brought me the helmet the first day, I could have told you the truth. Why you alone can handle it. I tried to show you, remember?’
‘Move.’ Loren drew his gladius. ‘You won’t be warned again.’
Servius smiled. ‘Commendable for you to come for him, Master Lassius. Or is it Master Fortunatus? You managed to join two wealthy houses without the complication of marriage. Congratulations. ’
Loren detached from Felix’s side and lunged.
His sword flashed in the meagre light, aimed true at Servius’s chest. A clang echoed down the hallway as a second blade emerged and intercepted Loren’s.
Time slowed to a trickle, a bead of sap oozing.
Darius swapped spots with Servius in a blink, met Loren’s next swing easily, kept meeting them as Loren hacked over and over.
‘Stop,’ Felix mumbled. He slumped against the wall, knees threatening to give.
When Loren’s fire was lit, by the gods, he was unstoppable. But he was equally an impulsive fool who thought nothing through. One mis-timed thrust and Darius had him pinned, sword to his neck. Loren’s gladius hit the tile and Servius stooped to collect it.
‘That was amusing.’ Servius slid the blade into his belt. ‘I’ve been waiting ages for you to wake, Felix, after Darius overestimated the dose. Come, let’s discuss this in the courtyard.’
‘I can’t hold them both,’ Darius said, annoyed.
‘You won’t need to. Keep a hand on Master Lassius and Felix won’t risk a thing.’ Servius studied Felix, still half collapsed. ‘Why don’t you fetch the helmet from the study? Don’t try anything clever, or your boy will bleed to death before he hits the floor.’
*
Moving outside, the lighting didn’t change.
Flashes of glowing amber and red burst in the pitch-dark sky, crackling with thunder.
Falling rock pinched and sizzled against flesh.
Foetid air scorched Felix’s lungs. The courtyard was smaller than Julia’s garden, but no less lavish, with lush grass and a long reflecting pool.
If not for the dusting of ash and the fact that the world had reached its end, it wouldn’t be a bad place for a picnic.
Maybe Loren’s diagnosis was right: Felix was losing it .
Servius had erected a makeshift altar near the pool, topped with a burning bowl. Overkill, in Felix’s estimation; enough was on fire without Servius’s help.