Chapter 45
A s Azazel reached across the table, offering Kyla the rose, she snatched it from him, impatient to get this over and done with.
Wrapping her hand around the stem, several of the thorns pricked her skin, drawing blood. She gasped, looking up at Azazel.
The second their eyes connected, their whole world shifted entirely.
As her gran’s kitchen faded from her reality, Kyla could do nothing but watch in utter fascination as a new world shimmered into existence. A sandy cobbled road stretched before her, stone buildings lining the edge of the street either side. Bright blue skies above, not a cloud in sight, beaming sunshine baking the earth beneath. Bright green trees littered the landscape, standing metres tall, shouts and screams of children playing echoed around her.
On the horizon, a huge mountain reached high up into the sky, lush green grass and thriving vegetation reaching halfway up its side.
A woman appeared from a house on Kyla’s right, dragging a bright red and white patterned rug out into the street. Her long brown hair was tied up into a high bun, leaving only a few wispy bits framing her delicate face. Her white dress wrapped around her slim frame, held in place by a red and gold threaded rope cinching her in at the waist.
She turned to Azazel, on her left, and said, “Where the hell are we?”
He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together for a few seconds. “Here we go again,” he whispered. Opening his eyes, he looked at Kyla, his jade green eyes brimming with tears. “This is a glimpse of my human life before I became...well...me.” He took a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Balthazar and I lived in Pompeii before it...you know the rest.”
Kyla’s jaw dropped. She drew a deep breath as she glanced around her, taking in the odd shaped stones underneath her feet, the columns supporting the corners of each building, and the old but peaceful feeling surrounding her.
“I...oh my God. Can they see us?”
Azazel shook his head. “No. Thankfully. I think I’d slit my own throat if that were the case.”
“What happened here, Azazel?”
He lifted an arm and motioned for them to walk down the street. “I’ll show you.” He took a moment and then said, “I’ve been back here many times, torturing myself over what happens next. I haven’t been back for at least five hundred years—I realised it was doing me no good to keep rehashing things that had once been. But it’s still just as raw as if it happened yesterday.”
Kyla’s heart sped up, pumping a heady mix of adrenaline and anxiety through her veins. What on earth was going to happen next? “Is...” she wet her lips with tongue “...is what happens next what turned you into a demon?”
He nodded, glancing down at the street, his features glazed over with sorrow.
The warm yet fresh air enveloped Kyla in a serene hug, making her want to stay here and explore. Smells of baking bread, cooking meat, and herbs and spices invaded her senses, making her stomach grumble.
They walked past a few shops that sold everything from pottery to clothing to paintings. Men and women hurried around the streets, going about their day. Kyla couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness as she flickered her eyes towards Mount Vesuvius, wondering how she would have felt knowing her impending doom was slithering towards her and she couldn’t do a thing about it.
“Am I about to see that erupt?” she asked, nodding her head towards Vesuvius. “I don’t think I can handle watching thousands of people and animals be turned to ash.”
“No,” he whispered, leading her off the main street and down a side alley. “That’s about another five months from now.”
So enamoured with her startling temporary reality, Kyla paid no attention to the rabbit warren of streets Azazel led her through. She walked with the pace of a three-year-old, staring at every building they passed, drinking in the magnificent old buildings and wishing she could witness how they built everything to last so many thousands of years.
When Azazel finally came to a stop, Kyla bumped into his solid form, her attention taken by staring high up at the roof of a shop and the exquisite markings carved into the stone.
“Sorry,” she said, heat rushing through her in an instant.
Azazel offered her a small smile, ignoring the bolt of electricity that shot through him when their skin touched. “This was my home,” he said, nodding his head towards the building in front of him.
Kyla took in the front of an exquisite villa. Two huge columns, easily eight feet tall, stood away from the front door, supporting a flat, block roof that appeared to be some sort of balcony with its linear metre high edging. Along the front of it was a beautiful artwork of a lion and an eagle, following a two-horse chariot into battle. The vivid reds, whites, and golds were absolutely breathtaking.
“This was my human life as Lucius Maximus Valens. I was a general in the army.” He took a deep breath and pointed to the villa next door. No grand entrance, just a modest double oak door hinting at being an entrance. “Balthazar lived there. He worked in politics. He had the name Octavio Maximus Valens.”
Kyla felt her heart skip a beat, stealing her of breath for a second. Where is this going?
“Let’s start here,” Azazel said, motioning for her to head towards Octavio’s front door.
Opening the front doors, Azazel led them through a shaded entrance way, closing the doors behind them. Straight in front of her sat a picturesque courtyard, edged by the stone of the house, but a thriving green garden complete with a fish ornamental fountain, water spouting from its mouth.
Azazel headed them to the left, taking her into a large kitchen, an open fire on one side, the light-coloured bricks charred black from smoke, shelves of pots, pans, and herbs littering the walls, and thick wooden benches dotted around for food preparation.
As he led her through the house, each room linking to the next like a line of rooms, Kyla took in everything she could—ancient paintings of gods and goddesses on the walls, intricate patterns in expensive mosaic flooring, colourful motifs on the walls depicting various scenes from eating to orgies.
By the time they’d done a complete tour of the rectangular home consisting of a kitchen, four bedrooms, two bathrooms with small pools in each, and a reception room, Kyla found herself speechless.
“This is incredible. I’m blown away.” Standing back in the shaded entrance way overlooking the garden, Kyla thought back over the rooms she’d been through. “I don’t get the feeling of a family being here though. Nothing hinting at kids.” She looked over at Azazel, noticing the anguish lingering in his eyes. “Was a woman’s touch even a thing back then, back here? If it was, I don’t see it.”
Azazel shook his head. “You won’t see it. Because he was unmarried, he was alone.”
Kyla raised an eyebrow and looked around her again. “Why would he need something this big if he was all alone?”
“Times were different back then. You lived in a home according to your status in society, not according to the size of your family.”
“But if he had a high status, he must have had women wanting to be with him?”
Azazel nodded. “He wanted nothing more than a wife, really. I can’t deny him that truth. The problem was he was always too picky, finding something wrong with even the most beautiful of women.” He closed his eyes as he ran shaking hands over his face. “I only wish I had realised why.”
Kyla watched his hands as he let them fall to his side, the tremble in them still glaringly obvious. Her mouth ran dry as a ball of dread churned in her stomach.
Azazel led them inside his house, the layout identical to Octavio’s, just on a slightly larger scale. Walking through the rooms here, it was hard to miss that this was a family home. Various items of clothing strewn around, marbles littered the floor, a couple of wooden swords and some handmade chariots, clearly a child lived here.
The clattering of pots and pans combined with the sound of a cheery female voice singing had Azazel walking straight to the kitchen. He went through the doorway and stopped dead, holding his breath.
Kyla came to a stop at his side, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Azazel as a human, as Lucius. Crisp white robes settled against his bronzed skin, his muscled arms flexing as he wrapped his arms around a brunette beauty. She ran a small hand through his blonde hair as she stared deep into his eyes, her whiskey-coloured eyes full of love for her husband. With her silky-smooth skin, red lips, and high cheekbones, the woman was the epitome of beauty. Her own white dress clung to her body, held in place by two horse brooches decorated with gleaming gems.
“Cassia,” Azazel whispered, his eyes glazing over with a forlorn look.
A young boy with blonde hair and high cheekbones ran through from the inner courtyard, his bright green eyes gleaming with joy as he tugged on Cassia’s robes. “My vegetables are growing,” he yelled, jumping up and down in excitement.
“That’s amazing,” she replied. “Why don’t you show me?”
Lucius let his wife go, taking a long, velvet red robe from a nearby bench and swinging it over his shoulders. Grazing Cassia’s cheek with a kiss, he departed, leaving his smiling wife and child to head out into the garden.
Kyla heard a hitch in Azazel’s breathing and turned to look at him. His whole body shook from head to toe, his lips pursed into an O as he tried to regulate his breathing. “Hey,” she said quietly, gently placing a hand on his forearm. “Are you ok?”
A couple of seconds passed before he blinked and turned to look at her. “I never thought I’d watch this again. Let alone with...” his voice cracked “...with my demi-soul. I don’t want you to see me like this, Kyla. Say the words, say you reject me, and you won’t have to see what happens next.” He squeezed his eyes shut, a solitary tear rolling down his cheek. “And I won’t have to relive it again either.”
Emotion rose in Kyla like a tidal wave. Knowing what she did of Azazel so far, to see him so open, so vulnerable, so sensitive, struck a chord in her. She knew these raw emotions, the damage they did when you drowned in their depths for too long.
“Maybe,” she said, sliding her hand down to his and interlacing their fingers. “Maybe this will be the visit that heals you. That finally gives you closure.”
He opened his eyes, nothing but walls of water staring back at her. “How?” he whispered. “I’ve been back here thousands of times, Kyla. And I mean thousands. I once spent an entire month here, just reliving it over and over again. There will never be a moment of closure for me.”
She squeezed his hand. “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place for closure.”
He blinked at her a few times, confusion and surprise filtering through his jade green depths. “Maybe.”
They moved to stand out in the street watching as time sped forwards, the hustle and bustle of town life quietening down as twilight settled in the sky, the glittering of stars giving the dusky landscape a priceless picturesque view.
A swishing sound caught Kyla’s attention, making her turn around. She saw Cassia walking out of the house down the street towards Octavio’s home. Carrying a dish in her hands, she hurried along, her pretty face set into a look of determination.
“The streets were no place for a woman after dark,” Azazel whispered. “She knew I didn’t like her being out after dusk.” He swallowed. “But she also knew how much Octavio hated his slaves cooking so whenever we had leftovers, she took them to him.”
Azazel moved to walk behind Cassia, ushering Kyla along with his hand hovering over her lower back. Holding the door open for her, he let Kyla take the lead and follow Cassia through the house.
Heading straight into the dining room, Cassia set the dish down on a wooden table, various burn marks across the surface of it. Sat in a carved wooden chair was Octavio, dressed in his white robes with a gold eagle brooch at his shoulder. His dark eyes held an unnerving stare, a paradoxical mix of emptiness but at the same time full of emotion.
“You’re so kind to me,” he said, looking up at Cassia. “I cannot understand why.”
Cassia moved towards him, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek. “You’re my husband’s brother, Octavio. I will always care for you.”
Kyla felt her mouth go dry. She sucked in a breath and held it, each second that ticked by feeling like it stretched for eternity.
“I can’t watch this again,” Azazel said, closing his eyes and turning around.
Kyla spared him a glance, but her curiosity won out. She needed to know what happened next.
As Cassia turned to walk away, Octavio grabbed her wrist, yanking her back to him. Surprise and fear mixed together in the woman’s eyes. Standing up, Octavio reached up with his free hand and caressed Cassia’s cheek, the aching tenderness in his expression sending barbs of panic right through Kyla.
“Will you ever feel anything for me, Cassia? Anything more than just care and goodwill?”
“Octavio,” Cassia replied, her voice quiet and calm, despite her rapidly paling colour. “I am married to Lucius. To your brother. I love him. We have a child together. I will always love you, Octavio, but only as my husband’s brother. Out of respect for yours and his relationship I have said nothing to him, but you need to stop this before I say something to him. This has gone on too long.”
Tears started welling in Kyla’s eyes as she forced herself to watch the scene unfold. As Octavio’s face clouded with hurt and rejection, he lunged at Cassia. She jumped back but found herself restrained by the grip he still had on her wrist.
Pulling her back towards him, he swung them around and pressed her back against the wall. With her free hand, Cassia slapped at him, screaming at him to let her go, to stop.
Octavio released her wrist, giving the woman both hands to now push back at him. However, seconds later, he grabbed both of her hands in one of his. Pushing them against the wall, he rested them on the top of her head, keeping them in place with his fingers whilst using his palm to push against her forehead and keep her head still.
Realising all she had left was the use of her legs, Cassia kicked out at him, yelling at the top of her lungs for him to take a moment and think about what he was doing.
Locked in some kind of trance, Octavio ignored her completely. When she next kicked a leg out at him, he pushed his thigh against her, trapping her leg between him and the wall and placing himself right between her legs.
As he fiddled with his robes and then lifted Cassia’s, Kyla felt her heart go into overdrive. She knew what was coming, why the brothers were now demons, there was only one way this could end, but a small part of her still hoped the woman would fight her way out.
Kyla shut her eyes and turned away, her legs trembling as her tears spilled down over her cheeks. When Cassia fell silent, Kyla knew.
Hearing a loud grunt a minute or so later, Kyla choked back a sob. When she felt an arm slide around her shoulders, she screamed and scuttled sideways, opening her eyes to see Azazel staring at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought...” she looked over at the scene still playing out before them. “I thought it was him.”
Octavio released Cassia. Without even giving her another glance, he turned and stormed away, his shoulders tense and his back ramrod straight. Cassia collapsed onto the floor, sobbing her heart out as she quivered all over.
The agony piercing Azazel’s eyes made Kyla want to kill Balthazar for him, and for what he did to Cassia. The woman had shown him nothing but kindness.
“Let’s go,” Azazel said, holding his hand out for Kyla.
She hesitated, not sure what she would see next. So far, the only demonic act had come from Balthazar. What had Azazel done to deserve being a demon?
Placing her hand in his, they walked back out into the street, time flashed by them, day blurring into night over and over. Heading them back into his house, Azazel stood them in the entrance way.
Kyla watched as a tired looking Lucius appeared, his face thinner but his muscles more defined, his clothes dirty and dishevelled. He’d clearly been away at war. “How long after is this?”
Azazel sighed. “About four months.”
Kyla’s heart stopped. No, she thought. No, no, no.
Lucius strode into the kitchen, his handsome face creased into a huge smile. Upon seeing her husband, Cassia ran at him, throwing her arms around his neck.
“I love you,” she cried, burying her face in his neck as tears poured from her.
Lucius pulled back from their embrace, his eyes scanning over her. “What’s wrong, my love? Don’t cry. I’m home now.”
Cassia, like a floodgate had been opened, let everything pour out of her, all the emotion she’d kept bottled since that fateful night.
Taking her into their bedroom, Lucius settled her on his lap and coaxed her to tell him what was wrong.
“Something awful happened. A man came in the night...” She recalled the events of that night to him without telling Lucius who the man was.
Lucius, visibly raging at his wife’s tale, shook all over, his hands clenching into fists as his face turned bright red. “Who was it?”
Cassia bit her lip. “I don’t know. I couldn’t see him.”
Kyla sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”
“She didn’t want to ruin our relationship,” Azazel said. “Even to the end she was nothing but selfless.”
“Lucius,” Cassia said, placing her hand on his cheek. “I’m bearing his child. I don’t want it. You need to kill me.”
Kyla whirled around to face Azazel head on, her eyes wide. “Tell me you didn’t kill her.”
Azazel dropped his eye contact, staring at the ground. “Watch.”
Lucius picked Cassia up, set her on the bed, planted a kiss on her forehead, then grabbing his sword, marched out onto the street, demanding people tell him who dared to violate his wife. Women screamed, children ran. Men came towards him, trying to calm him down but no one offered him an answer.
Seething in the revelation from his wife, Lucius saw red. Any man that dared come within the swing of his sword felt the full wrath of Lucius Maximus Valens. Hands were lost, arms cut off, blood drawn from spilled guts.
As the men rallied round, trying to calm the seasoned general, Lucius took two hits from arrows, one in his left calf, the other in his right shoulder blade. Completely numb to anything but his own grief, he paid no attention to his wounds, slaying anyone who dared to come near him or not give him his answer.
The dusty street stones turned red with blood as the bulldozer of a man carved his way through the streets, driven by his need for vengeance. As someone called for the soldiers, Lucius, with a heaving chest and tired arms, stumbled towards his brother’s villa for help.
Busting through the front door, Lucius dragged himself into the kitchen only to find Octavio dead by his own sword through his gut, a scrawled message in his blood written on the floor admitting his guilt.
Lucius let out a cry of agony. Cassia ran in, their son clutching onto her, fear consuming him at the sight of his father’s breakdown.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lucius cried.
“Because of your love for him, Lucius. He was still your brother.”
Lucius fell to the floor, his sword clattering onto the floor next to him. “They will kill me for this.” He looked up at Cassia. “You know that?”
She nodded, her face streaked with tears. Lifting a small dagger from beneath her robe, she pressed the handle of it into Lucius’ hand. “Please, Lucius. I would rather die than bear another man’s child.”
Lucius shook his head and pushed her away. “No.”
A flash of pain and rejection ran through Cassia’s eyes. She took the dagger back and without hesitation she drove it straight into her abdomen, letting out a primal scream as she did.
Their son screamed, covering his face with his hands, his robe darkening with liquid as he wet himself.
Cassia fell to the floor, her breathing laboured as her white robe started to turn red, her blood leaking from her at a rate of knots. “Put me out of my misery, Lucius,” she said, staring up at him. “Please.”
Lucius sobbed and crawled to his wife, pressing his lips to hers. “I love you,” he said, taking the dagger from her hand. With a shaking hand, he took the dagger from her hand and moved it to her throat, poising it at her artery. Closing his eyes, he let out a sorrowful howl as he drew the blade across her porcelain skin, fracturing her forever.
Forcing himself to open his eyes, Lucius watched as her whiskey-coloured eyes dimmed with life. “I love you, Cassia. For all eternity.”
Her head lolled to the side, the gaping wound on her neck staring at Lucius, reminding him of what he’d just done.
“Loreius,” he said, motioning for his son to come close. “We must join your mother in the afterlife.”
The boy took tentative steps towards his father, the gravity of those words sinking in the closer he came. Taking his son by the hand, Lucius sat him on his lap and repeated the same action he’d just done to his wife.
As his son gasped and gurgled for air, Lucius pressed his lips to the side of his head, his hot tears wetting the boy’s hair. When he fell limp, he laid Loreius next to his mother before submitting himself to the same fate.