A Taste of Mythic Blood
By Shannon Lee
Copyright 2010 Shannon Lee
Smashwords edition
What were they waiting for?
It had been the same men, standing in the same place for the past three days. At first they merely walked by her house and gazed at it, only recently, had they begun to pause and stare at with more interest. Junia had seen them come time and time again, standing for hours if they felt like it. She watched from her window above, it was all she could do.
She didn’t belong in the great city of Rome, and yet she lived in the middle of it all. Among the businesses and merchants who had made their fortune off the backs of others, she wasn’t wealthy by any means. The house was a gift given to her, just so she wouldn’t have to work the fields and live safely among those of wealth and privilege. But not even a solid house could protect her or the others of the disease that spread among them. Black Death favored no one… no one but her as many spiteful women have muttered below their breaths.
It had been a dreadful day as she stared out her window once more. The streets were full as the people moved about before the sunset, they moved in a great hurry to get home as the rain began to fall.
The same three men, who she had seen, returned. No one took notice of them, not even the guards who patrolled the streets. The men were wise enough to change their clothing each time they made a pass at her home. All they did was whisper and stare, that was, until one caught Junia looking down upon them. A mire smile and a wink of his eyes made her close the curtains to the outside world once more. No matter what she saw, Junia was always drawn to her window to see the world beyond her doorstep.
Night after night she peered out over the city, she closed her eyes and imagined the Rome she remembered. Her love for the city came the moment she saw the house given to her, the people never assumed she was a mire peasant girl and were kind to her and her family. In this way she escaped the harsh world she lived in, but for only so long. Her eyes had to open, and once more see the ill-fated streets. Men, women and children, who came and went with shambling steps and withered bodies, she worried they searched for a place to die.
Junia saw men battle over a crust of bread, their knives plunged deeply into the other, as the bread went without a victor. Neither man lived to taste the spoils. Children once played before her window, happy youths that warmed her heart. Until one child coughed violently, he vomited as his face turned a pale white and his body fell dead into the street. Junia couldn’t stand near the window after the incident. Unpleasant sights were the least of her concern. The moan of the dying, the shirking cry of the berieved and the sudden silence of the newly dead had replaced the usual sounds of the night. Corpses bloated by the midday sun exuded the stench of rotten meat. No matter where she turned, death flooded her sense.
The sights and sounds were bad enough for Junia, but her troubles began to grow. Many of her neighbors had been found dead, the guards couldn’t say what the cause of death was, and she knew it wasn’t the plague. She began to look out her window once more, the same three faces continued to stare at her doorstep. Junia begged her husband to stay home ever since, so she could sleep soundly. Yet he felt he had to satisfy his urge for a drink, more than to protect his wife. He left her many times before and vanished for days, she needed him now more than ever, since their family would be expanding. She was expecting twins, her belly revealed the secret many months ago. But her drunk of a husband only assumed she was getting fat and restricted her food.
A selfish ass, and yet she was trapped to him. Bounded by the vow before God, she promised to honor and obey.
She broke away from the window just thinking of her husband when she peered back out once more, the three men who stare at her house had vanished. Junia’s heart leapt into her throat as the front door crept open. She walked quietly across the floor to put out the candle on her dresser. With the darkest blanket she hidden herself in the corner of the room, silently, she prayed if the murderous men were the ones who entered her house, they would take what they wished and leave her be. She didn’t want to die.
She sat perfectly still, there was but one person in her home, the sound stress of the wood below gave that away. The trespasser, or death itself slowly paced through the house, the old wooden floor creaked and moaned to the weight of the being. Junia tried to remain still and silent, her body shook in fear as the sound from below only grew.
Heavy footsteps echoed the empty walls. The confident strides across the floor of the trespasser proved to her one thing, it wasn’t her husband. Atticus couldn’t make it into the house after his drinks. The intruder drew closer and closer, however when he stepped foot on the top of the stairs, Junia suddenly couldn’t hear him.
She knew better than to trust the silence.
Her heart felt as if it were battered against her throat as the brightness from the downstairs somehow dimmed. She braced herself for the worst as the light became eclipsed. The stranger stood in the doorway as the candle from the dresser revived.
He knew she was there.
The tears flowed as Junia prayed silently for death to be swift, the being stood over her as she felt the blanket became come loose and was pulled away. Junia screamed as loud as she could, but a large hand muffled her cry for help. She refused to open her eyes, and tried to remove the hand so her pleas could be heard. Yet she paused once the man said. “Junia, it’s me”
Her eyes opened cautiously. She saw a familiar face before her, one full of worry and sorrow. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you were asleep” He removed his hand from her lips as Junia cleared the tears from her eyes. His hand gently came over her long brown hair. A giant of a man kneeled before her, with care he wrapped the blanket she hid in and carried her to the bed.
Junia still sobbed, as the gentleman brought his arms around her. She felt his warmed as her heart eased into a steady rhythm. He pulled from the embrace as his hand gently came upon her belly. He smiled as he felt the baby kick.
She cleared her tears and clenched onto his arm. Freely she spoke of the horrors around her, but the longer she held him, the more her fear began to vanish. But she didn’t feel safe. Her husband wasn’t home to protect her. He paid no mind to the sudden murders of the people around them. Atticus had done nothing. He was out to take care of himself, and not that of his wife. Junia didn’t realize she spoke of her fear aloud, but the gentleman at her bed looked to her with worry.
He reached over for her hand and whispered, “I will protect you,”
Junia was too acquainted with his tone, and offer. “We have spoken of this Lucas, I cannot leave my husband”
The two fell silent as he reached over Junia, to the other side of the bed. He pulled up a basket of food and bread. Tears came the moment she saw the bounty, her hands trembled towards the food as she began to consume every crumb. Such a meal in her eyes was to be treasured and savored. Junia noticed the glare he gave as he stared off into the distance. He knew Atticus had been starving her once again. The once calm and settled character had changed to nearly a demonic growl. Junia paused from her meal and tried to explain that it was the way of things, the man of the house always ate first. Food was harder to come by.
It was no excuse in the mind of Lucas.
She spoke a lie, after all, he was the one that had been leaving food in the house. From meats meant for the higher class of society to the meager means of vegetables for peasants. He brought it all to her table, Junia had yet to see a crumb of it. She finished the basket of its bounty before Lucas gave her an odd look. “Leave with me tonight”
Many things that held her back, her vow before God and her family to stay with Atticus. She cannot break her word.
Her other fear was Lucas himself, although she had known him for many years. He has yet to change, not once as she seen his face age or watch the sands of time affect him. As well Junia hasn’t forgotten the night he came months ago. He took her brothers away after he discovered they were in early stages of the plague. He convinced Junia they had to be taken out of the house or else she and everyone within the walls would be boarded up. Much to her protest, her brothers agreed, since then, she hasn’t heard a word from them. Any time she mentioned her brothers in conversation, the subject would suddenly change.
Deep in her heart, she had known they were dead. But why hasn’t he told her?
One other reason remained. Despite his calm, settling voice, Junia had seen a dark side to the man before her. Lucas had come to her as Atticus raised his hand against her. The moment she was struck down, Lucas came to blows with him. Demonic roars escaped the bigger man as he nearly beat her husband to the point of death. She saw his eye fill with darkness, as a look worthy of a demon glared down at her husband. She knew he was no normal man.
Junia fell silent as he stood from the bed and looked to the outside world. “You have told me this illness would not harm me. How do you know such a thing? Lucas, are you an angel? Or are you the devil himself with something at stake?”
Her question silenced the broad man. He didn’t blink for a few moments until he found his answer. “I am neither,” he said without looking to her. “What I know is I am going to protect you, from Atticus, or from the world if need be. I made a promise, I intend on keeping it”
His answer wasn’t good enough. “How can you be neither of the creatures I speak of? You knew about my brothers had been ill, you knew when Atticus…” she paused, knowing the event she was about to speak brought back bitter memories for both of them. “I must know,”
“It matters not. I treat you better than your husband. I bring you the freshest food and drink of the world. And yet, you don’t trust me well enough to protect you?” Lucas growled lowly to his own question, it tore him up inside.
“You know of my vow, as well I do not wish to shame my father…”
“A vow that only one must keep? What sense is that Junia? To him you are nothing more than a humble dog waiting to sit on his lap to please him!”
“Lucas…”
“Leave him Junia, or I will make him live up to the only vow he can. How does that promise go- until death do you part?”
Junia tried to protest, but somehow, he had vanished from the room in the blink of her eye. She was fearful for her drunken husband, Lucas had made a vow such as that before, yet never went through with it. But his voice changed to the same demonic tone that scared her.
With little she could do, Junia sat in wait on the bed for her husband to return. She no longer feared the idea of her house being invaded. The thought had since subsided. Fear was replaced with worried for Atticus.
*****
It was a night, good enough to hunt.
Lucas walked from the house, possessed with by his own personal mission. Atticus must be found.
If anyone had paid mind to him as he walked, they would notice how the lamps shone brightly as he pasted. Or the ones who managed to maintain a home felt slightly warmer as the strange, yet very determined man passed by. But some noticed other things about him. He dressed better than anyone in town. Therefore, he is a man of wealth and money. Three men noticed this as Lucas crossed their path when he left Junia. They were the ones behind the mysterious murders and robberies of the homes close by. She was going to be their next target, until a tempting voice whispered in their ears.
They faintly heard the chime of gold coins in his pocket, as the haunting voice intensified in their minds. Every time the whispers spoke, they began to figure there was a reason why such a voice would tease them to follow the tall stranger. He is worth the kill, unlike the houses they had broken into. Every gold and jewel was been sold for food and kindling, hardly worth the blood spilt, but it was fun for the three men. They had come to a conclusion they were doing their victims a favor. Die quickly from the blade across the neck, than to suffer the wrath of the plague.
The men nodded to one another, as they began to stalk their prey down the streets.
But who was being hunted?
Lucas didn’t turn his head as he began to quicken his steps, which forced the three men to keep pace. They didn’t want to lose him, not after giving up a possible house full of gold.
They had kept a close eye on Junia, and notice she was with child. Any woman who could afford to eat and maintain a bale of health in hard times must have the money to do so. The house she lived in was reserved for nobles and wealthy merchants, how else could she be in such luxury? Her well-dressed visitor convinced the men even more to the idea of hidden treasures.
The three spoke in silence to one another, they had killed together for many weeks. After Lucas, they would backtrack to Junia. Figuring she was unable to put up a fight and easy to kill when they took what they wanted.
The men kept a good distance as they watched their prey weave and slither through the people like a shadow. No one parted from his path, although he was large enough to command it. It was as if he wasn’t even there. Yet the muggers knew better and found he attempted to lose them. If there was one thing they knew better than anyone, it was alleyways. Pulling their blades, they crept in. It was a dead end, nowhere to run. Standing tall at the mouth of the darkness, they gave a silent nod to one another as they entered the gloom and expected to find a startled man. What upset them was that no matter where they looked in the shadows, they didn’t see the well-dressed gentleman.
They cursed their rotten luck and turned to leave, their prey may have slipped out through the crowd once more. However one paused as he heard a noise from the shadows, loose earth and rocks had been disturbed. Quickly he called back his friends, they heard it to. Someone was there.
The armed themselves once more, neither man flinched as the light went out in the streets. All the flames had suddenly extinguished leaving the town in a temporary shadow, the men felt about blindly for their mark. Until one of them gave out a muffled gasp, but was quickly silenced. The sound in the darkness they heard next was not one any man wished to hear. Flesh was torn, as was clothing, the metal blade crashed to the earth as a blunt object knocked the two men back. The moonlight lit the alley. They could just barely make out what was thrown.
It was their partner. Dead as a doornail in their arms, but the horrific discovery was the condition of his skin. It was chard! Quickly the surviving men kicked the body off of themselves and tried to make it out the alley. But a giant blocked their path. His eyes began to glow in the shadows illuminating it just enough to see his face. They screamed for help as they ran to the back end of the alleyway, stumbling over their fallen friend, both forgotten it was a dead end.
The street lived up to its name, Deadman’s alley. People have gone in and never come out, that was until Lucas entered its realm.
He emerged to the open street once more as the oil lamps returned to light the way of the people who dared to stay out after dark. He inspected his clothing and ran his figure just under his chin to catch some sudden drizzle. He waited a moment longer to see if anyone was going to investigate the alley, yet not an eye turned into the darkened corner. The sound was too common, the people tried to grow numb to the death all around them.
Lucas was free to move on, determined to find Atticus before daybreak.
He continued to walk through the rain and mud in search of the man, he knew where he was, yet the distractions forced him to alter route. Someone was following him once more, intent on gold. He was in no mood to try and lure them into the alley. Instead he will scare them off. He came to a sudden stop in his tracks. Lucas prepared himself as he turned on his heels, ready to strike down his stalker. He expected to come face to face with a grubby drunk, wanting gold for his next drink. But much to his surprise, Lucas’ stalker wasn’t that of a man. His eyes slowly lowered to the ground, a child had followed him. His hands extended, silently asking for gold.
His mother who searched franticly for him was mortified. Quickly she retrieved him, worried for the consequences of the little one’s actions. She tried to whisk him away until Lucas took hold of her shoulder firmly.
She embraced her son, for what she assumed to be for the last time. Men of a high pedigree and wealth had been known to ‘solve the poor problem’ by killing those who dared to beg for gold. She felt Lucas’ warm breath trickle down her neck as he slowly took in her scent. Fearful tears traced down her cheek as she pleaded for the life of her son. “Do what you wish with me sir, but do not harm my son. I beg of you! He is all I have left!”
He said nothing as he heard the sudden rumble coming from the woman and child. Their stomachs had been emptied for some time, Lucas pulled away from her as the woman held her breathe. Preparing for a deathblow. Yet she was shocked and felt a thick cloth coming over her shoulders as the pockets full of gold weighed down the cloak. It engulfed the family in warmth.
As she turned to give thanks for his generous gift, he was already gone.
*****
He was close now.
Lucas could feel it in his skin. He stood before a run down inn that still managed to maintain business despite hard times. Lucas was soaked to the bone, yet pondered his next move. He wants to scare Atticus out of town, however forced him to deal with the matter delicately for Junia’s sake.
The night wasn’t any younger as he came closer to the door of the Inn. The smell of death stung his senses, but the stench from within the walls made him think twice before barging in. His hand inched closer to the door handles of the Inn, yet at the last moment, Lucas pulled himself away from it. He could smell the fowl creature were he sat among those of his kin. Men who chose to waste what time they have in the world sitting on stools and drinking ale until they are sick or dead. Many must have had families at home, yet they left their wife and children to be as they took in what pleasure there was to be had. The temptation only grew in his bones as he slowly pulled himself away from the door. Lucas loved Junia, which only made it clear in his mind. He got himself in too deep with her.
He was never to get that close to Junia, not with what was at stake.
Defeated by his own conscious, Lucas turned his back as he then heard unusual sounds growing within the Inn. A bar fight must have broken out, and yet the smell of blood was more plentiful than a mire drunken scuffle.
Backing away from the door, Lucas watched as men bounded by rope were pulled from the Inn and ordered to march out. Many others remained inside and were forced to stay within the wall. Carpenters then moved around the building and began to board up all openings. Guards stood at the doors and windows, any one who tried to flee were stabbed and killed. Bodies began to pile up at the doorway until it was sealed shut with wood and nails.
It was the work of desperate people who try to contain the plague. He had seen it happen before, houses with women and children turned into prisons. Left to die in the darkness by slow starvation or thirst, just because one family member was unwell with the Godforsaken illness. Lucas suddenly turned back to the men who were taken out by rope. The last one looked familiar. A balding man with long black matted hair that went past his shoulders, and spoke with drunken slur. His eyes were red from ale as he stumbled about and nearly tripped over his own boots.
It was Atticus.
Curiosity nonetheless filled his mind as he wondered where the drunks were taken. He followed them out of the city walls and into the fields… fields that had been turned into mass graves.
The path was littered with mounds of earth, piled in such a way that one knew something was buried beneath the burden. Lucas could smell it as he passed, and realized why the men were led out.
All of them bared the blisters and markings of the Black Death that Rome continued to contend against. Atticus however, wasn’t sick with the illness. Lucas himself gave him the blisters, as blows he endured from the beating caused the discoloration in his skin. But no mortal doctor could tell the difference. The men paused as they stood before a massive hole that continued to be dug deeper and deeper. Atticus sobered quickly. He looked about franticly as he tried to clear back what remained of his long black tattered hair. He refused to believe what was before him, or the fact he was among the men about to be sentenced to death. Looking for a familiar face, he saw Lucas standing close by. He leaned in and whispered. “Help me”
Atticus spoke of the growing family, how much Junia needs him now more than ever. He tried to look for any sign of sympathy from the young man, but was given none. “Lucas …”
They had just finished the hole. The diggers were able to come out with the help of a rope and some healthy men above to assist them.
The grim event began. Five children, were lowered in first, and then followed by two women, five elderly men, and then the drunks. The sight disturbed Lucas, none of the children were ill. The women were healthy as were the elderly. There were other reasons why people were placed in. They were Jewish.
In his travels, Lucas had heard of horrors brought upon man. He had saved many from the grave, but too many people stood about. He couldn’t help the people who did not deserve death.
The elderly and the women were trying to get the children out, but the sides were too steep. The walls of mud slid down into the hole, making it impossible to climb out. Those who tried to help them were threatened with the same fate as the people in the large soon-to-be grave. It wasn't long before it was Atticus’ turn. He looked to Lucas with a desperate look on his face.
“Help me … or I will expose you!” Atticus’ voice bitter as Lucas wouldn’t look him in the eyes. He was pulled forward as the first of the drunks had their rope cut and they were thrown into the hole. They went faster and faster before any of the men realized what was happening. All too soon, they reached the end of the line. Atticus was the last to go in. He tried to become dead weight to those who hauled him, but his feet slipped on the mud, and he was heaved along. He was thrown into the hole, almost falling on top of the other drunks.
All the people inside the mass grave begged to be let out. They screamed aloud for mercy and praying to God that someone would save them. The wailing and tears of those trapped haunted Lucas’ ears. His heart ached for them. No creature deserved to die like that. A mist left the hand of Lucas as he watched it drift without notice into the hole.
One by one, the children, women and elderly collapsed and went into an eternal sleep as the mud was being shoveled into the grave, while a priest was giving them all their final rights. Only the drunks were left. None would be given the dignity of a peaceful death.
The men had sobered and pleaded to be released. They spoke of the devotion to God and of family that needed them. The mud grew so thick that the bodies of the children vanished under it. The drunks couldn’t move their legs, and the men continued to scream. Atticus was the loudest of them all.
“Lucas! You bloody demon” The people grew concerned by Atticus’ outrage. Was there truly an unholy creature among them? Attention turned to the pastor.
He remained calm and assured the people that no demonic being would dare reveal himself before a man of God. Lucas watched on as the dirt surged up to their necks. Atticus continued to scream aloud, and demanded Lucas to do something to save him, anything. The mud continued to fall, until they were nearly unseen. Atticus’ screams were incoherent to mortal ears.
Lucas wished he were for once.
What little resistance was left in the drunks became a haunting image for all those who bore witness. Arms protruded from the ground, trying to reach out and grasp onto anyone or anything they could. Atticus had made such an effort. Slowly, one by one, the limbs went limp and sank below the surface. Atticus’ arm followed, but not before making one less attempt to reach out in hopes someone would pull him up. No one was there to take his hand. No mortal could hear the bones break and the ribs shattering from the force of the thick earth, or their lungs that filled with mud. No, they were lucky enough to not have such a privilege.
The rain overcame what little air was left from the ditch bubble to the surface. The loose soil shifted with the life that remained below ground. The minutes passed like hours. The hole became as still as the rest of the earth. His ears turned to the ground. The rapid heart beats slowly withered away into nothing. Silence of the grave captivated Lucas’ ears. He was grateful for the quiet.
Thunder echoed in the distance as all those who witnessed the deaths left with their morbid curiosity satisfied by the horrid moment. Not even a vampire could condone.
He decided to return home. He lived alone in a large house miles from the town. To a vampire, it wasn’t noticeable. His home was one of the largest in all of city, but never noticed by mortals. Rebuilt from the ruins of the old Roman culture, Lucas found sanctuary within the walls from the past.
Although he had lived in Rome, Lucas was not Roman by any means. His reasons for saying were many. The people before the plague were decent. The views and spectacles he had seen were wonderful. But, mainly, it was Junia’s smile.
Emerging from the rain, relief came from the warm fire that started on its own once he crossed the threshold. That was until he thought of Junia.
She was a widow. Atticus was dead. She had no one, no one but herself … and him.
“If only…” he thought aloud as he walked through the halls. “If only I didn’t let that happen to her brothers.” He suddenly paused. A sudden feeling of light-headedness came over him. He knew it only meant one thing. A suppressed memory, Lucas fell against the wall as the pain overcame him.
He recalled Junia’s brothers and remembered the friendship they shared, but as soon as he thought of wondrous times, he heard their screams of pain and agony as death slowly took them from the world. It wasn’t because of the plague, but from his actions. “It had to be done … but why did I have to do it!”
He could still hear the sounds of their ribs being crushed; the blood pulled from their bodies … it was all too vivid. “Why must you always haunt me!” he growled as he held his head in pain.
He ran up the stairs to the top floor, he pause at the sight before him, his eyes angry and filled with hate. Two luminous, golden statues of a dragon and a phoenix sat proudly in the center of the attic. Lightning lit up the room, giving the statues a demonic sense to them. He heard the heartbeats of the brothers contained by them, and the blood coursing through the metallic bodies as if it were their own. The brothers' scent still lingered in the room.
“How could you?” he asked of them. Cautiously, he approached the golden statues. “How could you take two innocent lives like the twins … who were so kind-hearted … you damn well know Junia needed them now more than ever!” No response came.
“Answer me!”
He approached the statues, looking each one in their emotionally void faces. They gave no answer or any sign that they were listening. Lucas leaned against the wall and cried. He betrayed the mortal brothers he called friends for two still statues.
*****
Junia waited by the window early the next morning for Atticus’ return, knowing he had been at the inn last night, to drunk his sorrows away like everyone else. Her hand gently pushed back the curtains, her eyes looking up and down the streets for her husband, yet no sign came of him. She clenched the curtain closed when the first bodies of the day were picked up from the streets. Her heart came to a near pause when she saw the charred remains of the three men who stalked her house. Their clothing revealed their identities; everything else about them was beyond recognition. Junia was grateful though that her husband wasn’t among them, and yet she couldn’t ignore the sensation that he was taken from her.
She ate without him and continued to worry for the well being of her husband. And yet throughout the day she could hear the conversations outside her bedroom window. There was talk of a massive burial just the other night, and one of the inns was boarded up due to the plague. Atticus was among the dead, she could tell by the looks people gave towards her house. He wasn’t coming home.
Lucas had questions to answer.
He arrived at sunset, nearly the same time as the night before. Junia was up in her room when she heard the door once more. There was no fear in her since she knew who it was. Junia kept her back to him as Lucas came into her room.
“Junia.” She didn’t acknowledge him. “Junia?”
“You did this.”
A confused look came over the young man. Junia stood from her bed her eyes blazed with anger, as she demanded what became of Atticus.
“Confess to me. You did this! You killed my husband!” she yelled in rage.
Although his actions led to the death of the drunk, Lucas didn’t show any empathy for Atticus. “I didn’t kill him, but I am glad he’s gone. He cannot harm you anymore. He was still an ill man, Junia. Atticus would have died eventually, by ale or that of God’s hand.”
She nearly didn’t believe the man before her was Lucas. He had never spoken to her in such an angry tone. She cleared her tears and settled herself. “In what manner did he die?”
Not even Lucas could bring himself to speak of how Atticus was killed. A manner of death was not befitted for any man or beast. Not a word was spoken as he shook his head to her.
“You must tell me, for after this night, you are no longer welcome in this house.”
Lucas nearly didn’t believe what he just heard, but her voice was cold and serious. Junia meant every word she said as he choked on his air. He tried to get her to change her last thought. He confessed to her he was there with Atticus was killed, but couldn’t save him. He stood his ground against Junia’s verbal attack, but deep down, he knew she wouldn’t change her mind.
For what was best for him, he shouldn’t have argued with her. It was the escape he needed to distance himself from a woman he had grown too close to.
As she looked away, her focus shifted towards her enlarged belly. “Who will help me with my children? You are not here all the time … nor will I be here forever like you,” she whispered. Lucas was stunned. Did she know the truth about him? “Please … leave.”
He became still and silent at her request. He was about to argue, but the moment she started to sob, he kept silent. Lucas approached Junia and gently held her chin. She looked into his eyes when he very carefully kissed her lips. She savored it. Never before had someone given her such affection.
When he released the kiss, she opened her eyes and saw his fangs. She gasped in shock, as his turned to a deep, soulless black. In a blink, he was gone. Anxiety took over her, not knowing what to do next. Junia, a soon to be mother and alone in the world couldn’t help but feel secure. She had everything for her sons, and she knew Lucas too well, he would be back. It wasn’t the first time she asked him to leave.
*****
She waited days for his return, but never laid an eye on him. It occurred to her that she had lost someone she treasured, despite seeing his true self. It didn’t matter if Lucas was a creature of the night. The warmth she felt when he spoke to her, he made her feel secure and safe. She knew he came in the house. A basket of food would appear for her when she came back from a walk, and along with fresh water and milk to drink.
Junia was grateful for him.
She adjusted well, living on her own. The murders around her came to a sudden halt, word spread of three corpses found in an alley. When she went out onto the streets and walk through the town, it seemed the plague had subsided. People still had the look of it, but they weren’t dying. She came across an old woman on a street corner. She looked at Junia spitefully.
She grew nervous because the look of those around the woman was the same. They all stared at her resentfully. Rumor spread of her good health was of the devil, not God.
Junia left when the stares became too much for her to stand. Could they be right? Lucas was a supernatural being, after all. Were they not the Devil’s minions? How could he be? He was so kind to her, and he never harmed anyone … unless he was the one that had brought harm to her brothers. Junia shook the idea from her thoughts.
She began to ask herself why was she trying to defend him? But realized she loved Lucas! She loved him although he wasn’t human. He was everything a man should be. He was everything Atticus should have been. Junia decided then to search for Lucas.
*****
Two months passed, and yet there wasn’t a trace of Lucas. Junia would describe him to people she saw. No one had ever heard or seen him. Her eyes caught his cape down a street one warm day, but a woman and small child were in it. Junia had heard beastly roars in an alleyway. In her desperation she assumed it could have been Lucas. Yet it was the sound of two hungry dogs. In such a large city, she could not venture far from her house. She gave up her search for him, and decided she needed to write home.
Her parents arrived in a matter of days. They lived in the next town over. Atticus’ parents also arrived after getting a letter from Junia she had written months ago, having told them she and Atticus were with child. They traveled from Spain to congratulate them, and were given the sad news of their son’s death. It was a sad yet joyous occasion. The parents all collectively decided to stay and see her though the birth of the children.
Junia’s parents took control and tended to her every whim. Atticus’ parents had great conflict over the care of Junia. At times a full out argument between the soon to be grandmothers as to who attends to Junia, the grandfathers squabbled over proper channels when it came to preparing for the birth. However Junia was quick to put an end it, the last thing she needed was petty arguments over who should be responsible and what proper channels were. Although the parents assumed they relieved Junia of any pressure for her, their arguments over her did not make her feel at ease.
*****
October 31.
Junia had a contraction. Her water broke two hours later. Her mother started to boil hot water and gathered plenty of blankets ready for the newborns. The men ran and assembled what was needed. Junia endured terrible pain, but her mother in law helped her through it. Junia started to push. Her entire lower body felt as it were being shredded from the inside. She tore a pillow up, her scream echoed the empty streets. She screeched out in agony. Her mother encouraged her to keep pace, for she saw the baby crowning.
Junia screamed again as the baby came out little by little. Soon, a head fully emerged. An arm followed, and then another. Her mother carefully pulled the baby out from her, and it cried instantly.
“Damon! His name is Damon!” Junia murmured in pain. Her father took little Damon away as Junia was in tears over the pain. “I can’t do this. Mother, please stop!”
Her mother encouraged her to go has her next contraction hit, Junia pushed with all her might. Her efforts paid off. Three minutes later, her second son was born.
Sweat beaded down her face. She was able to whisper “Dante … He’s Dante” before her eyes closed from the effort she had given. The parents cleaned the babies up and gave them to Junia. She used what remained of her strength to touch each of their cheeks. Tears of joy came down her face. “I will always love you, my darlings,” Junia said as her eyes closed and her arms went limp. The color vanished from her face, Atticus’ father noticed it her discoloration as the families celebrated the birth. He placed his ear to her chest. No heartbeat was heard.
“Junia” he whispered tearfully. Despite the new life in the room, it was overshadowed by grieved. The cry of the newborns broke the somber silence. The grandparents came to a conclusion. The house was cursed; both had lost a child to the odd wedding gift, and knew the newborns couldn’t stay within the walls.
They debated once more as to where the children should go, to Spain with Atticus’ family, or to Bari with Junia’s family. They chose to each take a child, in hopes that one of them would survive. Junia would be left in the house for there was no place to give her a proper burial.
***
November 1, 1348.
They took what possessions they could from the home and the supplies needed. The family gave one another a somber nod and blessed their journey before them.
It was the start of a new life for Damon and Dante, no one knew where their paths would go, or if they would survive what lay ahead of them.
Watching from the rooftops was Lucas. He merely stared on as Atticus’ family went north to the boat that would take them home to Spain, and Junia’s parents went south. He had done all he could for now.
The rest would soon be up to them…