Thanos (Masters Among Monsters Book 3)

by Ella Frank

  How was he there…but not really? Everything in his life had suddenly become so strange. Then again, ever since Leo had brought him to the vampire’s place, nothing had felt normal, and he’d continually been playing a game of catch-up.

  He took in another breath and willed his stomach not to lurch at the strong odor wafting across the air, and then he shoved his hair behind his ears and scanned the crowd.

  Thanos had obviously brought him there for a reason. To show him something. So he was going to do as he had asked of him and trust the vampire. He shut his mind off to the whole “strange factor” and instead turned on the historian side of him, and once he did that, he had to admit this was pretty damn cool.

  The year had to be at least—God, what year is this? Paris looked at the construction of the two massive ships moored at the far end of the wharf, and with one quick glance he saw the bronze-sheathed ram on the prow of the vessel and the three levels of the hull where oarsmen would sit, and knew straight away. He was staring at two very real triremes, and while he tried to wrap his brain around that, he went about recalling everything he had learned from the time period they were most commonly used, back when he’d been in Elias’s class.

  It was most certainly BC, that was for sure, and early if he were to go by the general terrain, clothing, and yes…the dialect, which, thankfully, had been part of his studies. He was seeing a world long since dead and buried, and as fascinating as it was, it also had a fine sheen of sweat popping out on his brow.

  “Did you hear?” The words were clear, and slightly louder than all those around him, as though he were meant to catch them. Paris checked to see who had spoken, and when he spotted a woman with wavy brown hair hurrying by, he followed.

  She was dressed in a plain cream chiton with a golden sash high on her breastbone, and atop her head sat a laurel of painted leaves. She huddled in close with another young lady, a blonde with curls that corkscrewed over her shoulders and rested on the material of her own dress. “Another of Daidalous’s pornes was found this morning.”

  “Another?” the blonde said. “That makes five in the past three nights.”

  “Ne, it does.”

  The ladies were discussing prostitution? They hardly looked the type. But that was definitely the word used. Porni, or whore, as it was known in the English language. So Daidalous’s must have been some kind of brothel?

  But five what, exactly? What did they mean they’d found another?

  Another what?

  That was when Paris made his decision. Wherever these two women were going, he was too. After all, they were the only people he could actually hear, so it made sense that was probably for a reason, right? Well, as much sense as any of this could.

  “What is happening down there, do you think?” the blonde asked, as she looped her arm through the other woman’s.

  “I do not know. But Mother always said that evil begets evil and they would be punished for committing such sins.”

  “Rhoda. Do not say that.”

  “Why? It is true.”

  “You know why.”

  “Because of Thanos? Oh, Airlea. When are you going to learn that our atherfos is long gone from us?”

  Oh shit, Paris thought, as the women stepped off the pier and onto the wharf. Thanos had sisters? It was so weird to learn that. He’d never thought of Thanos’s life before the one he led now as, well, a vampire. But it wasn’t like vampires were just born.

  Were they?

  “It is not that I object to his profession,” the one called Rhoda said. “He brings us money and it keeps food in our belly. But he is not like us, Airlea. He is tainted.”

  “He is troubled, not tainted. Mother and Father’s deaths changed him.”

  “He is more than changed, atherfi. I have seen what he is. You have not.”

  The blonde, Airlea, pulled her arm free then and stopped to turn on her sister. “You frequent Daidalous’s, then, do you?”

  “I have met up with Thanos to receive our allowance, yes.”

  “You did not tell me you did that. I wish to see him too.”

  “I will not take you there. And he will not allow it. You are far too young.”

  “And you are far too controlling. You cannot stop me from seeing him, Rhoda.”

  Rhoda took her sister’s arm roughly and pulled her aside under the shade of the stoa, a covered walkway flanked with thick Doric columns that provided relief from the afternoon sun.

  “You will not go to him. Do you hear me? It is not safe. Whoever is behind the murders down there is not discriminating between woman or man. And last night’s was particularly savage. I will not have you traipsing around a brothel. Do you hear me?”

  Murders? Jesus. That was what had been happening at Daidalous’s. The workers were being killed.

  Airlea appeared as though she wanted to object, but instead crossed her arms and said, “I miss him.”

  “As do I. But he is not the brother you once knew. Now,” Rhoda said, “I have to pick up the fish. Will you go and get the vegetables and the barley?”

  The blonde nodded, but Paris saw the calculation in her eyes.

  Oh hell, he knew that look. This one was up to no good. She had a plan, and if the reason he was there was any indication, Paris knew it had nothing to do with food and everything to do with her brother.

  “Very well. Meet me back here once you have them.” Rhoda handed over a pouch no doubt filled with coin, and then cupped her sister’s cheek. “Do not trouble yourself, Airlea. We will get what we need and head home before the sun goes down. You have naught to fear in the daylight.”

  “Of course,” Airlea said, as her sister left her there and headed back into the bustling crowd.

  Paris watched Rhoda go but then returned his focus to Airlea as she scanned the hordes of people, likely making sure no one there would recognize her. Then she spun on her toes and dashed off down a side alley.

  Shit, Paris thought, and took off after her. Damn, she was a fast little thing, too. She’d lifted up the skirts of her chiton and was darting in and out of side passageways and lanes until she came to an abrupt halt by the side of a limestone wall. Her breathing was labored, her eyes wild, and when Paris walked around the side of her to see where she’d taken them, he knew in an instant.

  They were at the far end of the wharf they’d been standing on, and there was a building that sat opposite the farthest pier. It wasn’t a big establishment. It really just looked like a square box that had a door and a window.

  This had to be the brothel—Daidalous’s.

  Out the front by the door stood a behemoth of a man dressed in a black leather getup of some sort, including a studded mask, and in his hand was a lethal-looking wooden club.

  The security, Paris thought, and turned to the woman beside him. Please, God, don’t let her be thinking what I think she’s thinking. And then, yep, when the guard looked away, Airlea ran across the street and down the side of the building.

  Fuck. Paris chased after her, running to keep up, not to hide. He already knew he wouldn’t be seen; that wasn’t what was going on here. He was being shown this moment for a reason. Thanos was letting him in on something from his past, and though Paris was wary, he wasn’t scared of discovery.

  When he came to a stop beside Airlea, he saw her clutching a hand over her chest and knew the pounding of his heart, and likely hers, were for two very different reasons.

  The sun had begun to set over the water now, and dusk was starting to settle around them as the distinct sounds of sex slipped out of the cracks of the worn building. Grunts, groans, and shouts rented the air, leaving little doubt as to what was going on inside as Airlea crouched by the side of the building, clearly trying to work up the nerve to track down her brother.

  She was twisting her hands in her lap as she surveyed the area, keeping a lookout for anyone coming their way. And Paris couldn’t help but note right then, as they huddled so close, the similarity in the eyes that fell on him
every now and then. They were just like Thanos’s.

  Slightly anxious himself, Paris straightened to his feet and began to pace as he waited to see what she was going to do. He supposed he could go inside and track down Thanos, but he didn’t think that was what was wanted here.

  If Thanos had wanted him inside that building he would’ve just put him there, right? Instead, he’d brought him into contact with his sister. So, he would wait this out. Wait it out, and see what—

  “Airlea.”

  Oh God.

  Paris’s feet froze in place at the sound of that voice. It was a voice he’d know anywhere now, and even without turning and seeing him, he knew who was standing behind them—Thanos.

  “Atherfe,” Airlea said, and Paris heard her shifting and getting to her feet.

  Paris took a deep breath then, and told himself to just do it. Just turn around and see him. Then you’ll finally know who you’ve been talking to. But the nerves riding him were making the move a difficult one.

  “Airlea… I did not believe Aesop when he said he spotted you on the pier. But when he brought me there and I saw you for myself, I could hardly believe my eyes. What are you doing here?”

  Paris let Thanos’s voice wash over him. Deep, melodic, and filled with disbelief, and when he felt the breeze of someone brush by him, he saw Airlea walk past him toward her brother.

  Knowing he needed to turn around before he missed out on this opportunity altogether, Paris let out the lungful of air and then pivoted on his feet, and nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw.

  Thanos was… Wow. He was tall, at least six foot five. Paris had already known that. But dressed as he was in a black toga with gold embellishments and his hair slicked back and smoothed down to his shoulders, his height made him incredibly intimidating—and so did his brutally beautiful face.

  Just. Wow. His cheekbones were angled and sculpted and framed Thanos’s face spectacularly, as did the rigid set of his square jaw. He looked like an angel, but the harsh set of his lips and the narrow slits of his eyes made it apparent that this man was as far removed from angelic as one could be.

  Thanos strode over to his sister and took her arms in a firm grip, drawing her forward to ask again, “What are you doing here, Airlea? This is no place for you.”

  She yanked her arms free of Thanos’s grip and angled her head up to say, “It is no place for anyone, Thanos. You included.”

  Like a man hypnotized, Paris walked over to the two of them, drawn by the need to get closer to the male he’d yet to see in the present but was greedily soaking up here in the past.

  “It is dangerous here. Have you not heard what is happening when the sun sets? Where is Rhoda?”

  “I do not care where she is. I care about you,” Airlea said. “You need to come home with me.”

  Thanos scoffed and ran his hands over his hair. “Home? That is not my home any longer.”

  “It is. You were born there. You were raised there.”

  “I was also banished from there,” Thanos added. “Or have you forgotten?”

  “Father is the one who banished you. He is now dead. There is nothing stopping your return.”

  “Airlea,” Thanos said, “what stops me is still the same thing that had me thrown out in the first place.”

  Airlea took her brother’s hands in her own. “You mean the men?”

  “The men are only part of it, sister. But the other—”

  “You mean the…the whippings?” she whispered, and Thanos cursed, as did Paris.

  Whippings? What the…?

  “How do you know of such things?” Thanos demanded, and then shook his head. “Rhoda. That conniving—”

  “She says there is a poison in your soul that makes you want to do that kind of thing.”

  “And is it a poison that makes her such a cunt?”

  Airlea opened her mouth to respond, and just as she would’ve spoken, Paris noted a distinct shift in the air right before a male figure appeared between brother and sister.

  “Holy fuck,” Paris said, not expecting that at all.

  Clearly he wasn’t the only one, as Airlea gasped, and Thanos paled. A second too late, Thanos reached for the blade attached to his side, but the other male was quicker.

  He was behind Airlea in a flash, with an arm banded around her neck and a malevolent smile on his face. And when Paris finally recovered from the shock of it all, he realized he knew that face.

  Jesus H Christ.

  That face belonged to none other than…

  “Thanos Agapiou, finally we meet.”

  …Vasilios.

  “Let her go,” Thanos demanded, weapon in hand, and Paris could feel his own palms sweating.

  Oh hell. It was obvious this was the first time these two had met, and Paris had no idea how it would play out. From everything he had seen from Vasilios, he wasn’t exactly the follow orders kind of guy—nor did he seem like much of a negotiator.

  “I could do that,” Vasilios said as Airlea whimpered in his hold. “But you see, I have a bit of a problem.”

  Thanos took a menacing step forward and—yeah, shit—that was when Vasilios clued everyone in on the fact that he wasn’t just some magician who could move fast. Two sharp fangs slid into place, and Thanos froze, his eyes flying to his sister’s. “Who are you?” he demanded, concern for his sister’s well-being increasing ten-fold.

  “Ahh, now that’s better.”

  “I asked you a question,” Thanos growled.

  “So you did. Though you might want to be a little nicer about it, since I could kill young Airlea here in the blink of an eye.”

  Airlea started to cry then, and Vasilios stroked a hand over her hair. “There, there, neari mou. If it comes to that, I’ll make it quick and as painless as possible.”

  “No,” Thanos bellowed. “What do you want? What…what are you?”

  “That’s a question that would require a long explanation, and currently you only have seconds. As for what I want, it is simple. I am in need of a cocky…cock, as it were. And you are most certainly that, aren’t you, agori?”

  Paris saw the confusion and questions in Thanos’s eyes as he tried to decipher what Vasilios was asking of him.

  “If you want my cock, you pay for the use of it inside. Not out here, and not by threatening me.”

  “Hmm, that offer does sound most”—Vasilios stopped and sighed—“interesting. But unnecessary.”

  “Then I do not understand.”

  “I have someone in much greater need of your particular services than myself. Someone who, quite by accident, saw you in action several nights ago. He tells me you have quite a temper. But one you have been able to channel, so to say.”

  Thanos gave nothing away with his expression, merely held Vasilios’s stare and said, “I do not know to what you are referring.”

  Then, right before Paris’s eyes, Vasilios released Airlea, who crumpled to the ground in a sobbing mess and was over in front of Thanos, pinning him to the side of the building by his chin.

  Vasilios then placed his lips by Thanos’s ear and said, “I am referring to the fact that you like to inflict pain on others to get some kind of satisfaction deep within your dark, dark soul, Mr. Agapiou. I have been watching you. To see if he was right about you. Because my little problem, well, he has been killing off your fellow pornes and needs a good beating for it.”

  Thanos sputtered for breath and twisted his head so he was facing Vasilios, and asked again, “Who are you?”

  Paris watched then as Vasilios flicked his tongue across Thanos’s lower lip and said, “I am Vasilios, and you, agori, are the beautiful answer to my particular problem.”

  Then the two of them vanished from sight.

  AS PARIS RESURFACED from the vision, or whatever it was that had just been shoved into his mind, he heard Thanos say, “The pain will fade. Give it a second.”

  Paris rubbed his eyes, and as the throbbing did in fact ease, he gazed up at the male w
ho was watching him with great intent. “You… That was you before you were turned?”

  “Yes.”

  The one-word answer let Paris know that Thanos didn’t really wish to discuss what he’d just shown him. But he was too curious, and had grown up studying the world this male had been born into. So there was no way he could just let it go with no questions. “When was that? What year?”

  When one of Thanos’s brows rose as if he was taken off guard by the question, Paris pushed on. At least he hadn’t told him to be quiet. “I mean, the clothing, the triremes, your sister. Oh my God, what happened to Airlea?”

  “What happens to all humans eventually, I should imagine. She would’ve gone home, mourned my loss, and moved on with her life until it was over. I had never intended to go with her. I was not good enough to be the brother she needed. And once Vasilios laid out his offer to me, I agreed to it and never returned after that night.”

  “Shit,” Paris whispered.

  “Indeed.”

  Paris thought back to all that he’d seen, and wondered how best to approach his more pressing questions. Maybe if I focus on other, broader things he’ll open up about more personal ones.

  “You do remember that I can hear your thoughts, don’t you?”

  “Oh…right, uhh, no. I’d forgotten that for a second. But thanks for the memo.”

  He saw Thanos’s eyes crease around the corners, and would’ve sworn the vampire had just smiled beneath that mask before he said, “To answer your original question, it was 20 BC.”

  “What? That means you’re—”

  “Old?”

  Uhh… Paris wanted to say something intelligent, but he was momentarily stunned. And more so by Thanos’s sense of humor and how it changed his entire demeanor than the fact that he was about two thousand and thirty-five years old.

  “Thirty-six, actually,” Thanos said. “It was my day of birth just last week.”

  “I mean, that’s a lot of years.”