"I'm fine," said Jonah. "How about you?"
"Not big on being buried alive," said Stanza. "Even in my astral form." She let out a nervous laugh. "You'd think I'd know better."
"No, no." Jonah gave her hands a squeeze. "It's understandable. This is pretty disorienting."
"Good word for it," said Stanza. "Better than the ones I was coming up with."
They both fell silent then. A long moment passed, taking with it who knew how many years in the fast-forward world beyond the mud.
"So," Stanza said finally. "It would help if we kept talking." She cleared her throat. "It would help me. With the buried alive thing."
"Okay then," said Jonah.
"Tell me about your band," said Stanza.
Jonah squeezed her hands. "How about if we talk about you for a change?"
Stanza's voice stiffened. "What do you want to know?"
Jonah's heart pounded; after weeks of evasion and secrets, it was the question he'd been dying to hear from her. What do you want to know?
He sat for a moment, wondering where to begin. He wanted to know everything, of course. He had a million questions...but he decided to start with the first that came to mind.
"When Hercules called you Helen," said Jonah, "and he said something about Troy...did he mean he thought you were the Helen?"
"Yes," said Stanza.
Jonah took a deep breath and slowly released it. "So were you? Were you really...her?"
"Helen of Troy?" said Stanza. "Yes."
"And you knew Arthur, too? When he was King Arthur, in Camelot?"
"I've led many lives." Stanza's voice sounded distant. "I've lived a long time."
"How long?" said Jonah. "You said at least a thousand years...but if you were around during the Trojan War, that would make you..."
"Really, really old." Stanza sighed. "Sometimes, I feel like I've been alive forever."
"Have you?" said Jonah.
"I don't know," said Stanza. "There's a lot I don't remember."
"You don't know how old you are?"
"Or where I'm from, or who my parents were," said Stanza. "There are whole lifetimes I don't remember. Big gaps in my memory. Sometimes, I get flashes of them in my dreams, but never the whole picture."
"But why?" said Jonah. "What happened to block your memory?"
"I have no idea." Suddenly, Stanza's hands began to shiver in Jonah's grip. "One thing I do remember, though. I was buried alive once when I was young."
"That's awful," said Jonah. "What happened?"
"Someone set me free," said Stanza. "But not for a long time. That's why...you know..."
Jonah squeezed her hands to stop them from shaking. "I'm here. Right here."
"I feel like I never got out." Stanza's voice was edging toward panic again. "Like I only dreamed I was free, and I just woke up and I'm still trapped right back where I started."
"You got out," said Jonah. "And you'll be free again before you know it. Trust me."
"What if you're a figment of my imagination?" Stanza stopped shaking, and her voice grew eerily calm. "What if I've lost my mind?"
"You haven't." Even as he said it, Jonah realized it wasn't enough. He had to try harder. Take her mind off the fear. "Something happened to me when I was young, too."
"What was it?" Stanza still sounded much too calm.
"My brothers were abducted," said Jonah. "Both of them. Right in front of me."
"That's awful," said Stanza. "How old were they?"
"Ten," said Jonah. "I was thirteen. They were taken right out of our bedroom, and I didn't save them. I froze."
"Who took them?" said Stanza.
"A man," said Jonah. "I didn't see his face. He came in through the window at night and took them."
Stanza squeezed his hands. "You were just a kid. It wasn't your fault."
Jonah sighed. "I'll never get it out of my head. The way they screamed...and I just stood there. I couldn't move a muscle. It was the last time I ever saw them."
"Maybe you'll see them again someday," said Stanza.
"And have to explain why I let them get taken away?" said Jonah. "God, I hope not."
"We've all done things we regret," said Stanza. "Things that have come back to haunt us. Even if only in our dreams." Her hands started shaking again.
"So the things you don't remember about your life," said Jonah. "Do you want to remember them?"
"Yes," said Stanza. "It's why I became a bloodliner. It's why I search people's pasts and trace their family histories. Because I want to know my history. Because I need to know it."
"What if you're better off not knowing?" said Jonah.
"No," said Stanza. "It's my life. I'll never give up."
Jonah sat quietly for a moment, choosing his next words with care. "Is that what you get out of helping me? Other than the money? You're trying to fill in the gaps?"
"There's much more to it than that," said Stanza. "There's a bigger picture involved."
Jonah frowned. "What kind of bigger picture?"
"It might not matter." Stanza's voice shook. "If something goes wrong, we could end up trapped like this forever..."
"It'll be all right," said Jonah. "I have a feeling."
Stanza's nervous breaths were short and quick in the darkness. "It keeps rising up over me. I push the fear away, and it keeps coming back."
"But you're not alone," said Jonah. "We'll get through it together."
"Or be trapped forever together."
"It's not so bad when you have someone to help you through it," said Jonah. "Someone who cares about you."
He folded his hands around hers and squeezed for emphasis.
Suddenly, Stanza pulled away. She surprised him, darting her hands from his grasp.
Shit! Why did I say that? "Stanza?"
She didn't answer.
Jonah peered into the absolute darkness but of course saw nothing. He swept his hands around, feeling for her, and came up empty.
"Stanza?" he said. "I'm sorry."
The sound of his own voice was the only thing he heard. No reply. Not even a sound of life.
"Seriously, Stanza. I didn't mean to upset you."
Still nothing. Was she even there at all?
"Stanza?"
Again, Jonah swiped at the darkness and found nothing.
Then, just as he was giving up, Stanza's hand latched onto his wrist.
"I'm glad you're here." Her voice was shaky but not panicky anymore. "Thank you."
"Any time," said Jonah.
Just then, the first bit of light broke the darkness.
Looking up, Jonah saw a tiny hole that quickly grew larger. Dark-haired men set on fast-forward speed removed the hardened mud with hammers and chisels and brushes, excavating what was now an archaeological dig.
Within years that raced past in minutes, the men had worked down to Jonah and Stanza, clearing the ground to the ghosts' eye level.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Jonah saw Stanza, still facing him. Her eyes—one hazel, the other amber flecked with red—met his.
She was smiling, and her cheeks were wet with tears.
*****
Chapter 59
"I'm going to kick your ass now," said Hercules, right before he kissed Arthur on the cheek.
Arthur shoved him back down into his stone tomb. "Get your strength back first, old woman. I don't want you claiming I had an unfair advantage when I beat you to a bloody pulp."
Jonah couldn't help laughing.
He was actually feeling pretty good. For one thing, he and Stanza had finished their trip through time and returned to their bodies in the temple ruins in 21st century Herculaneum. Arthur and Mavis had made it back too, and had been waiting for them when they arrived.
After that, they'd found Hercules' buried tomb atop a nearby hill, following the instructions he'd given them in the past. Arthur had smashed open the tomb with brute force...and Stanza had just awakened Hercules with drops of blood (her o
wn, this time).
On top of everything, Jonah knew he'd made progress with Stanza. She'd really opened up to him while they were buried alive in Herculaneum. Even now, with her usual hardass attitude firmly in place, Jonah still felt like they had a stronger connection.
All in all, not a bad day. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood for once. People were even goofing around.
"I want three things," Hercules said as he clambered out of his tomb. "A cask full of blood, a cask full of wine, and a woman full of fire. In that order."
"Patience," said Arthur. "Pace yourself, old woman."
"Four things!" Hercules shoulder-checked Arthur. "Number four is five minutes to kick this bull's ass!"
Jonah gave Stanza a wry look and hiked a thumb toward Hercules. "Didn't he just sleep for two thousand years?"
Stanza flashed him a warm smile. "Demigod plus vampire equals lunatic."
"Boys will be boys," said Mavis, who also had a smile on her face. In fact, she couldn't seem to stop smiling since she'd returned with Arthur from the past.
"All right, break it up." Stanza raised her voice but didn't move any closer to the wrestling match that had broken out between the living legends. "I said break it up."
Hercules and Arthur stopped wrestling but didn't stop laughing.
"We have to get moving." Stanza sounded as commanding and businesslike as ever. "Nicolo Borgia has a major head start on us."
"Bound for Scythia, aye?" Hercules grinned and popped an elbow into Arthur's side. Arthur smacked him across the head in reply.
"Yes," said Stanza. "We're going to the site of the lost city of Gelonus, where you performed your thirteenth labor."
"Which is in Russia," said Jonah.
"Near the Volga River," said Stanza. She'd worked it out on a crude map in ancient Herculaneum. "There's a lake where a legendary sunken city went down...the city of Kitezh. I'm guessing Gelonus and Kitezh are one and the same."
"What do you think is in Gelonus?" said Mavis. "What is Nicolo after?"
"Whatever it is," said Stanza, "now that we've got King Arthur and Hercules, we're better equipped than ever to take it away from him."
Hercules shook his fists in the air and roared. "This will be my fourteenth labor!"
"The sun's gone down." Arthur gazed out of the cave at the twilight sky.
Mavis marched over and swept his arm up in the crook of her own. "Let's go scout the area," she said, pulling him out of the cave.
"Wait!" Hercules stomped after them. "There might be minotaurs lurking about!"
When everyone else had left, Stanza turned to Jonah. "Thanks for not saying anything about the...you know. My problem with being buried alive."
"There's nothing to tell," said Jonah. "I don't even know what you're talking about."
Stanza smiled and touched his arm. "Well, thank you anyway."
And then...
And then...
A minute after she'd left, Jonah stood by himself in the middle of the cave. Reliving what had just happened.
I can't believe it. His cheek still tingled. His heart still pounded.
Did she really...
Things were going better than he'd hoped. It was nothing short of a miracle.
Like her last name, Miracolo. A miracle.
They called for him outside the cave, but he lingered one more moment, remembering. Tingling.
She did it. She really did it.
She kissed me. On the cheek.
She kissed me.
*****
Chapter 60
"Love blooms amid danger most mortal," said Shakespeare. "Thus has it always been in life and thus in my work upon the stage."
Watching through a spyglass, he saw Mavis kiss King Arthur on a hilltop while Hercules capered, chasing a rabbit. Movement caught his eye, and he shifted the glass; now, through the entrance to the cave where Hercules had slept, he spied Stanza kissing Jonah on the cheek.
"What would Puck say, I wonder?" Shakespeare turned the glass back on Mavis and Arthur, who were still kissing...at least until Hercules showered them with handfuls of grass. "Some pithy jest, no doubt, reflecting on the folly of love and its predestined span—no more than a lifetime, no less than a breath.
"More like he'd play a trick, misleading all to stray from loving arms into the beds of beasts and goblins." Shakespeare chuckled and put down the spyglass. "Therein lies a tale, I think. Perhaps when this is over, by the riverhead of Heaven, I'll have reason to discard the ways of darkness and put pen to page once more."
Just then, Shakespeare heard someone sigh beside him, and he lowered the spyglass. Genghis.
"Don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself drone on and on?" Genghis rolled his eyes and wagged his head. "Just so you know, if people ever tell you you're not boring them to the point of suicide, they're full of capital ess-aitch-eye-tee."
Still not a sign of it. I know the storm is coming, but I know not the time or shape of it.
Not once since Shakespeare had beaten him on the rooftop in Berlin had Genghis mentioned it. He'd acted the same as always, as if he'd forgotten altogether that Shakespeare had broken his arm.
But I know he remembers. I know he bides his time.
And as that hatred curdles in the capsule underground, I must construct my own defense and stand fast against the evil season.
"What news, Genghis?" said Shakespeare.
"Next time, you can do the up-close spying." Genghis rubbed his temples. "Being a mist for too long makes me feel the same way I do when I'm around you for ten seconds. It gives me a splitting headache."
"The gains outweighed the suffering, I hope," said Shakespeare. "Tell me the story."
Genghis rolled over and lay on his back, staring up at the stars. "We're going to Russia." He said it idly as an afterthought before a nap on a summer's night.
"I hope you've more in the cup than 'Russia,'" said Shakespeare. "You might as well say 'universe' and I would be as well-informed."
"A lake near the Volga River," said Genghis. "A lost city called Kitezh, which Stanza believes is the same as the lost Scythian capital of Gelonus, where Hercules performed his thirteenth labor." Genghis rolled his head to face Shakespeare and sneered. "Enough detail for you? Would you like me to carve a map in my flesh?"
"Such a map would be of much good use," said Shakespeare, "but your flesh would heal too quickly, smoothing over every scar before we'd gained a mile."
"Yeah, that's a shame," said Genghis. "If only my wounds lasted longer."
Shakespeare didn't take the bait. "We should send our troops ahead, I think, to scout our destination. Even as a mongoose clears the vipers from a field, they'll rid the pitch of lurking vermin."
"No they won't," said Genghis. "They're gone."
"Our troops?" said Shakespeare.
"Uh-huh." Genghis nodded and looked innocent. "So much for our backup."
I didn't see it coming.
Shakespeare concealed his surprise, though he knew he wasn't fooling Genghis. "Did they say where they were going when they left?"
"Nope." Genghis plucked a long blade of grass and stuck it in his mouth. "No one saw them leave. Funny how someone can just disappear like that."
Suddenly, a wave of panic crashed through Shakespeare. James!
Shakespeare had been too caught up in observing the rabbits. He hadn't checked on James and Thomas for a while.
If my rash strike at Genghis has cost James his life, I'll never forgive myself.
Shakespeare fought to keep his voice under control. "The boys haven't seen them, either?"
"Beats me," said Genghis. "I haven't seen the boys in a while, come to think of it."
He plays me.
Like the Puck, he works a trick for dark amusement, tripping me on the roots and pebbles of my own concern. Though he looks not upon my face, taking care to seem uncaring, he peeks out from between the curtains on stage and swells with silent bliss at the success of his measures.
I mu
st show him not one flash of worry.
Shakespeare set aside the spyglass and slowly got to his feet. He looked one way, then the other, but didn't see James or Thomas. "Maybe they're off finding dinner among the shepherds' flocks, or in the village streets."
"If you say so." Genghis yawned.
Murder's in the air.
I swear on the grave of my Anne, if he's done them, I'll murder him for his trouble.
Shakespeare wandered the tall grass on the hillside, searching for a trace of either child. As the minutes washed by, each as empty as the last, the killing flame within his chest roared and blossomed.
To Hell with the truce between our sects. I'm about to commit an atrocity.
He should have kept a closer watch on James, and he knew it. Genghis' interest had been clear from the start.
He would not have brought along Thomas if he'd had no designs on James.
The twins had been kidnapped and converted at a very young age, then given to seal a bargain between the opposing orders of Cruentus Estus—one to Shakespeare, one to Genghis. Shakespeare had never given up hope of reuniting the brothers and undoing whatever damage Genghis had done to Thomas.
But he had not considered that Genghis might want to do the same...or failing that, might rather see both dead than corrupted in his eyes.
And now, the hour has struck. Both are lost, and I in mantle black and brutal aspect must throw wide the gates of hell, tasting only vengeance on the twice-crossed blade.
The killing flame leaped in Shakespeare's chest as he turned toward his enemy, choosing which torture to inflict first.
Nothing is sacred. For what he has done, I'll leave no bone unbroken.
Shakespeare balled his fists and marched toward Genghis.
Steel your mind against this deed, it must be done. You are summer lightning in the forest, burning off the sickly wood to save the good.
Cut away the cancer; the world will be well rid of it.
Just a few steps away, Genghis rolled over on his side, turning his back on Shakespeare. "Wake me up when you get your shit together," he said sleepily.
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