The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus

by D. B. Reynolds

  “To answer your question,” she said, “my only sure memories are of this city, and mostly this house, which together go back a little more than sixty years, as far as I can figure. That’s a lifetime for some.”

  “How did you endure it?”

  “How did you? You’ve lived centuries, aware of what you’d lost for every minute of your life. There is enough magic in my blood that my life might eventually equal several average human lifespans. But had you not found me today, I would have lived all that time without ever knowing what I’d lost, much less suffering for it.”

  Her words were a knife to his heart, and his arms tightened around her, as if to protect her from a future that now would never happen. “Were you ever aware of who you were? Or did he provide a reasonable fiction of your history? As you say, many humans don’t live to be seventy, and none without aging. How did you think it was possible for you to do so? Who did you believe you were? And did you—?” He’d been about to ask if she’d loved anyone during that long time, or if she’d married. But he couldn’t make his brain shape the words. Not when his own sexual exploits had only gotten wilder as time went on, and were nothing to be proud of.

  “I knew I was unusual, of course,” she said slowly. “But I believed it to be an inherited trait. And until today, I was only aware of living one life. I had no memories of moving from place to place, and certainly not through time. Sotiris visited often when I first moved into this house. I think now that he must have been testing to see how much I remembered. His visits became sporadic after a while, and it’s been a few years since I’ve seen him. We had an argument last time he was here. I was remembering more, having dreams of other people and places, and demanding answers. When he refused to give them to me, I ordered him out of my life and set a ward on the house denying him permission to enter.” She laughed. “He was so furious. I don’t think he realized until that moment that my magic had not just survived whatever he’d tried to do, but that it had continued to improve, despite the pitiful levels of magic in this world. You must have noticed that.”

  “I did. As did my warriors.”

  “Your warriors.” Her eyes went wide with excitement. “Your warriors? Sotiris didn’t tell me what he’d done to them, only that they’d wish for death. They survived? But how are they still alive?”

  “Sotiris designed a special curse for them, one meant to torture me as well, although my pain was nothing compared to theirs. He cast them into the same maelstrom of time and place that he used to escape with you. Except with his own escape, the transition spell included a target destination, to the extent that such a thing can ever be counted on. My warriors, on the other hand, were trapped in stone effigies of themselves, aware of everything around them, but unable to let anyone know they were alive. They spent centuries buried in abandoned ruins or museum basements, as garden adornments or rooftop statues, weathering year after year with no end in sight.”

  He had to pause, to avoid screaming at the thought of the horrors his brothers had endured. “That they survived, all four of them, with their minds and bodies intact is incredible, and a testament to their strength and courage.”

  “How did you find them?”

  “They found me. And when you’re ready, I’ll take you to meet them.” He hesitated, then added, “I want to take you home, Antonia. To my home in Florida, I mean. I can protect you better there, and Damian and Casey . . . . You remember Damian? He’s one of my warriors. And Casey is the one who broke his curse and freed him. She’s his wife now. They’re in Florida, too, and live very close.”

  “But all four of them are alive,” she whispered. “Oh, Nico, that’s wonderful. And what about Lilia, the young vampire you took with you when you left London? She must still be alive, too. Does she visit?”

  “Lilia, or Lili as we call her now, works and lives in my house, which doubles as the headquarters for the work I do for the FBI.”

  Antonia burst out laughing. “Nico, my love, I know you, and I know what the FBI does. I don’t believe that you would work for any government bureaucracy, much less the FBI.”

  “I didn’t say I work for them,” he said, unreasonably peeved. “I work with them. And only loosely at that. The work I do serves their interests, and so they grant me their imprimatur of authority to expedite that work. They also serve up the occasional freshly-trained FBI agent when I need one to work for me.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “By the Goddess, what do you do?”

  “Mostly I locate and . . . obtain, by means lawful or otherwise, dangerous magical artifacts, which have fallen into the wrong hands, usually out of ignorance. But in too many cases, they’ve been acquired by people, like Sotiris, who intend to use them with nefarious intent.”

  “I imagine your methods and those of the FBI differ rather dramatically.”

  He grinned. “In this case, they’re more interested in the ends rather than the means. I do my thing, they do theirs, and never the twain shall meet.”

  “All this time, and you haven’t changed who you are at the core.” She smiled in fond bemusement, and cupped his face in both hands. “What did you want to ask me, love? I saw it on your face, before you wiped it clean.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

  She studied him. “You’ve told me everything that happened to you after . . . everything. And now you want to know about my life. You want to know if, in all this time, I’ve loved anyone.”

  “Damn it, Antonia. How do you do that?”

  “Because I know you,” she whispered, then kissed his mouth softly. “Have I loved? Yes. Have I married? No. Even though I couldn’t remember you, I knew you existed . . . knew in my heart that someone already lived there, and there was no room for anyone else.”

  Nick bowed his head, hiding the tears of shame that filled his eyes. He’d loved her forever, but living with the dwindling belief that he’d ever find her again, he’d strayed from his intent to remain true, and fucked his way through the world, instead.

  “Nico,” she said softly. “My love. You are not a man to live alone, no matter how much you longed to find me. I told you that I loved. Why would you be different, when you lived every day of so many more years? Sotiris sent me to this place no more than a century ago, though I don’t even remember all of that. But your story is far longer, and far more lonely. Tell me, does it matter to you that I loved someone else?”

  His head snapped up. “No. I didn’t know where or when Sotiris had hidden you, but wherever it was, or however much time had passed, I never wanted you to be alone. We may be magical creatures, you and I, but we are fully human when it comes to needing contact with others. We are not meant to live alone and isolated.”

  “Then why would I expect you to live that way?”

  He sighed. “I didn’t love, I fucked. One woman after another, none coming close to touching my heart. Because I didn’t want them to.”

  “Never? There was no one in all those years?”

  “There was one who came close. We loved each other, but I think we only permitted that much because both of us feared commitment.”

  “What was her name, if you don’t mind telling me.”

  “Cyn.”

  “Sin? Who would give that name to their daughter?”

  “Cynthia, actually.”

  “That makes sense, then. Was she beautiful?”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t ask about your love. But, you should know . . . she’s still alive. And, yes, she’s beautiful. Though that wasn’t what drew me to her. It was . . .” He paused, thinking. “She doesn’t have magic— not the way we think of it—but she draws it to her. The first time we met was at a reception of some kind—a political fundraiser, I think. I still make a point of knowing who governs what, since too often, it’s politicians who seek magical means of achieving power. I can’t tell y
ou how many artifacts my people have retrieved from them.”

  “That’s not hard to believe. I may not have remembered most of my history, but I followed current events during the time I did know. And while our own world may have been bloodier, I’m not sure their world is any better.”

  Nick found it interesting that after living so long among humans, she still spoke in terms of “theirs vs ours.”

  “So tell me,” she persisted. “What happened to your Cyn?”

  “We . . . dated, I guess. I live in Florida, she lives in California. Whenever I was in her area, we’d sometimes have a drink or a meal, but mostly we just fucked. It worked for both of us. Or it did, until she met that damn vampire.”

  “A vampire?” Antonia laughed. “Oh, Nico, that is so karmic. Even you must see it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I offered to kill him for her once, after he broke her heart.”

  “Oh, no.” She sounded genuinely distressed. “I hope she let you.”

  “Nah. He saw the light and came crawling back. I ended up helping her save his life, for fuck’s sake. They’re still together. He’s very big in vampire circles.”

  “Really? What’s his name? I have too much time on my hands, and gardening only uses up so much of it. I read a lot, including gossip magazines. They occasionally manage to grab a picture of a big vampire or two.”

  Nick didn’t want to tell her, because he knew Raphael was one of the vamps that magazines loved to feature. But if he didn’t, Antonia would think he still carried a torch for Cyn, which wasn’t true. The only woman he’d ever truly loved was sitting next to him. “Raphael,” he said.

  “Well, goodness, Nico. You should have led with that. I probably have a magazine with his picture in it somewhere.” She gasped. “I bet there’s one with his mate, too.” She gasped again, louder. “Is that Cyn?” At his nod, she laughed and said, “Oooh, I’ll have to look.”

  “Not unless your old boyfriend is a movie star that I can ogle.”

  “No movie stars for me. Just a lawyer.” She leaned close enough to nuzzle his jaw and murmur, “And law just doesn’t compare to magic, my love.”

  He pulled her into his lap. “Magic or no, there has only ever been one woman I truly love.”

  “Then make love to me, Nico. I’ve waited long enough.”

  Chapter Four

  THEY REMOVED THEIR clothes in a frenzy, with him helping her at the end, since she was wearing more. But when they were both finally naked, and she lay in his arms, her head on his chest, he didn’t know what to do. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

  She stroked his chest. “So are you.”

  Nick just held her, feeling awkward about sex for the first time in his life. He wasn’t used to having sex with someone he loved. Though it wasn’t only that. He still couldn’t believe that Antonia was in his arms. That this wasn’t just another cruel dream that he’d wake up from any minute. He had the strange urge to pinch himself to be sure.

  “Ow!” He stared down at Antonia, whose fingers had just pinched his side hard enough to bruise.

  “I’m not some fragile treasure, Nicodemus. I am the woman I’ve always been.”

  “But you’re not. I mean, yes, you are, but you haven’t . . . it’s been a long time. You don’t know what I’ve—”

  “Nico, my love. For me, for my memories, a single day has passed since we were last together. My body is older, and no man has been in my bed. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how it feels to have you inside me, how natural it is when we join our bodies.”

  “I’ll go slowly, then.”

  “I appreciate that. But not too slowly.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then rolling her to her back next to him, he slid his hands up her arms to her wrists. Lifting them above her head, he pressed her hands against the iron bars of her headboard. “Keep them there,” he whispered.

  Her dark eyes widened in surprise, but she wrapped her fingers around a curve of iron, then said, “I trust you.”

  Nick could feel her heart racing against his chest when he bent down to give her a deep, tongue twisting kiss, which left her breathless, her gaze locked on his. Biting her lip just enough to be felt, he began a slow slide down her body. He lingered at her neck, nibbling the soft skin, then dropped his mouth to the swell of her breasts, licking first one, then the other, drawing a groan from her when he slid his tongue slowly over each nipple. He was tempted to take his time there, to suckle her pretty nipples, maybe even bite.

  But remembering how long it had been for her, no matter what she said about memories, he slid his hands to her hips, and laid a line of brushing kisses below her breasts, down her abdomen to her pubic bone, where he lingered again, laying teasing strokes of his tongue down to the edge of her inner thighs and back again.

  Antonia arched against him, her hands gripping the iron bars so tightly that he knew she was fighting the desire to reach for him. It made his cock harder than it already was, and when she moaned softly and spread her legs so that her bent knees fell open to bare her pussy, he had to close his eyes and beg for strength.

  Raising his eyes up to meet hers, he managed to shake his head, then slid down far enough that when he turned his head to one side, his mouth met the tender flesh of her inner thigh. He kissed the warm, soft skin, and let his wet tongue glide up and down her thigh, before kissing some more. And then bit her flesh, barely enough to sting, but enough that she cried out in surprise more than pain. Licking away the tiny hurt, he kissed the mark of his teeth on her pale skin, then turned to the other thigh and did the same.

  “Nico,” she whispered, pleading for something, but not asking him to stop.

  Smiling against a thigh still wet from his kiss, he slipped both thumbs between the swollen folds of her sex, spread her inner lips, then bent and slid his tongue in a long, slow caress through the honey-sweet juices of her opening. Once, twice, and then up to her clit, which made her gasp. Letting go of the bars, she gripped his hair in strong fingers.

  Not minding the slight tug on his hair, Nico circled around and around the blood-swollen nub, feathering its edges, but never licking it fully, teasing her right to the edge of orgasm and gliding away, over and over, until he could feel the growing heat of her pussy against his jaw, could smell the sweet honey of her arousal, and knew if he licked her now, she’d be wet and open, waiting for him.

  Antonia suddenly fisted his hair tighter, and with a cry, tried to shove his head lower, pushing his mouth where she needed it so badly.

  Nick immediately lifted his head and met her eyes with a flat stare, until she hissed a curse at him, then gripped both hands around the iron headboard once more. He stared a moment longer, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he slapped her ass cheek lightly and growled, “You asked for it, darling.”

  “I hate you,” she snapped.

  He laughed and bent his mouth to her clit until he felt her body begin to tremble in orgasm. Sliding one finger into her pussy, he felt her sheath clench and withdrew, only to slide the finger back in. Her hips flexed slightly, forcing his single digit deeper, and when he withdrew this time, it was to shove two fingers deep inside, making her cry out when her inner muscles squeezed hard, trying to hold on as he slowly, seductively glided his fingers out, then in again, perversely slowing down when she begged him to go “faster.”

  Continuing the leisurely movements, he began torturing her clit with his tongue once more, repeating his grazing touches on the swollen cluster of nerves, while Antonia gasped for air, breathing faster and faster, her muscles rigid as she fought to follow his instruction not to move.

  “Nico!” she finally sobbed, begging him to release her.

  As if that was what he’d been waiting for, and maybe it was, he sucked her clit hard between his lips, closed his teeth over the engorged bit of flesh
, and when Antonia screamed, he pulled the two fingers out and added a third, pushing them deep into her pussy and out again, his knuckles slick with the hot juices of her, as he readied her for his cock.

  Lifting his head, he met her frantic gaze while lapping the juices from his fingers, slicking them down and through the creamy slit of her sex, then up once more to his mouth, where she watched him lick them clean of her arousal before pushing inside her once more.

  Antonia was moaning in an almost continuous orgasm, her inner muscles trembling around his fingers, until even the firm muscles of her thighs shivered against his head. Gazing up the length of her body, he saw that her hands, bloodless and white, still gripped the headboard.

  “Such a good girl,” he whispered. Then bracing on his knees, he fisted his aching dick, fit it to her flushed and gaping pussy, and slid deep inside her. His cock was thicker than the sheath of her body, and though he’d made sure she was ready for him, her inner muscles still clamped tight around him, as her climax continued to ripple through her pussy, flexing and releasing while he pushed. Finally, his body was flush against hers, and his cock could go no deeper.

  Not wanting to pound in and out of her, the way his body wanted, he lifted her to a sitting position on his thighs, and filled his mouth with her lovely pale breasts and swollen nipples. Pulling back just enough, he gazed down, and found himself unreasonably pleased by the careful bite marks he’d left on her white skin, and the blood-swollen jut of her dark rose nipples. She was his Antonia—beautiful, brilliant, and his forever.

  No more fucking lawyers, no matter how boring she might find them.

  When he was satisfied with the clear marks of his possession all over her breasts, and pleased with the knowledge that they wouldn’t fade before he had a chance to renew his claim, he slid her back to the mattress and with her long legs around his hips, gave her what her body, and his, were begging for.

  Nick drove himself so deep inside her that she gave a shocked gasp when his cock brushed her cervix. Pulling out, not wanting to hurt her, he slowed his thrusts again, moving in and out, again and again, until she was so slick and wet, her body so open to him, that he was sliding balls deep with every thrust, while her gasps had become breathy moans of need.