by SF Benson
Leaning against the headboard, I say, “Luc reiterated I should stay away from Council while in this form. So, I sort of let him know he might have his own issues with Council.”
Cherina folds her arms over her chest. “What type of issues?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Her clenched jaw lets me know I’m playing a losing game. Might as well fess up. “I called a meeting with a few key members. Luc will be replaced as Council head.”
“Why?”
I set my near-empty cup on the bedside table. “You haven’t been in this town as long as I have, Cherina. Falls Creek has gone through its changes over the last fifty years, but one thing has always remained constant—our community. Supernaturals in this town never had to fear discovery or annihilation. The founding families protected us, and we returned the favor. Those humans also made sure our needs were provided for. Vagrants, criminals, unruly strangers became our prey. Luc Duquette and his coven came here and changed things. He made it a crime for us to hunt even those deemed approved.”
Cherina presses her lips together. She can’t argue with me. She’s seen the changes and heard the rumors. Luc Duquette is bad business for the supernaturals of Falls Creek.
“You know he won’t step aside without a fight.”
“I hope the hell he does.” Putting my hands behind my head, I say, “It’ll be fun kicking his ass before I leave.”
Her eyes snap to me. “Are you still talking that shit?”
“It’s not shit, Cherina.” Rolling to my side, I grab the top of the covers and start to get out of bed. “Now go on and let me get dressed.”
Cherina stands. “Fine. We can go into town—”
“Not necessary. I’ll do it later. Right now, I want to go to the hospital.”
It took me an hour to get myself out of Cherina’s house. Between the invigorating, hot shower and the delicious food Cherina prepared, I had a hard time walking out, but somehow I made it to the hospital.
I take in my surroundings with new eyes, appreciating the sights and the sounds. I notice the sadness and even the joy to be had when a person receives good news. Human reactions, genuine responses… It’s something I’ve missed over the centuries. As I stroll past the nurses’ station, all the women behind the desk turn my way. Their reaction—females regarding me like a fucking god—I’ve definitely missed. It warms parts of my anatomy. A pretty redhead with huge tits catches my eye. She’s the only one waving at me. I toss a smile her way. Maybe when I’m done with my visit, I’ll come back and get her phone number.
Pushing open the door to Antoinette’s room, I find a dorky gentleman wearing wire-framed glasses and sitting on a chair. He pauses mid-sentence and looks my way.
“We’re in a session,” he announces, like I give a fuck.
Before I can speak, Antoinette says, “Jason, can we call it a day? He’s a friend of the family. He came a long way to see me.”
Her readiness to spend time with me erases all thoughts of the redheaded nurse.
The dork’s gaze flits from Antoinette to me and back again. He taps on the gadget in his hand and speaks in an irritatingly slow manner, “Guess that’ll be okay. See you later, Antoinette.”
My eyes follow him to the door. As soon as it snaps shut, I ask, “Who was that?”
“My shrink. You get one when you try to kill yourself,” Antoinette says flatly.
I’m almost afraid to ask, but I do anyway, “How are you doing today?”
“Honest answer?”
Sitting on the vacated chair, I say, “It would be appreciated.”
“Sorry to be alive.” Antoinette pauses for a moment, her eyebrows squishing together. “You said you’d be here when I woke up.”
Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my knees. “I’m sorry. I had some business to take care of. It got late.”
She doesn’t acknowledge my excuse. Instead, a quizzical expression appears on her face. “You’re human now. Is this part of your bag of tricks?”
My eyebrows knit together. “Tricks?”
“Powers. You know, like witches cast spells and vampires have super speed?”
“No. A friend helped me out.” Frankly, I’m at a lost for words. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to make small talk. Other than my visits with Cherina, I haven’t held a real conversation in eons.
“Why did you come back? I don’t need you or anyone else.” A profound sadness, like nothing I’ve heard before, creeps into her voice.
My head rocks up at her desolate words. Have I made a mistake, thinking my presence is needed? “We all need someone. Humans aren’t meant to live alone.”
“Whether I’m meant to live alone doesn’t matter,” Antoinette says softly. “When the doctors let me leave this place, I’ll return to my parents’ house.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad.” If my parents had truly cared about me—loved me—I would have been glad to go home to recover from battle wounds.
Antoinette gives me a scoffing laugh. “Said the spirit turned human. When was the last time you lived with your parents? I spent the last year living in my own apartment. I did whatever I wanted. Came and went as I saw fit. Hell, if I felt like popcorn and candy for dinner, I ate it.”
Newly discovered independence. It’s something I never had. I went from my father’s house to the palace of the emperor.
“What’s wrong with having someone care for you? I’d give anything to have someone care for me. I’ve been on my own for longer than I’d like to admit.”
“Fine. You go live with my family,” she spits out.
“Are they really so bad?” Maybe Antoinette needs someone else to help her recover. I know how some parents can crush dreams.
Her head moves side to side on the pillow. “No, they’re not. They love me and would do anything and everything for me.”
“Okay. So your concern is independence. Well, it won’t happen until you get out of that bed. In order to accomplish it, you need people to help you.”
“The only thing people want to help me with is adapting to a wheelchair. I don’t want to live that way.” The skin bunches around her eyes, and I wait for the tears to fall. Antoinette’s free hand fists, clutching the bed covers, but she doesn’t cry.
“It’s better than no life,” I point out.
She clears her throat. “Once again, the spirit turned human adds his two cents.”
Disappointment and unaccomplished dreams are things I understand probably better than most. If it had been up to me, I would have never served with the Praetorian Guard. Instead, I would have been free to marry Cornelia, start a family, and pursue my own dreams. If this girl has any hope of surviving and moving forward, she has to get past this depression that weighs on me as well.
“Yeah, I’m putting in my two cents and more. I’ve lived and died. I know what it’s like to drift through the world, wishing to be a part of it.” I sit up taller. “And I’ll be damned if I’ll let you waste away.”
“Why?” she shouts. “Why do you care so fucking much about me? I don’t know you. You don’t know me.”
A quick response sits at the tip of my tongue, but I stay quiet. How do I tell this woman the truth? She seems to accept the fact I’m a wraith, but will she understand what I need to tell her?
Thinking back to the night of the accident, I say, “It’s true that I don’t know you. You and your friends were strangers, and I could have let all of you die. Honestly? Part of me wanted to walk away.”
Antoinette flinches.
I press on. “But your soul called out to me. The voice was so distinct I couldn’t ignore it. Thousands of years ago, I ignored a similar plea, and a good woman lost her life.”
“So what? Your conscience attacked you? Maybe you should have rescued a puppy,” she snaps.
Antoinette’s attitude is overwhelming. I’m tempted to leave, but then I feel it. Fear. It’s churning inside her like the swirling winds of a tornado. She’s pushing back, trying to prot
ect her feelings. Time for a different tactic.
“You want to die? I think I can arrange it, but let me fill you in on some things first. If you kill yourself, your soul won’t cross over. You’ll be doomed to walk the earth as a spirit.” During my afterlife, I’ve encountered too many suicide victims. They assumed death would free them from agony. Instead, death compounds sorrow. It creates an endless nightmare replaying the highlights of how you died. “It won’t be fun witnessing the grief of those who loved you.”
“They’ll get over it,” she murmurs.
Shit. She has an answer for everything. “You think life in a wheelchair is pointless. But living that life affords you the opportunity to enjoy a warm breeze, the sun on your face, good food, and friends. None of that matters when you’re dead.”
Being a wraith is the utmost punishment. When I take shape, I feel nothing. Countless, endless days are all I have. Honestly, I haven’t found pleasure in one of them.
Antoinette’s hand wraps around the bed’s controller. She presses a button, and the bed slowly moves until she’s sitting up. “You speak as if you hate it. Did you take your own life?”
“No.” Drawing in a breath, I exhale and attempt to let go of the anger. Recalling the moment I died always infuriates me. Either because of my position or my family’s status, I didn’t fight my execution. On the contrary, I marched into the Colosseum in stoic bravery. In my mind, however, I cursed every bastard involved. I wished each and every one died early and spent eternity in Hell.
Shrugging aside the memories, I say, “I lived during the time of the Roman Empire.”
Antoinette inclines her head. “With Julius Caesar?”
“Yeah.” I swear that’s the only name humans associate with the period. He wasn’t the only ruler back then. “I was twenty-two when my father procured a commission for me with the Praetorian Guard.”
“What was that?”
“Think of it as military police. We had one task—protect the State. The Emperor was the State. Because my father was a Senator, I got the privilege of being the personal bodyguard for Augustus Caesar, Julius’s great nephew. It was an honor I didn’t take seriously.”
Antoinette’s eyebrows furrow momentarily before releasing. “What happened?”
“He died on my watch. Guards who I thought were my friends dragged me before the Prefect. I was found guilty of conspiracy to kill Augustus. I was stripped of my title, treated like a lowly servant, and awaited my execution in a cell. My mother didn’t come see me. My father wasted no time, however. He showed up to spit in my face and declare I wasn’t his son. The next afternoon those same guards escorted me to the Colosseum. In front of my peers and fellow citizens, my head was chopped off.”
Antoinette gasps.
I shrug. “It could have been worse. I’m guessing my mother pressed Father to use his influence. I was supposed to be crucified.”
“How is it you’re not bitter?” Antoinette asks.
“Bitter is an understatement. I have spent centuries hating everyone and everything. I’ve never done a good deed for anyone. That is, until your accident.”
“Sorry you broke your track record,” she says and averts her eyes.
Walking away from this woman would be easy, but I see an untapped fiery spirit in her. Maybe I can help her find it.
She’s not Cordelia.
I’m not looking for a replacement. It’s too late for me to find it. Besides, I won’t be here long enough to even entertain the idea. This is all about helping her recover.
Keep telling yourself that.
CHAPTER TEN
Antoinette
The man who saved me sits back on the seat, his story over. I can’t imagine being cut down like that. My parents wouldn’t discard me like a sack of trash. How does anyone do that to a child? I glance over at him, still not understanding why I matter.
But isn’t it nice knowing that you matter to him?
“I never got your name,” I ask. “You do still have one, right?”
His eyes lift to meet mine. “I do. My given name is Marcus Antonius Uraeleus. You may call me Marc.”
Something he says sounds familiar. “Your middle name…” Maybe that’s the answer to why he cares? Kindred spirits, perhaps? “Is that why you called me Antonia?”
“A slip of the tongue,” he confesses. “In my time you would have been called Antonia.”
“Is that why you rescued me? You knew someone named Antonia, and you didn’t help her. You thought you’d help me and make amends for your actions?”
Marc chuckles. “Not quite. Her name was Cordelia. She was a fierce warrior, one of the few female gladiators in my day. At the time, I thought I loved her, but I didn’t care enough to save her.”
Now I get it. He’s a spirit doing penance. Maybe this is his way of racking up spiritual brownie points or something. He saved me, and now he gets to go to the other side.
“I guess this is the part where I thank you and your soul gets to follow the light?” My mind tells my body to shift to the side, but my broken legs and spine don’t get the message. “Thanks for nothing. You can go now.”
Marc shakes his head. “That’s not how it works. I lost my shot centuries ago. I’ll be walking this earth until it ceases to exist.”
Rolling my eyes, I wonder what it takes to get rid of a spirit. “Whatever. You can go do whatever it is you do. I don’t need you here.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” He shoots a grin at me. “I’m here until you’re out of this hospital. If you want me to move on, then do everything you’re told so you can be discharged.”
My eyes widen. “What? Do you plan on coming here every day?”
He props an ankle over his knee. “If that’s what it takes. No more suicide attempts. No more pushing people away. You’re getting out of this hospital even if I have to babysit you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I beg to differ.” Marc picks up a magazine off my bedside table. “You can take a nap or stare off into space. I’m here for the rest of the morning.”
Great. Just what I need—a hot spirit turned human watching over me. He can’t really be serious about sitting in this room all day with me though.
“You’re going to get bored reading fashion magazines,” I point out.
“Nope. Gives me a chance to see what I’ve been missing all these years. Besides, guarding you is much more interesting than my post with Augustus. He was a great emperor but boring as hell.” Marc continues to flip through the magazine.
“Listen, if you’re going to stay in here with me, tell me about yourself.” I gesture for him to come closer. “Pull the chair up and tell me what you like to do.”
Marc stops turning the pages and stares into the distance for a moment before he drags the chair over. As he sits down, his silver-blue eyes blink a few times while his brow furrows. “Good question. I haven’t thought about it much over the years. As a man, I enjoyed a fine wine and a good woman. I didn’t mind getting into a few brawls. They kept me sharp. But as a wraith… My days and nights are endless. There’s nothing I enjoy.”
How sad to go through life and not enjoy anything.
Isn’t that what you’re about to do?
“You’ve told me about being a spirit. Tell me about the woman you loved.” It’s easier to listen to someone else’s misery than dwell on my own. “How did you two meet?”
A smile takes possession of his inviting lips.
Inviting? Where the hell did that come from?
“Cordelia and I met at the Colosseum. A few of the guards had the afternoon off, but I wasn’t one of them. There were rumors about this woman who was kicking ass. I was dying to see it for myself, so I traded posts with another guard. I wasn’t disappointed. Cordelia was perfection to watch. Her skills rivaled my own.”
“How did you get to meet her?” I ask, my curiosity at full tilt. I’ve always been a sucker for a good love story.
“I pushed my
rank with the guards at the barracks. Of course, Cordelia wanted nothing to do with me. My reputation preceded me.” Marc’s eyes brighten as he remembers the story.
“And what rep did you have?” I lean, or at least something akin to it, toward him. “Were you a Roman bad boy?”
“Understatement.” He chuckles. “Pardon the expression, but I fucked my way through Rome.”
I’m struggling to contain my own laughter. He looks the type—someone who thought he was God’s gift to women.
The type you’re attracted to.
The grin remains on his lips. “I’m glad my life amuses you.”
Last thing I want him thinking is I find anything about his life interesting. I suppress my own smile. “No, it doesn’t. You confirmed what I thought about you.”
“And what is that?” He crosses his arms over his muscular chest.
“When you were alive, you were a man with an ego as large as the empire you swore to protect.” I look Marc directly in his eyes. “You thought you were the perfect man for all women and probably thought your dick was the greatest asset ever created.”
The man roars with laughter. “I like this side of you, Antoinette.”
“I’ve never minced words before.” Rob used to think that was appealing about me. Thoughts of him cloud my mood. I turn my head toward the window, unwilling to let Marc see me cry.
“Are you okay, Antoinette?”
When I open my mouth, my voice won’t come out. My chest hurts. I’m about to lose my shit. Again.
The bed dips, and a warm set of hands touches my arm.
“Antonia.”
He slipped again, but I like the way it sounds.
“Tell me what’s wrong. Are you in pain?”
Like none he would believe. But there are no cures for a broken heart and body. This is the shit I get to live with. It’s why I don’t want to live. Well, that and the fact I can never dance again.
Marc slides closer and wraps his arms around me. “What hurts?”
Sucking in my breath, I try to ignore the lingering pain. “M-my heart.”
He sighs loudly. “This is about your ex?”
