Chapter 24
Rome
280 A.D.
“They killed my daughter, you see,” Janus said, his voice cracking as Marius listened. “I was a hundred yards away or so when it began, just around a few corners and out of sight. The fire crackled in the hearth and filled the room with a low, smoky aroma and a warmth that Marius found intoxicating, a hint of home that he’d never felt before. Janus’s low, soothing voice rolled through him and he listened with interest as the man spun another tale. He’d been telling tales of gods and powers all day long, but this was the first that had caused him to show anything approaching the pain he was showing now.
“I could hear it, the disturbance,” Janus went on, low and slowly, his eyes dropping. “I thought nothing of it at first, just some thief stealing. The requisite shouts to that effect were obvious enough, the stall-keeper in a rage that someone had taken from him. These sorts of things were settled quickly, and even had I known it was my daughter who had perpetrated the crime, I would not have been overly alarmed. But I did not know.”
Janus reached a hand up and ran his fingers through his dark beard idly. “But she was like you, you see, and that was her undoing. The stall-keeper grabbed hold of her by one arm, another, a friend of his, took her by the other so that she could not escape. They were anchored tightly to her by grip, and even though she struggled she could not get free. She was … six. She had never used her power before, and when it came upon her, draining these two souls—doing what you do—she was unprepared, and it overwhelmed her. She fell to the ground with them and maintained hold of them.
“She was disoriented, I imagine,” Janus went on, the strands of his dark beard between his fingers. “Feeling that sick sense of both pleasure and pain that comes after absorbing a soul. She did not even resist them when the mob came upon her. One of them told me later that she looked nearly unconscious, save for the smile on her face.”
Janus’s face darkened. “And it was that man who ran the knife over her throat, opening it and spilling her precious, precious blood all over the dirt.” He paused, and his eyes appeared to sink in his head, becoming pools of shadow that hid a darkness that Marius did not wish to gaze into. “That alone might not have killed her. But it was a mob by that point, and they began to beat her—” He cut himself off and turned his face away.
Marius sat there in silence, listening. Waiting. He had been transfixed all the day, listening to the tales of his heritage. They had all been fascinating, but this one struck him in a different way. It was cautionary, a warning of what happened to their kind when they made a misstep. She was like him, she made a mistake, and now she was dead. Dead, and her father mourned her.
In a way my mother would never mourn me should I die. He felt agreement deep within, under the rock where he had placed her with his will.
“I killed them, of course,” Janus said, and his face was still turned away. “Slowly, in many cases. Wringing the confession from each of their lips in turn. Right there in the market where it happened. You see, by the time the mob had swung into full action and I heard—truly heard—the disturbance and came to find out what it was … they were …” he paused, “… they were really just beating a lifeless body by that point …” His voice trailed off.
Marius stared at him, this time unable to turn away. Janus did not seem to want him to, in any case. He said nothing for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was more composed.
“What I did to them was an act of vengeance taken upon fools who had no knowledge of what they had truly done.” His fingers moved down and tugged at his robes. “They suffered for what they did and suffered mightily. I was, of course, praised within our own circles. ‘You did the right thing,’ they said.” Janus’s face hardened. “Zeus himself commended me for teaching mortals a vital lesson about what would come to them should they trifle with gods. ‘It is good for them to be wary,’ he said. ‘Good for them to live with a healthy amount of fear that we walk among them, and to know that should we be interfered with, the vengeance will be swift and brutal.’” Janus let out a low, cackling laugh, free of mirth. “He said this to me, Zeus did. Jupiter, you would know him as, I think. This man. This beast.” His face went slack. “He killed my parents, did you know that? Killed them right in front of me, and he commends me for striking in the name of vengeance because it will ‘set a fine example.’” Janus laughed, but it was nearly maniacal and ended in a few seconds with him wheezing in rage.
“I cannot imagine,” Marius said into the silence. He looked around the room but there was no sign of the servants who had been there only the night before.
“Of course not, my dear boy.” Janus’s entire demeanor changed in an instant; he was conciliatory. His expression softened and he nodded at Marius warmly. “I have wandered afield, I think, in my storytelling. I have amused you all day with the tales of our exploits and stories of foibles. You have likely heard all these myths at some point—”
“No, never,” Marius said, shaking his head. They had all been so wonderful to hear, even the last. It reminded him of a time when a singer had come to the village, and he had been able to listen from out of the circle near the fire. He hid in the darkness and listened to the songs, the stories told to the music. It had been magic, nothing less.
But he had been at a distance for a reason.
“Your daughter,” Marius said slowly, looking up at Janus’s shadowed face. “She was like me?”
“A succubus, yes,” Janus said with a brief nod. His face lapsed back into darkness for a moment. “She is the reason I sought you out once I sensed you at the Forum. I have tried to … assist others like her, like my former wife, in the days since that happened. I cannot bear the thought of others suffering as the outcasts our society would make them and the martyrs that humanity would make of them.” He shook his head. “I do what I can, in my own way, to help.”
“And your wife …?” Marius asked, carefully.
Janus looked straight at him and seemed to look right through him. “You need not fear to ask me a question, dear boy. Even when the answer is painful.” He straightened in his seat. “She went mad with grief and killed herself. It caused her father—she had been his favorite daughter, you see—to go blind with rage. He lost his mind in the wake of this and the death of his granddaughter and vowed to kill every human.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps you have heard of him. His name was Hades. Or Pluto, now.”
Marius nodded. “I have heard of him.” He licked his lips, not wanting for the tales to end. There was so much primal emotion bound in them. And a sense of belonging had settled over him, a feeling like he was one of the actors in the tales. “And … Zeus? Jupiter? He still … rules to this day?”
Janus watched him carefully. “Indeed he does.”
Marius felt a stir of righteous anger at the thought of that man on a throne. He sounded familiar. Like the countless villagers who had made Marius afraid, made him fear them, lorded over him that he was an outsider and a freak. Stomped him down. Hit him in passing. He glanced up at Janus and met his eyes, and felt the flare of anger reciprocated. Something kindred was there, a pain they shared. Marius nodded. “It seems … unfair … for such a beast of a man to wrong you in that way and to continue to lord it over others.” He kept his tone careful, and he looked toward the fire, glancing only once at Janus to see what the man said.
There was a quiet for a moment as the flames danced in the hearth, swirling. Marius could almost picture someone dancing with them, screaming in pain, worthy of suffering. He knew a few that deserved it. He did not dare look at Janus.
“Indeed,” Janus said, and Marius could swear it almost sounded like he was smiling as he answered. “It does seem unfair, doesn’t it, for those with power to lord it over those who have it not?” There was a long pause. “Perhaps … someday … with the right … help … we might find a way to address these imbalances.”
Marius stared into the fire. “Perhaps we may.” He listened to
it crackle as it consumed a log within its depths, and he found the decision came as easily to him as if he were tossing another log onto it. “I think I should like to help you with that.”
Chapter 25
Sienna
Now
I closed the door to my office and leaned against it, what I’d just learned swirling about in my head. The air felt thick with Janus’s revelation, like it was a weight on my chest stopping me from taking a breath.
I’d called a halt to the meeting after Janus had laid it all out for us. No one had said anything while he’d spun a tale that was as epic in its scope as that story of warriors and paladins that Scott had tried to get me to read in my off time a few months earlier. Afterward I could tell Reed was still about to blow up, but he kept his cool, thankfully.
Now here I was. The air conditioning in my office couldn’t turn up enough to cool the heat that was building under my skin.
Janus, that bastard.
I took a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth. Then again. I heard a knock at the door and kept myself from snapping. “Come in,” I said finally.
It opened quickly and shut quickly. When I saw it was Reed, I was amazed he hadn’t slammed it. “Do you believe this shit?” he asked me.
I stared at him. His face was as flushed as it could probably get, given his dark complexion. His eyes were wide and his teeth were bared. “Yes, I believe this shit,” I said and felt my anger leave me. “I totally believe it.”
“He didn’t tell us,” Reed said, and he flung a finger angrily at the door. “If that doesn’t infuriate you, I don’t know what will. Janus has been holding out on us from day effing one, and you need to boot him immediately—”
“I’m not ‘booting’ him,” I said, “unless by booting you mean kicking him in the ass, because that I would gladly do at least once, and probably twice.” I folded my arms. “I can’t afford to lose him or Kat right now, and they are probably a package deal. He stays.”
“He’s a liar,” Reed said, and his face darkened even further into a scowl. He took two steps toward me, got close to my face. “He’s been lying to us this whole time. He took the young man who was Sovereign, who came into his care, and he twisted him with his powers, with his emotional manipulation, and now we’ve got a monster to deal with—”
I waved him off. “Maybe Janus moved Sovereign to do … what they did,” I said, not being able to quite spell it out in words yet, “and maybe he just showed him the door and let him walk through. I don’t know. The guy’s had his own crazy mommy in his head since birth; it’s entirely possible Janus didn’t have to do much compelling to turn him into a vengeful murderer.” I sighed. “And it was a long time ago, you have to admit.”
“There’s a reason there’s no statute of limitations on murder,” Reed said. I snapped my gaze to him, and his instantly slackened. “Oh, shit, Sienna, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I know you didn’t.”
“Look, this guy,” Reed said, “he made the problem we’re dealing with.”
“Really?” I asked. “Did my mother make me?”
A look of amusement played across his strong features. “In literal terms, yes.”
“I meant, did she make me a murderer?” I looked right at him. “She gave me the training. She gave me a purpose—to learn to fight. Did Old Man Winter make me a murderer?”
Reed’s eyes were smoky now. “In literal terms, again, yes.”
“Not talking about Zack, or Wolfe, or Bjorn, or Gavrikov …” I paused. Man, I’d killed a lot of people. “I’m talking about what I did afterward with those others. Eve and Bastian and Clary and—”
“I know who you’re talking about,” Reed said, and he turned away as though he were uncomfortable looking at me.
“They didn’t make me do what I did there,” I said quietly.
“Well, they did a lot more than walk you up to the door and open it for you.” I stared at his back as he bowed his head, still not looking at me. “Especially Winter.”
“I made my choices, Reed,” I said. “I couldn’t help what they—what Winter—did to me. But I was in full control of my reactions, and I let Wolfe and the others talk me into bloodlust. I did it. I killed them. And whatever Janus did to Sovereign, Sovereign was the one who made it happen when it was go time.” I sighed. “And it probably doesn’t have much to do with what we’re dealing with now, other than some lovely background and a hint that he has powers we haven’t seen yet.”
Reed’s head came up at that. “If Janus lied to us once, he’ll lie to us again.” He turned back to me, wary. “And he’s lied twice in the last couple days.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I know.”
Reed watched me for a moment, and I could tell he was trying to figure out how to say something. “Was he right about you?” I didn’t answer, didn’t react. “Are you keeping something from us?”
Remember.
I drew a long, deep breath. “If I was … I promise it’s for your own good. For the good of us all.”
He nodded sharply and turned on his heel. He paused as he opened the door, and he looked back at me. “You can get away with that because I trust you.”
I bit my lip. “I’m letting Janus get away with it because … for some reason I still trust him.” I inclined my head slightly. “A little bit longer anyway.”
Reed nodded once. “Just as long as you don’t expect me to do the same. We can’t all go blindly charging over the same cliff, after all.” He gave me a knowing look and left, closing the office door behind him.
Chapter 26
I was in my office by myself for all of thirty seconds after Reed left before another knock came at the door. I let out a breath of exasperation and said, “Come in.”
Scott opened the door all the way and stood framed in the light of the bullpen. “So …” he said.
“So,” I said, not really sure what to say to that. “What?”
“That was really … something.” He closed the door behind him. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said, placing my hands on my hips. It felt awkward. “We all have our secrets, I guess.”
“Not me,” he said, taking a step closer to me with what appeared to be reluctance. “I’m an open book.”
“Yeah, well,” I raised an eyebrow at him, “I’d love to read all about it when this is over with.”
He cocked his head at me and gave me a playful smile. “Was that … did you just …?”
I felt a weary smile crack my face. “Yeah, I think I did just say that. I meant it, too. If we get through this, yes, I want to … explore things further.” I held up my hands. “Obviously, I’m somewhat limited in my ability to have a relationship, but … I’m open to trying, at least.”
He smiled with genuine pleasure. “Cool.”
“Cool?” I looked at him with amusement. “I say I’m open to … dating or something and your response is ‘cool’?” God help me, I giggled.
“Yeah, I mean, we’re nineteen.” He laughed lightly. “Shit is crazy grim around here, but every once in a while I remember that we’re really not that old. I mean, can you believe this? We’d be a year out of high school if we were normal people, settling into the first job or finishing up freshman year of college. Instead, we get to save the world from some group of crazy super-powered villains who have a mad-on for you.”
That took the air out of the conversation, at least on my end. I lapsed into a long silence, wondering what my life would be like if I’d just been born a normal person like Scott suggested. I thought about a red dress I’d bought long, long ago, that had perished in an explosion on a night that had felt like the end of my world. I’d bought it with my first Directorate paycheck because I’d seen it, in all its short hem and sleeveless glory, and thought about what it would feel like to wear it.
It’d feel like I was normal.
“I can’t construct much out
of ‘if only’s,’” I said, snapping the door closed on nostalgia. “We’re here and we’re stuck with the job that we have. That’s all there is.” I closed my mouth and felt my lips purse. “That and … maybe some possibilities once it’s all over.”
Scott looked only slightly chastened, but he paused before responding. “So … when the word gets out about us … what do you think is gonna happen?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I said, shaking my head. “Nothing good. My record gets opened to the public, I imagine it’s not going to turn out well for me. Foreman promised me a pardon before this all started, but who knows if he’ll be able to deliver once public pressure lands on him.” I shrugged.
“But you’re still digging in to fight anyway,” he said in a tone that sounded slightly awestruck.
“What else am I going to do?” I asked. “Run away? Try and save my own ass?”
“You took out Sovereign’s mechanism for hunting metas,” Scott said. “Yeah, you could run.”
“Hrm,” I said with a weak smile. “I may have killed most of his telepaths, but he’s still got Claire, who hates me.” I frowned. “Or Century still has Claire, anyway, depending on the status of their breakup. Not to mention the fact that he’s a pretty powerful telepath himself.” I gave him a sad smile. “We may have granted a temporary reprieve to the metas of the U.S. by taking shotguns into that Vegas safe house, but we didn’t end Sovereign’s ability to kill us all if he’s still of a mind to.”
Scott let his eyes go a little unfocused, and I could tell something was on his mind. He caught me looking and faked a smile. “Hey, so—”
“What were you thinking just then?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, and it was so obvious he was lying he might as well have had stamped it on his forehead. He knew I knew, and he hesitated again. “Not a big deal.”
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