A Cross to Bear

by M. J. Lovestone

  Just when she had nearly fallen asleep, the women led her out of the bath and wrapped her many times in a thin white sheet that smelled of eucalyptus. She was led through hanging beads to an adjoining room.

  A tall, muscular man with dark, curly hair waited for them at the head of a massage table. “Welcome, Gabriella. I am Anthony,” he said in a deliciously thick Italian accent.

  “Hello, Anthony,” she said shyly, smitten by his light green eyes and sharp features.

  She almost protested when the women unwrapped the sheet, but Anthony turned from them then and busied himself with his oils and incense.

  Gabby was placed facedown on the table, and her backside was covered with a cloth. Through the face hole in the pillow, she watched the feet of Lilly and Orchid as they left the room.

  “Where do you hurt the most?” Anthony asked.

  “Um . . . the back of my legs, my shoulders, neck . . .” Gabby laughed. “Everywhere. But the bath helped a lot.”

  “Good. Just relax. Sleep if you find the need to. Let me know if I go too deep.”

  He placed his big, warm hands on her shoulders, and she flinched at the initial contact.

  Slowly his hands worked her neck and shoulders. He made slow circles and traced deep straight lines around her shoulder blades. The warm oil smelled of coconut and smoky oak. She hadn’t noticed the music before, but now the sound of wind instruments and the crashing of the ocean outside the window lulled her into a deep, relaxing trance.

  Anthony’s skilled hands worked her arms and hands before returning to her back. They traveled down the middle to the small of her back. There they lingered.

  “I am extracting your tense energy. I can circumnavigate the gluteus maximus if you would like, though it will significantly hamper the flow of energy.”

  “Huh?” Gabby asked dreamily.

  What was he saying? Gluticus maxicus?

  “Oh!” said Gabby, realizing what he meant. “No, it’s okay. Do what you want.”

  Anthony removed the towel and began higher than he had been, pulling the muscles and energy down, down, down. He kneaded her backside like dough, and Gabby found herself giggling more than once. Slowly he pushed past to the backs of her sore legs. She winced, and he backed off, switching to an intoxicating swirling pattern with his strong fingers. Down to the backs of her knees, calves, heels, and out through her toes went the energy.

  Gabby sighed, imagining that it was Victor rubbing her body with his strong hands.

  Anthony replaced the towel and asked if she would like him to continue in the front.

  “I would love that,” she said with a purr. “Would it be more effective without the towel?”

  His brow leaped, and he said quite seriously, “Yes, it will be much more effective.”

  Gabby flung the towel off her and turned over to her back. Anthony placed a warm cloth over her eyes and began massaging her face. At first, Gabby felt a little strange having her cheeks worked like piecrust, but then she felt the wonderful effects and drifted into her happy place.

  Anthony worked her neck gently before moving to her shoulders and arms. Gabby swore that she could actually feel the energy flowing through the tips of her fingers. He then moved to her chest, working circles around her breasts at first, then getting to the muscle beneath the breast. His hands suddenly left her, and she nearly gasped.

  Why had he stopped? Was he done?

  Gabby’s worries were quelled, and she took in a quick breath as hot oil hit both nipples simultaneously. Those strong hands worked it in, and Gabby moaned, thinking of making love to Victor above the clouds. Anthony continued down her stomach, focusing first on the area around her liver, and then each kidney, pulling his hands around from her lower back and bringing them together at her belly button. He then directed the energy down her pelvic bone.

  Gabby took in a shuddering breath when his hands parted ways, moving down both thighs. Anthony treated her aching thighs gingerly, working every muscle group before moving on to her knees, shins, feet, and toes.

  She sighed when his hands left her, hoping that he would continue to the one place he had missed.

  “How do you feel?” Anthony asked.

  Gabby took off the cloth and blinked at him sleepily. “That was amazing.”

  Anthony took the cloth and put it away. “I am glad I could be of service to you, Ms. Cross.”

  Lilly and Orchid came through the beads then and helped Gabby up before covering her in a flower-pattern kimono.

  As she was led out of the tranquil masseur room, she bent to whisper conspiratorially to Lilly and Orchid, “Do I get him every night?”

  They both laughed. The sound was musical.

  Chapter 36

  Gabby was pushed every day for a week after arriving at the castle. She regretted her decision to stay daily, but she also dug deeper every day, fighting to shake off the voices in her head telling her to quit. Her saving grace was the progress that she made. After the fifth day, the soreness went away, replaced by a tightness of muscle and increased agility and stamina. When at first she had been able to run only a few miles, now Ingrid was pushing her to beat five. She had learned to love rather than fear guns, viewing them as possibly the only thing between her and death. Her aim improved along with her precision, and Gabby began to genuinely like firearms. She shot pistols and rifles, shotguns and machine guns, as well as Uzis, and on one occasion, a flamethrower.

  In the dojo, Gabby was beginning to get ahold of the basic forms, though she was frustrated by how slow it was coming to her. Master Mushito told her that his art would take longer to master, but Gabby didn’t feel as though she had the time.

  Thanks to extensive classes when she was a young girl, the gymnastics came back to her quickly. Why she would need such skills eluded her. The entire point of the last week eluded her, but she felt good. For the first time in about a decade, she was losing rather than gaining weight, and while she wasn’t anyone’s Barbie, she could have given Marilyn Monroe a run for her money back in the day. She was still over one hundred and sixty pounds, but now she felt that more of it was muscle than before.

  ***

  On the eighth morning of her stay at Chateau de Victor, Gabby awoke to find that Ingrid was not waiting for her in the dining room. Instead, she found Victor seated at the head of the table before a large breakfast spread.

  “You look well, Gabriella,” he said, putting down his newspaper and rising.

  “Victor . . . Victor! Where in the hell have you been?”

  “Ecuador, dealing with business. I see that you have been doing well in your training.”

  “You left me here without a word about where you were going or what I was about to go through.”

  “Would the knowing have made it easier?”

  “Wha . . . are you out of your mind? Why am I training like a fucking Navy SEAL?”

  Gabby was furious suddenly. Without her morning run to calm her churning mind, and with Victor standing before her in his expensive suit and with a smug look of indifference on his face, it was more than Gabby could stand. The weeklong punishment had left her feeling strong, hyper . . . ready. She knew that it was the increased testosterone, and she wondered how the hell teenage boys held their shit together half the time.

  “Answer me!” she yelled when he only smiled.

  “You are being trained to kill werewolves like Michael Steele.” Victor’s endless blue eyes held her frozen in time. “With your power, they will become mortals. No fangs, no claws, no magic. But they will still be human, and they can still fight as such.”

  She gulped. “I have used that power only once,” said Gabby.

  “I will show you how to use it again,” Victor promised. “Look at what you have done in a week’s time. Imagine what you could become in a month, a season, a year . . .”

  “I want to learn more about my power,” said Gabby.

  Victor grinned. “Good. That’s my girl.”

  She walked over to
him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her anger melted away as he returned the hug, though she could feel him holding back.

  “What is it?” she asked, studying his eyes.

  He offered her a reassuring smile and gestured to the food. “You should eat. Today will prove to be a big day.”

  After breakfast, Victor led her down halls that she had never even seen before during her stay in the castle. They left the dining room through the opposite wing as Gabby’s. The hall boasted many doors, but their destination proved to be the door at the end. Victor went through it before her and stopped abruptly at another larger door. A small rectangular panel extended from the wall. Victor opened his mouth, revealing two sharp, pointed teeth. A green laser light scanned Victor’s teeth and retracted with a snap back into the panel.

  The door opened with a hydraulic sigh and clink of metal, and Victor stepped into an elevator. He gestured with a hand, inviting her in with his winning smile.

  Gabby stepped onto the platform.

  The door closed, and a ring of light moved up the walls of the cabin. Faster and faster they went; Gabby looked to the digital numbers above the door—floor twenty-one and descending.

  The elevator stopped at the twenty-seventh floor, and the door opened with a bing.

  Gabby stared out over the long, wide room that lay before her and gasped.

  “Just as you have trusted me, I entrust you with the knowledge of my most guarded secret. The location of my true lair.”

  Gabby stepped off the platform and walked onto the smooth stone floor. Before her was a cavern of such immense proportions that Gabby felt terribly humbled in its presence. Stalagmites and stalactites reached for each other throughout the chamber, connecting in some areas. A natural lake took up most of the chamber, though bridges spanned the shimmering lengths, leading to hidden doors and hallways. Walkways webbed along and across the entire length and width of the cavern. Victor led Gabby onto one and waved his arm slowly over the rail.

  “What would you like to see first? I have three thousand years of collected art in these caverns.”

  “Did you say three thousand years?”

  “Yes,” said Victor with a laugh. “Though I do not claim to be so old. My collection was inherited from my maker, and he before me, and so on, dating back many eons.”

  Each room that he led her to was comprised fully of metal or concrete. From the wild, jagged dripping cavern they emerged into a sterile, immaculate steel room containing more jewels than Gabby thought could exist in one place at the same time. Upon short pillars sat sparkling crowns encrusted with rubies, diamonds, and pearls. There were displays of rings, bracelets, and necklaces with titles engraved on plaques such as 206 B.C., Qin dynasty and King Henry III, 1236 A.D.

  Piles of ancient gold coins spilled out of treasure chests. Diamonds sat on display along an entire section of wall. Gold and silver bars had been stacked to resemble the three pyramids of Giza at the center of the room.

  Gabby beheld many wonders that morning, but none of the gems or jewels compared to the art that Victor and his descendants had hoarded over the millennia. In college, Gabby had first studied art, but she had switched to journalism when she began to figure out that art was a hard game to make money at.

  In Victor’s other rooms, she recognized The Concert by Johannes Vermeer, The Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Rembrandt van Rijn, and many others. Gabby walked for long hours along the rows of perfectly kept works. Many of the displays lit for only a few seconds, dimly, due to their age and the damage light could do to them.

  Gabby stopped before a Van Gogh that was thought to have been lost in the Nazi invasion of Poland. “Don’t you think that this stuff should be on display somewhere for people to enjoy and learn from?”

  Victor brushed by her, and she took in his scent. A feral impulse overcame her, and she imagined him bending her over one of the piles of gold.

  He stared at the Van Gogh and grinned. “Someone is enjoying it and learning from it. You, my dear. This artwork was saved from people. Humans are a volatile bunch. Most of this is thought long lost. I can introduce a piece to the world and live off the profit for years. I have done this for humanity. If it had not been for my master’s diligence and commitment to art, these works would have been truly lost long ago.”

  “There is another reason that you keep it. Protection,” said Gabby. “You know that people like Michael Steele would never attack you here among such wonders.”

  “Indeed,” said Victor with a toothy grin. “It is an added bonus.”

  “Why are you showing me all of this?” Gabby asked.

  “I want to show you that I trust you, and that if you remain with me, you will never want for anything. We will travel the world, you and I.”

  Gabby’s mind exploded with images of the life she might know with Victor. A life free of fear, one in which Gabby was strong and powerful.

  They took the elevator once more, and Gabby stood nervously beside Victor, wanting nothing more than to be held by him and to be kissed by him. He hadn’t so much as touched her since the awkward hug in the dining room.

  At the fourth floor, the door opened to a small room. Two armed guards stood at attention inside. Behind them was a large steel vault door.

  “Good morning, sir,” said the guard to the right. When he spoke, Gabby caught the flash of long fangs.

  “Johnathan,” said Victor with a nod.

  The other guard opened the big door, swinging it away from them. Beyond was a prison cellblock. Both sides were lined with doors, at least twenty in all.

  “What is this?” Gabby asked.

  “The first part of your training as a nullifier. These cells hold some very special creatures. Some are here because they are monsters at heart. Others have been cursed and need help. Help that only someone like you can give.”

  “Help?” Gabby hadn’t considered that her power could be used to help people, or . . . things.

  “Yes. Consider this poor soul.” Victor led her to the first cell window on the right side. “Go ahead, have a look.”

  Gabby got up on tiptoe and peeked in through the small window. Inside, a small girl sat huddled in the corner of a padded room. She wore a straitjacket and rocked back and forth, her long red hair covering her face.

  “Why is that little girl in a straitjacket?” Gabby asked, horrified.

  “Tap on the glass,” said Victor.

  Gabby tapped twice. The little girl’s head slapped to the left, and Gabby gasped. Red eyes glared at her. The little girl snarled, bearing sharp rows of teeth. A long tongue darted out from between. Her skin was green and scaly, like a lizard. The girl suddenly leaped up to her feet and charged the door. Her face slammed against the glass, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. Gabby heard nothing through the soundproof door, but she saw the anguish in those red eyes.

  “What happened to her?” Gabby asked, having to turn from the window.

  Victor closed the window slat and sighed. There was a weight in his voice. “She was cursed by a witch. Her parents brought her to me in hopes that I might be able to help. Now, it seems that I might. Beneath that dragon-scale skin lies a little girl named Emily.” Victor took her hand and squeezed gently. His blue eyes shimmered. “You can help people like Emily.”

  When he touched her, a tingle danced across her skin. Gabby couldn’t help but smile. She had thought of her power as useful only for defense, but now she was overjoyed to think that she could help people who were suffering so.

  “Who are the others?” Gabby asked, considering the other doors.

  “Have a look. You are quite safe.”

  Gabby went to the next window and peered in. A creature that could only be described as a troll was sleeping at the back of the cell, which had been fashioned to look like a cave.

  “Another witch curse,” said Victor.

  Inside the next cell, a panther paced inside a jungle habitat.

  “That is twelve-year-old Hero Wang. He
was cursed by a Chinese shaman, commonly called a wu. His uncle failed to pay for services rendered, so he and his family were made an example of. When the boy began to sprout black fur and fangs, he was brought to me.”

  “Why do these people think that you can help them?” Gabby asked.

  “It is what I do. I have traveled the world for hundreds of years seeking out powerful witches, shamans, witch doctors, and other practitioners who are skilled at reversing curses. Those who remain down here have not been able to be helped as of yet. The practitioners who cast these spells were very powerful.”

  “Is that what my mother did? Reverse curses?”

  “Yes.” Victor beamed. “She was quite skilled at reverse engineering spells. It is how she was able to create the spell that turned you into a nullifier.”

  “I want to try to reverse a spell.”

  “Slow down.” Victor laughed. “It is much too dangerous for you to attempt it on a person. First we will work with objects.”

  ***

  They left the cellblock and took the elevator up to the castle. Victor led her through the wing and into a room with a single small table at the center and many objects sitting upon small pillars.

  “Have a seat,” said Victor, pulling out a chair for her. He then moved to the back of the room and took a small figurine from one of the displays.

  Victor returned to the table and placed the small stone frog figurine before Gabby.

  “Is this what I think it is?” she asked.

  “If you think it is a real frog turned to stone, then yes.”

  “Wow,” she said, reaching out to touch it.

  “Not yet!” he said, staying her hand. “First I want you to focus on it. Look closely. What do you see?”

  Gabby rested her chin on her right hand, staring intently at the little stone frog. “What am I supposed to see?”

  “If I am not mistaken, you should see some kind of disturbance around the edges. I have heard it described as resembling heat waves in the desert,” said Victor.