“Demon? How fitting.”
“This beast is a lifesaver. When he’s not trying to kill me.”
That was it. “Let me down, I want to walk.”
“Look!”
Amelia looked up from the saddle, daring a glance forward past Demon’s monstrous head. The crowds opened up, the buildings became background, and all she saw was a sea of people alongside a wide path leading up to a magnificent marble palace. It was raised high, with bright white stairs leading up to a gigantic platform. Like some sort of temple, it had columns supporting the roof and carved scenes of battles everywhere.
At the foot of the staircase was some sort of stage with billowing canopies. There were people there, waiting for them to approach.
“We go on foot from here.”
“Oh, thank God.” She slipped off the horse immediately and would have fallen on her face if one of the soldiers hadn’t caught her.
Once their conveyances were taken away, their little company moved forward. Amelia felt like some kind of sacrificial offering being dragged to the altar. It didn’t help that they were walking over a long red carpet made solely of silk sheets. She expected them to catch on her shoes but they didn’t. Probably because every five feet or so there were people crouching on either side, holding the fabric in place and adjusting it when it was ruffled.
Amelia swallowed back a wave of nausea. These had to be slaves.
Soren noticed her looking. “They’re getting well paid for the service they provide,” he said.
Gaunt faces, sunken eyes, clothes immaculately clean for the celebration, but the colorful strips of cloth tied around their arms for decoration weren’t quite wide enough to hide the bruises. The crowd’s cheering wasn’t quite loud enough to disguise the shouted commands and insults when someone failed to adjust the silk fast enough.
“Tell me,” she said, “how much do they pay you? What is the current price of a human soul?”
“You think coming here has changed me.”
“Oh, no, I am pretty sure the way you are is precisely why you came here in the first place.”
“Then you’re afraid coming here will change you.”
Amelia gritted her teeth. “I don’t plan on staying long enough to find out.”
Soren didn’t twitch, as if what she thought or planned was completely irrelevant because she had no hope of succeeding. “In any case,” he said, “this place doesn’t make people the way they are. It merely enhances traits already present. You’d be surprised how meticulous we are in our recruitment.
“For example our mutual friend over there.” He inclined his head toward the front of the entourage where Gabriel walked tall and proud ahead of them. “He is special, you know.”
You have no idea.
“Any street thug can be dressed in a costume and pitted against an opponent in the arena. More often than not, they will fight to the death, probably for the sheer pleasure of it. Amateurs clubbing at each other with sharp bits of metal. They draw blood, the blood draws a crowd. Doesn’t take much more than that.”
His voice grated on Amelia’s nerves. She wanted him to shut up so much she was willing to try making him and risk the consequences. But apparently he was in a chattering mood, like a gossipy hen over a pot of tea and cookies.
“But Gabriel, he has courage. Strength. Some would say showmanship. These are traits not easily found among the general population. He was chosen for the arena quite deliberately because of them. And he has flourished here. Rome didn’t make Gabriel, Dr. Chase. It made him better.”
“That should be your new catch phrase. Come to Rome! Reach your highest potential. And then die.”
“You just described life,” he said. “Isn’t that what we all strive for? To reach our highest potential? And then, of course, everything comes to an end some time.”
“Right. You just expedite the process. An entire lifetime, fast tracked to what, ten years, if that?”
He merely inclined his head.
“And that so called potential you mentioned. What exactly is that? Being the best slave you can be? Moaning the loudest you can while dying of some disease that wouldn’t be an issue in proper society?”
“Show me a city without disease, Dr. Chase. Show me one where people don’t rob, or steal, or fight for money. What you speak for so passionately is an idea, nothing more. It can never become reality because of one simple, painful fact of life.”
“And what is that?”
“That human beings are essentially animals. With base instincts, needs and wants. Greed, hunger, lust, even misery. All of these things are ever present in our makeup. Some manage to suppress them with intellect, but most take pleasure in drowning themselves in one or the other. I believe they call it instant gratification. People get what they want, when they want, by any means necessary. You’d be surprised how many times that translates to violence in some form or another.”
The most frightening thing about his little speech was that he was absolutely right. Amelia was a scientist who’d spent the better part of her adult life studying human nature. She knew what he was talking about, had seen it firsthand many times in the past. Had lost faith in humanity because of it often.
She could easily find evidence here to support everything he’d said if she wanted to.
Amelia inwardly shook herself. Can’t think like that! This man was a monster. This place was an abomination of what society should be. She ought to know better than let emotions cloud her judgment.
Just breathe. Get a hold of yourself. You have a brain, so use it!
Yes, Amelia could see evidence all around her to support his claims. If what Gabriel had told her was true, all of these people had signed up for this. They’d chosen, even if they hadn’t known all the facts beforehand.
But that was only part of the story. Amelia made herself see the other side. There was one more human trait Soren had neglected to bring up: self-preservation. Yes, people might sign contracts without full understanding of what they entailed. But once they discovered the truth, no one in their right mind would choose to stay here of their own free will.
It was a matter of degrees. A man thrust into boiling water wouldn’t stay in it unless something stopped him from escaping. But a man in a bath gradually warmed to boiling might not realize the danger until it was too late. Either way, the outcome was bad.
Amelia looked around, taking in the faces around her. There were many Patricians, as Gabriel had called them, the rich pretending to be noble to live out some sick fantasy. But among them, the faces of their indentured employees stood out like beacons. She could see a dozen. Then two, then three. Very soon she lost count. But the more she saw the better she could distinguish between their plights.
She could tell the ones in boiling water apart from the ones in the heating bath. The former were broken. They rarely raised their gazes, never touched anyone; flinched when someone came too close. They were the quiet mice that went through life hoping and praying they were invisible. Because when they weren’t, bad things happened.
Like the man who got ruthlessly whipped across the back for not getting out of the way fast enough. Or the woman crouched by a column with long matted hair falling over her face, who probably hadn’t seen a bath in months. Her arms were spotted with infected cuts and wounds.
But those who hadn’t yet realized they would die here, they had a far greater impact. Their eyes were hungry, desperate. They wanted to be seen. They wanted whatever they could get. They spoke, begged, cried, and reached out to the Patricians for mercy, taking beatings in stride because they were still worth the scraps they got for their pain.
They still had hope that one day they could beg enough, save enough to get out.
“You’re wrong,” she told Soren as they reached the canopied stage. She recognized Honoria at the forefront. Those behind her had to be her council. “People can choose. They can choose to be better than this. The Patricians simply choose not to be.”
This was what came of money and sadism joining together on a massive scale. She’d seen it before in shady underground labs, sanctioned and funded by a heartless government, but Rome was worse. Rome flaunted it all like a badge of honor. This was their world, as they imagined the world should be, and in it, they were gods.
“You mean people like Gabriel?” Soren said. “You think because he left he is somehow better than everyone else here?”
Honoria rose from her seat and everyone around them either bowed low, or fell to their knees. She came forward, opening her arms to Gabriel. “My Champion,” she said. “Welcome back.”
He will not kneel, Amelia thought, worrying her lower lip. Seconds ticked by and still he stood, silent and strong before the Caesar. He will not kneel.
“I suppose he didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
He was going to do it. He would kill Caesar right now, here in front of everyone, with a hundred guards at the ready to slice him to pieces. Amelia hardly dared to breathe, waiting to see what he would do. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. If push came to shove she would have to get a weapon somehow. There would be chaos. A mob of this size, people would fall left and right and get trampled to death in seconds.
“We didn’t seek out Gabriel,” Soren said. “He came to us.”
Amelia tore her gaze away from Gabriel’s back to stare at Soren. Impossible.
But the sheer satisfaction in his one remaining eye was proof enough that he spoke the truth. He had no reason to lie.
And still, she sought Gabriel again. He was the hero here. The one man willing to stand up to a corrupt regime and bring it crumbling down, even if it meant his life. Gabriel had strength and courage, but he also had honor, and compassion, and conviction. Soren was trying to drive a wedge between them. Maybe he suspected they were close and was trying to divide and conquer. Either way, it wouldn’t work. Gabriel would prove him wrong.
He was still standing!
As if her thoughts called to him, he turned and found her in the crowd. His gaze met hers and a sigh of relief escaped Amelia. This was the man who’d fought to keep Soren and his men away from her. He’d told her everything about this city so she could be prepared. He’d shown her more care and compassion in the last few days than anyone else had in her entire life. Gabriel was worth believing in. She’d trust him over anyone else in this damn city.
Amelia smiled a little, wanting to reassure him she was all right.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. He didn’t smile back. Instead, Gabriel turned back to Honoria and lowered to one knee, bowing his head. “Hail our radiant leader, Caesar Honoria.”
Chapter 19
“Our Champion has returned!” Honoria announced and the crowd went wild. Naturally, the queen bitch would milk this for all it was worth. “And tomorrow, he takes his rightful place of honor in the arena.”
Gabriel’s hands ached to wrap around her neck and throttle the life out of her. The panther bristled and paced back and forth across his mind. It was restless, agitated. Too many people, too much noise. It wanted to lash out. Gabriel itched all over; wanted to roll around in the dirt to stop it.
“But tonight, we celebrate!”
That was his cue. Gabriel pushed to his feet again, wondering if it was possible to kill a person simply by hating them enough. Honoria had made a circus spectacle out of him. She’d summoned what looked like everyone in the city, her entire army lined the promenade, her bodyguards surrounded her and her best men at arms were at his back. And still he would have lunged for her the second he’d reached her chaise.
Except Amelia was standing three inches from Soren. She’d die before Gabriel could get his hands on Honoria.
Damn it! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen! Amelia should never have been here. If not for her, Gabriel could have killed Honoria ten times over. Probably died ten times over too, but that wasn’t the point. He had to get Amelia out of here.
As the crowd erupted into song and dance the council dispersed and Honoria’s men at arms drew closer. Soren had Amelia by the arm, pulling her in front of Caesar. “Your Radiance, a gift for you.” He shoved Amelia forward until she was next to Gabriel but she wouldn’t look at him. For once, he was glad.
Honoria smiled. “Dr. Chase, wasn’t it? I hear you are quite deadly with a needle.”
“You were misinformed,” Amelia said, her professional mask firmly in place.
“Is that so?”
“The needle wasn’t what killed him. It was the air pushed through it into his blood stream.”
Honoria laughed in delight. “Oh, you clever creature. Killing a man with air! You must tell me all about it.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Gabriel told her. The last thing he wanted was for fucking Caesar to latch on to Amelia.
“Gladius, where are your manners? You don’t interrupt women in conversation.”
“My apologies,” he retorted. “I wasn’t aware you considered yourself to be a woman, otherwise I would have interrupted long ago.”
Honoria’s nostrils flared. “You disappoint me, Gabriel.” It was the first time she’d used his real name since she’d come into power. He was getting to her. “Take him to the baths. Guard him every second. He’s not to pick his teeth without someone there to see it.”
“What about me?” Amelia asked.
Honoria smiled at her. “You are too adorable for words. I think I’ll keep you.”
Gabriel stilled to his core. No…
“And I have something for you. Call it a welcome gift.” Honoria snapped her fingers and a slave girl brought a silver chest on a red velvet pillow. Honoria opened it and withdrew a necklace. The chain was platinum and the pendant on it was perfectly round and polished into a mirror shine. It was a locket with God knew what inside.
“Don’t,” he grated.
Honoria ignored him. “You see this engraving?” she told Amelia. “That is the likeness of Asclepius, god of medicine and healing. I thought it fitting, given your profession.”
Gabriel made a grab for it, but the men at arms pulled him back. Before he could do anything about it, Honoria hung the chain around Amelia’s neck. “There,” she said. “It will bring you good fortune.”
Gabriel struggled against the men holding him. “Amelia, listen to me,” he said. “Don’t let anyone take that from y—”
Soren elbowed him in the stomach so hard Gabriel saw stars. He doubled over, hoping he wouldn’t throw up his own spleen. Coughing weakly, gasping for breath, he raised his head to see Amelia. Two tenets were unshakable in Rome: decorum and the bulla. As long as someone wore ‘outside’ clothing, they were outside the Roman order of things and neither soldier nor Caesar could touch them. The first thing a newcomer did after signing their life over was don Roman garb, which was exactly what Honoria would force on the two of them now.
And that thing was a bulla. It was traditionally given to girls as a protection from evil and taken away and burned on the eve of their marriage. These people took it one step further. If a woman gave away her pendant or lost it somehow, it was taken as an open invitation to sleep with her. A woman without the pendant good as lost the rights to her own body.
Honoria might as well have collared Amelia and tied her to a post. She’d given the bulla and she could take it away if her new pet displeased her.
Gabriel flexed his muscles to get free but even with the animal’s added strength, he couldn’t budge. The panther riled at this. It was offended. Prideful bastard didn’t like that it couldn’t do what it wanted and that something mildly interesting was being taken from it. It looked at Amelia and saw the only tolerable being around. The panther might not understand why Gabri
el was frantic to get her out of here but it took its cue from him.
Gabriel’s head pounded like a drum and his hands were unbelievably itchy. He curled his fingers into his palms and felt the sharp prick of claws. He didn’t dare look down to check. His mouth pulled into a snarl, splitting on the inside, but he somehow kept it from parting all the way, keeping the outward mask human.
Honoria’s perfume was so cloying he wanted to sneeze and her bright red wig hurt his sensitive eyes. So bright … begging to be prey. Gabriel couldn’t tell whether that was his own idea or the panther’s.
Amelia frowned at the pendant then looked Honoria in the eye. “Thank you,” she said.
“You guard that thing like your life depends on it,” Gabriel told her, struggling to keep his voice level. It was rumbling a little, like a suppressed growl. What would be next? Fangs? Black fur and a fractured skull? If he betrayed anything, Amelia wouldn’t just die. They’d make her suffer.
“I told you to take him to the baths,” Honoria snapped. “And for goodness sake, give him some proper clothes.”
Her loyal dogs obeyed, dragging him away.
The panther reared its head and growled, and Gabriel felt his teeth sharpen. “Don’t lose it!”
*
“Well, wasn’t that interesting?” Honoria said.
Amelia palmed the pendant again. “This is your insurance policy, isn’t it? What’s inside? Some sort of tracking chip?”
Honoria laughed. “My, aren’t you a paranoid one. Look around, sweetheart. Do you really think I need something like that to know where you are? No. This is for fun. Now come, there’s a great celebration tonight and you still have to get ready.”
Amelia had a bad feeling about this getting ready the moment Honoria took her hand to lead her up to her grand palace. The platform she’d seen from below was even bigger from up close. It could hold a battalion. There was an army of slaves and servants bustling about, readying tables and seating areas. Setting out thin, flexible sheets that would cool or warm dishes placed on top of them. The torches on the walls were lit with a spark controlled by remote. Naturally, everyone in ancient Rome had had those.
Blood Debts (The Blood Book 3) Page 17
