The Lost Centurion

by Monica La Porta

  She waved her hand in the air, laughing. “It’s like I’m a kid again. I haven’t had so much fun in so long.”

  The ride was over too soon. He helped her out of the yacht.

  She planted a kiss on his lips as he lowered her onto the pier. “Can we do it again? Tomorrow?”

  Her enthusiasm was infectious. “Of course.” In his mind, he had already planned several nights to the last detail. After a visit to the grotto, he wanted to show her the cities of Capri, Amalfi, and Positano to start with. The Greek and Roman ruins next. Then Naples at night. He had a few contacts in the right places and could ask to have a nocturnal pass for one of the many museums the city was known for.

  “What are you smiling at?” She regarded him with a smile of her own.

  He brought her closer to him instead of releasing her. “I was thinking of all the places I want to take you. Would you like to visit a museum?”

  “Of course.” She eased into his embrace. “Do you have anything specific in mind?”

  He nodded. “There’s a Roman statue I want you to see.”

  “Why?” She snuggled against him.

  He imagined a kitten rubbing her head on his shirt and had to refrain from purring himself. “The model the artist used looked a lot like you.”

  “Was she beautiful?” Her hands caressed his arms.

  “Fierce. Courageous. Beautiful.” He interspersed each word with a kiss on her face, first on her forehead, then on the point of her nose, finally on her mouth.

  “Wait—” She pushed at his chest with both hands. “You knew this girl, didn’t you?”

  His ego inflated several sizes at the jealous tone in her question. “I did. But—” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, then leaned over her ear. “You are fiercer, more courageous, and more beautiful inside and out.” He felt her shivers against his skin and they matched his own. “Nothing compares to you.”

  “What’s the name of the statue?” she asked with a ragged whisper after a moment that stretched several heartbeats.

  “Diana. Like you.” The sky wasn’t as dark as a moment earlier. He bumped the point of her nose with his. “The goddess of the hunt, of the wilderness, and of the moon, which has almost set.” Reluctantly, he moved by her side, and still holding her by her waist, he headed back to the house.

  “I’ll never forget this night.” She burrowed under his arm.

  “Me—” The rest of his sentence died on his lips as he crumpled to the ground, eyes open to witness a nightmare he knew was real.

  One man kneeled by him, showing him a syringe. “Pretty amazing how fast the venom works. You must be terrified.” He stood, then kicked Marcus, who ended facing the opposite direction.

  Someone yelled, “Turn him over. It’s more fun if he sees what’s going on.”

  The man reappeared in Marcus’s line of sight, smiled to show his sharp fangs, and kicked him in his kidneys and back several times. “Much better.”

  Marcus’s heart threatened to explode in his chest. Primal fear the likes of which he had never experienced in his life surged from his stomach, but he couldn’t move a single muscle. He was perfectly lucid, imprisoned in his own body.

  “Yes, so much better.” The man beat him again, taking care to hit Marcus in his lower abdomen this time, then left him to join the rest of his group.

  Three men surrounded Diana, who screamed his name, trying to free herself from their clutches. They manhandled her, then threw her around from one to the other. Marcus heard them taunting her.

  “Where is your mastiff now?”

  “Look at him.”

  “Not so scary now, is he?”

  “We could do anything to you and he couldn’t move a finger to save you.”

  “Maybe if we don’t break you too bad, we can have a little bit of fun…”

  “Yes, we were only told not to kill her…”

  “Look at how frail she looks.”

  Marcus watched as one of them yanked her top down to reveal her breasts, while the other two kept her still.

  The fourth man, the one who had kicked him, hadn’t joined his mates. He stood by the side, as if orchestrating a show, and exaggeratedly shook his head in disappointment. “She looks like a boy.”

  The one on Diana’s right side laughed. “It’s okay. I’d still do her—”

  Marcus had already noticed Diana’s skin reddening. Behind the thick blanket of clouds, a pale sun was emerging to announce a new day. The older vampires had more autonomy, but they couldn’t stay outside much longer.

  “You are one lucky son of a bitch, centurion.” The fourth man strolled back to Marcus, hit him once more, then spat on him, and finally paused long enough to address the rest of his group. “To the cave. Now.” The man kicked Marcus’s head to the side, leaving him blind to what they were doing.

  Marcus stared at a succulent unable to blink his tears away.

  Chapter Eight

  Diana was in pain. Her body was bruised and blistered, but she didn’t care. If those men didn’t kill her, she would heal. Marcus’s frozen form lying on the beach covered in sand and pebbles, bleeding from his nose and mouth was the image that kept playing in a loop in her mind. She didn’t know what had happened to him after the vampires had taken her to the cave at the end of the secluded cove.

  She remembered they had left him on the shore and was terrified he wouldn’t be able to move when the tide came in. Deep inside, she was certain he was alive. He couldn’t be dead; she would have known. A strong emotion connected her to him, and she knew he was drifting in and out of consciousness. As relieving the notion was, it still frightened her that he was there alone. She screamed and cried. She begged the vampires to tell her what they had injected him with. They laughed and beat her. Eventually, when she didn’t stop bothering them with her nonsense—as they called her pleas—they gagged and bound her, and left her facing a dark corner of the cave.

  She couldn’t see anything beyond the rocky ground, but she could hear them. The vampires were furious.

  “I can’t believe we’ll have to wait until tomorrow night for the next ride.”

  “What were you doing with that piece of shit, you little whore?”

  She knew a kick or a punch would follow those words, but they had trussed her up so tight she couldn’t hunch to lessen the blow. The punch was executed with so much anger her teeth rattled in her mouth when the vampire’s fist connected with her back just between her shoulder blades.

  “Would it have killed you to hurry up and come back when it was more convenient for us?” A second and a third punch hit her in the same exact spot.

  The beating continued, but her hunger wouldn’t let her pass out. It kept her awake and lucid. The ache in her stomach was a gnawing fire that spread through her limbs and almost took over all her senses. She experienced pain inside and outside of her body, and yet her only thoughts were for Marcus.

  “Look how she shakes. She can’t even control her urges.”

  Mercifully, a kick only brushed her lower back. “You’re a disgrace to our race.”

  “What would you expect anyway? A vampling raised by an immortal.” A slap to her head followed, but it lacked strength.

  The vampires were getting tired and soon their voices quieted. Diana wished she would faint and stop seeing Marcus beaten and defenseless, but the hunger and the pain from her wounds wouldn’t let her. She tried to pull at the rope cutting through her wrists, but the more she tugged the tighter it closed around her raw skin. The position they had forced her into, half-crouched because of the low, uneven ceiling, was soon difficult to maintain. Her leg muscles couldn’t hold her up any longer, and she knelt on the abrasive, rocky floor resembling a coral reef cushion. A new wave of pain left her breathless, then her hunger wreaked havoc on her already scrambled senses and she was left in a haze of mindless sounds and images. She existed in a state of unconsciousness. She knew pain. She knew hunger. And yet, she was beyond caring. Her body was
handled. She was moved.

  Later, much later, she felt her mind spiraling down to a firmer place. Something warm trickled down her lips. She could still feel the pain and the hunger, but both aches were dulled. Diana knew she was lying on a smooth surface, but her mind wasn’t up to reveal more than that. She was shrouded in a dark mist and felt heavy. Sounds reached her ears, but at first she couldn’t assign them any meaning. Little by little, she understood a word, then another. Finally, she realized she was listening to a conversation between a man with a cold, authoritarian voice and other men who mostly mumbled back. She couldn’t determine how many people were talking because the exchange resembled more a monologue than a dialogue. Although, one or two of the mumbling speakers sounded like her captors.

  “Can’t you follow orders at all?”

  Diana realized the man who did all the talking was getting progressively angrier by the way he enunciated his words with longer pauses between them.

  “Sire—”

  She recognized this man’s voice as belonging to the one who had beaten Marcus to a pulp.

  The one in charge said, “Did I tell you that you could talk?”

  “No, but—”

  Scuffles. Screams. Moans. Silence.

  “Let’s try again.”

  Silence.

  “Very good. I see we’re getting somewhere now.”

  Steps.

  “You almost killed the vampling. I ordered you to bring her to me, alive and well. Wasn’t I clear?”

  “Yes, sire—”

  The sick sound of a hard object striking against something soft. Screams. Silence.

  “Why didn’t you feed the vampling?”

  Silence.

  “Didn’t you see she was going into shock?”

  Silence.

  “And you tortured her?”

  A choked moan.

  “You know how easy it is to starve a vampling to death, right?”

  A blow was inflicted. A sharp cry.

  “You did know I needed the vampling alive to interrogate her, right?”

  Silence. Something was thrown against a hard surface and broke.

  “I can’t let people think they can get away with interfering with nest business. And you almost brought me back the corpse of the only person who can give me the name I need.”

  Silence.

  “Of course, none of you dared take what’s mine by right.” The last statement was a low growl. “You wouldn’t disrespect me so, would you?”

  Several voices answered at once, “No!” Someone whimpered. “We would’ve never touched her that way—”

  “Of course not.” A loud sigh was followed by steps furiously pacing back and forth in a confined space.

  “You’ll finish feeding her now. All of you. I think it is the appropriate punishment. Isn’t it?”

  Silence.

  “Good. I see we’re all in agreement.”

  Diana tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. She also realized she couldn’t move a single muscle. The steps altered their previous course and sounded closer to where she was. Fear grabbed her from the inside.

  “She’s coming to. Now, one by one, you’ll offer her your wrists and you’ll let her drink until I stop you.”

  Diana felt cold fingers probing her right shoulder.

  “Go ahead.”

  The command was given and clammy skin was pressed against her mouth. Diana’s fangs were out and she was already gulping blood down her throat before she could even think of what she was doing. The liquid smelled like rotten vegetables and tasted rancid on its way down her mouth and passed her tongue. She gagged, but couldn’t stop from feeding, her hunger dictated her actions.

  “Good girl.”

  The cold fingers caressed her shoulder and she felt like throwing up again.

  “You, stop.”

  Blood stopped flowing into Diana’s mouth for a brief moment. Then the voice that sounded too loud in her right ear said, “You, come here.” Another wrist was pressed to her mouth and her feeding resumed. The new donor’s vital substance had a different smell and taste, but was equally revolting to Diana. Four different people gave her blood. At the end, she felt healed from her injuries and awake, but nauseated and dirty.

  “Vampling.”

  Diana found herself opening her eyes and sitting without any recollection of wanting to do so.

  A man she had never seen before was standing in front of her. He was tall and elegant with short brown hair, gray eyes, and thin lips almost hidden by an important nose. He wore what looked like a custom-tailored black suit and a white opera scarf around his neck. “Tell me the name of the immortal you were with.” White fangs peeked once or twice while he spoke.

  Her mouth opened, and she stared, terrified, at the man who was forcing her to act against her will. She fought, tears falling down her face as her head split open in one of the worst headaches of her life.

  “A vampling with a spine.” The man tilted his head to the side, an amused light showing through his eyes. “What a pleasant surprise. I was going to kill you once your usefulness had run its course, but now I’ll play with you a bit.” He gave her a once over. “You don’t look like much, but if one of my most loyal vampires decided to disobey my orders to save your sorry human life, you must have something other women don’t.” His fingers trailed down her right cheek and lingered at her ear, then followed the contour of her jaw.

  At his touch, Diana felt tainted inside and again fought the urge of gagging.

  The man noticed her reaction and laughed. “You’ll shiver when I’m done with you.” He raised his hand until it rested on her crown. “But first, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

  She shut her eyes, waiting for the torture to start.

  “You’ve piqued my interest, but I don’t have time to waste now.” He pushed his hand on her head.

  Diana felt paralyzed.

  “Tell me the name of the immortal you were with.”

  She felt the order and heard herself speaking as if she were someone else eavesdropping on a conversation. “Marcus Sulpicius Aurelianus.”

  He blinked, then canted his head. “The roman centurion?” His fingers dug into her scalp.

  Unable to resist his mental pull, Diana nodded, feeling as if she were dying inside.

  The vampire’s expression morphed before her, a disconcerting smile illuminating his gray eyes at the end of the process. “You were kidnapped by Marcus Sulpicius Aurelianus.” He chuckled. “Had I planned this, it wouldn’t have worked as well…” His right hand lowered to her shoulder where it rested. “You, my pet, just gave me the perfect excuse to move against the only man I couldn’t touch.” After one last satisfied look at her, he turned to his minions, who were cowering by the walls. “Send the humans to retrieve the centurion before the Council gets hold of him.” Then he applied pressure over her temples again. “You’ll be quiet.” When he released the hold on her head, she crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Take her to the harem.”

  Diana’s screams never left her mouth. She knew she should have fought the hands that grabbed her, but she let them drag her useless body through several rooms. The vampires’ fingers sunk into her skin, keeping the cruel hold tight as if they were worried she would try to flee. Finally, they reached a dimly lit place, where they threw her onto a floor covered in rugs and pillows, then exited and closed a big, carved wooden door behind them. She stared into the pink and golden threads of the carpet for a long time. A bug with small, translucent wings lazily flew back and forth before her nose, emitting a low buzz that lolled her enough to doze off. Only one thought was left in her mind. She had betrayed Marcus.

  ****

  From his forced angle, Marcus saw a full day progress while he was still paralyzed and lying on that stretch of the beach. The light changed from the pale luminescence of the twilight, to the warm sun of midmorning, to the much warmer noon rays. His eyes, forced to be open for so long, soon stung and his v
ision blurred, until he thought he had started hallucinating when images of a captured Diana passed before him. By midafternoon the sun started setting, and his body had absorbed enough sunrays to start healing. When the shadow from the nearby pine tree reached his head, his eyes had regained the ability to blink and moisten themselves, giving him the gift of sight back. None of the arrays of people working at the villa had ventured down to the beach. None had come to his rescue.

  When he felt his feet getting wet, he knew the tide was changing and soon he would be submerged by seawater. The succulent’s flowers he had seen blossom before his eyes in red and orange florets were already withering. The water reached his calves. Sooner than he was ready for, the ground he had been lain on receded and he sank in a mixture of muddy sand and salty sprays. Wave after wave he went under, barely able to catch what little breath he could when his lungs were still constricted by the poison. When the salty water filled his eyes, Marcus felt as if he had been hit by a sandstorm and all the grains of salt in the beach had been blown into his eye sockets. He saw white dots dancing before his eyelids, but realized he could not only blink, but also slightly move his neck. He tried to move his fingers and was rewarded with subtle movements. But the sea was inexorably progressing in covering the rest of the beach.

  He couldn’t close his mouth shut yet and the seawater insinuated itself beyond his lips, filling his throat. The salt burnt his tongue and crept between the small cuts in his gums. He hoped his head was positioned higher than the rest of his body, but the tide was eroding the beach quickly and soon it wouldn’t matter anymore.

  Diana had been kidnapped before his eyes and he was now drowning in less than a foot of water. As an immortal he was difficult to kill, his strength and stamina would maintain him in most situations where a mere human would have died. He could normally hold his breath for more than an hour and slow his heartbeats accordingly, but the poison had stripped him of his ability to control his own body. Even if the lengthy exposure to the sun was helping to rid him of the toxin, it could be all for nothing if he was dragged by the tide back to the sea and into the darkness. He didn’t care he would die a long, excruciating death though. The idea he had failed to protect her tormented him. So many times he had invoked the gods to terminate his punishment on earth and set him free. But not like this. Not when his freedom had cost an innocent her life. Not when this innocent was Diana.