by Julia Mills
The sound of his cell phone ringing through the blue tooth in his vehicle pulled the General from his thoughts. Hitting the button on his steering wheel, he answered, “Marinos.”
“And a fine howdy doo to you, too, General,” Lee, otherwise known as Achilles and unfortunately the comedian of the group, chimed though the speakers of his SUV.
“What now, Lee?” Roman tried not to growl but his temper came closer to exploding with every second it took him to reach Cynthia.
“Nik and I are here but we’re the only ones. You sure you didn’t get your wires crossed?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Look again,” he ordered, turning into the factory parking lot on two wheels, narrowly missing the ten-foot chain link gate his brothers left open. “Where are you? I’m coming up on the far east side.”
“Look to the left.”
Slamming on the brakes as he saw his friend waving, Roman threw his vehicle into park, kicked open the door, and was racing into the building without a second thought about his brothers or his SUV. All that mattered was finding Cynthia.
Following her scent through the musty darkness, he ran down a flight of crumbling wooden stairs, through a thick oak door, and straight into the room from Cynthia’s memories. Stopping dead in his tracks as the sounds of his brothers’ footsteps followed closely behind, Roman took in the scene before him. He saw the rickety chair where she’d been sitting. Knelt down and touched the chains he knew had been wrapped around the delicate skin of her ankles.
Slowly moving to the rusty cot with its moldy mattress, her scent filled his senses. This was where they’d laid her when she was unconscious. Where she’d awakened angry and afraid without him to comfort her or worse yet…save her.
White, hot rage burnt through his system as he glimpsed a two-foot piece of rope that had been discarded behind the chair occupying the center of room. Picking up the jute as his brothers’ questions echoed from somewhere behind him, visions of the rough material abrading the tender flesh of Cynthia’s wrists burst through his mind. He knew it was a rebound memory from the connection he’d formed with her, but he still used it to try to locate her.
To his surprise, Cynthia was awake but somehow blocking him from reestablishing their link. No matter what he tried, Roman could not get back inside her mind. Nothing he’d ever been taught concerning the bond between a King and the keeper of his heart had prepared him for this. After all, he’d known the moment of her birth. Had experienced all the milestones of her life from the far hidden corners of her mind, as Zeus had decreed it to happen; all in preparation for the day they would be together and secure their bond of eternity. Never once in all those years had he not been able to touch her thoughts or at least know what she was feeling, but now, somehow, everything had changed.
Spinning around as Nik, also known as Nikos, one of the younger Kings, tapped him on the shoulder, Roman roared, “What?”
Holding up his free hand in a sign of surrender, Nik handed him a large leather bound photo album and said, “I think you better look at this.”
Shock, followed by the icy cold fingers of betrayal, slithered down his spine. Reaching for the book without looking at his brother, Roman let the front cover fall open as he sat in the same chair where his mate had been bound and let his worse fears come to light.
There, on the first page of the discolored parchment, was a six-by-six-inch square, much lighter than the surrounding material. It was where an intricate painting of Viktoras and him created in 44 BC had been for as long as the General could remember. It was one of the only things he had left from the early days after his rebirth, and something he’d planned on sharing with his mate as he explained their special relationship.
He remembered vividly how he and his Commander had been camping just outside the city of Pompeii when a painter, Quintus Pedius, and his new bride crossed their path in search of new scenery for the young artist to capture on his canvas. Both he and Viktoras were amazed at how well the deaf couple communicated, having never met anyone with such a disability that was not a beggar on the street. The world in those days was so different; so cold, so uncaring.
Thank the gods things have changed…
As it happened, the Kings ended up taking the couple to a beautiful waterfall they remembered from their travels. Fearing for the couples’ safety, Romanus and Viktoras stayed with them while Quintus painted and then accompanied them home.
Upon their arrival in Pompeii, Quintus presented them with the small canvas as tribute for their courtesy. Sadness filled the General as he remembered it was only a few short months later that word of Quintus’ death reached them as they continued to travel across the country.
Pulling himself from the past, he continued to flip the pages that contained the most pertinent details of his very long life. It didn’t take long before he found another bare spot. This one had held a tintype photo from the late nineteenth century and featured all seven of the Kings standing in front of the bar they had just purchased in New Orleans, LA.
It was just after the Civil War and the city was in a state of reconstruction. The Kings had sailed from Greece into the Port of Orleans with spices, fabric, and riches the city had never seen. They were immediately accepted into society and allowed to purchase not only their bar, King’s Landing, but also a hundred-acre plantation. It was one of his favorite memories and one he had wanted to share with Cynthia himself, not like it was now unfolding.
As he looked through the rest of the book, there were several other photos missing. Each with special significance and all pointing to one of three people with the knowledge and opportunity to take not only his precious album, but also attempt to harm his mate.
Standing just as Lee’s cell phone rang, the General had just reached the stairs when his comrade called out, “Hey, Roman, you’re going to want to hear this.”
Stopping with on foot on a step and one still on the ground, he shook his head. “What now?”
He heard the sound of Lee pressing a button on his phone and then Sal’s voice through the speaker. “Ummm…well, we found your mate, but she’s locked in the bathroom at the truck stop about ten miles from where you are and said she’d call the police or get, and I quote, ‘a wooden stake’ if we tried to come in.”
“She’s where? How did she…” He stopped yelling midsentence, knowing it was doing nothing but wasting time, and took a deep breath. It wasn’t his brothers’ fault. Hell, it wasn’t his fault, but he had a good idea who to blame and that was something he would be taking care of as soon as possible. But in the meantime, things were spiraling out of control faster than even he could have ever imagined. It was time to face the music and if necessary, get his affairs in order before Cynthia took his head.
With his heart dropping from his chest, the General could only groan. “Don’t do anything. Just keep everyone away from that door. Buy the damn place if you have to. Make sure Cynthia is as comfortable as possible. I’m on my way. This is my mess to clean up.”
Chapter Six
“Maybe the wooden stake comment was over the top,” Cyn mumbled to herself as she looked in the foggy old bathroom mirror. Shaking her head, she fingered combed her tangled hair before grabbing more paper towels, covering the counter and climbing back up to sit and wait for Adele.
As if being kidnapped and tormented by the reincarnation of Morticia Addams wasn’t enough, she had awakened to find that damned album laying on her lap, then had to find her way out of a dirty, smelly warehouse all to end up in literally the middle of nowhere and feeling like the hounds of hell were staring at her through the bushes.
Disheveled, dirty, and barefooted after walking almost two miles, she’d hitched a ride with the first vehicle she’d seen since emerging into the bright light of the noonday sun. Thankfully, it was a kindly old farmer who did nothing more than tell her she looked like his great-granddaughter who’d gone to the ‘big city’ to some ‘fancy college’.
After thanking him for the hundredth tim
e, she made her way into the diner, begged to use the phone, screamed at Adele to get her to stop ooooing and aaaahhhing about Cyn’s night with the millionaire, and then locked herself in the bathroom to wait. That was where two men, who identified themselves as Roman’s friends, found her and tried to coerce her to come with them. That was also when she threatened to stake them if they came through the door.
“And that was where I showed my hand. Now, they know I know what they really are and if this nightmare follows every TV show and movie I’ve ever seen, they’re going to have to kill me to keep their secret.”
She jumped down from the counter, careful to land on the paper towels she’d spread across the grimy floor like Dorothy’s yellow brick road, and began to pace. “But that video could’ve been something made by one of Valentina’s friends. A hoax to scare me away from Roman.”
Turning when she reached the far wall, Cyn headed back toward the sink, continuing the conversation she was having with herself. “But what about the pictures? They are most definitely real.” She picked them up from the counter as she once again spun on the balls of her feet and continued to pace. “But, pictures can be doctored, too. And Valentina definitely has the means to do whatever she wants. The girl’s shoes alone cost as much as my rent.” Throwing her head back and looking at the wads of dried paper hanging from the ceiling, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and sighed, “But still…”
Looking down at the four photos she’d removed from the leather bound book, Cynthia touched the face she knew beyond all doubt belonged to the man she’d been dreaming about for as long as she could remember. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t possible, at least by any stretch of her imagination, but there it was in living color, right before her face, evidence that Roman Marinos was centuries, maybe millennia older than the mid-thirties he looked to be. “Talk about falling for an older man,” she chuckled sarcastically. “Leave it to me to have the hots for Dracula’s cousin.”
Stopping midstride, she studied the most recent photo more closely. From the fashion of the clothes the three men were wearing, it had to have been taken in the early eighties, but that wasn’t what she found most interesting. What drew her attention was the fourteen-foot-tall Big Boy statue holding a forty-inch hamburger with the name Bob’s Burgers painted on the side. It was the same monstrosity she’d looked at every morning as her mom drove her to school. The same smiling, red-cheeked boy who’d welcomed her and her friends every afternoon after junior high for French fries and sodas, and the same damned image that had been on her paychecks from the age of sixteen until eighteen when she graduated from Muleshoe High School and went away to college.
Looking even closer, she saw the reflection of the Grand Opening banner in the huge plate glass windows that surrounded the restaurant and knew from the pictures on the wall of the diner she’d slung burgers at that it had opened in Nineteen Eighty-Two, just a few months after her birth. Coincidence?
“Sure, if I believed in coincidences,” she shoved her bangs out of her eyes. “But I don’t, and especially not with everything else I’ve seen in the last twenty-four or so hours.”
Lost in thought, Cyn screamed when a knock at the door echoed through the tiny bathroom. “What?”
“Cynthia?” His voice was just as warm and inviting as it had always been. Maybe a touch less confident, but still able to make her all warm and tingly at just the sound of her name.
Embracing her anger and shaking off the effect Roman had on her, Cyn spat, “What do you want?”
“Just to talk.”
“So talk. I can hear you just fine from there.”
A sigh followed by the sound of what she was sure was his forehead hitting the door three times, he pleaded, “Please open the door. I promise I can explain.”
Looking at the door knob then the pictures in her hands, she shook her head then remembered he couldn’t see her and yelled, “Nope. No way. Say whatever you have to say from right there and then go away.” Wrapping her arms around herself to calm the shaking that had begun at just the sound of his voice, she added, “Adele is on her way. I want to go home…alone.”
Silence was the only answer Cyn received but she knew he wasn’t done. Could feel it in her bones. Knew that Roman Marinos did not give up without a fight. Had been down this road with him a few times before. Yeah, this was different but in so many ways the same song, fiftieth verse. He had been caught in a web of lies and secrets and was trying to figure a way out. Well, she wasn’t buying it and if he wanted a fight then he could just bring it on. She’d had a hell of a night and needed a shower. It was not the time for debates or discussion. She needed a bottle of wine, a soak in a tub and three, maybe four days of sleep.
Walking to the door, Cyn leaned her head against the scarred wood and just listened to the beat of Roman’s heart. She had no idea how or why she could hear it over all the background noise but nonetheless, there it was, strong and powerful and in sync with hers. It wasn’t fair, but then again life never was, and it wouldn’t do any good to sit around whining. Time to take action.
Taking a step back, she raised her arm to beat on the door and tell Roman to go away just as she heard a familiar squeal. “Where the hell is she? Where is my Cyndi?”
The shrill tone of Adele’s voice, coupled with the tap of her heels on the linoleum and the use of the name only her grandpa and her best friend were allowed to use, brought a smile to Cyn’s face. If there was one person in the world she could count on, it would always her girl, Addie.
True to form, Adele came in and took complete control. Through the door, Cyn listened as the short, sassy, redhead ordered, “Mr. Marinos, I’m gonna need you to back away from that door and let me through. Cyn needs me and not you or your goon squad are going to stop me from getting in there.”
“But…I…All I want…”
“I don’t care what you want. All that matters is giving Cyn what she needs and after the night and day she’s had, I would say you are most definitely not what the doctor ordered. Now, move away from that door or I will have to move you myself.”
Cyn could only imagine the look on Roman’s face as Adele gave orders and demanded they be obeyed. She nearly burst out laughing when one of the men who’d spoken to her before Marinos arrived chuckled. “Roman, my man, I would move out of the lady’s way. Sounds like she means business.”
With her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, Cyn unlocked the door and took several steps back when Adele knocked and called out, “I’m comin’ on in, darlin’.”
The door quickly opened and in rushed her best friend, slamming and locking the door behind her before leaning against it and wiping her brow. “Whew! That man wants in here more than a fox wants in the hen house. You sure you didn’t do a little something-something to get him all fired up.”
Scowling and shaking her head, Cyn assured, “I didn’t even see the idiot. Like I told you, some crazy ass vampire wannabe and her big dumb friend kidnapped me, drugged ne, threatened me, and let me go. After that I called you.” Crossing her arms over her chest and huffing her bangs out of her eyes again, she added, “And now you are up to date.” She held out her hand for the red duffle slung over Adele’s arm. “Give me my clothes so I can change and we can get the hell outta here. I just want this all to be over.”
Laying the strap of the bag over her hand, her friend asked, “All of it?” Then waggled her eyebrows.
“Yes.” She snatched the duffle away. “All of it.” Then yelling towards the door, “And most of all, Roman Marinos.” Opening the stall door behind her, she added even louder than before, “If I never see him again, it will be too soon.”
Slamming the metal door shut, she leaned against the door and blew out a long breath. Did she really never want to see Roman again? Would she be happy if she never saw that cocky grin he got when he knew what she was thinking? Or live without ever seeing the look in his whiskey colored eyes that made her want to run into his
arms and let him tell her they would be together forever? Could she really live without ever seeing him again?
“Well, I’m damn sure gonna try,” she mumbled under her breath while sliding her ruined black dress over her hips.
“What was that, hun?” Adele asked.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“Mmmmhmmmm…” Came her friend’s all too knowing answer.
Dressed in her favorite sweats and T-shirt, Cyn slid her feet into her flip-flops and shoved her ruined dress into the duffle. Picking up the photos she’d taken from the album she knew Valentina purposely left to cast further aspersions against Roman, she put them in the bag and decided to think about them later.
Stepping out of the stall she asked, “You didn’t happen to bring a brush did you? This hair,” she flipped the ends of her platinum locks with her free hand, “is driving me batty.”
Pulling a hairbrush from the huge purse she always carried, Adele muttered, “That ain’t all that’s got you losing your mind.”
Giving her friend a glare she hoped spoke as loud and as unapprovingly as she wanted it to, Cyn took the brush from her friend’s outstretched hand and quickly ran it through her tangled tresses, stopping only when she felt almost human again. Stepping up to the mirror, she took a quick look, declared herself no worse for wear, and looked over her shoulder at the reflection of Adele looking back at her.
“Okay, girlie, let’s get to gettin’. I know as sure as God made little green apples that your man is standing outside that door waiting on you, so buck up, buttercup, I’m opening the door.”
