The sole occupant of the small room knelt in front of an ancient altar to Minerva. Marcus was one of the few Sicari she knew who kept the old ways. But then Sicari Lords were trained to follow the way of justice and wisdom. And their wisdom had guided every
Prima Consul
who’d come before her. With a light touch to the icons on the l
araium
, he blew out the candle on either side of the small display and rose to his feet. Even without his monk’s robes, his height would have made him an imposing figure. Pushing his hood off his head, Marcus turned to face her. It had been more than five years since their last meeting, and he’d changed. His face was still youthful, but his vivid blue eyes reflected a change in spirit.
“Not too much of a change I hope.”
“Certainly not when it comes to probing my thoughts.” She sent him an annoyed look.
“You never did care for that particular talent of mine,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re as lovely as ever.”
“You need glasses.”
“You’ll
always
be beautiful to me, Atia.”
The sincerity in his voice made her heart skip a beat, and the years faded away to when they were both younger. She frowned as the old sorrow lanced through her, and she reached up to touch her silver hair. It was impossible to go back. He changed the subject, giving her the chance to shove the painful past aside.
“I understand Ares has taken a
domina
.”
“Yes, they’re enjoying an extended honeymoon at the Re
nnes le Chateau
estate. Emma found some interesting evidence at one of the nearby ruins.”
“I see.” His gaze narrowed as their eyes met. “As I recall that part of France is quite beautiful this time of year.”
“Yes,” she said with an abrupt nod and dragged her eyes away from his. She didn’t want to remember how happy they’d been those first four years at Re
nnes le Chateau.
“Ares is an excellent fighter. He’ll keep her safe.”
“You say that as if …” She sucked in a sharp breath. “You. It was y
ou
in the alleyway the night Ares first met Emma. You were the one Ares fought that night.”
“Now why would you think that?” A note of amusement drifted beneath his words.
“Because there had been no reports of a rogue Sicari anywhere in the country. The fighter appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as quickly.” Atia narrowed her eyes at him. “And no Sicari would run from a fight.”
“There is a difference between surrender and benevolence,” he growled. “You know as well as I do Ares is no match for my skills and abilities. If I’d known the boy had planned
to act as Emma Zale’s protector, I wouldn’t have interfered.”
The indignation on his face made him all the more imposing, but she faced his anger with the same defiance she always had. The minute he leaned into her, the full power of his presence engulfed her in a storm of sensation she thought she’d long forgotten. An odd expression crossed his face as he leaned even closer.
The scent of him filled her nostrils, a clean, woodsy smell. It sent a pulse of awareness through her, and the years faded away to the first moment she’d angered him. A moment that had erupted into a night of passion that had changed everything. The memory of those moments so long ago filled her with a longing she thought she’d forgotten. She brushed them aside. She was older now, much wiser, and certainly not one to give way to impulse or passion.
“Your thoughts reveal a great deal, me
a amor
.”
“Do they, Eminence?” she said in a stilted tone.
Marcus lifted her chin with one hand, a gentle smile on his firm lips. A mouth that had pleasured her so exquisitely so many years ago.
“So formal. Have you forgotten what there was between us?”
“No. The past is always with me,” she said quietly. “But I thought you asked me here to discuss the Tyet
of Isis
and some new information you’ve uncovered.”
The cerulean blue of his watchful gaze made her close herself off to him. The annoyance in his expression said her efforts to keep him out of her head had been successful. He scowled at her then uttered a soft oath and nodded sharply.
“I’ve received an analysis of the mutilations on the bodies of Emma’s parents and her mentor. My resources believe the marks carved into the cheeks of the Zales and Russwin are symbolic to the murderer. They believe the symbol is Praetorian in origin.”
“Why in Juno’s name would they think it’s Praetorian?”
“Because if you add two lines to the mark, it forms the si
gla
.”
“The Chi-Rho,” she said as she drew in a quick breath. She remembered the P and X symbol on the stone covering the entrance to this ancient temple.
It was so simple. Although her researchers had noted the similarities between the ChiRho symbol used by Constantine I at the Battle of Milvian and the mark left on the victims, they’d not made the connection. But then she hadn’t had a forensic psychologist review the symbols, something she was now certain Marcus had done. She couldn’t believe she’d made such a stupid mistake. She should have done that herself.
“But why not complete the mutilation?” she murmured and frowned. “It would signify that justice has been administered.”
“I’ve been told the individual making the mark is most likely a fanatic who feels it would be sacrilege to mark their victims with a symbol of the Carpenter’s. A symbol with deep ties to the birth of the Praetorian presence in the Church.” A tic in Marcus’s cheek made her realize how deeply this information concerned him. “Instead, the murderer uses the partial symbol as a way to mark the victims as heretics who are a threat to the Praetorians.”
“But the Zales and Russwin weren’t Vi
gilavi
.” Atia frowned. The Vi
gilavi
were
alieni
who served the Order in different capacities. Many of them descendants of
alieni
the Sicari had saved centuries ago. She shook her head in puzzlement. “They weren’t even on the Order’s payroll as consultants.”
“No, but they had one thing in common. They were looking for the Tyet
of Isis
, and whoever killed them was concerned they might find it.”
“Praetorians are always dangerous, but a fanatical one is doubly so. I’ll inform the Council of the threat and alert the guilds.” She experienced a sudden rush of fear for him. “I assume you’ll have Dante attempt to deal with this threat?”
“Unfortunately, I think this is one threat I will have to deal with myself.” The quiet resignation threading beneath his statement made her stare up at him in fear. He didn’t look away, and horror swept through her.
“You think it’s him,” she gasped.
“Yes.” He nodded, a grim expression crossing his still handsome features.
She swayed slightly, and his strong hands gripped her shoulders. “Forgive me, c
arissima.
I prayed this day would never come.”
“How can you be so sure? It could be any Praetorian.” She shuddered.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m convinced it’s Gabriel.”
“But you can’t be sure it’s him. It could be someone else.”
“No,” He shook his head. “Gregori doesn’t hide the names of the Praetorian Dominus he’s trained. Silvestro and Alessandro have been responsible for more deaths in my guild than I care to count. But they don’t mark their victims as heretics, and they only hunt Sicari.”
“It still doesn’t mean it’s him. We don’t even know if he’s alive.”
“You’ve seen the reports. There have been almost ten Sicari killed in Rome, Venice, and Genova over the past two years. What those reports didn’t explain was that all of them were murdered in the same manner as the Zales and Russwin. These warriors were all looking for the artifact, too. Those who survived the encounters long enough to give us information said their attacker had both telepathic and telekinetic abilities.”
“Why wasn’t this information reported to me?” she demanded.
“The men and women who died were in my personal guild. They answer to me, before anyone else. I ordered the reports be modified.”
“I don’t care that the A
bsconditus is
your guild or that you’re the reigning Sicari Lord. Just because the Prim
a Consul
reports to you doesn’t mean you can pick and choose the type of information you release to me.” Her mouth tightened as she scowled at him. “The Order has
always
served at the pleasure of the Sicari Lords, but as Prim
a Consul
, I’m entitled to see all information the A
bsconditus
possesses when it comes to general matters of interest to the Council. It’s been done like that for centuries.”
“It was my intent to protect you.” His voice had become stiff and stilted.
“Pr
otect me,
” she snapped as the painful memories came rushing back. “From what? The knowledge that the
bastardi
who took our son have turned him into a killer? You tried to protect him, too, remem
ber?”
The minute her words left her mouth, she regretted it. The accusation was unfounded, and they both knew it. The ashen look on Marcus’s face filled her with remorse. Even the pain lashing through her was not an excuse for accusing him of failing to save their child.
“Protecting him wasn’t just my sacred duty. It was my responsibility as a father,” he said in a savage tone.
It was a sharp, unyielding statement, but she heard the anguish in his voice. His guilt was a tangible sensation, and her heart ached for him in spite of her bitterness. Despite everything that had transpired between them, her love for him was as strong today as it had been more than thirty years ago. She knew he’d done what he thought necessary to protect their child.
The Order had always had its spies, and someone had known she’d given birth to a Sicari Lord. Marcus had tried to protect their son by taking him away. But even that precaution had failed. The outcome would have been the same no matter where they’d tried to hide Gabriel. The Praetorians had received help from inside the Order, and if she ever found out who it was, she’d slit their throat herself. To hell with the consequences. She touched the sleeve of Marcus’s robe.
“Forgive me. I spoke in anger. It was unwarranted. We both know the Praetorians had help from within the Order. They would have found Gabriel no matter what we did,” she
said quietly.
“I was too arrogant,” he rasped. “It blinded me. Made me less vigilant.”
“You are a Sicari Lord. Arrogance has always been a part of you,” she murmured with a quiet smile. “But you are still human, and even you make mistakes.”
“You defend me, c
arissima?”
Amazement echoed in his voice as he turned his head to look down at her. The sorrow in his vivid blue eyes made her throat tighten with tears she barely managed to hold back.
Deus
, if she allowed him to see her cry, he’d know he still had power over her. Losing Gabriel had torn them apart, and she had no doubt that what lay before them now could easily destroy them both. There was no place for emotion or sentiment between them now. It would only lead to more pain. The minute his hand touched her shoulder, selfpreservation took over, and she quickly put a reasonable distance between them. There was too much pain in that touch. And longing. A wish for things to have been different.
“You’ve reached a decision?” she asked in a stilted tone.
“He must die.”
Marcus spoke without emotion. It was just a simple statement. But its impact on her was like running into a wall. He sounded as if he was talking about someone other than their son. And that’s what shattered her heart. They
were
discussing someone else. Gabriel was no longer their son. The Praetorians had taken him away when he was only two. It was unlikely he would even remember them. Silence settled between them as they
contemplated what was to come. How did one kill one’s own child? The question sickened her, and she turned away from Marcus. The pain was too fresh and raw.
“It’s all right,
mea amor
. We shall do what we must.”
Only once had he ever entered her thoughts like this. The gentle intrusion then had been to comfort her, just as it was now. The invisible caress of his hand touched the side of her face, and she trembled. A second later, she was engulfed in his strong arms and he held her quietly. “
Cry,
inamorato
. Cry
for what we’ve both lost.”
The tenderness of his thoughts and the way he cradled her against him proved her undoing. The tears came hot and fast as she cried in his embrace. She was no longer Prim
a Consul
, and he was no longer the reigning Sicari Lord. They were simply two people struggling with a profound grief.
Several long moments passed before her tears finally stopped. Gently she pushed herself free of his arms. Her gaze met his for a moment as her fingers pressed into her forehead. Her head hurt from all the crying.
“So after all this time you still get a headache when you cry,” he said with a small smile.
“I don’t cry very often.” Her quiet response pulled a low chuckle from him.
“Why am I not surprised?”
The familiar strokes of his invisible fingers across her forehead felt good. In seconds, they’d eased some of her tension. He’d not lost his touch. Again the soft laugh. He’d not left her thoughts after all. She scowled at him.
“I was not reading your thoughts, Atia.” He leaned into her. “I was reading your expression.”
“Then stop,” she bit out sharply. It was a ridiculous statement. She knew that. But all she wanted was to finish up with their business and leave. Being here with him was affecting her in ways she’d not experienced in years. She deliberately opened up her thoughts to him, while burying her deepest emotions behind a facade he couldn’t penetrate. His jaw grew tight with tension, telling her she’d succeeded in letting him see only what she wanted him to see.
“V
a bene.
” His head jerked in a sharp nod. “The incident at the Zale house cost us a considerable sum to keep quiet.”