Her eyes widened. “Your father is credited with that find.”
“He took credit to protect me from the Council. But they found us out when I made another discovery during his absence.”
“And because of your talent, they sent you and your family here to excavate the Forum?” she guessed.
He nodded. “With orders to find and secure any artifacts that might hint at ElseWorld kind's existence.”
“What happened?” she asked again.
“We'd been here for six years when both of my parents got the Sickness. If not for me, we would never have come. They might still be alive.”
Silvia put a tender hand to his cheek. It broke her heart to imagine him as a grieving youth suddenly left to fend for himself in an unfamiliar world, while shouldering the responsibilities of three younger brothers and the excavations. “So you repay them for their sacrifice by carrying on their work.”
He caught her hand under his. “Don't pity me,
cara
. And don't make me into some heroic figure. The night they died was a Moonfulâmy first Calling. During the ritual, I had my first taste of wine, and afterward, I deserted my brothers, who needed me.”
“Under the wine's influence,” she protested, defending him when he would not defend himself.
He shrugged. “Eventually, I escaped its pall and returned to my brothers. To the excavations. It's work I love.” He kissed her palm. “Work I want to share with you.”
She stiffened, wary. “What do youâ?”
“These furtive visitsânever knowing when or if I might see you again. It's not enough,” he told her with soft determination. “I want to share my life with you.”
Stunned, she slid from him and drew up to sit against the headboard, pulling the sheet over her nakedness. “You ask too much! I can't just decide to become mortal on a whim.” Pontifex's captives depended upon her and she would need her Ephemeral powers in order to manage their rescue. Who knew how long it might take to free them? The kindest thing would be to leave this man and never return. Then he could find someone else to love. Her heart twisted painfully at the prospect.
Bastian's hand slipped under the sheet, caressing her ankle, her calf, the back of a knee. “I'm not asking you to become mortal. Take whatever hosts you will, whenever you must. I only ask that you bring themâand yourselfâto my bed. Every night. And that you spend what days you can with me.”
A poignant joy washed over her at the sincerity and raw hunger in his voice. But still she held him off. “Gods, Bastian. Do you really want that sort of life for yourself?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. There was so much he didn't know. So much she couldn't tell him. Not yet. He wanted to keep the opals here, but she needed to take them. It put them at odds. She glanced toward the door. “Iâ”
“Don't run,” he said, tugging her down to him. “That's all I ask for now. Sleep on it. We'll talk on the morrow.”
Sliding lower, Silvia curled into him, her head on his shoulder and one smooth thigh between his. A lazy hand stroked her hair, lulling her toward slumber. She felt the strength of his heartbeat under her palm and wished they could be together like this always.
She brushed a fingertip over Christiana's smooth cheek, over the place where her own father's whip had cut her centuries ago. “I'm scarred.” Her stark, whispered admission tumbled into the quiet. “Imperfect. Here, on my face.”
The hand on her hair paused. Then his lips brushed the crown of her head. “It's not your face or your figure I've come to love. It's you. Whether you're mortal or Ephemeral or something in between, my feelings for you are not going to change. And I'm hardly perfect myself.”
Joyful tears filled her eyes, and at that moment, she fell even deeper in love with him. Still, she shied away from furthering such an emotional discourse and sought to lighten the mood. “Yes, it's truly sad how imperfect you are,” she teased gently. “Tall, handsome, intelligent, wealthy. It's a wonder any woman would have you.”
She heard the smile in his voice as he replied, “Then you'll have to take pity on me, for if you won't have me, who will?”
If only she
could
have him! If only she dared reveal her name and her real form to him so that she was rendered forever mortal. The never-ending cycle of taking hosts and relieving herself of them had begun to chafe, and with all her heart, she longed to stay here and build a life with him. She now understood precisely why Michaela had made herself mortal for him. She understood that love for the right man made such a choice easy. It was a choice she would now gladly make if she could.
But first she had a duty to the others and must see it through. Tomorrow she would take possession of the sixth opal. If her plan succeeded from there, she would free the other Vestals from Pontifex's clutches.
Only thenâperhaps thenâshe might return here. And one day truly belong to this wonderful man, and he to her.
S
cena
A
ntica
IX
391
A.D.
Roman Forum
A hand shook Silvia and Michaela awake in their alcove. It was Aemilia rousting them from their shared bed. Outside their window, the inky black of night was dotted with torches in the distance.
“What's happening?” Silvia demanded in alarm.
“They're destroying our temples,” the girl whispered, looking frightened.
“I warned you this day was coming!” said Michaela, as they leaped from the bed.
Floronia joined them in the alcove, wide-eyed. “They're disbanding everything. Ending all pagan worship. Turning away from the old Gods. Vesta will surely be next.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Aemilia, her voice quavering.
Silvia gave her a quick hug. “All will be well,
cara.
Come, let's gather the others. We'll take the firestones and flee.”
Moments later, all twelve Vestals had scurried from the house to the temple, dressed only in their shifts. The sound of monumental pillars toppling and the clamor of the crowds in the distance was terrifying.
Together, they mounted the temple steps. Each of them plucked her opal from Vesta's Hearth and clasped it tight as they solemnly watched the fire die away.
Then questions flew among them. “Where will we hide the stones? Where will we go? How will we live?”
Occia waved a hand toward the bloodthirsty mob coming their way. “Do you think they'll just let us go, you fools? We stand for all they wish to destroy. We'd be constant reminders of the past, of the pagan religion. Noâthey'll put us on trial and make a spectacle of us, then bury us in the Campus Sceleratus!” Several girls began to sob.
“Calm yourselves,” Michaela scolded.
“Let's separate for now and agree to meet at some landmark one week from tonight,” suggested Silvia.
“Or we could go to ElseWorld to join the temple there,” said Aemilia.
“How?” Occia scoffed. “The gate between worlds lies in Tuscany, which is hundreds of miles from here. No, I'm leaving on my own. Now. To hells with the rest of you.” But when she turned to go, they saw that it was too late. The mob had reached them, some already on the steps.
“Look! Vesta's fire has returned!” cried Floronia. As one, the Vestals looked toward the hearth and gasped to see it burning bright again.
“I don't understand. It was snuffed out by the taking of the stones,” said Michaela.
“Yet it burns once more,” Silvia murmured in wonder. “It's a miracle.”
Then Vesta's sacred fire leaped out, surrounding the temple and enclosing them in a firewall that kept the mob and their hatred at bay. The temple began to fill with smoke. The Vestals huddled close and took it into their lungs, coughing and choking.
“Something's happening to me,” whispered Licinia, sounding horrified.
Silvia glanced at her, shocked to see that her form was wavering and growing indistinct. For a moment, she was pale as a statue. Then suddenly as translucent as a wraith. Silvia glanced down at herself. Saw the same thing was beginning to happen to her own body and to those of the others.
“Run!” shouted Michaela, grabbing her hand. Before the process was complete, she and Michaela fled with their stones. In the confusion, they ran toward the Vestal House and through its front door, intending to flee out its back to elude the mob.
“My fingers are weakening. I'm going to drop my stone soon,” Michaela wailed as their bodies grew ever more translucent.
“Give it to me,” said Silvia. Quickly, she hid both of their firestones in the hands of Vesta's statue. “Keep them safe,” she whispered to the goddess. The mob entered the house but didn't seem to notice either of them as they dashed out the door at the far end of the atrium.
As they would later discover, the other Vestals had scattered through the Forum and beyond. All twelve were phantoms now and went unseen by their pursuers. And as they made their wild escape, some lost their firestones and others hid them for safekeeping.
An hour later, Silvia and Michaela stood on the ridge overlooking the Forum, their lungs heaving from their flight. Their goddess had protected them in the only way she could. They were now invisible. Immortal.
Ephemeral.
Hands clasped, they stared down at the temple, watching its destruction.
18
T
he following morning, Bastian's lovemaking was a tender, poignant torment, for Silvia alone knew it might be their last. Afterward, she pretended to sleep, waiting until Bastian left for the digs. She listened to the door slam behind him and heard the sound of his horse as he departed. Then she rose and donned one of his shirts, pulled a long wooden support slat from beneath his mattress, and padded down the hall with it. Entering his study, she went unerringly to the large bookcase that hid his secret vault.
Although he didn't know it, she had come here two nights ago while in her Ephemeral wraith form. Invisible, she'd patiently spied on him all evening, and had finally been rewarded when he led her here to this vault, unaware that he was doing so. She had stood silent, only a few feet away from him, and watched him dial the lock. Then she'd gone inside the vault with him and seen that he possessed the sixth opal.
And now she had come to steal it from him. Since the bookcase was too heavy to budge on her own, she'd brought his bed slat. Using it as a wedge between case and wall, she managed to send the bookcase crashing to the floor.
Then she dialed the lock's combination from memory, opened the thick steel door, and entered the vault. Crossing to the glass-fronted jewel case, she reached toward it, then froze in shock. For inside on a velvet cushion sat not one opal, but all
six!
“Looking for something?” She whipped around to see Bastian standing in the vault's entrance. “Why didn't you simply agree to my proposal that you stay,
cara?
Then all six could have been yours.”
“How did you find the opals I brought with me?” she demanded, gesturing toward them in the case.
“I assume you refer to the five you buried in my garden for safekeeping two days ago?”
She nodded grimly, as anger and wariness fizzed in her veins.
He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms and studying her. “You left a trail, and I followed it.”
“What kind of trail?”
He smiled slightly, infuriating her with his smugness. “One only I can perceive. I tracked it to your five opals, unearthed them, and then I waited for you to make an appearance. You made sure I would notice you in Sevin's salon yesterday morning. So I joined you on the street, and then I let things play out.” His voice went soft. “And now here we are.”
“Was last night some cruel trick, then? Your professions of love only lies all along?”
“No, damn you.” Straightening, he made as if to come for her.
Snatching the cushion with its stones from the glass case, she held it before her with both hands supporting the cushion. She backed away as he advanced, warding him off. “These opals belong to Vesta and to those who serve her. Let me take them, Bastian. I must.” Without waiting for his reply, she quickly blew across the stones and summoned a wall of flame.
At the same moment, he picked up something from the floor just inside the vault and swung it toward her.
Splash!
Startled, she cringed away, dropping the cushion. The stones scattered at her feet. Then she just stood there, sputtering and wringing droplets of water from her hands. As his arms came around her, she blinked up at him. He'd come prepared with a bucket of
water?
He must have known all along that she would come here to steal the jewels. And now he'd extinguished the firewall!
“You . . . idiot. You don't know what you've done. You don't know anything!”
“Then tell me.”
Her eyes narrowed, furious at his trickery. “I'll show you instead.” Instantly, sheâChristianaâwent limp in his arms. Then, with a sigh, she slumped to the floor, dead. He stepped back, shocked at the sight of her divesting herself of her host.
Now in her invisible Ephemeral form, Silvia went to the door of the vault, hoping to distract him. “There, you see?” As she'd expected, he turned toward the entrance at the sound of her disembodied voice. “This is how I liveâtaking bodies and departing them,” she told him, gazing at Christiana's limp form beyond him. “Unpleasant, is it not?”
“If it's so unpleasant for you, why not become mortal? Why not stay with me?”
“Because there's a horrible man, Pontifex, and he, heâ” Frustration filled her and she bit off her explanation. He knew nothing of her situation and now was not the time to explain. Knowing she couldn't carry the stones while in wraith form, Silvia made the only decision she could. Slipping around him again, she knelt beside the opals. Keeping one eye on him as he made a visual search of the vault for her, she quickly assumed her own corporeal form and then gathered the stones low in the lap of her shift.
Slowly, she rose to face him, her long sunset-gold hair unbound and her eyes a clear blue. His gaze roved her, hungry for this first glimpse of her as her true Ephemeral self. She felt betrayed, exposed. Embarrassed at having him see her as she was, disheveled and scarred. “And so now you have what you desired,” she told him, despising the betraying quaver in her voice. “The sight of my damaged corporeal form. But you'll never, ever have my name from me!”
Bastian lunged for her, then recoiled from the heat of the new firewall she created. “Stop, damn you!” he shouted.
“What, no second bucket of water?” she asked, her voice cool now and devoid of emotion. “How exceedingly careless of you not to have anticipated such a necessity, signor.”
And then she stepped into the wall of fire and was gone.