Shadow of Hope

  The wind was getting up and stirring the leaves of the shrubs around him. For a moment his hair flew into his eyes making them water. When he recovered, he found that the secluded garden was bathed in a strange light, but as his vision was blurred he couldn’t be sure what the source of it was. Suddenly in the light he saw Callie. She was standing in front of him looking as she’d done on their wedding day almost three years ago. She was smiling. Cimon stood up, unsure what was happening and what he was seeing. He wanted to go to her, but everything inside him told him that she wasn’t really there, and that this was an illusion, sent by the gods or maybe from his own mind.

  Paralysed with indecision he watched as she smiled again and held out her hand to him as if beckoning him to come to her side. It was an eerie re-enactment of their marriage, when she’d been waiting for him to come and stand proudly by her side. Her invitation decided him, he tried to move towards her, but some invisible force restrained him and held him back.

  Then the wind blew again, and Callie shimmered in the breeze, becoming transparent and made up of thousands of sparkling spangles of light, almost like the scales of a fish. For a moment the image hung there, radiant and iridescent, but not of this world. Then the breeze blew for a third time, and the fragments were scattered on the breeze and seemed to flutter away on the air like a cloud of brightly coloured butterflies taking his wife with them.

  The air sighed as it blew gently again through the garden, but to Cimon it sounded like a human sigh. A sigh of relief and freedom. And maybe even goodbye. In the stillness of the night he could still hear both heartbeats, but now the other fainter one became louder, until it blocked out every other sound, then just as it became unbearable, it stopped, leaving his own beating heart the only sound in the still night. In that moment he knew Callie was gone. Her heart had been with him ever since Uma had placed her hands on them back in her house to join them together. But now it was silent and that could only mean that she’d left this life, so her soul was now free and on its way to rest before its rebirth.

  He was too late to save her, the realisation sunk in and Cimon collapsed to the floor on his knees. It was too much of a coincidence that he’d found his way and his salvation on the very night that she’d left the earth. There was no doubt that the gods were watching and taking an interest and had let her stay long enough to see him on the right path. It didn’t make the fact that she was no longer on this earth any easier though. Now he was really alone in his new life.

  Chapter Seven

  Antinous sat back in the chair in the tavern and watched the girl serve the customers. It was busy here tonight and already many men were drunk and leery. The girl could handle herself, he knew that from personal experience and he’d been a gentleman in comparison to these louts. Eventually she came and hovered over him. It was amazing what manners and politeness could get you even in a rough place like this. He grinned up at her and she threw him a look that indicated she wasn’t in the best of moods.

  “Wine?” she asked sullenly. He nodded, then put his arm out onto the table and lifted the sleeve a little to show the slip of parchment concealed within. She glanced at it then looked at him. “Later tonight. When it’s quieter.” He gave a short nod and looked away. The girl flounced off, keeping up the appearance of her bored apathy.

  Later that night, Antinous watched from the outbuilding as the girl opened the back door and looked out for him. She waited impatiently for a few moments before moving away from the opening. Antinous took advantage of her absence and slipped quietly through the shadows until he was standing at the entrance by the time she got back. She did a double take at his sudden appearance, but he could see that she expected nothing less from him. She held the door open and closed it behind them as they went in the back of the tavern. Quietly she led him up the stairs to a small bedroom and pulled back a heavy curtain. On the other side was another slightly bigger, more opulent room. She watched him to see if he approved.

  He nodded to her, and she let the curtain fall back. He’d have to wait until his target came to bed and he could think of no better way to spend it than with the girl who was almost as quick with her knife as he was.

  He placed his hand on her shoulder and slipped the dress down her arm a little. She continued to stare at him, seemingly ambivalent to his advances. Roughly he pulled her chin up and kissed her. Suddenly her arms snaked around him and she pushed her lithe little body into his. This girl was as hard as any man and a complete bitch, but she could also disarm a man with her passion. Thankfully she wasn’t to his taste, but she’d help pass the time and they were on the same side: their own.

  ***

  Shelpa stopped at the entrance to a large villa on the outskirts of Rome. She glanced at Cimon beside her, who seemed as usual unimpressed with any form of opulence or wealth. He was so unlike Agis, it still surprised her even after ten years together. And she still didn’t understand him at all. He liked to choose his victims, picking only those who deserved to die and helping others with his essence and pretending to be a doctor. It was beyond her comprehension, but she tolerated it, as it made him happy and it had helped him settle into his new life.

  Now they were in Rome and finally they were going to meet Cyrus, her maker. The rules were quite straightforward. During the first thirty-five to forty years of a fledgling’s life they were deemed to be merging with the new soul, so they were supposed to be kept away from other Rabisu to avoid any external influence. Cimon was only ten years into this life, but Cyrus had agreed to see them, as he was intrigued by what she’d told him of her latest child. It was also hard for her to be apart from her maker for so long as well. So this was as much for her as it was for Cyrus.

  They were greeted at the door and were left to wait in the atrium by a loyal slave Shelpa remembered from her last visit. It was a shame that Cyrus’s long-term companion, Mardonus, had been forced, despite his protests, to leave for the duration of their visit. If he’d been here he could have kept Cimon entertained as she reacquainted herself with her maker. Hopefully Cimon would understand her desire to spend time with Cyrus, recognising the similar urge inside himself to be with his maker.

  She could feel that Cyrus was on the other side of the court garden. He’d be able to detect her presence in his house just as she could feel him here. It was the bond between the maker and their child that never died between Rabisu, though every maker had a favourite child with which the connection was stronger. Strange as it seemed to both of them, for some reason she had that link with Cyrus. They didn’t question why it was, but took pleasure in their natural closeness.

  She glanced over at Cimon. Would Cyrus be pleased with him? She suspected that they would get on, as they seemed very similar to her. And maybe Cimon would benefit from talking to someone like him, someone who had compassion and empathy for the humans in the world.

  She’d tried to talk with him, and understand why he felt this way, but people’s pathetic lives didn’t interest her. They were there simply for her pleasure and to adore her when it was amusing for them to do so. Quite simply they were beneath her. Cyrus had never felt like that and had often been frustrated by her lack of compassion and disregard. Understandably he hadn’t particularly liked Agis, who was disinterested in humans as she was. And yet the strange thing was that already she felt a lot closer to Cimon than she had to Agis. She didn’t like to think deeply on matters, but maybe these two men acted as her conscience leaving her free to enjoy herself?

  Cyrus was coming now; he was crossing the garden and would soon be here. Finally she felt a wave of anxiety come from the Rabisu standing next to her. That was a good thing, this was the first time Cimon would be meeting another of their kind and he should know respect.

  Cyrus strode into the atrium, tall and dark, with a military bearing from his mortal life. Shelpa felt the familiar sense of desire and wellbeing that his presence aroused in her. His dark eyes twinkled with humour as he came over to take her hands.


  “Shelpa my child, you look radiant as ever.” In one fluid movement he’d pulled her into his embrace and they were exchanging essence. After several intimate moments they drew apart and smiled tenderly. Shelpa let her hand cradle Cyrus’s face for an extra moment then she let it fall.

  “It’s been too long, but necessary. This is your latest child?” he asked glancing over to Cimon who watched the whole exchange quietly. Thankfully she couldn’t sense any jealousy or anger coming from him, which was a good sign.

  “This is Cimon. He was a shepherd in Boeotia, his essence was too strong and he refused to die, so I merged him.” She watched as Cimon met Cyrus’s gaze without flinching.

  “Welcome, Cimon. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure we can talk soon, but in the meantime I hope you won’t mind if I spend some time with Shelpa as it’s been a long while since she and I were last together.”

  Cimon glanced over at Shelpa. “Of course; I understand.”

  Shelpa could see the relief on Cyrus’s face and could feel it as an almost tangible emotion between them. Agis had reacted quite differently to that simple request and had continued to be difficult every time they had been with Cyrus. It wasn’t any wonder that her maker hadn’t taken to her first child.

  “Please make yourself at home in my house. Feel free to take, but not kill any slave you want,” Cyrus told Cimon, taking Shelpa’s hand.

  “Thank you, but I’ll wait,” Cimon replied, bowing his head in a respectful fashion.

  “As you wish,” Cyrus said, a smile of amusement playing on his lips as he glanced at Shelpa.

  “Cimon, I’d ask that you don’t go out yet. I’d prefer to give you some guidance on the most suitable places. We’ve several wielders here that I’d like you to avoid. I hope you understand.”

  Cimon nodded again and without further ado, Cyrus led Shelpa away to his bedroom on the other side of the atrium.

  Happy and content to be with her maker again Shelpa lay in Cyrus’s arms in his sumptuous bed, one of his few indulgences.

  “No, I don’t know who his other soul is. I don’t ask,” she told him turning around to look at her maker.

  “What do you actually know about him?” he asked patiently. Shelpa pondered for a while. Finally she answered.

  “What does it matter? Who we were before has little bearing on who we are. It doesn’t matter so I don’t ask. He’ll be who he becomes.”

  Cyrus smiled at her and pushed a stray, dark hair back behind her ear. “He’s clearly not like Agis, as the boy has a brain and from what I can see a conscience. It was good that you insisted on bringing him here.”

  “It’s against the rules though, what if others find out?”

  “They won’t mind, and as it’s only me there won’t be a problem.”

  She lay back down onto his chest. “I didn’t mean to make him. He was too ugly, I just wanted to feed, but he wouldn’t die. So I remembered what you told me, if they refuse to die, they’ll make good hunters, so I merged him.”

  He laughed at that. “So he was a mistake! But that’s not what I said exactly. It’s better to leave them alone in a situation like that. But they do make good hunters.” He was quiet for a moment then he added. “He’s not unattractive now.”

  Shelpa smiled. “Thankfully, the merging’s happening quite fast. The other soul must have been quite a handsome man to compensate for his looks.”

  “Shelpa, you mustn’t judge people on their looks. Agis was a pretty boy and certainly isn’t a nice Rabisu.” She gave a yelp of protest at that, but Cyrus continued. “It’s true, he disappeared as soon as he could and no one’s heard from him since. Well, that’s not true, he was seen in Africa last year by another hunter and he seems to be all right.”

  “Why didn’t you say?” She sat up and looked at him. “I’ve been worried.”

  He smiled sadly at her. “Have you? Have you really? He’s been gone almost fifty years without a word to anyone and you didn’t go looking.”

  She pouted. “It’s his youthful years. It’s when we all go out by ourselves seeking adventure.”

  Cyrus stroked her head. “You went, but stayed in touch and we kept meeting. I did the same when I left Enhil. And Mardonus did the same when he left Tep. It’s very unusual to disappear without a trace.”

  “Was I that bad a maker?” she asked forlornly. He shook his head.

  “No, Shelpa, you were a fine maker, but a bad judge of character and unlucky with the soul that merged with him. You’ve done a good job with this young Cimon. Even if you don’t know anything about him or understand him.”

  She looked up at him, a slight smile playing on her lips. “You guessed that?” He nodded, his eyes warm with amusement. “I think he’s bringing himself up,” she admitted.

  Cyrus pulled her back into his arms.” He’s devoted to you, it’s clear you’ve a strong bond, but he lets you have your freedom. You’ve laid the rules down with him perfectly. And he’s still alive so that’s the best gift you can give any fledgling.”

  “He hated me at first. Even hit me when he first fled his village.” She grinned up at him. Cyrus raised his eyebrows. Then reached down to kiss her head.

  “Well, it shows what a good maker you are that he loves you now.” She snuggled into his arms feeling reassured.

  ***

  Cimon put his head down on the couch and watched the acrobats tumble and cartwheel their intricate moves around the room. Opposite him Cyrus and Shelpa lay on the couch together, sharing private words with each other.

  He should be jealous, but he wasn’t. He could see that Shelpa dearly loved her maker and was delighted to be in his company. She was radiant around him and so much happier. And it was obvious that Cyrus felt a similar way, as he barely took his eyes from her and they would often share small intimate touches. The bond between them was genuine and strong, strengthened by time and they seemed to revel in being back together.

  This meant that Shelpa mostly spent her nights with Cyrus, though she always made time for him, and then it was Cyrus’s turn to wait. So for the first time in years Cimon was alone at night and he was actually enjoying himself. Cyrus had told him the best places where he could go and feed without any trouble and he was even permitted to bring companions back to the villa.

  They both had strong feelings for Shelpa. But there hadn’t been any conflict between them. They had both understood and acknowledged each other’s place and respected their importance to the female Rabisu. In fact it had quickly settled into an easy three-way relationship, with Shelpa showing a maturity and understanding that he hadn’t expected.

  The music stopped and the acrobats left the room. Everyone clapped. Shelpa looked across at him; he pulled a face to show his impatience. He was going into town soon but he’d stayed for this dinner party that Cyrus was throwing for his freedmen and clients. It was a weekly occurrence and an important part of the patronage system, which Cimon knew he had to understand if he was ever live in Rome in his own right.

  The dancers came in and immediately the pipes began with a happy piece obviously supposed to invoke a rural arcadia. Shelpa pulled a face and he grinned in return. Then Cyrus whispered something to her and she looked sheepish, but when she glanced up, her eyes were eloquent in their mocking. He put his head down on the couch so as not to laugh and invoke the wrath of their host. At times like this he was reminded that they were still young or had been when they’d been merged and consequently they both found these evenings turgid and boring.

  When he looked up, Shelpa was the picture of a Roman Matron and refusing to look at him. Instead he rolled over to watch the dancers. Maybe if one was nice he could stay in and not go out into the city.

  One of them immediately caught his eye. She was a little heavy on one foot and clearly favouring the other. It was fascinating how she hid it and adapted the steps to conceal her injury. She was good, very good and he was quite taken with her, until she swung her head around and stared straight a
head into the middle distance.

  His heart skipped a beat and for a moment the world stopped and he could only stare at the girl. She looked like Callie. Down to the last detail it could have been his long dead wife. Spellbound, he continued to watch the injured girl, enthralled by her presence and ignoring everything else in the room. Reason told him that it couldn’t be Callie, but so much had happened to him that broke the rules of reason that anything was possible.

  Finally they finished and bowed. Everyone clapped and they trotted from the room as the acrobats had done before them. Eventually Cimon tore his gaze away and found that Shelpa was staring worriedly at him. He didn’t want her knowing, somehow that would be wrong. So he grinned, letting her know that one of the girls had caught his eye. Which was true; one of them had. He saw the relief in her smile and she whispered to Cyrus, who listened then looked at him and nodded.

  He thanked him soundlessly, then stood up from the couch and made his apologies to the rest of the party. The dancers and their manager would be in the kitchens having some food now. It was part of the payment for their services and it was quite usual for clients who were willing to pay extra, to come and request further services.

  The company, as expected were gathered together in the vast kitchens eating and drinking at the employer’s expense. Cimon waited politely at the door until one of Cyrus’s house slaves recognised him and came over to enquire how he could help.

  The manager of the troupe was with him in moments and after that a deal was struck. Cimon also offered to look at the girl’s leg, to see if he could help in some way. The manager was delighted with earning some extra money and to have one of his best girls treated at the same time without the expense of a doctor.

  Cimon waited whilst the manager turned back and called for the girl. She rose up from the middle of the group seated around the table and made her way towards them. She wasn’t Callie, he could see that now and he didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved by that. His wife had been delicate with a fragility that belied her strength. This girl was very similar to her, but the slight differences in her features gave a knowing sensuality to her face that promised a very different energy. He still wanted her; there was no doubt about that.