Page 6 of The Night Belongs To Lovers

Though a stripper he might be portraying, Corey was a god and had no intention of allowing this mob of prurient mortal men to gain the upper hand. Despite what most of the gathering thought, he was not the meat here, the product. He would treat them all in whatever manner he so chose—and they would like it; a cursory telepathic scan of the room had determined no prudes were in residence tonight.

OLYMPIUS

The Past

BEFORECoriolanus could continue ranting or get up off the ground, the raven-haired god was upon him, gently but firmly bringing his hand down atop the godling’s muscular chest, preventing erratic movement.

“Be still, my beauty, my warrior. Calm, thyself. You look upon me now with eyes that see beyond mortal limitations. The darkness all around feels alive. You can hear its heartbeat. Your senses are afire, burning with an intensity that would drive anyman mad. But you are a mortal man no longer. Welcome these new, heightened senses. Embrace them.

“I am Olympius, Lord of the Night, Master of Darkness, your Maker, although mortals have known me by other names. I have observed much of your life, for you have interested me for some time. I have seen and cheered your many triumphs and cringed at your failures. I saw the betrayal of Rome, your home, throw you to its door, and I agonized over the sedition of Aufidius, which resulted in your mortal death.

“No, Gnaeus Marcius Coriolanus, do not shake your head in confusion. You arenot dead. Mortal death, yes, but in truth, you are now beyond the grasp of Thanatos, known to you as Mors. You are a being like myself, superior to what you were, though not my equal. What you are is a god! That is what you are forever!”

Coriolanus’ eyes widened in disbelief, staggered by this blow of unexpected revelation.

Olympius found this bewilderment oddly endearing, even Coriolanus’ reflexive suspicion entertaining, though taking amusement from his disconcertment did feel mean-spirited. And it was not his intent to upset his warrior-god. He was here to remake him stronger. Olympius wished for Coriolanus to be bold and fearless—and loved eternally.

“Does that word alarm you, my warrior-god—forever? I have plucked you from the grave to give you the grandest gift imaginable. I provide opportunity and the power to become what you never were in mortality. That, and so much more.With my guidance, naturally. From this point forward, Coriolanus, you shall overcome the weakness that was your mortal failure.

“To do this, you must first confront your past, once celebrated General and leader of men. I shall reveal how your excessive pride led you to dishonour and death. That last part led you to me.

“As a mortal, your pride was an intricate part of your sense of self, of your existence as both warrior and patrician. Your lecherous mother, Veturia, ingrained this self-destructive aspect of your personality into your being from birth. Nay, from the womb, I say.

“Things change, Coriolanus, as do all mortals, but your pride would not allow you to change when the politics of Rome needed you to compromise. With your arrogance and unwavering mindset, you rebelled and fought tooth and nail for impassiveness, and this approach led you to ruin. Expelled from Rome, forced to flee from the place of your birth, you ran to the arms of your enemy—Rome’s enemy—and your lover, Aufidius.”

Olympius caught the slight contorting of Coriolanus’ face, a twinge of anger at the mention of the Volscian General’s name, but no trace of mortification. He knew the godling felt no shame regarding his desire for Aufidius or the fleshly acts between them. What bubbled hotly in Coriolanus’ chest was fury and bitterness, barely contained, in knowing his lover had betrayed him.

“Are you surprised by my knowledge? Nothing you did in private chambers or darkened battlefields escaped my attentive eye—or my power. Your mortal mind was always open to me. I know yoursecrets and have witnessed all your pleasures and pains: the sensual, the sentimental, and the tragic.

“Do you find that invasive? Do you feel violated? You will learn that gods rarely have such boundaries with mortals, though only a lack of subtlety and respect for the art of mind-walking causes harm. However, you may lock your mind to me now as I have given you the power to keep gods out.”

That statement was true up to a point. Older, more powerful gods, such as Olympius, could overcome the barriers of a younger or less formidable immortal; however, he chose not to disclose that information.

“In your mind, I saw what it was like for you to love one such as Tullus Aufidius. He is a magnificent specimen of male flesh. Regal and robust, rippled with Achillian strength and a mischievous glint in his eye. Those commanding, thrilling embraces, the thought of which hardened you as you dreamed about them—about himwhilst in the realm of Morpheus, known to you as Somnia. So much like you in appearance. How unlike you in spirit. The weak, sad, pathetic mortal Coriolanus.

“When you thrust into Aufidius with your rigid, swollen member, would you say it felt like the power of the Thunderbolt thrown down from Olympus by mighty Zeus, known to you as Jupiter, cracking the earth, deep and penetrating? Or that intense feeling when you gave yourself to him? Tell me, my warrior-god, what was it like to be skewered by him? Did his sword feel majestic?Stuck in you—in your back! Oh, to be betrayed by one you so desired and willingly gave yourself to.”

Laughing condescendingly, Olympius could feel the hatred building inside Coriolanus for him. He did not take it personally; it was rage, understandably misdirected, and precisely what he was trying to produce. It was akin to a temple devoted to the god of vindication and vengeance. What sacrifice would he demand from his acolyte? Happily, this warrior-god was serving his Maker well. Cemented here tonight would be Coriolanus’ new ideology. Olympius would make sure of it.

Raising his voice to a more commanding presence, Olympius further battered the godling with additional reproachful words.

“Gnaeus Marcius Coriolanus,the man, was too easily led and manipulated by others. Your mother, Veturia, was a wretched influence. She kept you emotionally immature and ill-prepared for the politics of Roman society.The politics of war, Coriolanus, are not the same, and while being a legendary General on the battlefield, you stood an ignorant fool in the arena of government, possessing a temperament ill-suited for it.

“Veturia once exclaimed in my masked presence that there was no son so bound to his mother as hers. The great tragedy here is that pride made you exceptional in battle and acts of valour, but it brought your final defeat. That self-serving harpy knew well what she had done. You, Coriolanus, were nothing but your mother’s puppet. She did not know how to rule over clever, influential menor a city-state—let alone a great Republic! It seems you, fatherless nearly since birth, were also incapable of such a task.

“Is that indignation I again see on your face, my warrior-god? Outrage? Do my insights disturb you? You undoubtedly see them as insults, but they are naught but the truth. If they enrage you, do not blame me, for I am not Veturia who created and destroyed you! You were dependent on her approval and fair opinion of you. Do you care what I think? In this angry, confused state, not yet, but you will. And you will be all the better for it.

“How weak you were, Coriolanus. Do you remember abandoning your life rather than suffering your mother’s disapproval? You betrayed Rome to Aufidius and then betrayed him for your mother’s approval. How harsh his reprisal was. Do not place your hands over your ears! Why could you not see how this woman manipulated you?

“When you had the opportunity to avenge your betrayal by Rome with the help of Aufidius, you allowed your mother to draw you back into subservience. You avoided the trauma of her rejection if you sacked Rome through your promise to her to spare it in the end. Yes, you saved your honour as a Roman warrior, at least to yourself, but you practically placed those Volscian swords in your belly. You forced yourself into accepting—no, intochoosingan ignominious death at the hands of your enemy, ally, lover, and betrayer!

“Was it not Aufidius, himself, who claimed you were unmanly for bowing to a woman’s plea and burdened you with the slander of treachery? Yes. Do not deny any of this.

“Your weakness, this inability to conquer Veturia’s will, destroyed you. Poor inflexible creature, demeaning yourself under her domination. From the shadows, I pitied you, then. Oh, how I pitied you as I watched your fall from grace. Could you not see your descent away from humanity? Did you not become in spirit and action the very demon you see yourself as now in this transformed, strange, unfamiliar body you cannot yet comprehend? Is it all any different?

“Do you remember how you embraced solitude in exile when you first abandoned Rome, Coriolanus? How your own family never entertained the thought of leaving the city with you, their familial ties secondary to their allegiance to Rome. Do you recall these betrayals, Coriolanus? Or should I refer to you asmy sweet son? She did, your—mother.”

The last word dripped off Olympius’ tongue like the vilest of poisons.

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