Page 46 of Obsidian Dream
Chapter Nineteen
LUCIEN
Lucien chewed the ripered apple and smiled at the crispness and sheer pleasure of each bite.
Loud and crunchy, the sound vibrated through him.He’d almost forgotten how much he loved apples.
Simple.Fresh.And red.Like the color of the blood that was splattered at his feet.
It wasn’t his—he didn’t bleed like a plebeian.He stared at the offender, sighing as he finished the apple and tossed the core in the air before it disappeared.
The Atlantean was huddled in a corner, his arms held tight with chains that rattled every time he moved.His once dark Mediterranean skin had taken on a decidedly yellow glow that clearly did not bode well.Scabs had appeared on his skin.They were at various stages of infection...bloody, red, and swollen.It was almost enough to wreck his appetite, if he had cared about such things.
The Atlantean wasn’t healing as fast as he’d been in the cavern.It appeared his loyalty to the Anki was taking far more out of him than expected.A minor side effect of attempting to negotiate with the monstrous gods.
He clicked his fingers, trying to recall the name.It started with an I.
Idris.
Lucien walked toward the captive, careful to only step where the guards had stood.He kneeled in front of the Atlantean, tilting his head, until he could feel Idris breathing against his cheek, and listened to the ancient chant.
He knew the song well.Too well.
Lucien sniffed the air, deconstructing the scents.There.On the periphery, he could sense her.Ninhursag.She must have recently visited Idris, but not in person and taken enough of Idris’s life force that he was barely surviving.She was keeping Idris alive in this liminal state, half living, half dead.
Grabbing Idris by the throat, he lifted him off the ground, well off the floor, as the chains silently rattled.Pale, bloodshot eyes, almost lifeless, stared through him.His stench was putrid, a combination of decaying flesh and something obnoxiously sweet.The signature smell of the wayfarers.He would have thought they would have improved their scent by now.
“Tell me,” Lucien whispered.The words were a command wrapped in a hypnotizing promise.One that hinted at freedom.It wasn’t a lie.Death was the ultimate form of freedom.“Where did you cross paths with Ninhursag?”
Idris muttered something incoherent as he gasped for air.Lucien loosened his grip, allowing only enough room for him to take a shallow breath.
“...Rome...catacombs...hidden.”
Lucien tilted his head.It had been centuries since he had visited Europe, longer still since he walked the streets of Rome.Nero had set the city alight the last time he was there.
“...Dante.”
He dropped Idris to the ground.The Atlantean fell into a heap as the chains gently floated into position, careful not to make a sound.
Taking a step back, he looked at the Atlantean, trying to conjure up the reason Idris had been chosen.Weak and willful were not a combination that would be appealing to most.But then Ninhursag liked a challenge.She liked to ruin her toys and then slowly piece them back together like a rag doll.Until they were so broken and pitiful, she finally tired of them.Idris had clearly lost his allure as a toy.
Rome.
