The Family Man

"Your fate is eternal as is our vengeance. You will suffer as we have, one child at a time. Thy pain is our pain, returned in kind by the last of us." Atticus repeated the woman's words, "I believe she was their priestess."

"It is over then," Marcius said, wiping his sword on one of the furs. "This woman need not have wasted her curse on me. This slaughter will weigh heavy enough on my soul." He looked at Atticus with tired eyes.

"He is gone," One of the men said, returning from the passage. "It narrows a short way in. Too small for us, but the boy squirmed right through."

"The last of us," Atticus repeated. Marcius glared at Atticus. The boy was gone though a search of the opposite side of the hill may still yield him up. The orders were for all to be killed.

"I say there was no boy here," Marcius announced. The others looked at him with curiosity. "Either that, or we search the hill and failing that, kill every boy child in a hundred miles." Caesar's orders were clear, yet it needed to end.

"I saw no child," one of the men announced quickly. The glory-less killing had taken its toll. Agreement was reached quickly.

"I'll have your oaths," Marcius demanded. They were given. The old woman was carried to the carnage below. The last victim of Roman justice.

"What if the boy grows and seeks his vengeance?" Atticus whispered as the men made ready to leave.

"I'd owe him the chance," Marcius answered, looking upon the ring of heads. "Wouldn't I?"

Chapter 20

"Are you saying you were a Roman soldier?" I asked.

"I was born Marcius Thracius. Roman soldier and, before my wife was murdered, a senator of Rome," Eric replied. I stared at him trying to digest what he had told me. He waited patiently for me, giving me time to think. If I hadn't seen him die, I would have thought him insane.

"You're like... 2000 years old," I stuttered.

"And barely a day wiser," Eric admitted. His eyes dropped to the floor. "I should never have added myself to your list of problems. That night you came over...well, I was weak, and you were beyond incredible."

"I thought the same of you." I smiled which caught his eyes. He looked up.

"I wiped out a whole village and was rewarded with fame and a senatorship."

"And immortality," I added.

"No, that was the curse." Eric stood and dug his hands into his pockets. "There are things you should know, reasons why we shouldn't have..."

"Made love," I filled in for his reluctance. Eric nodded and turned away. His mind was working on the next words, something he thought I didn't want to hear. Confessions are a bitch.

"I know some things already," I said, sounding guiltier than I intended. He turned back to me with eyebrows raised. "I thought you..." I paused, adding a smile to make sure he knew I thought it all idiotic now. "I thought your interest in Maria was something else." Eric thankfully laughed, probably kicking himself for overdoing his standoffishness in the beginning.

"I hired someone to look into you," I said, cringing when his laughter stopped. In for a penny, in for a pound. "I'm sorry, the police are going to talk to you."

"Did you talk to them?" Eric's face tightened.

"Not on purpose. The private eye was murdered last night, and my case file was missing." Eric's eyes went wide, something akin to terror. "I tried to leave you out of it, but they think you're part of some elaborate con." Eric stepped back. "I couldn't lie to them," I said.

"Where's Maria?" Eric's voice was ominous as if our previous discussions no longer mattered.

"With Jake, at his place." Eric pulled out his phone, ignoring my need for an explanation.

"Jake, it's Eric. I need you to listen carefully. You and Maria need to get out of your apartment. I'll meet you someplace public. The zoo is open, by the bear enclosure." There was a brief pause, Eric's hand stalling my questions. "No! Do it now, leave everything..." Eric's face became confused, and he pulled the phone from his ear and looked at its face. The call was dead.

"What are you into?" I demanded. Something that involved my daughter. Eric ignored my question and tried to reestablish the call. He failed.

"We're leaving," Eric ordered, pulling me out of the room.

"Is someone after you?" I accused.

"Not me. He's after Jake and Maria," I yanked my hand away from Eric. He turned toward me with moisture heavy in his eyes. "We have to go now!"

Eric's concern was real. The mother in me went into panic mode. I ran after him, duplicating his speed to the car. Once we were moving down the road, ignoring all posted speed limits, Eric spoke again.

Chapter 21

Aigla smiled as she walked from the bath. She enjoyed her lot in life, the one built by her hero of a husband. Though her body showed her age and the birthing of four children, he looked no older than when she first met him. She would have preferred a larger family, but it was not to be. Four children, well married, was happiness enough.

The other senator's wives were jealous. And why shouldn't they be? Marcius had the ear of Caesar and the backing of the people. She took much of the credit for keeping him young. Her smile grew as she remembered last night. Other husbands get bored and strayed. Marcius' interest lay in one woman, and she did everything to make sure it stayed there. It was a bonus that it kept her young on the inside as well. The smile that man could put on her face. A chuckle escaped her lips.

Aigla moved into the bedroom, her mind on the midday meal. She never saw the man standing calmly behind the pillar. He wasn't built as slim as most city born. Bulkier, like a warrior. His hair was trimmed neatly as if he were of money, or worked for such. His clothes were nondescript, not much different than you'd find on a street vendor.

Aigla dropped her towel and lifted the dress she set out earlier. The man chose that moment to strike. Her vulnerability was as pleasing to him as her impending death.

"Call your husband," the man ordered with a strong accent. The knife at her throat dug in, drawing a thin red line.

"Marcius," Aigla called in barely a whisper. Her hands were trying helplessly to remove his arm, and thus the knife away from her skin.

"Louder!"

"Marcius," Aigla screamed. The man laughed at the panic he felt coursing through her naked body. It was all that he imagined. It was worth the years of waiting.

Marcius heard Aigla's call and recognized the panic in it. He came running, grabbing a sword off the wall as he moved through the house. He slowed when you saw her naked form in the arms of a smiling man and the knife at her throat.

"Harm her, and you'll die slowly," Marcius warned. He moved slowly forward looking for an opportunity. The man laughed and pulled the knife deeper against Aigla's throat. She gasped, trying to move backward and somehow lessen its depth. Marcius slowed his advance.

"Money, I have plenty. What do you want?" Marcius asked, shifting sideways away from the bed to afford a better attack angle.

"Her life, your children's lives, their children's lives. Will you give me those, Centurion?" the man asked, moving to keep Aigla between him and Marcius.

"Have I harmed you in some way?" Marcius asked, buying time to find a better angle.

"Me? No, you didn't harm me. I am the last. I am my tribe's vengeance," the man said, dragging the flat of the blade down between Aigla's breasts.

"Your argument is with me," Marcius said. Someday had come. The fragile boy was now a man, large and confident. Time had not weakened his desire. Marcius smiled at Aigla, trying to assure her. The fear in her eyes was more than he could bear. Marcius dropped his sword. "Let her be and take my life. It is a debt owed too long." He opened his arms, fingers spread in surrender.

"No Marcius," Aigla cried, leaning toward him. The Gaul pulled her back roughly, forcing air from her lungs.

"Let her go," Marcius begged, kicking his sword farther from his reach. "I'm the one you want."

"You only need to see," the Gaul said, and his smile grew. Marcius heart sunk as he saw the man's intent. He moved forward with all his speed, his eyes glued to the knife.

The blade dug into Aigla's belly. She screamed as the Gaul dragged it across her abdomen. Marcius died inside. He lunged, grabbing the hand that held the blade and tried to retract it, trying to undo what was done. Aigla's eyes rolled backward, and her insides began to flow from under her skin.

"No, no, no," Marcius cried, somehow forcing the blade from the Gaul's hand. It clattered on the floor. The man pushed Aigla into Marcius' arms.

"Your children and their children," The Gaul threatened as he backed away, wiping his bloody hand on his pants. Marcius laid Aigla on the ground, his front covered in blood. Screaming, he grabbed the blade near his feet and charged at the Gaul. His hand was knocked away, and the man ran.

"Marcius," Aigla cried. Marcius let the man go a second time and moved back to his wife. His stomach was turning in knots, his mind rejecting the idea of life without her. Desperately, he tried to close the wound with his hands. She lifted her head and tried to see him.

"Lie still," Marcius said as calmly as he could. The cut was too deep. There was as much damage inside as out.

"Let it be," Aigla moaned, pulling his hands away from her stomach.

"I did this to you," Marcius admitted, "I killed you, my love." Aigla pulled his bloody hands up to her chest, nestling them between her breasts.

"Our children. Is that man after our children?" Aigla whispered.

"Yes. I killed his family, his tribe," Marcius cried. Aigla shook her head.

"You will stop him!" Aigla said, blood leaking from her mouth. She coughed, splattering Marcius' clothes. Her grip tightened on his hands. "Promise me you will protect our babies."

"Yes, my love," Marcius said.

"Kill him!" Aigla demanded. Her eyes looking past Marcius, seeing things only the dying see.

"On my oath," Marcius vowed. Aigla's face calmed and an odd smile formed on her bloody lips.

"It was a good life," Aigla said, her breath trailing off.

"I love you," Marcius said as he leaned into her, trying to hold onto the closeness. Aigla eyes no longer held light, her lungs emptied for the last time. The servants heard a Roman war cry coming from the back of the house, the master's bedroom.

The next morning, a surprised Senate accepted a popular senator's resignation. Marcius Thracius scattered his family and went hunting.

Chapter 22

"Oh God," I cried. The Gaul was hunting my baby. "Why didn't you kill him."

"I did," Eric grunted as he turned left on Main. "Many times I killed him and died a few myself. The curse won't allow a reprieve."

"Jake is your family," I guessed.

"Jake and Maria are Aigla's babies," Eric said, slamming on the breaks for a jerk that wouldn't go through the yellow. He honked and drove around before the green lit for the other traffic.

"That's why you fixed Jake," I said, pointing toward Travis Lane. "It's quicker if you take a right here."

"I promised Aigla," Eric said, squealing the tires to make the turn. He re-engaged the accelerator, and the car surged forward.

"What have I done?" I said, more to myself than to Eric. If only I had just let Eric do his thing and move on. No, I had to dig out the truth, then dig out the man. I pointed at the next left and Eric followed my directions without hesitation.

"Will he kill her?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Yes," Eric said, again slamming the accelerator to the floor.

"Can you stop him?"

"I've done it before," Eric said. "He likes to wait for me to arrive. Maximizes my pain that way."

"Then why are we going there?" I asked, shocked at his answer.

"He doesn't wait long," Eric said, speeding by a car pulling out of a driveway. The driver slammed on his brakes in surprise. "It's been a few hundred years since his last murder. I thought I'd covered up the trails well enough, or maybe he'd gotten bored."

"I screwed it up," I said. Tears formed as I imagined my baby's stomach being torn out.

"No, I did," Eric said. "I should have been more distant. Never get close. Never get close." It was some kind of mantra he had told himself in the past. I could feel the pain behind it.

"We have to stop him," I demanded. "What if we call the police?"

"He'll just kill them immediately. A few decades in prison won't deter him," Eric grunted. "The bastard won't be satisfied until Aigla's line is no longer."

"Your line," I pointed out angrily.

"I have to be more distant," Eric repeated. I remembered him dealing with the two neighborhood boys, the ones teasing Maria. It was the actions of a grandfather. Those were the eyes I saw staring at my baby. Prideful eyes. The curse would have fit a less caring man better, a man who'd just let it take its course and enjoy the immortality.

We pulled up to Jake's complex. A Three story building shaped like a large 'L' on the ground. His apartment was on the second floor, near the top of the 'L.' Eric didn't wait for me or took the time to stop the engine or close the door.

"Stay here," Eric ordered as he ran. Screw that, I thought and sprinted after. There was no way I'd leave my daughter in the hands of a maniac. Eric didn't argue when I followed. He ran up the stairs, three at a time practically jumping over the turn in the railing at the landing. I was halfway up when he hit the second floor. I was running down the hall as Eric burst through the apartment door. It was then I felt naked without my gun. I couldn't remember what happened to it. Maybe the police still had it.

The door was open when I arrived, breathing hard. I could hear a deep chuckle and Eric's pleading coming from the great room. Mixed with my fear was a small bit of clear thought. I shifted into the kitchen and retrieved a large meat knife sticking out of a wooden block. Then moved out the far door, through the dining area.

"Quentin, this has to end," Eric said as he maneuvered around the coffee table. My stomach curled. Quentin had one arm tightly around Maria's chest, the other holding a knife that was already cutting shallowly into the skin of her neck. Maria was in shock, hyperventilating and crying at the same time. His eyes moved to me, then back to Eric.

"Send Mom away," Quentin said in a deep European accent while pointing at me with his head. "I have no interest in her."

"Mommy..." Quentin tightened his hold on Maria, choking her words away and making her gasp for air.

"This mom won't leave," I said as hard as I could. I lifted the knife up and willed my hand to stop shaking. The pain in my baby's eyes was more than I could stand. It was ripping my insides apart. I almost tripped over Jake as I approached. He was laying on the ground with blood leaking from a wound on his forehead. I wasn't sure if he was dead or alive.

"Do you feel it?" Quentin asked, looking at Eric. "I still remember it well. The helplessness as life after life of everyone that loved me was ripped from the world." He laughed and drew the knife a short distance across my baby's throat.

"No!" I screamed, tears falling in concert with the small river of blood on Maria's throat. She was helpless trying to suck her neck in, away from the knife. I could see the horror on her face. Ten feet away and there was nothing I could do but hasten it.

"Please," Eric said, holding his empty hands out from his body. "It happened centuries ago. She doesn't even understand why you're doing it."

"It's only sufficient for you to know. I get to watch your heart shatter another time. I get to see your eyes while another of your children is ripped from the world." There was no reasoning with the man. His revenge had consumed any empathy he may have possessed in the past. My baby was going to die because her grandfather loved her. It was all to cause Eric pain.

"Kill me instead," I said quickly. Options were limited, and barter seemed the best course of action. I couldn't image life without Maria in it anyway. Eric tried to wave me to be quiet as he inched closer. Quentin's eyes shifted, prepping for that last desperate move by Eric that would signal the end of Maria's life. "He loves me," I said loudly. Eric stopped, and Quentin's eyes found mine.

"He loves me," I repeated. My knife moved on its own, my blade turning to point at my stomach. Desperation was all I had. "Your oath that you'll leave my daughter be, and I'll make him suffer." I pushed the point of the knife into my shirt, testing the strength of my skin.

"Natalie..." Eric panicked.

"She's my daughter!" I screamed at Eric. Everything was foggy as my eyes welled up. "Your oath," I demanded from Quentin. Quentin looked at the distress in Eric's eyes and his inability to know which way to move, then back at me. Quentin's confident smile disappeared. There was something bordering on curiosity in his eyes. Even the knife in his hand had relaxed. "Do I have your word?" I asked again.

Quentin was having trouble speaking. Eric was moving toward me, so I took a step away. Quentin subtly nodded his head, relaxing his knife even more. He had a dumbfounded look on his face as he watched me. I pushed the knife and gasped as it broke through my shirt and punctured the first layer of skin. Not as much pain as I had expected.

"No!" Eric yelled, grabbing my hands and fighting to pull the knife back.

"I love you," I gasped at Eric, and pushed the knife in deeper. It was only pain, mine and Eric's. A little suffering and my baby would grow old. It was such a small price to pay.

Maria screamed. Quentin dropped his knife and stumbled backward onto the couch. The pain increased, and my diaphragm began to revolt. Eric was pulling the knife out with all his might, trying to kill my baby.

"Stop," Quentin said softly, then repeated it louder. Maria was running toward me. I let go of the knife and fell to the floor. Eric followed me down, throwing the knife to the side. My side spasmed, and I fought to breathe. Eric tore open my shirt and covered the wound with his hand, trying to close the wound. I wondered if it was the same with his wife.

Maria was crying and hugging my head. Blood dripped calmly from her neck onto my cheek.

"It's okay," I whispered to her. The world was going in and out of focus, my tears now running down the sides of my face. My baby was free.

"Will she live?" It was Quentin asking. He was standing behind Eric as if he hadn't just threatened the life of a small girl.

Eric spun like a coiled snake, throwing himself into Quentin. "Stop," I tried to say, but only mumbled. Maria shifted, trying to stay out of the way but close to me.

The two wrestled, knocking into furniture. Somehow Eric ended up on top with my knife to Quentin's throat. It seemed silly, two immortals fighting when neither could ever claim victory. "Stop," I tried to say again, holding my hand out to Eric. My baby was safe, and that's all that mattered now.

"It's over," Quentin said.

"It's never over," Eric growled and pushed the knife into Quentin's skin.

"I'm done," Quentin said calmly. Death held no fear for him. I remembered when Eric died in Martha Cummings' house. He was more worried about my reaction than his passing.

"Don't," I said with a volume that surprised even me. Both their heads turned toward me. "Don't kill him," I added. Even a temporary death would spoil my own. "Only the innocent matter." I gave my girl's hand a weak squeeze and struggled with a smile. The thought of her growing up without me was painful. Better than growing old without her, but it hurt nonetheless.

I watched my beautiful daughter's face begin to fade away. Each tear she shed was so precious. I wanted to tell her so much, but time had run out. Darkness swallowed me whole.