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Chapter Thirteen

There is no escape from this sewer unless I kill him.

He will turn me into one of him, then I will do it.

Paolina’s sleeping. He still hasn’t touched her. He will, and it could be after I’m dead, when I can’t even pretend to try to stop it.

Split.

Stake.

Burn.

All require tools I don’t have. Easy tools. Up above, I could get what I need for nothing. Steal a knife. Borrow fire. Make a stake. Down here, I don’t know how I’d even bargain for any of it.

I rip off another bite of bread.

And how will I kill him with a body that only knows obedience? I can’t think him to death.

“You’re hungry?” he says, entering with the usual silence. “Again?”

“My body needs to replenish what you steal.”

He picks up a food sack, finds it empty, and lets it drop. “Can I steal what I own?”

“I have no mind for a philosophical discussion.”

“You need fruit.”

“The fire you make has no warmth. If I could cook something.” I look up at him, hoping I don’t seem too eager, and knowing he can read my body language better than a monk can read scripture. “If I had hot food, my blood would regenerate more quickly.”

“This favor benefits you,” he says. “Not me. All of Rome is above us, and slaves taste the same as citizens.” He shakes his head. “I don’t need your blood. I am nourished. I am awake. I won’t need to feed for many days.”

I don’t know whether to be relieved that I may have respite, or horrified that when he takes me again, he will be doing it for fun.

“What about her?” I jut my chin in Paolina’s direction. She’s awake, but feigning sleep. “What are you saving her for?”

“She’s for you, boy.”

I stand quickly and face him. His eyes are flashing like fireflies and his smirk is the delight of the predator the moment he knows he has time to play with his prey.

Paolina was right.

Split.

Stake.

Burn.

I need things. Objects. I need someone to hear me speak, so they can do with their hands what I cannot do with mine.

When I swallow, the last of the crumbs scrape the walls of my throat. I have no chance down here. “Can I see outside again as a man? One more time?”

“You’re asking for another favor?”

“Asking for… mercy.”

“A king sees the world from above. A king sees beyond the horizon and deeper than the sea. A man sees the limits up to his own pathetic mind and thinks he knows what he needs to make a decision. My words are the only words you can trust, and they say, ‘I am doing you the greatest of mercies.’”

Before I can peddle another argument, he’s on me, but it’s different this time. He doesn’t drink with lust, just efficiency. He drains me so deeply, I am sure I’m going to die. I thank God for that release, while praying for another moment to save Paolina.

I don’t want to leave her.

I can’t leave her here alone with this monster.

She’s for you, boy .

“No.”

Darkness. Pinpoints of light. Then glowing strands and shafts falling like stars all around me. I am falling down a black hole, surrounded by a spiral of light so dim, it’s barely discernible.

I reach out to grab it so I can stop the sickening descent, but it will not allow my touch.

I am standing. The sewer is a flat gray, as if a fog has descended. The stone walls seem made of plaster, and the rivulet of water through the center of the room flows as thickly as soup.

We are in the gray purgatory, but this time, I am not being sucked dry.

Paolina lies at my feet, pretending to sleep.

“I brought her here for you,” he says.

“I won’t do it.”

He is clothed like a noble of an ancient age. It’s as if he wants me to see him this way.

“Her blood will make your power second only to mine.” He twists the ring around the base of his finger. “As it should be.”

No. I’ll run. My eyes dart around the tunnel I’ve come to know so well. It is different and exactly the same.

“What is this purgatory?”

“This is the land between life and death. For mortals, it’s a thin line, but for me…

for us , soon enough… it is vast.” When I look back at him, he is a raven with feathers black enough to glow blue in the yellow light.

He flies to me and alights by Paolina’s head.

He turns back into a man. “It is as much our kingdom as what you call Rome.”

Rome. The land above. City of fire and blade.

“Show me.”

He blinks, and we are not just above the sewer, but above the city, on a high wall atop the Palatine Hill.

I am dizzy and almost fall from the edge, but he steadies me.

I keep my gaze forward and my feet still.

He looks solid and real, but the city, the stones, everything else seems thin and fake, a poorly hewn scene drawn from a limited imagination.

“This is not… it doesn’t seem…” I lose words.

“This is not the Manifest. This is yours. Ours. It is how you will travel. How you will hunt. This is the power of the unseen.”

From the street, Rome seems narrow, tall, sucked into the sky. Its cathedral spires reach for heaven. But from here, it is vast, wide, flooding the horizon while the people below are no bigger than dust, blowing in a gentle, persistent breeze.

And it all seems to exist behind the white gauze of a bridal veil.

If I jump from this wall, what will happen? Will my body float on this fog or smash to the stones?

“Can I die here?”

“I won’t let you.” He releases me.

“But can I?”

“You can.” He folds his arms and sighs as if resigned to answering. “Your body is no longer in the sewer. It is here, but half dead. The longer a man spends here, the shorter his life will be. Maybe a minute, maybe a year.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. This is not a place for mortals.”

“Can you die here?” I stand straight and take a stupid, purposeless risk.

“I change here.”

He turns into a raven so fast I jump back, almost falling off the wall. My arms spiral and the world drops from under me.

Flipping back into a man, he grabs me. I don’t thank him for putting me safely back on the wall.

“So I can die here,” I say. “In this between place, can you die?”

“I cannot die anywhere.”

“If your head was separated from your heart here?”

“What other stories did your mother tell her little boy suckling?” he asks.

“My mother didn’t teach me about you. She taught me to pray.” I say it proudly, but will not make a statement about learning what she taught.

“I have no doubt she prayed to our goddess.”

“She had my father build a shrine to the Virgin Mary.”

“As I said.” He chuckles, then sighs.

“You burn.”

“I do burn like kindling, and you will too. The most important thing you’ll learn is to protect your heart. Every part of you will heal with enough time. Even your severed head will find your body, unless the heart is split or consumed by flame.”

“What about a stake in your heart?”

“Any man who has been strong enough to get close has been strong enough to become one of my kindred. Some women are more of a challenge, like your Paolina. You’ll want her blood more than any other, and she’s the most likely to kill you first.” He shrugs. “You will be strong enough.”

Paolina is in the sewer. She is not in thrall. Nothing is keeping her from running, unless she’s staying for me.

To kill me or save me, I do not know.

Either way, I cannot save Paolina unless I save her from me.

“I am not strong.” Before he can command me to stay still or do anything except what I need to do, I shoulder him off the wall, toward the interior side.

I’m not trying to kill him. Just delay him so I can jump off the exterior.

Mid-fall, the thick air splits under me, and I am free. My heart, my body, my mind—they will be reunited and I will be whole again.

I fall forever, but don’t hit the ground.