The Beast of Verona: Book I of the Decimus Trilogy Page 8

  The iron bars rose to release the wolf into the arena and he wasted no time. Bounding at a run, he looked wildly about for his prey.

  She was there, in the middle of the arena in a long tunic robe, torn and dirtied from a night’s stay in her prison cell below. The wolf could smell the fear and it fueled his hunger even more. His lips pulled up in a menacing growl, baring his sharp fangs for her.

  Her chestnut eyes stared in horror at her executioner as the wolf circled. Like a skittish deer, she tried to escape, but the wolf was too quick and blocked her every move. The humans in the stands demanded her blood to be spilt and the wolf was more than happy to oblige.

  The longer the wolf studied her, the stronger his hunger became.

  The woman tried to frighten the wolf by charging towards him. He was undeterred, unlike most animals. He stood his ground and each time she backed away before coming too close. The wolf knew she was weak and powerless. Her thin, gaunt frame was evidence of that.

  The wolf took a moment to turn his muzzle towards the crowd. They all shouted, willing him to get the job done. But as his keen animal eyes scanned the faces, his attention snagged upon one that was familiar.

  The girl was in the bottom tier of seats, alone. Her adorned hair and rich clothes told the story of her wealth. But her face told another. She wasn’t cheering with the rest. Her hands were folded in supplication to the wolf, her dark eyes brimming with tears that begged for the mercy on behalf of the woman in the arena.

  In the wolf’s heart, the human soul of Decimus screamed out her name, “Caprasia!”

  The wolf’s hold shattered and Decimus somehow gained control. Still in his animal form, Decimus watched Caprasia. Her lips trembled as if she were whispering a prayer. He knew what she wanted. Caprasia wanted the woman to live and not be torn apart by the wolf. Decimus wanted the same.

  In one crucial moment, Decimus had uncovered that extra layer to Caprasia that he had not seen before. It was compassion, mercy, a desire to see others well and succeed. Such a caring heart was a rare thing in a place like this. She hated violence and bloodshed, and to see another fellow human being in pain. She revealed that compassion the night before when he had to leave their home in such a hurry. Only he was too distracted to see it. But, Decimus saw it now.

  Turning back to the criminal before him, he could somehow sense her innocence. He didn’t know what she had done or what she was accused of, but the woman certainly did not deserve this fate.

  It was then he realized what he had become. He was a slave, but also a pawn. The only reason he lived was to provide entertainment for the games and kill those prisoners that were deemed unsuitable for life.

  He would be a slave no more. They could not control him. Caprasia gave him the courage to believe it and act upon it.

  Decimus had a choice to make. If he returned to his cage on the other side of the arena or simply refused to kill this woman, it would not deter her execution. They would find another way to kill her, but it would not be by his hand.

  If he did choose to let the baying wolf within him do what he came to do, Decimus would be giving in to the powers that controlled both him as a human and his nature as a beast. Needless to mention, too, that he would lose his mind to the insanity that waited at the doors each time he left the arena.

  Still, there was another choice. One less bloody and that allowed this woman to walk away as he did years ago.

  Decimus, still in wolf form, circled her again as if to size her up for battle. Inwardly, he taunted her to strike first.

  The woman lunged at him like she had before. This time, Decimus encouraged her by flinching back a few paces. This continued a few times until he could see the confidence rise up in her eyes.

  Decimus leapt forward and launched himself onto the woman, being mindful to keep his fangs and claws away from her skin. They toppled to the ground and his heavy body pinned hers.

  She cried out and the crowd cheered, confident that they would finally see the sport they had come for.

  Decimus withstood her beating fists and did not retaliate before being thrown to the side. He rolled, allowing the crowd to think that she used more strength than she really had.

  The woman staggered up and held her shoulder. Decimus pushed himself up and swayed a bit, pretending to be disoriented by the fall. The spectators watched anxiously as he padded towards the woman again.

  Once more, he growled and circled, putting on the show that they all yearned for. Decimus observed the woman rubbing her shoulder as if he had injured it someone. Yes, make them believe you’re hurt and they’ll cheer louder.

  The woman gave a great cry and charged at the wolf. He loped to meet her and ducked under her body. With each pounding she gave him, he whimpered loudly for the crowds. He writhed beneath her and cut his skin with his own teeth to add better effect.

  She kicked at him furiously with her bare feet, his ribs and spine cracking under the force of her blows. The girl was stronger than she looked. A few whimpers did not have to be faked as she continually struck him down.

  Decimus felt the shooting pain as his blood mixed in with the sand, but he wasn’t alarmed. There was no way this woman could really kill him. But neither she, nor the crowd knew that.

  He could hear the tide of the crowd’s voices shift and they no longer cheered for the wolf, but for the woman who was able to beat down this massive beast with her bare hands.

  When Decimus was sure her victory was certain, he gave out a loud yelp and lay flat on the ground, his legs sprawled out to the side.

  He stilled his breaths as the woman leapt off of him to witness what she had done. Decimus had his eyes closed, but he could hear her scream out her victory to the mob.

  The sponsor rose and gave his verdict. She was granted her life.

  Decimus assumed she would be given into slavery just as he had or made into a gladiator. He had battled against many women gladiators before and with training, she could be great. For years she will remember how she defeated the wolf and she will draw courage from it.

  She was ushered from the field and he could smell Marcus run towards him. The lanista muttered obscenities under his breath as his hands roamed over the body of the wolf. He checked the now whole ribs that were broken moments before and the healed wounds still encrusted with blood.

  Decimus cracked open one of his eyes to let Marcus know that he was not dead.

  Marcus cursed him, an angry scowl plastered on his face as he marched away.

  Two slaves of the arena attended to Decimus, dragging him by the hind legs to follow after Marcus.

  Before leaving the arena, Decimus caught sight of Caprasia again. She was relieved. Relieved that the woman was alive and the beast was dead. He did it all for her, not for the woman. Decimus could not stand to see her tears. The pretty face of the young lady was enough to snap him out of his beastly nature. How, he didn’t know.

  Decimus gained a shred of his humanity back and he would stop at nothing until he tasted freedom once more. Freedom from Marcus and from the beast.

  8

  Rome Italy, 2015

  As Marina chopped the onions, she still couldn’t believe she was doing this. Inviting a stranger into her home was something entirely new for her. The only time she had ever let a man into her apartment was the maintenance personnel when her garbage disposal was broken.

  The potent aroma of the diced onions assaulted her nostrils and it didn’t take long before she was leaking tears and snot. Being mindful of the food, she took a break to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. Now she wished she had applied that trick of freezing the onions before cutting them so as to cut down on the terrible effects of slicing into the crunchy layers.

  Six o’clock was fast approaching. Taking the diced onions, she scooped them into the skillet that was already primed with oil and butter. Letting them cook for a bit, she took the chicken and tossed it in flour before adding them to the skillet.

  Marina added a generous amount
of white wine and let it simmer until reduced. While she waited, she read through a few pages in the romance novel she had picked up the other day.

  Last night she quickly discovered that both mystery and thriller were not her ideal genres. But when she picked up this romance novel during her lunch break at the museum, she found herself swept up into the love story between two tragic characters that were perfect for each other but neither of them knew it.

  When the wine was reduced, she added the can of diced tomatoes with basil and parsley seasoning, and then covered the skillet to let it all simmer for an hour.

  Stepping away from her kitchen, Marina began the arduous task of de-cluttering her living room. Stack upon stack of history books and reference volumes littered the hardwood floor almost to knee height in many places. The walls were bare of pictures or art, but every single one hosted a shelf or bookcase crammed with even more tomes. Marina had enough books to start her own library if she had the space for it.

  Bending down, she strained her back several times to slide the stacks across the room to the far side so there would be plenty of space in the middle for him to walk. The last time the maintenance man was there he tripped over a stack and nearly fell over. Marina was so embarrassed by her lack of tidiness and she didn’t want a repeat performance for Howard.

  After clearing the living room floor, she transplanted what books were in the bedroom into the living room so he wouldn’t have to venture in there. Marina was sure he wouldn’t want a tour anyway.

  Adding a little water to the dish, she finally found time to sit and unwind with the novel for a few moments.

  Last night and the entirety of this day had been wasted on worrying about this evening. She wondered if he would even show up. He hadn’t called to confirm or change plans yet. Did she write her phone number down wrong? Did he lose the piece of paper? Perhaps he forgot all about her.

  It wouldn’t surprise Marina if Howard stood her up. He didn’t seem to be the person that would do such a thing on purpose, but it was just her luck that someone so perfect would ditch her like that.

  It was a miracle that Marina was taking such a risk like this at all. She wasn’t the kind of girl to ask a guy to come to her home. Every relationship began and ended awkwardly and she never seemed to learn her lesson. She’d been single for over a year now and she knew exactly why she was stepping out again.

  Howard made her feel important, like she was valuable in some way. Even if the thing she offered was so shallow as a bit of information, it made her feel good to be needed again. Her coworkers at the museum didn’t show their appreciation and the kind of thanks she got from visitors was meaningless.

  But when she talked Howard’s ear off at the museum yesterday, he really seemed interested in what she had to say. It’d been a long time since anyone gave her that kind of undivided attention like he did. Marina allowed herself to hope, probably a little more than she should have.

  On top of the desire to see the handsome American again, she was intrigued by his thirst for knowledge. Why did he want to know so much so quickly? Marina wanted to think that it was a passion for history that drove him to learn about Rome, but that reason didn’t sit well with her. There was something deeper that he wasn’t revealing just yet.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the knock at the door. It was just an unfamiliar sound. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as she carefully folded her novel shut and set it on the coffee table.

  Walking towards the door, she straightened out her dark green blouse and slightly tight fitting jeans. She hadn’t the time to run to the bathroom to check her hair, but she combed her fingers through it anyway, catching her nails in a tangle or two.

  Marina peeked through the peephole and saw Howard standing in the hall, his hands in his pockets and glancing down the corridor.

  She took a steadying breath, steeled herself and opened the door. He looked to her and gave her that friendly smile that haunted her dreams the night before. Marina smiled back and moved to the side to open the way for him.

  “Come in,” she said, waving her hand towards the living room.

  The apartment was small, but cozy. She didn’t bother crowding her limited space with lots of furniture.

  Howard stepped over the threshold and she heard him take a deep breath in. “I hope I haven’t interrupted dinner,” he said. His deep voice made her stomach do back flips.

  She sniffed his musky cologne as he passed by her and entered the living room. He didn’t see her soundlessly swoon at the scent.

  Marina shut the door. “No, not at all. I was actually hoped that you could join me before we go through the books.” She realized how presumptuous she sounded and fumbled to correct herself. “That is if you haven’t eaten already. I know I didn’t mention it before and I didn’t have your number so I couldn’t call and ask if that was ok, but it’s a recipe I learned from my mother and it’s a classic Italian dish and – “ Without meaning to, Marina had shifted to her native Italian tongue in the midst of her rambling.

  She looked up when Howard started to laugh. It was a deep, throaty kind of laugh and her heart skipped several beats.

  “It’s fine. I ate a few hours ago, but I’m due for another meal right about now anyway,” he replied in Italian, probably to make her feel more comfortable. “What are you cooking? It smells amazing.”

  Marina let out the breath she had been holding and grinned. “Pollo alla potentina. It should be nearly done.”

  She then squeezed past him to get to the kitchen in order to check on the meal. Marina added a little more water and stirred around the chicken bits. When she came back to the living room, she saw Howard was staring at the mountain of books in the corner.

  “Those are all my books. Feel free to start looking through them for what you think you’ll want to read through.”

  “Which ones are about gladiators?” he asked, slowly making his way around the sofa towards the pile, his boots thudding against the wooden floors.

  “They’re the first stack near the front,” Marina directed. Wandering to the back of the sofa, she watched him squat down and browse through the titles.

  She couldn’t help but stare at him, admiring his physique and handsome face that was half turned away from her. He was perfect in every way.

  Then she noticed she still had the romance novel sitting on the coffee table. She bit her lip and saw she had carelessly left the book lying face up with the provocative cover in plain view. Did he see it? Was there time to hide it or would that look too obvious?

  As if pulling a sticky bandage off, Marina swiftly grabbed for it and threw it into the bedroom and shut the door. Howard didn’t look up but she saw the sly smirk creep across his face. Yes, he noticed.

  “Just so you know, I don’t normally do this sort of thing,” she said quickly.

  Howard looked up with his clear green eyes. “What sort of thing?”

  She wrapped her hands around her stomach self-consciously. “Asking a man into my apartment to look at my book collection.”

  He chuckled and picked one of the volumes from the stack. “I figured you probably didn’t.”

  “Is it obvious?” she murmured.

  He casually shrugged and began to skim over the first few pages, but didn’t answer her directly.

  She stood there watching him for a while before stepping away awkwardly. “I’m just going to keep an eye on the food then. Make yourself at home.”

  Marina dodged into the kitchen and busied herself with pulling down dishes and glasses from the cupboards. Was wine appropriate for a dinner like this or would he prefer a soft drink? Or would it be safe to go with water? Should she use the fine china or the casual set that was chipped.

  She groaned and ran her fingers over her scalp, irritated that she hadn’t thought this evening through. The last thing she wanted to do was look like a desperate fool, but she had a feeling that Howard would get that impression soon enough anyway.

&nbs
p; Ludus Gladiatorium, Verona 71 AD

  Decimus paced his cell, a storm of fury and anxiety swirling just below the surface. Marcus was in the middle of his rant, berating him for that performance in the ring.

  “Now half of your career is ruined,” he bellowed, waving his arms. “They all believe the wolf to be dead. Unless you can change your pelt, half of my profits just slipped through my fingers and it’s your fault! What were you thinking? You should have just killed the woman. You’ve done it a thousand times before.”

  Decimus did not answer and glared at his lanista as he continued his steady course around the cell.

  “If you think I’m going to let you back into the arena again, you’re madder than I originally suspected.”

  “Then let me go. Release me.” Decimus remembered that long ago day when he had demanded the same thing with Marcus in a chokehold against the bars of his cell. What he would give to have him in such a position again. Decimus wouldn’t hesitate to snap the lanista’s neck this time.

  Marcus let out a booming laugh. “Release you? What will you do outside of this ludus and the arena? You’re a monster. You cannot exist in normal society.”

  “I’d go to Batavi, my home.”

  Marcus chuckled again and shook his head. “I think not. You are of much better use to me here. A few days without food and you’ll be in the arena again the way you were before.”

  Decimus charged the bars and gripped them so tight the metal squealed in his hands. Marcus jumped backwards at the sudden attack, but his face remained stern and callous.

  “I demand my freedom!” Decimus shouted. “You promised me that after a few fights, I’d be free. It’s been over a hundred!” He gestured towards a corner of his cell that was riddled with tally marks. “I’ve been keeping track and still I haven’t earned my freedom!”

  “The only way you will earn your freedom from me is if the sponsor frees you in the arena with the presentation of the wooden rudis. And no one will pay the fee I charge for your death either, so don’t even think about that.” Marcus added a sinister snort at the end and began to walk away.