Page 76 of I Will Always Find You
“I’m not the witch you knew, traitor. I have two thousand years of harnessed magic at my fingertips. I defeated that monster next to you two hundred years ago in Madrid; only The Fates interfered and saved his worthless existence. I will see him pay for what he did to me, to Rufus!”
“Cassian, please, listen to me. This is not what you think. Olympius didn’t murder you or Rufus.” Coriolanus spoke calmly, maintaining a sense of serious integrity. “The monster who did those vile, viscous deeds bore his face, yes, but it was not my Maker who committed them.”
“Gian, I—I don’t understand. How can I trust you?” Cassian’s eyes began to tear up.
“It’s true,” Olympius admitted, his voice controlled and stern. “My own Maker took my form in a cruel scheme of revenge for reasons that are none of your concern. I swear on my love for Coriolanus, who is more precious to me than my own life, that I have never seen you, nor the red-headed one, before inall my long years. Frankly, I wish this meeting could have been postponed indefinitely.”
“Olympius, don’t be an asshole,” Coriolanus sighed, exasperated.
“Gian, why is he calling you by that name? Whoare you, really?”
“I have borne many names since my birth twenty-five centuries ago, Cassian. I was Coriolanus, the very Roman General of legend, when Olympius begot my Becoming. When he raised me to godhood, made me an immortal, if that makes more sense to you.
“Listen, this isn’t the place for this conversation. We have a penthouse on Bloor near Dundas. Let’s continue all this there, away from the eyes and ears of mortals. I hear the sirens of the police and fire department approaching. Please, I’m begging you to trust me. I wouldneverharm my son, you know this! I—I need to know who this man beside you is. How are you both here, now? Please, will you trust me?”
Aric placed a steady hand on Cassian’s shoulder, his grip firm. “Love,” he said, voice low but certain, “I sense no deceit from this one.” He turned his gaze toward Coriolanus, eyes sharp, probing. “I have a talent for recognizing lies when they’re spoken.”
Coriolanus met the mortal witch’s stare. Smiling, he gave a slight nod of respect.
Then Aric shifted his attention toward Olympius. He studied him intensely, warily.
“This one, however—” Aric’s voice faltered slightly, troubled. “I can’t read him. Not even a flicker. All I sense is darkness. Not evil—just darkness. Like staring at a blank TV screen that won’t turn on, no matter how many times you hit the remote.”
“That’s a new way of putting it,” Coriolanus chuckled. “Olympius is older than I am and much stronger. If he doesn’twant to be read or scanned, or however you wish to label it, you’ll never get through his psychic defences. I found that out the hard way.”
The warrior-god smirked, but there was no malice or resentment in his tone.
Olympius hovered just above the ground, remaining silent and aloof, exuding an air of otherworldly detachment, even slight disinterest.
Cassian took a breath and stepped forward. “If I go with you, if I choose to trust you, it must be under one condition. Aric returns home. He waits for me there.”
“No, Cass!” Aric spun to face him, his protest sharp and immediate. “You’re asking me to leave you alone with them?”
Cassian met his husband’s brilliant, yet troubled eyes. “Hon, there are things I must speak with Gian about, and these are things I have to do alone. Please, I know none of this makes much sense right now, but I need you to trust me. And you know I can protect myself without resorting to—well, you know.”
A moment of silence passed between the witches. Then Aric stepped back, jaw tight, and nodded. “Of course, I trust you. It’shimI don’t trust.” He threw another cold glance toward Olympius.
The Lord of the Night finally spoke, his voice cool as obsidian. “I will defer to the wisdom and desires of my immortal beloved. I trust him implicitly.”
“I’m the only one you trust at all,” Coriolanus jabbed gaily, attempting to add levity to the tense situation. “And you have to stop calling me that in public!”
Olympius rolled his eyes. “Now, if we must proceed with this absurd detour, then let it be done. You two have already ruined our date night, not that I was eager to sit through another insipid vampire film. I can’t stand this depiction of immortals. Theseridiculous caricatures of us gods. The things I endure for my imm—for my Coriolanus.”
Now it was Coriolanus’ turn to act all put out. “Not this vampire shit again. You take it too seriously.”
“Does he always talk like that?” Aric asked half razzing, half honestly curious.
Again, Coriolanus laughed heartily. He could not stop looking at the red-headed witch. It was his Rufus’ face—not exact, but hauntingly close, carved with the same stubbornness and bravery. Yet he was still unsure whether this was truly his son, or a stranger wearing his identity fifteen hundred years after his death.
He desperately wanted to read the mortal’s mind to uncover his secrets, but he had hated it when Olympius used to do that to him. For the warrior-god, permission was paramount, as was bodily autonomy, and that included the unsolicited use of supernatural powers.
“Yes, he does, but he’s gotten better over the last year. He used to be way more uptight. He’s now using contractions when he speaks. Well, when he remembers to get the stick out of his ass.”
“How crass,” Olympius reflexively responded, “but not untrue, metaphorically speaking.” There was a slight air of mirth about his tone.
“Honey, you attempted a joke,” Coriolanus voiced with equal parts sarcasm, pride, and heartfelt appreciation. “How adorable.”
“Whatever,” the dark god smirked. He acted insulted, but he actually loved the banter between himself and Coriolanus. They had spent countless centuries apart, divided by misguided hurt and anger—so now, even his lover’s playful mocking was music to his ears.
