Page 81 of I Will Always Find You
What the fuck is going on in this place?Coriolanus was not amused.
“I’m fine, now,” Cassian said aloud. He kissed his husband and then sat back down on the couch. “We need to talk, Aric. Only, I don’t know how or where to begin.”
“I do,” Olympius declared, now out of the room and standing in front of the witches. No one, not even Coriolanus, saw the door open and close. “We need to speak with Aeneas, Cassian.”
The Romani witch shook with rage. “No! You can’t say that name in front of him!”
“Who the hell is Aeneas, Cass?” Aric questioned, his gaze moving between his husband and the immortal. “Seriously, what the hell is going on? I want some answers, dammit! Why is my husband in such a state? Who are you people?!”
Without warning, Olympius seized control of Aric’s mind; the witch’s body went slack, and his eyes glazed over.
“What the fu—”
“Cassian, be calm, and let me explain,” Olympius said softly, as he put his hand gently on the witch’s arm and squeezed. “I’m not hurting him. He’s just not the one who needs to hear the ongoing conversation. It is Aeneas we must speak with. He must make this decision. To be an immortal or remain eternally reborn. Not Aric, not Rufus, nor any of the other reincarnations. Do you understand?”
The thing was, the Romani witch understood perfectly. Only, it was an impossible request.
“I can’t. We can’t. I mean, like I explained to Gian, if the host body discovers his past, learns of Aeneas or anything related to his past lives, he will go mad and die. Don’t you understand?”
“I do, but don’t you ever listen?”
Cassian balked at the insult. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Olympius?”
Coriolanus gave a steady, reassuring smile as he moved to sit down next to his old friend. He placed a firm, grounding hand on his thigh.
“Cassian, The Becoming will work faster than the spread of the madness. You have nothing to fear from that curse. I will make Aeneas immortal, right after you restore to him all his memories, all his lives. He will be many, but in the end, he will be one. Through a unified Aeneas, I will regain my Rufus. Don’t you see? This is our gift to him! I will give him immortality, and you will make him whole, complete.”
“But what if Aeneas refuses? What if he doesn’t want to give up his magic, even to live as a powerful immortal?”
“Cassian, didn’t you tell me that there were many lives where Aeneas’ reincarnation had no magic at all, and yet that man was happy and content in his life with you?”
“Well, yes.”
“Okay, well, there you go! Magic isn’t essential to him, not like it is to you. It’s a gift, a choice or maybe just an occurrence of chance. Do you really think he’d choose that over you? Would he?”
“—No,” Aric whispered.
Gasps rippled through the chamber. The warrior-god and the Romani witch turned as one toward Aric, who appeared unconscious, still unmoving.
Olympius, however, remained calm and unprovoked.
“Did he just speak?” Coriolanus thundered, stunned. “Olympius, how did he break free of your power, even for a second? I can’t even escape your hold!”
“We weren’t alone before,” Olympius said quietly, a cryptic gleam in his eyes. “Someone has been watching over you this auspicious day, Cassian, only she did not wish to be seen. I knew she was here, of course, for none can hide in the shadows, in the darkness in my presence, especially in my very home, without my knowledge.”
“Who do you mean?” Cassian asked, his heart beating so fast he feared it would burst out of his chest.
“Yes, Olympius,” Coriolanus added, frowning, “just who was in our home without my sensing them? I don’t like being unaware of such things.” Sometimes being less powerful than his Maker frustrated him. He also took issue with the older gods acting aloof and superior, even downright dismissive.
“She had no desire to join this reunion or answer questions concerning her actions, my love. Do not take it personally. The witch-goddess only wished to know what Aeneas’ answer would be. She worried you would not allow it, Cassian. She sees so much fear in you about this component of her gift, her magic, since your mistake in Éire.”
“Hecate?!” Cassian hollered. “She was here?”
“Briefly, yes,” Olympius admitted. “And she gave me this.”
Upon the ancient immortal’s palm sat a cruet that held a liquid of deep crimson, glowing with an inner light that pulsed with magic like the heartbeat of the sea beneath a moon; its surface rippled as if stirred by an unseen tempest.
“Is that what I think it is?” Cassian asked, afraid to hope.
