Wolf Whistle

XXXV

‘Do you know what power is?’

Annia cocked her head on one side to admire her handiwork. The slash, being purely superficial, had been intended as a shock. A taster of what was yet to come. When muscles would be disabled, tendons cut. She watched the river she’d created find its course.

‘Power is the ability to bring an empire to its knees and I have done that, Claudia. Imagine! Little Annia brings down the might of Rome.’

Claudia knew there was no blood left in her cheeks. It was gushing down her breast into her lap.

‘Picture it as a building, a tall six-storey tenement. On the top floor, there’s Agrippa, taken by the great god Marduk to create a smokescreen under which Nemesis and I could operate in peace. Next floor down, we have the Holy Catamite no less, the great and mighty Augustus about to be toppled from his perch by uprisings and seditions.’

Annia paused to stretch out a finger and dip it in Claudia’s blood. She examined the fingertip for several seconds, before licking it clean as though it was a drip of honey or a dab of parsley sauce.

‘On the third floor, we have the whole machinery of Rome thrown into terror and confusion. Don’t you think it was clever of me to pick a market day to kill the girls, Claudia? Hundreds upon hundreds of women scared to venture out alone?’ She laughed. ‘I created that. Me.’ She hushed her voice to a whisper. ‘The Market Day Murderer…’

The sprite clapped at her own ingenuity, and Claudia asked Jupiter to make the bitch choke on her own smugness. Jupiter wasn’t listening.

‘On the second floor of my apartment block, you’ll see Arbil, squatting like a spider in his web. By the time I disappear, I’ll have left so large a cloud hanging over Arbil that his business will collapse before the autumn.’

The pumping blood was easing to a trickle as Claudia’s natural defences began to heal. The musical farce would not yet have reached the intermission.

‘Moving to the first floor, we have Daphne wetting herself once word gets out there’s a killer in the family.’ She twisted her head to address Marcus over her shoulder. ‘That would have cut your Senate career short, even if I hadn’t.’ She turned back to Claudia. ‘Finally, on the ground floor, we have the girls themselves.’ Annia sighed with satisfaction. ‘So you see, I wield power on every single storey.’

The bleeding was down to a gentle, rhythmic ooze. The puddle in her lap felt clammy on her thigh, the smell was wretched, but providing Annia could be diverted, Claudia was safe from Nemesis.

‘Except for Zygia.’

Blue eyes narrowed to slits. ‘I worshipped that bitch,’ Annia spat. ‘Because of her I put up with years of being treated like a dog, then she shacked up with empty-headed Severina. I told her, my skin’s as pale as hers, my eyes as blue-Croesus. I even grew my hair like Sever-bloody-rina, but still that spiteful dyke spurned my affections. Can you understand that, Claudia? I mean, can you really get your head around her logic?’

Easily. ‘Why wait so long before killing the first girl?’

Annia ran her hands across her hips. ‘Marcus knows the answer to that, I expect that’s how he cottoned on to me. You know, Claudia, that was my one mistake. Telling him I’d been serving the temple warden’s wife for two full years, when in fact Arbil kept me as a trainer until four months back. But then, how was I to know Marcus would send a present to the stupid warden’s wedding? I shan’t make that mistake next time-’

Next time? Croesus, would the slaughter never stop? She didn’t intend to finish here at all. Probably move on to kill in Massilia or Athens-and then what lie would she conjure up to excuse herself then? Cold terror rippled down Claudia’s spine. Annia needed no excuse. Having got away with multiple murder here in Rome, she’d believe herself above the law. Invincible. Immortal?

Annia seemed also to have taken note of Claudia’s improving state of health. She was wiping the caked blood from Nemesis on a scarlet damask cushion. It looked like rust. Oh no- Sweet Jupiter, please. No.

‘Where will you go?’ There was desperation in Claudia’s question.

And again, she did not feel the strike. A swish of the wrist, a flash of blue steel. Then a fierce burning pain along her collar bone. Somewhere mathematical calculations drifted into Claudia’s brain. Two down, they said. With twenty-five to go.

‘For pity’s sake,’ Marcus cried hoarsely. ‘I’ll give you anything you want! Anything, Annia! Just-please-let her go!’

With a theatrical cluck of the tongue, Annia laid the dripping knife upon the desk and walked towards the hall. ‘Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.’ Her shoes clicked softly on the floor.

Now’s my chance. Through the salty tears which clouded her vision and coursed down her cheeks, Claudia tugged on the cords around her wrist. Croesus, they were tight! Annia had not thought to bind her ankles to the chair, and so long as Nemesis was around, kicking out had not really been an option. Blood dripped and spurted as she struggled.

Naked and lovely, Annia’s attention was concentrated on her cousin. Sunshine streamed into the atrium through the opening in the roof, casting a shapely shadow on the fresco of the Nile and sparkling the pool and fountain with a thousand shimmering gems. A turtledove cooed from the skylight.

‘Marcus.’ Annia’s tone was soft and comforting. Almost an apology. ‘Please.’

Behind them, in the office, Claudia squirmed like a ferret in a trap. From the corner of her eye, she was aware of Annia leaning down to cup Orbilio’s face between her hands.

‘You have to understand, Marcus.’ She was still smiling as she rammed his head against the marble pillar. ‘I’m the one in charge.’

Claudia’s struggles intensified as Annia straightened up and put a finger to her lips.

‘Not another word, you hear?’ Blood was pouring down his head, obliterating his right eye. ‘Not another fucking word.’

The bonds won’t break! Sweet Jupiter, I’ve blown it. And now Annia was retracing her steps across the hall. Claudia’s tearful eye caught Marcus’.

It said, I’m sorry.

His said…

Correction, his eye winked. Incredibly, it winked.

‘You know, Annia,’ he said. ‘You really are very, very stupid.’

The sprite froze in the doorway. ‘What?’ She spun round to where he knelt, bleeding, against the marble column. ‘What did you just call me?’

‘You don’t imagine I haven’t left a record of my investigation, surely?’

Claudia did not need telling twice. He was buying her more time to struggle free, because she might be many things, our Annia, but stupid wasn’t one of them. It was merely her Achilles heel. You could call her vain or dull or frumpy, but never, ever, ever call her stupid.

For Claudia, the effect was like being dunked in an icy Umbrian spring, bringing her to the very edge of her five senses. Until now, she’d allowed terror to dominate her mind, muddying judgement with self-pity. Suddenly her brain was crystal clear. There was no time left for fear. It was now or it was never. The choice was simple. Live. Or die.

Croesus, Annia saw through it! Under a flying kick, Orbilio’s head shot backwards, then she rammed her foot hard into his ribcage. He groaned, but his taunting didn’t cease. This time it revolved around her mother’s lack of morals.

Claudia shuffled upright, her arms still tight behind her back. Mighty Juno, she was running out of time! Dammit, I have this second chance, don’t let me ruin it! The gown, lumped around her waist, was fouling her escape. Using her thumbs to hitch it past her hips, she kicked the bloodied garment free. Quickly bending double, Claudia stepped over the wristband and, at long last, her hands were out in front where she could see them. The flesh was raw.

‘Aaargh!’

Claudia jumped like a startled fawn. The scream which ran through the atrium was Annia’s, where Orbilio had grabbed hold of her ankle and jerked her backwards off her feet. But Annia was young and she was supple. Lithe as a leopard she jackknifed round to hammer blows and punches on the only person in her life who’d ever cared a damn for her. She did not notice, in her frenzy, that Marcus had twisted round so her back was to the office.

Claudia’s hands were shaking as she positioned the cerise ribbon over the blade. Quickly, quickly, she urged Nemesis. Annia had grabbed fistfuls of Orbilio’s curls and was repeatedly smashing his head on the floor. The bands parted. Claudia raced into the atrium and, with both hands held high, raised Nemesis to strike.

Shit!

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bloody do it!

She told herself it was because she might miss, or that Annia might grab the knife, but the truth was, Claudia could not kill in cold blood. Shit, shit, shit. Dropping the weapon, she reached for a vase full of peonies and aimed it at Annia’s head. There was a crack. Water spurted in a thousand directions. Annia faltered and for one terrible minute Claudia feared the bitch was invincible. Then Annia’s eyes rolled and with a low moan she toppled sideways on to the floor.

It was over.

Claudia’s breath came out in a hiss. At long last, it was over.

The self-styled Market Day Murderer might not be crossing the Styx with the ferryman, but soon she would be marched through crowded streets to the cells beneath the Capitol. A trial would follow (a mere formality) and then would come her public execution-though Rome would want its money’s worth. For Annia, as for her victims, death would be protracted.

‘You know,’ Marcus wheezed. ‘I’m beginning to wonder whether being beaten up once a week is the norm around these parts.’

‘Count yourself lucky,’ Claudia grinned. ‘Some men don’t get beaten up twice in a lifetime, never mind twice in a fortnight.’

Across the atrium, the pool sparkled, merrily indifferent. Happy sunshine bathed the marble busts. She looked at Annia, whose skin was as flawless as the finest alabaster and whose flaxen locks lay soiled and sodden under a shower of lacquered petals. What a waste, thought Claudia. What a waste of Spanish peonies.

‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘you expect me to fetch the keys to those handcuffs, as well.’

When Orbilio blinked the blood out of his eyes there was a faint trace of a sparkle. ‘You don’t seem to have anything else on at the moment.’

Ah! Colour flooded Claudia’s cheeks. She’d forgotten she was naked apart from a thong! With a militant toss of her curls, she covered her breasts with her hands and marched towards the bath room. He could jolly well stay there for that! Right. What she needed on these cuts was centaury so they wouldn’t leave a scar, but first she ought to flush them out with opobalsam ‘Claudia!’

The warning came too late.

Claudia spun round, but Annia was shaking off the pot shards and the peonies. Simultaneously three pairs of eyes picked out Nemesis, glinting in a pool of sunshine beneath a marble bust.

Time seemed to freeze. Like a painted fresco, every movement was captured in minutest detail and yet there was no sound. She saw Marcus, his hair matted with blood, try to trip Annia. She saw him open his mouth, knew that he shouted. She watched Annia duck round him, laughing. Triumphant. Her sodden hair the colour of quarzite. Claudia saw the cornelians on Nemesis, and the blood of hundreds as well as her own. The water clock dripped, and Annia was gaining. No way could Claudia get there first! She screwed up her eyes and launched herself at the weapon, the tip of her outstretched finger connecting just as Annia’s hand was about to close over the hilt. Nemesis spun across the floor.

‘Bitch!’ Annia screamed.

She turned upon Claudia, who rolled on to her back to fend off the blows. The knife was just three paces away!

‘Wish now you’d stuck it in me?’

By the gods, yes. Next time there’ll be no hesitation. Claudia’s arms lashed out to defend herself as Annia clawed and punched. With a mighty thrust, her knee found Annia’s stomach and she heard the air expelled from her lungs. Scrambling to her feet, she lunged for the blade, but this time it was Annia who kicked it away.

‘This is more fun, don’t you think, Claudia?’ Annia beckoned with both hands. ‘A fight to the death?’ So confident was she that she even took time out to glance across to Orbilio. ‘Does this excite you, Marcus? Make you hard? Two women, naked, in a catfight over you?’

Her confidence was unnerving. This was no arrogant posturing. Annia was sure she would win. She might be short, but she was strong and wiry, and dammit, she was using Nemesis as bait. Claudia’s eyes flickered round. That was the thing about atriums. There’s never anything in them. Sure, she could try and lift a marble bust, but Annia would quickly beat her to it. Turn, and the bitch would jump on her back. Run? Claudia had no doubts that, in her present frame of mind, Annia could outrun her. Her heart was thumping painfully and the sweat was pouring down her face. Dammit, there was no other choice. She’d have to try for the knife.

But where was it? Croesus, it must have slid under a couch.

A momentary glance was all it took. The second Claudia’s eyes left Annia’s, she flew, her hands clamping round Claudia’s throat, her thumbs crushing her windpipe. Retching, Claudia tried to pull Annia away. The grip held.

‘Are you watching this, Marcus?’ Annia called out.

Over a shoulder streaming with long golden hair, Claudia saw his face, bloodied and twisted and snarling with pain. He was shouting, and she couldn’t hear what he said. Did it matter? Did anything matter now? She was kicking and struggling, but her flailings were wild and her arms had the strength of a baby. Why bother? she thought. Why the hell bother? In Annia’s triumphant blue eyes, Claudia saw a reflection of herself. And the image was dying.

A red mist swirled over the image. Her head was on fire, sparks flashed. From somewhere she heard the word ‘push’. It made no sense, but blinded, with the mist turning to purple and a torrent raging past her ears, instinct told her she must obey. Balling her fists, Claudia pushed her knuckles hard against Annia’s ribcage.

‘What does defeat feel like, Claudia?’ trilled a triumphant sing-song voice. ‘Is this how you imagined failure?’

Her head was about to explode. The world had gone black, she heard gargling mixed with laughter mixed with shouting. Still Claudia shoved.

Sweet Janus, Annia’s voice would be the last thing she heard.

‘What does it feel like to die, Claudia?’

‘You tell me,’ a man growled.

There was a bump, and suddenly Claudia was tumbling backwards on to the floor. Black turned to purple, purple to red, red to white. The mist cleared, but her throat was still gargling. She looked up. Annia was standing with her back to the pillar. Her eyes started out from their sockets.

‘How…’ A rattle came deep in her throat and she jerked. ‘How…’

The next time she jerked, blood gushed from her mouth. Speedwell blue eyes glazed over. Then she tipped forward on to her face. As Claudia scrambled free of the falling body, she saw the hilt between Annia’s chiselled shoulderblades. Cornelians twinkled in the afternoon sun.

Behind the column, Marcus Cornelius Orbilio looked ashen. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Never better,’ she rasped. It was the truth.

Groggy, she rose to her feet. What a fine time for irony and Annia to meet. When she kicked the knife out of Claudia’s reach, she’d unwittingly sent it to Marcus. ‘Push,’ he had shouted, holding the weapon point forwards. ‘Push, Claudia!’

Nemesis indeed.

Annia impaled upon her own killing machine.

Marcus was shaking, there was blood in his hair, down his face, all over his tunic. The cousin he’d tried to protect lay dead by his own hand, his childhood memories shattered and destroyed. Yet he was smiling. ‘About those keys,’ he said softly.

When Claudia turned away, there were tears in the place where the red mist had been.

In the office, she leaned her hands flat on the desk and waited for her heart to stop pounding. The show was over here, as it was down on the Field of Mars. Around now, the Theatre of Marcellus would be spilling its audience into the street. Carefree and elated, they’d head for taverns and eateries or take strolls by the river and make proposals of marriage to unsuitable partners, buoyed on the tide of excitement.

Claudia studied her peach-coloured tunic, heavy and stiff with her blood, then clipped it around her with the butterfly brooches. I have won, she told Annia. Not lost.

So I can wear this gown because it-and you-do not matter. In the peristyle, Drusilla rolled on to her back and twisted left and right on the gravel path as the sun set low over the Palatine.

That’s something else you’ve got wrong, Annia. Not only will Arbil stay in business to rescue orphans, but up there, in the Imperial Palace, Augustus won’t be toppled by seditions or uprisings resulting from Agrippa’s premature death. He’s too shrewd for that. He’ll find a way through.

We all do.

Satisfying red streaks adhered to an otherwise spotless pleated tunic as Claudia searched for the key to the handcuffs and she felt she could almost hear Annia’s ghost squawk in protest. Well, she thought, dangling her find from her index finger, Rome might be cheated of a trial and execution, but the death of this elfin killer has done no harm to a certain individual’s prospects for the Senate House.

‘Catch!’ She tossed the key to Marcus and stepped over Annia’s body lying in a pool of its own congealing blood.

‘Aren’t you going to give me a hand here?’ he asked.

‘Good heavens, man, you’ve already got two, surely you don’t expect me to run round after you like a lackey.’

‘We could negotiate,’ he muttered, after his fifth blind stab at the lock. ‘You get me out of this ticklish predicament, I get you out of your mess with the moneylender.’

‘Mess with the moneylender?’ Claudia echoed, passing the atrium pool. ‘I fear you’ve misjudged me, Marcus Cornelius. I have no debts to settle.’

Oh, come on. You didn’t seriously imagine Claudia Seferius would let Arbil bury a dozen precious gems with his wretched demon? Not when pebbles would serve equally well?

As she climbed the stairs, Claudia watched Orbilio wrestle with the lock. He’s trapped a killer, saved the Empire, stopped a paedophile-goddammit. She smiled a short, lopsided smile. He’ll be positively insufferable in the future.

Future?

Did I say future? On the top step, she paused, inhaling the lavender and myrrh wafting from the braziers. For a moment, she imagined she caught a whiff of sandalwood, too-his sandalwood-but then again, maybe not. The wooden gallery creaked underfoot and she sighed. Her immediate future involved a bath, a few healing herbs and a restorative hug from Drusilla…but beyond that?

Maybe, thought Claudia, it was time she considered the longer term. All right, she owned a wine business, this house, plus a villa and a vineyard in Etruria-but let’s face it, money isn’t everything.

Hadn’t she always said so?

Marilyn Todd

Wolf Whistle

About the Author

Marilyn Todd was born in Harrow, England, but now lives with her husband on a French hilltop, surrounded by chateaux, woodlands and vines. As well as sixteen historical thrillers, Marilyn also writes short stories, which are mostly crime-based. When she isn't killing people, Marilyn enjoys cooking. Which is pretty much the same thing. Look for her next novel, Jail Bait, coming in ebook form soon. www.marilyntodd.com

Marilyn Todd

Wolf Whistle

Jail Bait

A deadly contagion has sent many of Rome’s wealthier citizens fleeing to the country-but for Claudia Seferius, caught in the act of stealing, plague is the least of her worries.

Taking refuge in the beautiful spa resort of Atlantis, Claudia makes friends with a charming young man called Cal, where a little flirting in tranquil lakeside surroundings seems an ideal way to pass the time. But within hours Cal is dead.

And he’s not the only one.

Pretty soon Claudia begins to wonder whether Atlantis isn’t a lot more dangerous than the disease-ridden streets she left behind…