New Rome

1. New Rome

Authors note:  This story is a romance/ fantasy with aliens and humans.  

Warning: story contains violence, murder, mention/suggestion of rape and other dark themes.

Prologue (chapters 1-6)

Snowflakes spiralled lazily down from the clouded sky, drifting to rest upon the frozen mud of New Rome's back alleyways. Smothered fires smoked in the grates, filling the air with a blue haze illuminated only by smatterings of crackling ash. The smoke made the pleb's eyes water as they huddled in rags outside their ramshackle dwellings.

Walking amongst these poor people was Guy, the Imperator's eldest grandson, disguised in common clothing. He strode through the haze, his face revealing no hesitation as the stench around him worsened. Dead dogs covered in flies lay face down in the mud – being curiously poked at and investigated by the birds. Rubbish piles ready for burning were weeping thick, whitish liquid dripping between the fuzzy growths that sprouted upon them.

Guy halted beside a shabby shrine. It was for the goddess Vesta. The low ledge contained a crude statue, illuminated by two dying candles. He waited at the small crossroads, in this quiet enclave within the city's intricate web of pathways.

He'd not been waiting long when a woman made her move. She was a diabolariae, a whore on the lowest rung of that slippery ladder. Pushing her shawl back to reveal her lustrous dark hair, she made a pretence of approaching the shrine – dropping purposefully to her knees at his feet. Guy hastily, but politely, begged pardon for being in her way.

She rose quickly, yesterday's dirty trodden-in-snow clinging to her laddered tights, and seized his arm – holding it firmly against her chest.

"You seem cold, young master," she purred – her lids drooping in a seductive, heady stare. Guy straightened, his jaw twitching uncomfortably.

"I'm not that young," he replied. She laughed lightly at his stiff tone. "You risk much." He paused, frowning as he looked down at her hand still clinging onto him. "I hear a phantom stalks these alleys. A phantom that hunts lone women as his prey."

"Oh?"

"And takes their tongues after his done with them."

The woman's face paled – she knew what he was referring to but she made a valiant effort to retain her light expression.

Twelve – twelve dead prostitutes in just under month. All mutilated before death finally greeted them. Guy had returned from Amen to hear the subject spoken over as scandalous news – with no official effort to catch the killer. The elite cared very little for prostitutes and their monsters.

"This is my occupation sir and I know these streets. I've worked them most of my life." The woman replied, evading the gruesome topic. The woman's hands explored Guy's forearms, appreciating the hard muscles she discovered. 

Gently, Guy removed her hands from his person.

"I am not looking for sweet company." 

"You have good arms," she persisted flatteringly, "I can feel their strength. They would be danger to the man that gets in your way."

"You are right." Guy admitted, but a steely grit for a moment darkened his gaze. He'd killed many – as a soldier it was unavoidable – but one death had clung to him. Even now, far away from the banks of Euphrates he could hear the waters lapping at Lolly's sandals – seeping between the old man's gnarly toes...

"I think it would be safe for a girl to spend the night  in your strong arms. " The woman murmured sweetly. "I can be yours...  and for only a small sum." 

Guy shook himself out of his troubled thoughts.

"I am a married man."

"Oh?" Her tone was disbelieving. Men loitered in this district because they were looking for women like her. It was known locally as the Lantern – because, like moths to a flame, lonely men found themselves drawn.

"And I cherish her greatly." Guy asserted.

His gaze spoke of sincerity and the woman frowned, momentarily at a loss. "You might however satisfy one craving?" He added. 

"Hmm?"

"Curiosity." Guy's quick gaze flickered over their surroundings. Not a soul had passed them yet. The streets were getting quieter with each passing night – with each subsequent kill. 

"What do you know of your sisters' deaths? Have you heard any rumours?"

The woman pulled her shawl up over her hair. Melted snow dripped down from her fringe and fell down her forehead like anxious beads of sweat might have done.

"The Lantern is very bright, it burns hotly in the night and blinds those that call it home."

Guy's eyes narrowed.

"The ground closes their eyes?" He asked, his tone disbelieving. 

"Those that own the ground do." She retorted before quickly moving out of reach. She disappeared, her silhouette swallowed up by the snow flurry. Guy reached into the confines of his jacket, his fingers stroking the reassuring grip of his Silent Golem, the latest handgun model.

Who owned the Lantern?

Technically Guy's grandfather ruled New Rome. But Guy wasn't slow enough to think it was he that the woman had meant. The city was vast and it seemed that the Imperator had lost control of one district at least. The Lantern now had a master in the shadows – a master plagued by a murderer or puppeteering him? Guy wasn't sure yet. But he'd determined on one thing. He was going to claim back these streets. 

If I can't reclaim one district – how can I claim to be my grandfather's heir?