Wolf Whistle (36 page)

Claudia looked at Marcus, momentarily silenced from his struggles, and saw that he was—at long last—grieving. Not for Annia, not even for Penelope. Marcus Cornelius Orbilio was grieving for himself and for eighteen wasted years. Years in which cover-ups and silence caused untold harm and damaged everyone who came within their sphere. When, she wondered, would families ever learn? You only have to see how Arbil handled the situation with Shannu to see how problems perpetuate.

Claudia was jerked out of her reverie when—incredibly—Annia laid Nemesis flat upon the desk. His cornelians glinted proudly in the sunshine, like the fresh dark drops of blood which would soon run over them. In the atrium, Orbilio’s tunic was soaked through with sweat, his wrists raw from the unyielding iron handcuffs. Do something, Claudia. You have to do something! You can’t just let her slice you to ribbons! Marcus, too, had seen the change in Annia.

Perhaps if she could get inside her mind. Show how she truly sympathized when, aware of the circumstances of her birth and in a place where every other child had known rejection, the girls had shown no mercy in their torment, she might reach a part of Annia that was human and compassionate?

Assuming such a place existed.

Stepping back, Annia stripped off her tunic.

‘Why twenty-seven cuts?’ Nemesis was just an arm’s length out of reach…

Flushed and breathless, Annia crossed the floor. Truly, she was beautiful. Straight-backed, sinuous and graceful, her pale body shimmered as she moved, her tight, young breasts untouched by time or childbirth.

‘That was Nemesis’ decision, I’m afraid, not mine.’
Shit.
She picked up the knife and kissed the deadly blade. ‘I wanted those sadistic bitches to feel my vengeance through a thousand gaping wounds. Unfortunately.’ She ran the cold, blue blade across her thigh. ‘There was no room for more than twenty-seven on the first, so we retained that number for them all. It will be the same for you, Claudia, where do you suggest we start?’

Claudia dared not take her eye off Nemesis. Her mouth was dry, her heart thumping like a thunderclap against her ribs. Behind the chair, her fingernails dug deep into her palms. From the hall, she heard a strangled cry and silently commended Orbilio’s steely self-control about not speaking unless Annia commanded it. Neither he or Claudia doubted she would carry out her threat.

It happened without warning.

She saw the sunlight on the steel and for maybe one whole second Claudia did not realize the knife had actually made contact. Like the earlier nick, she had not felt it break her skin. Wide-eyed, she watched hot scarlet droplets form splash patterns on the pale peach cotton tunic in her lap. And then she knew.

The ordeal had begun.

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—