Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 105

For all her charms (and Cleopatra had many), Caesar was still and always a politician and a conqueror at heart. Not even her clever tongue was worth an ingot of gold. The unprecedented attachment the young queen had formed to the old man in the wake of civil war had greatly disturbed her guardian watcher. This was not how he had envisioned her future when he’d soared down from the northern sky.

He kissed her knuckles and said, “I see into the hearts of men, my queen. Do not doubt what I know of Caesar’s vainglory.”

“I doubt not thy foresight, Lord. I only question how a god may know the hearts of mortals. Many are the times that thou hast confessed thy want of mortal sentiment; that thou yearns to know what secrets enliven the blood and enkindles the heart to beat for another.” She moved her fingers down the granite ridges of his belly, allowing them to trail along his immortal flesh like feathers. Her mouth quirked with feline pride to see that his flesh could not remain unmoved by her touch. “Thou speaketh of the vainglory of man, yet mighty Osiris comes to me with the desires of a man.” She allowed her nails to trail softly over his thighs, but she knew better than to trespass upon that which was forbidden to her; even so, he was visibly aroused by her nearness. She smiled to see the chaos her touch had wrought. “Thou art a god with a man’s pride of flesh.”

The watcher stilled her hand, his fingers like manacles around her delicate wrists, unwilling to acknowledge the dread that she awakened along with his lust. “If thou maketh Rome thy bedmate, understand that it lies there not as thy lover but as a snake that waits to strike as soon as thine eyes are shut.”

With a persistent tug, she gained the release of her hands and reached one up as far as she could, which was hardly higher than his sternum. The gesture was invitation enough for him to lower himself and place his cheek in her waiting palm.

Tempted though he was, he remained as motionless as the limestone gods that guarded the tombs and temples. “I would rather instruct thee to protect thyself. To be as the Sphinx—to have the wisdom of a god and the strength of a lion. That is thy destiny.”

“So it shall be.” Her smile tightened. “Watch me, Lord of Love; that is all thou art good for.”

He stepped back. After a sullen pause, he unfurled his wings and leapt into the night. He could no longer watch her with Caesar, better to brood for a thousand years. Perhaps he might search for his Fallen brother, still mourning the loss of their sister.

It took years of wandering the earth before he finally found the creature that had once been his angelic brother. How grotesque his form appeared now that Heaven’s light no longer shone upon him. Hellish fangs and a face distorted with animal rage was all that was left of the mighty watcher. At his mud-stained feet lay a young woman, flesh cold and waxen. No breath stirred her open chest. No life lit her open eyes.

The gaze of the creature, however, fixed upon Death, the violet tinged with dolor. The eyes—that unearthly violet—were all that remained of his once beautiful brother. “Hast thou come to gloat, watcher?” He spoke not in the language of the Seraphim but in the coarse tongue of the mortals he’d been banished to live amongst.

“I come in the name of love, Brother.”

“Love?” The fallen gave a sharp-toothed snarl and turned away, his black hair falling over his face like a pall. “Leave me. Famine dwells within my heart—I know nothing of love.” The watcher spoke his brother’s name, but the creature lashed out at him with lethal claws. “Do not call me that! I am he no longer!”

“Brother, help me.”

The creature that had once been his brother lifted his untamed head and glared through stygian ropes of matted hair. He was listening.

“I am in love with a mortal.” Well, a goddess alloyed with mortal flesh.

The Fallen laughed with bitter woe. “Fool. It was never our lot to love them. I warned thee against straying too near the flock, now it is thee that wears that stupid ovine look.” A preternatural fire flared behind the violet eyes. “Canst thou feel the dark abyss encroaching, watcher?”

Indeed, he could, every time his gaze turned to rest upon her. “She possesses me, I know not how to turn away.”

The Fallen gave a grunt and shook his head. “Thou art a greater fool than I ever was.” He stood and faced his brother. “Yet look at me now. I must dwell in the darkness, ever the eternal unclean, and there thou stands in the light of God. Thou hast risked too much for love.” A soft growl fulminated from his breast. “Return to thy throne in the north and steel thy heart against love, watcher. Look upon her no longer, for nothing good comes of loving a mortal, lest thou wouldst share a mortal doom.” The Fallen cloaked himself in his soiled and bloodied wolf pelt and backed away. “Search no more for thy brother; his wings are shorn and he is nothing but a pestilence upon this earth.” The creature then turned and loped into the darkness, stepping carelessly over the lorn remains of his bloodless victim.

Death watched him go and when he could sense the beast no more, he took to the sky. Despite his brother’s premonitory warning, he betook himself directly to Alexandria. He could not bear to stay away from her a moment more. Cleopatra would be nigh twice the age she’d been when he’d left her.

He was aghast to find the changes that had been wrought. His queen was so much changed, albeit not for the better.

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