Marilyn Todd - Wolf Whistle

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.