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A Viking in Rome

Kassandra Heit

    Drip.
    Like a lion prowling in the tall grasses of the African flatlands, Bella made calculated steps into the drafty and abandoned warehouse. Old plastic sheets blew in front the glassless windows as the winds picked up, and the floor was soaked, puddles forming on the uneven concrete, despite the roof giving shelter. The cold would make anyone shiver, but the chill in her bones had nothing to do with the rain pouring outside.
    Drip.
    Her fingers twitched against the harpy hidden in her palm, the dull edge of the blade pressed along the length of her index finger. A simple flick of her thumb, thrust of her arm, and it would be lights out. Unfortunately, the person in danger of her harpy was playing as smart a game as she was. His voice froze her on the spot.
    “Bella, Bella, Bella,” his voice sang with only cruel intentions. His voice echoed off the brick walls, and it sounded like it came from above her.
    Bella slowly turned, heels silent against the cement, and watched as he appeared at the top of an old black iron staircase. He smiled, teeth baring themselves, before he descended down the spiral. His steps were harsh, almost barbaric, but he moved with the same grace she remembered when they last saw each other. “Mars.”
    He bowed as if just giving a performance worthy of a standing ovation. When he stood back up, Bella saw his matching harpy almost dangling from his fingers. A toy more than a weapon. “It’s been too long, Bella. I missed you.”
    “I thought you were dead,” Bella retorted, keeping her eyes locked with his even as he itched the side of his neck with his blade.
    “Oh, merely outcast,” Mars seemed to brag. He pointed the tip of his knife at her, “thank you for that.”
    Bella kept herself in check as Mars started circling around behind her, stalking her. She didn’t even flinch when she felt his harpy just below her left ear, threatening to break skin. “I never told you to give me wings.”
    Mars huffed out a brief chuckle, leaning in close. “I don’t recall finishing.” He pressed his finger into her right shoulder, moving in towards her spine, “I just remember one wing,” he uttered. Once his finger was just shy of her spine, he moved it straight down, keeping his body close to hers to feel his presence. “How big is the scar?”
    “You’re drawing it,” Bella stated, her voice too calm for his liking. She felt his finger meet the small of her back before changing directions and heading out towards her right hip. When his finger stopped, holding its position before the curve of her waist, she dared a glance at him over her other shoulder. “I bet you can imagine.”
     Mars back away, not satisfied with her lack of response. He walked back around to face her. “Does your FBI friend know about it?”
    “He knows I have the scar,” Bella admitted with a simple nod, “he doesn’t know about you though.”
    “Oh?” Mars’s eyebrows raised with curiosity.
    Bella smirked, putting her harpy in her pocket when he slipped his away. “He’s not after you.”
    Mars seemed stunned, gaging her for a moment with disbelieving eyes. “You’re not leading him to-“
    “-never would.” Bella cut him off.
    “Does he know of Jay or Dye?” Mars asked, inching towards her once again.
    “He thinks I’m the only one of us,” Bella reassured him. She took her own step forward into his space. “If you behave yourself, you won’t be on the FBI’s list.”
    Mars returned that same chilling smile. It would’ve been charming if she didn’t know the beast that was waiting just under the surface. “Behave? You should know by now that I’m not going to stop until my fingers are cold and my harpy’s in an evidence bag.” He shook his head, lifting his hand and pressing the pad of his finger to her forehead. “We come from bloodlust. You were named after it, Bellona.”
    “I’m not like you,” Bella fought.
    “Oh, but you are.” Mars grazed his finger down her nose. “You can say you’re on the right side of justice all you want, but you aren’t an officer of the law. If you weren’t helping the FBI, you’d be behind bars for knowing what we know. You may not be letting the heads roll, Bella, but you don’t stop it. Not entirely anyway. The phone rings, and you rush off to the Reaper’s last feast to pick off any remains left behind. Out of everything you could’ve done in this world, you chose dead people. That makes you exactly like me.”
    Bella met his eyes, the familiarity almost too much. “I haven’t murdered anyone, and you do it for fun. That’s all the difference.”
    Mars grinned, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. “So, you got the self-control while I got the compulsive killing. Whether you planned it or not, I still think you killed someone.”
    “Why do you think that?” Bella asked.
    “Because, you said you haven’t murdered anyone. Killing is different than murdering,” Mars explained. He turned, waving over his shoulder as he walked away. “Say hi to Mom and Dad for me next time you see them. I’m sure they know we’re here.”
    Drip.

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