Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

A ll was not right in the kitchen. Zo knew he needed to stop, but every time he did, fear and anxiety would come crashing down around him.

"Bread. We need more bread," Zo whispered under his breath and poured a mound of flour onto his pristine counter.

He had been baking for days, making sure everyone had their favorite food for the holiday. The smell of wood smoke and burnt paper filled his nostrils again, and he quickly found the yeast and eggs he needed.

He couldn't stop now, or the memory of Elazar almost being burned alive would overwhelm him. It didn't matter how much he told himself that he was safe, that he was upstairs with his precious books and alive, alive, alive. The fear would rise in his chest, squeezing the air from him until his vision darkened.

No . He had to keep busy. He had to make the bread. Penelope and Alexis were back. They would need more of everything.

"Zotikos, we have an engagement," a deep voice said from the other side of the kitchen.

Zo ignored it, the voice barely filtering through his rising emotions. He buried his brown hands into the flour, making a well for his eggs and water.

Larger hands came over and circled his wrists. They were covered in small scars from centuries of fighting, his callouses stained with ink from books. Zo knew those hands because they were the other great obsession of his life.

"Zo, look at me," Constantine said, his tone carrying a touch of imperial authority.

Zo dragged his gaze from the hands on his skin to Constantine's blue-gray eyes. "We need bread."

"No, we don't. You promised to come with me to the carols at the Basilica. Wash your hands. We are leaving," Con said, a smile lifting his lips. "We have a date, Zo. Don't stand me up for bread."

Heat rushed up Zo's spine, and he quickly untangled his hands from Constantine's. Nearly seventeen hundred years had passed since they had first met, and the old fox could still make him blush like a fool.

And he was a fool. He had a never-dying crush on the bastard, and Zo had thought he was at peace with it. He scorned the heat that flooded him.

Zo went to the sink, scrubbed his hands a little too vigorously, and untied his apron. Constantine looked him over and brushed a stray spot of flower that had gotten on Zo's shoulder.

"You'll do. Come on. You need to get out of this kitchen," Constantine said and turned his shoulders towards the door. There really was no arguing with Constantine, so Zo followed, helpless to deny his old friend anything.

Zo took his favorite leather jacket from the wardrobe by the front door and wrapped a gray scarf around his neck. Like the rest of the villa, the wardrobe tended to provide you with what you needed when you needed it.

Constantine was used to the magic and took out a double-breasted black overcoat that somehow made him look even more like a general. It didn't really matter what he wore; there was no hiding that Constantine was the boss.

Zo might have had a weak moment and admired how the cut of the coat made his shoulders look so big, too, but there had to be some perks for leaving his kitchen.

"Are you with me?" Constantine asked, his brows drawing together.

"I am. Just...distracted. I haven't been writing," Zo admitted.

"We need to fix that." Constantine opened the door of the villa and stepped into the damp, cold night. The sun set early at that time of year, and it was barely 5 p.m. It was good that it was dark because Zo was disorientated enough by being outside.

Before Zo could protest, Constantine wrapped his arm around his, and they headed down the Calle dei Cercheiri. Constantine was naturally affectionate, and Zo knew just to enjoy the warm sun of it while it lasted.

"I feel mentally blocked. My words have dried up, and I don't know how to move through it," Zo admitted as they crossed over a small bridge. "The magic isn't flowing."

"You don't think it could be affected by what happened with the demon?" Constantine asked. "He was an ancient enemy. Kreios was another, and then you found out that Abaddon and Thevetat controlled all his actions. Aelia spared the bastard. Our beloved Nereus died. A lot has happened, old friend. Trauma from the past never goes away for good. It just sleeps."

They walked in silence over the Accademia Bridge, which was still busy with Christmas Eve crowds. A pretty, smiling woman plucked some holly leaves with red berries from her hair and gave it to Constantine with a grin and a breathy " Buon Natale " before she rushed off to rejoin her friends.

Zo grunted out a laugh. "You're unbelievable. You don't even have to try. I should push you into a canal."

"Don't be jealous, Zotikos. It's not like I can help what other people do," Constantine replied, slipping the holly sprig into the buttonhole of Zo's jacket.

"I feel like I need to bring back the old ways and have someone walk behind you, chanting ' memento mori ' to remind you to be humble," Zo teased.

Constantine's smile was quick as lightning and just as devastating. "I tried dying and being humble. Neither stuck for long."

Zo shook his head and still laughed because the bastard could always cheer him up no matter how grumpy he was.

Gods save him. Why was this the man the Fates had cursed him to moon over for centuries? He was just as impossible now as he had been when ruling an empire. If he weren't so damn irresistible at the same time, Zo would have killed him hundreds of years ago.

Saint Mark's Square was lit with fairy lights, a giant decorated tree towering in the center. The crowds were lining up to get into the Basilica.

"You sure you want to tackle all this for carols? It's like the Colosseum on free bread day. We won't get a seat," Zo said, a last feeble attempt to return to the warm heat of his kitchen.

"A good thing you don't need to sit to use your ears," Constantine replied.

Zo surrendered to his fate, and they moved into the line.

Zo had never been drawn to the new Christian faith, but he enjoyed their churches. Constantine, on the other hand, had never met a mystery cult he didn't want to join. San Marco should have been gaudy with so much gold, and yet all it did was fill him with an awe that had never diminished with time. He had seen every iteration of the structure, and he still loved it.

They moved through the crowds, and as soon as they drew near to some seats, a couple decided to get up and leave. Zo knew he should always expect this kind of nonsense when he was with Constantine, but it always surprised him. It was as if the universe knew exactly what the emperor wanted, and it, too, was inclined to give it to him. It was a good thing that Constantine no longer had any aspirations for world domination. Well, none that he knew of anyway.

Zo let the beautiful voices of the choir wash over him and drown out all the noise in his head. He stared up at the mosaics with their sad, knowing Byzantine faces and felt like maybe they knew how he was feeling.

Nereus had died at Abaddon's hand. His son had almost died because of his old enemies. His kind, loving son who had never harmed another being in his entire life. Who took in every stray animal and cared for them. His son, who was growing older every day and who he would one day lose to time.

Tears of fear and worry and heartache that Zo had been trying to hold in for months burned behind his eyes, and he couldn't hold them in anymore. They streamed in hot rivulets down his cheek and neck through 'Silent Night' and into 'Ave Maria.'

Constantine linked his fingers around Zo's in silent comfort and that just made him cry more. He was getting used to Constantine being around and it just meant that it would hurt twice as bad when he left again.

Love always hurts eventually . This was a truth Zo had learned over the long, long, span of his life. Time had taken so many people from him, and on the bad days, it was like he was drowning in ghosts and heartache.

He was glad Alexis was back in Venice. He understood better than any of them when the melancholy of immortality struck.

Like Zo, Alexis always went further inside of himself. Alexis usually kept the others at bay while Zo worked his way through it. Constantine was determined not to let him wallow. Zo would have fought back if it had been anyone else.

"You are going to be okay, Zo. I'll make sure of it," Constantine whispered to him, and Zo broke a little more.