28. CORIOLANUS

CORIOLANUS

The Present

A s he walked east along the harbourfront, unbothered by the impending rainfall, having started just past the TTC Streetcar Platform at Queens Quay West and Dan Leckie Way, Corey reflected upon the myriad of emotions the night’s events had stirred up. He felt uncomfortable, though familiar feelings of loneliness, regret, and a sense of significant loss, an absence in his life. That space within his heart, that longing emptiness, probably never to be filled again, especially tormented him.

He knew what the emptiness represented. The choice of the mortal Christian to be his prey—with that hauntingly familiar face—spoke volumes. The rush of pleasure and enjoyment from his erotic performance earlier had all but evaporated.

Corey could not help but notice what he could only describe as an ominous presence of living darkness that seemed to follow him along the pier as if it were just a few steps behind, waiting to engulf him. What unnerved him was that it was a darkness he had no control over; he could not make it go away. And no shade, shadow or gloaming ever held such power over him, except for that controlled by one far greater than himself.

However, aside from that earlier moment of false detection, when he believed his emotions were messing with him, he still did not sense his Maker anywhere in the Greater Toronto Area.

Though uneasy, Corey felt no ill will directed at him emanating from anywhere near his location. Perhaps the creeping shadows were simply mundane. He wondered if his distracted mind was playing tricks on him again.

Then, coming from behind him, he heard a gentle, familiar voice call out his name. And this was definitely not his imagination.

With a sudden jolt, Corey spun around, his immortal heart racing as the magic ichor began to flow instinctively at the excitement and dread of seeing none other than Olympius emerging from the shadows. The mighty god moved slowly and deliberately, each step calculated and purposeful, until he stood directly before his warrior-god, their bodies barely half a metre apart .

The darkness seemed to cling to Olympius like a cloak, casting his features in an eerie half-light that left Corey uneasy and uncertain.

“Olympius!”

“Hello, my immortal beloved.”

Corey’s eyes blazed with outrage. “How dare you come to me again after I demanded—no, commanded that you stay the fuck away from me! This relentless pursuit! Will you never leave me to find peace?” In his mind, the god told himself to flee into the night as fast as he could and as far away as possible. However, he did not, and why he remained was no mystery.

He missed Olympius terribly. He always did. No matter how many centuries passed or how much turmoil and destruction he brought into his life, he loved him still.

“Modern mortals would call what we have a toxic relationship ,” Olympius snickered, not even needing to read his beloved’s thoughts to know what he was thinking. “But they would be wrong. Our love is pure, true, and everlasting. I give you space and time to see reason, but I cannot stay away forever. Only my destruction could stop my faithfulness. And since you brought it up, have you ever found peace of mind during this senseless feud?”

Corey, without a moment’s hesitation, smugly replied, “Brittania.”

The ancient god’s face turned sour. “I had nothing to do with the destruction of that village or the slayings. How many times must I tell you this? I am Lord of the Night, not some deranged mass murderer! And I never feed on or harm children! During our campaign against Rome, we never allowed our soldiers to attack women and children. Those who broke our rules were punished with death. You know this. Read my mind. Or taste my blood. I offer it freely, as always. I shall never admit to that which I took no part in.”

Corey clenched his fists. “We’ve been over this. Your mental powers are too great. You can bewitch me to see what is not true and believe it. And your blood? No, I will never drink from your fount again. I know what I know. You are a liar and a deceiver—a destructive mad god.”

Olympius felt that all-too-familiar pain in his heart as if shot through with the sharpest of Artemis’ enchanted silver arrows. These days, however, he knew she preferred an M16, not that that weapon’s mundane ammunition would sting any less. The god’s face went from sour to hurt.

“Oh, how you can still wound me, beloved. But I will not take the bait , as the mortals say. I did not come to fight with you or to plead my case. I have a much more important reason for being here. It is not by chance that The Fates brought us together here and now. I have learned that the Wheel of Destiny favours us tonight and—”

Olympius immediately ceased speaking, interrupted by a sound no mortal could hear, but both gods heard it clearly. It was a name and a desperate plea for aid carried on the night winds.

“Christian?”

Corey barely whispered the man’s name, but Olympius caught it nevertheless .

With a pointed tone and an expression tinged with more than a pinch of jealousy, Olympius asked, “Coriolanus, who is this Christian ?”

The ancient deity found himself in complete silence as he awaited a response from his warrior-god. Unfortunately, no answer came, as his beloved had departed, leaving Olympius alone to suffer further rejection and humiliation.

Go after him.

Olympius ignored the voice in his head, remained frozen in place, and began to brood. He never expected that his beloved Coriolanus could leave him so quickly for someone else, whether a man or a god, though he detected no other immortals besides the three of them in the city. So, to be tossed aside for the sake of a mortal was particularly crushing.

Trust me, my friend. Go after him.

“I cannot go through another abandonment, Fortuna. To experience him rejecting me even one more time—no, I cannot do it. You stopped me once tonight with your words from pursuing my plan to end it all; a second attempt will not succeed.”

You must trust me, Olympius. I cannot say more, but all will be revealed tonight. Go now, and remember what I said! This is an age of technological wonders. So much can be seen.

“As always, you speak in riddles. It is—it’s fucking annoying, is what it is!” He hated sounding like a mortal, using their base vernacular and contractions, but it somehow suited his irritation and frustration at that moment .

Olympius heard faint giggling in response to his outrage, followed by two words: I know .

“Fine!” Though he had little faith that he could do anything to undo two millennia’s worth of hurtful accusations, abandonment, and disloyalty, Olympius reached out with his incredible senses; he quickly located his progeny by his link to the magical blood. What awaited him in the alley he saw in his mind did not look promising.

Olympius sneered when he saw an image of his beloved leaning over a corpse in sorrow and rage. Oh, that mortal. Well, a dead body left out in the open and easily discovered is rarely a good omen.

The god set off into the night sky and, in seconds, was at his warrior-god’s side.

Olympius spoke calmly and detachedly, as if entirely unfazed by what he saw before him. “This is yet another act of violence committed by a mortal upon a mortal,” he stated matter-of-factly. “A bloody, ugly thing, veritably, and one we have witnessed countless times before. What is it to us? Who is this mortal to you that you should lament over his corpse, Coriolanus?”

Corey ignored his Maker’s jealous outburst and lack of empathy and meticulously examined Christian’s lifeless form in search of any clues that could lead to the identity of his killer.

Despite the presence of blood at the scene, it was clear that Christian’s fluids were the only ones spilled. Corey tasted the blood to see if it could provide helpful information, but unfortunately, it lacked the vitality to produce anything of value—disjointed memories at best .

“His mind is gone, beloved. Even I cannot glean anything of substance from it—fractured, fading memories at best. Darkness descends quickly. I see—a murderous wind? Glowing eyes? Disorder and clutter. And a—a kiss.”

Olympius’ voice quieted when he spoke his last sentence. The hurt was evident in his tone. He wondered how he had not seen this act, regardless of brevity, earlier in his surveillance.

“I am not blind, Coriolanus. I see his face. So you will show affection to a pale shade of me, a carnival mirror-version! Is he one of my Roman father’s descendants? Did you seek him out? Have you done this with others like him? This is sick. Do you hate me so much?”

Olympius turned his gaze away from the gruesome spectacle of death and from the god who was now a stranger to him. He began walking away, down the alley. His mind was numb, and his feet felt heavy, making it impossible to focus on flying up into the vastness of the night sky. Yet he sought refuge in the cold embrace of the darkness.

He prepared to call the shadows around the buildings to create a portal to transport him away from this scene of hopelessness and heartache.

Consumed with an overwhelming sense of despair, Olympius wanted to fade into nothingness—to become nothingness.

“It’s not like that!” Corey cried, rising to his feet. “I never meant to be cruel. Please—please, don’t go!” His voice trembled as he spoke .

Olympius paused his march without turning around as the air thickened with tension. “I cannot look at you. Speak your mind, and then let me be on my way. You have cut too deep this time. I shall never trouble you again. Believe that!” His words were blunt and mordant.

“I’ve never chosen a prey that looked like him before, Olympius,” Corey exclaimed. “Never! Not for companionship, not for sustenance. It was just—I felt guided to him. This entire night started out feeling so auspicious. That’s the only word to describe it. The club, that man, your presence here.

“Now I start to wonder, does this all not seem too coincidental? Fortuna told me tonight would be momentous. I knew not what she meant, but now—I wonder what all this means. Did you not mention the Wheel of Destiny earlier?”

“Fortuna plays games with us. She also spoke to me tonight, filling my head with fantastical nonsense. The Fates play games with us. For all I know, the bloody Olympians are fucking with us. I cannot do this anymore. I cannot, I—”

And then the ancient night god saw it: the moon brooch. Though partially covered in gunk from the alley, the enchanted pin sparkled in the moonlight. But when Olympius looked closer, he saw blood coated the pin, not just dirt and grime—mortal blood.

Christian’s blood.

“What are you looking at?’” Corey asked, curious what could distract Olympius enough to stop him mid-speech. “What’s that? Wait, isn’t that your brooch? Why aren’t you wearing it? ”

Though he only briefly gazed at the object, the realization of a dark and sinister act hit Corey like a freight train as soon as he smelled the blood on it and knew it belonged to Christian.

“His throat! That—that is the murder weapon! Oh no—you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Not again, Olympius. Not again!”

Due to the bloody brooch, Corey believed that Olympius, in his never-ending pursuit of control and revenge, had taken the life of yet another individual who had brought a fleeting moment of contentment into his otherwise lonesome, solitary existence.

The weight of this knowledge bore down heavily on Corey as he struggled to come to terms with the magnitude of what he saw as Olympius’ wickedness and insurmountable jealousy.

“No—I—no—I did not!” Olympius stuttered. “You must believe me, I—”

But Corey tuned his Maker out, for he could not listen to more lies. All he saw was red: rage, resentment, and contempt. He wanted to punish Olympius for his transgression but knew he would accomplish nothing through force.

“You’re sick, Olympius. I curse the day I ever met you. I’d have been better off staying dead!”