The sun felt too hot. I couldn't see any clouds in the distance. Ezra crossed his arms over the top of the saddle and gazed up at the man in front of him. His dark chestnut horse lowered his head to graze, nuzzling his nose along the tall grass. Ezra had several days' worth of beard growth, and his skin was powdered with a fine layer of dirt. His dark green tunic was frayed and dirty, and his face looked worn and tired. He glared at the man in irritation at having been interrupted on his journey.

   The crucifix made a dark shadow across the grass behind it. Dried blood twisted down the man's feet where the stake had been driven through them, pinning him to the wood. Similar trails of blood had dripped from each wrist, though they had long since dried and clotted. The man was filthy. Sweat had cut a path through dirt and feces covering his skin, and he wreaked of urine. His hair was matted with grime. What patches of skin I could see were baked bright red and blistered from the harsh sun overhead. The man didn't move his head but merely raised his eyes to watch Ezra below him.

   Ezra dipped his head to the left and squinted up at the wretched figure. "Would you like me to get you down?"

   The man nodded weakly, "Yes... please."

   Ezra's legs hung freely down both sides of the horse. He was sitting in a kind of saddle without stirrups with some sort of leather prongs sticking out from each of its four corners. Large leather pouches hung on either side of the horse, draped across its front shoulders. Ezra swung his leg over the horse and slid down.  

   He walked up to the crucifix and placed his hands on the post below the man's feet. He braced with his shoulder and pushed, his feet digging into the soil. I heard a snap as the wood gave way. Louder cracks protested as the post splintered. The crucifix pitched backwards suddenly, and the man crashed onto the ground. The man howled and groaned in pain from the impact. His muscles quivered, and he gasped heavily.

   Ezra reached down and wrapped his hands around the iron stake protruding through the man's feet. He grunted once as he yanked the spike free. He tossed the metal casually aside and pulled the next spike out of the man's left wrist. Ezra stepped over his body and carelessly pulled the last iron stake out of the man's right wrist.

   The man didn't move at first but lay panting on the cross. Eventually, he rolled to the side and sat on the ground, resting his back against the wood. "Thank you."

   Ezra grunted. He walked over to his horse and untied something from the saddle. I walked around the side to get a better look. It was a leather pouch shaped like a kidney. I realized, belatedly, it was probably a stomach. He tossed it to the man who raised it to his lips eagerly. He gulped down the water quickly; a few seconds later, he leaned over and vomited it back up. The man heaved a sigh and wiped his mouth as he sat back up. He raised the water to his lips once more... this time sipping slowly.

   "They accused me of..." the man began.

   "It doesn't matter," Ezra answered brusquely, cutting him off. "How long do you take to heal?"

   The man looked down at his feet and winced. "A few days at least."

    "In that case, I recommend you go that way," he said, pointing toward some grassy hills. "There is a cohort a few hours behind me." The man nodded gravely.

   Ezra reached for his belt as he began walking toward his horse.

   "How can I thank you?" 

   Ezra turned, and his hand flew out. Something glittered as it flew through the air. The man jumped and looked down. A knife slid across the dirt, sending billows of dust around it and stopped next to his thigh.

   "Don't get crucified again," Ezra answered.

  I opened my eyes to sunlight streaming through the windows, the smell of the grass and the stench of the urine still lingering in my nose. I could feel the warmth radiating from Ezra's skin against mine. As I stretched my arms in front of me, Ezra's arm tightened, pulling me closer to him. I rolled onto my back toward him as he pulled himself up onto his arms and hovered over me. His fingers brushed hair back from my forehead. My stomach growled. He grinned at me, "You're hungry."

   "Ah, well, I didn't eat last night," I replied. He looked down at me. "Why not?"

   "I planned to grab something from the kitchen when I got home, but I got... distracted."

   He raised his eyebrows, his fingers lightly traced my jaw. "Did you see anything last night?" 

   I shook my head. "Not last night. But a few minutes ago..." His eyes widened with a mixture of caution and interest. "Seeing a man crucified doesn't look anything like what I saw in Spartacus."

   His expression melted quickly from caution to surprise. "Crucified? Was anyone with me?" I shook my head. He thought again. "Did I help him down?"

   "Yes. The stench was unbelievable."

   Ezra laughed. "We weren't bothered by it the way people are today."

   His eyes drifted down the length of my body. "That's all? You didn't see anything last night?" he asked again. I shook my head. "And now?" he asked, running his hand down my arm.

   "None," I answered.

   "Hmmm. You had them when I touched you before, but not now. I suppose we will have to keep experimenting." He lowered his head and kissed me on my sternum. He moved slowly down as his mouth traced over my skin to my stomach. My breath hitched. His hand slid up to my ribcage and stopped at the white scar between my ribs. His fingers fluttered lightly over the thin line. "Eventually, the scar will disappear too," he said then bent his head again and blew gently across the scar. My skin tingled in response.

   My stomach growled again. He laughed. "We better get you fed."

I sighed and sat up. Ezra rolled over and threw the blankets aside. I reached for a t-shirt then padded across the room in my bare feet toward the bathroom as Ezra slipped his clothing on.

   As I passed the living room, a small beeping noise caught my attention. I walked to my bag to retrieve my phone, rifling through it before giving up and pulling out my laptop and the manuscript to get to it at the bottom of the bag. Unlocking it, I realized my battery was down to twenty percent. I tapped the email icon to see a message from Roger, locked the screen, and set it on a charger.

   In the bathroom, I quickly brushed my teeth and then rinsed off in the shower. I wouldn't have time to dry my hair, so I just combed it back from my face and pulled on a robe. Ezra was sitting on the sofa, perusing the manuscript when I returned. "See anyone you know?"

   His made a slight noise in his throat, "Perhaps."

   I smirked and walked to the bedroom, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I dug through my dresser and found a red knit sweater I was looking for and shrugged it over my head. As I came back into the living room, Ezra was by the bathroom door, looking scrubbed and fresh.

   I reached for my keys he bent forward to kiss me then grinned wildly. "Later, I'll show you how to fade." 

   Alexa Galanis looked up as she heard footsteps approaching her desk. It was near the end of the day, and she didn't want any new business to prolong getting home. She nearly gasped when a man with flowing blond hair and eyes the color of the Adriatic Sea stepped toward her.

   "Are you lost?"

   He paused for an instant. "Ms. Galanis?"

   "Yes," she said, taken back. She didn't often get visitors at her office.

   "My name is Leif Randall." He handed her a card. "I was told you would be expecting me."

   "Oh, yes. I'm sorry. I was told you would arrive tomorrow." She had been instructed to escort the visiting British scholar and help him through his research, but she had imagined someone much older.

   "I'm sorry. If it is an inconvenience, I can return tomorrow." He paused and smiled gaily at her. She flustered for a moment.

   "No, of course not. Today is fine." She walked to the door and gestured for him to follow. She was small, almost birdlike. Leif watched her swift gait with pleasant amusement.  

   "When I was told I would have someone to help me in my research," he began, "I hadn't imagined you would be so young."

   She turned with a startled expression. "I was just thinking the same thing about you. Your credentials are impressive. They are remarkable even for someone twice your age."

   "Thank you," he accepted the compliment simply, without any hint of arrogance.

   "The inscription was discovered a few years ago. It is widely debated, of course, but many believe it to be the work of Hesiod. I am afraid you'll find portions of it have been damaged, but much of it has remained intact."

   "It would be hard to believe it could have remained unscathed all these years." Leif kept pace with her as she led him to a secure storage vault. She opened the door to a room filled with stone and clay tablets of many sizes. Some were small, no larger than a book and others taller than he was. "And it is a narrative about Asclepius?" he asked, as he passed by only inches from her face. She blushed slightly.

   "Yes," she replied and looked down. He smiled to himself as he watched her nervousness and blush. She pointed to a piece of limestone broken in two articles about two feet long on his left. "We have materials to make a rubbing of the text if you need them." Leif walked over to read the inscription.

   "Are you married?" he asked as he quickly scanned the letters.

   "What?"

   He raised his gaze and cocked his head to the right, smiling invitingly. "Uh... no. I'm not," she stammered slightly. Leif made a pleased noise. "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind joining me later in the city. It has been many years since I've been to Athens."

   The wind had brought a dense chill that hovered throughout the morning. I was glad I grabbed my wool coat as we headed out the door. We drove out of the city along narrow winding roads, tall evergreen trees grew thick with their long limbs and needled fingers entwining high overhead. The Land Rover jerked and dived along a dirt road that seemed to seldom see visitors. Ezra pulled to a stop near a footpath and turned off the ignition. "We are going to have to walk the rest of the way from here."

   "Where are we going?" I didn't mind a pleasant hike through the woods, but the entire trek had become a mystery. 

   "I promised to show you how to fade. There's a clearing not too far from here with lots of sunlight and shadows."

   I knew lots of places with sunlight and shadows, and they weren't nearly so difficult to get to, but I was curious, so I didn't complain. Relieved I'd worn boots with a good tread, I pulled the hood of my jacket up over my head and followed Ezra along the path.

   We walked for nearly thirty minutes through dark masses of trees. I could hear the assuring tinkling sound of a brook nearby as the forest crowded around us, filled with noises. Heavy limbs scraped and rattle against each other, while leaves sighed softly to chattering birds and spirited rodents leapt nearby from branch to branch. Everywhere the whisper of the cold wind touched the trees, stirring up the smell of damp leaves and moss. The forest was content by itself and wanted no intrusion.

   We trekked quietly along a small trail; some parts were little more than half a foot wide. Eventually, Ezra led me into a small clearing about the size and shape of a baseball diamond. On the opposite side loomed the remains of a small building. Dark stone supported long-forgotten timber beams. Ivy trailed across the rocks with loam and creeping moss clinging to the ruined walls, inching its way patiently into every crack. Each doorway stood with low arches curving above, scarcely taller than my head. The heavy Pacific Northwest rains had long since overwhelmed parts of its roof. There was a lonely and gentle beauty about it.

   To the left was a small cluster of weathered headstones accompanied by blue and yellow wildflowers beginning to bud. Ezra's gaze swept the clearing, following closely behind my own, almost as if he was seeing it for the first time as well. "Few people know this place exists any longer."

   "Was it a church?"

   "No, an outpost for the Pacific Fur Company. Later used for storage. But it did served as a church, of sorts, when needed."

   "When needed?"

   "Funerals mostly," he answered, glancing over to the graves. They were small and heavily weathered. I could barely make out the names carved on them. They seemed to be from the early nineteenth century. I ambled slowly, taking in names of people I never knew. It occurred to me Ezra probably knew all of them.  

   I stopped in front of a small tombstone stained with light green and yellow lichen. "Is this... you?" The inscription read Ezra Burbage d. 1823.

   Ezra nodded. I turned back to the gravestone. Burbage? It only then occurred to me that I hadn't known Ezra's last name. I suppose I assumed he didn't have one.

   "Your last name is Burbage?"

   "Sometimes."

   "What is it now?"

   "Sarian." I let my mind absorb it. I don't know what I was expecting. Exotic? Mundane? I wasn't sure. "It's Armenian," he continued. "Well, mostly Armenian."

   "You're pretending to be Armenian?"

   "Well, maybe I'm not pretending. You never know... I could be."

   "What's in the coffin?" I wondered aloud.

   "Dirt mostly."

   "What happened?" I was unable to take my eyes from the stone marker.

   "A girl." My eyebrows shot up, and I invited him to continue.

   "One of the traders, a man named William Stanton brought his daughter with him. It was foolish of him and dangerous for a woman of any age. She was sixteen or seventeen, I think. I don't remember. We were seen several times, whispering together, unchaperoned. One of the men took offense. He shot me in the chest."

   "Why?"

   "She was young and desirable. She had skin so fair you could almost see her blood rushing beneath it." I still didn't understand. He looked down at me, "I didn't."

   "Oh." I looked at his hands. His sleeves were pushed up his arms, and his skin glowed a deep olive, almost bronze in the sunlight. He was probably a shade or two darker than most modern Armenians, but I didn't suppose that really mattered.

   "What happened to the man?"

   "They hung him," he said as he gestured to the grave next to his.

   "If the man shot you, you would have healed in what... a couple hours? Minutes?" I was trying to piece the scenario together.

   "Less," he answered.

   "Then how did you..."

   "I had to play dead. Leif took care of my body and snuck me onto a horse that night."

   I wondered what had happened to the girl.

A cloud passed in front of the sun casting a dark shadow along the ground. A second or two passed before the sun spread out again, lighting up the tiny meadow. He reached down and circled his fingers around my hand and pulled me in the direction of the ruined building. "Come on. We need dark shadows if we are going to fade."

   We stepped through a ragged archway and into a rectangular room, no more than thirty feet long. Moss clung to the stones and grass grew sparsely in the dirt at our feet. Golden sun rays divided the room where parts of the roof had crumbled. The effect was spectacular. Ezra positioned me at the entrance and walked toward the middle of the room and reached up toward a large timber beam. In a swift motion, he jump-grabbed the beam, swung his feet up to bounce off the wall, and landed on top of the rafter. Impressive, I thought to myself and stifled a smile. Was he showing off? He crouched down into long shadows balancing on the balls of his feet. "Can you see me?"

   "Yes," I called back. There was no difference that I could see.

   "Now look away and then turn back."

   I did so, and when my eyes came back to the same area, he was gone. My mouth flew open, and I stepped toward him. I scanned the room but couldn't find him. I circled the room twice, but he had vanished. A soft laugh sounded behind me to the right. I turned. Ezra stepped forward into the sunlight suddenly and appeared as if he had been there all along.

   "Want to try?"

I nodded. I walked over to the patch of sunlight where he had stood and then stepped back into the shadows. "Now will me not to see you."

   I repeated the words 'don't see me' in my mind. I didn't feel any different. "Tell me not to see you. Want it more than anything." I closed my eyes and concentrated. I repeated it to myself over and over.

   Ezra touched my hand, wrapping his fingers with my own. I opened my eyes. He was smiling at me. "It's okay. Keep trying. No one does it the first time."

   "You did."

   "Yes," he said. "But I really wanted it. Fading will only work if you are standing in dark shadows and whoever your hiding from standing in direct sunlight. It takes concentration to maintain, but it gets easier with practice."

   He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. I felt a drop of water tap me on my shoulder. We looked up as rain lightly splattered our faces. Parts of the sky were still dotted with blue, but dark heavy clouds were looming dangerously. A large grey mass floated in front of the sun. The drops grew heavier and faster as it pelted against the stone and a gust of wind shook the short weeds and grass at our feet.  

   "We better go if we want to get back to the car before it starts to rain harder." Ezra calmly gripped my hand and pulled me beside him. Moments after the words left his lips, a rush of water pounded on what was left of the roof. "On second thought," he said and pulled me deeper into the building.

   The birds and animals of the forest were silent. I realized it had been some time since I had heard any noise from them and wondered how long they had been quiet. The only sound was the torrential slapping the stones and the bows of the trees protesting against the push of the wind. I moved to the far corner that was still fully covered by the roof and squatted to wait out the storm. The walls and roof shielded us from the worst of the wind, but I still had to pull my coat tighter around me.  

   Ezra sat down next to me. "I should have paid more attention to the weather. I'm sorry, sometimes I forget. It's been a long time."

   "You don't feel the cold?"

   He shook his head. "I feel it, certainly, but I don't care anymore."

   I tried to mask my annoyance. It was hard to imagine being so old you don't care about feeling cold, but the more the wind blew, the less sympathetic I became. Time passed, and my arms started shaking and quivering slightly. Ezra glanced up at the sky and back at me. "I need to make a fire. Wait here. I'll be back." Before I could protest, he was already out of the building, rain soaking him to the skin. Really, I thought, where was I going to go?

   I shivered and checked my phone every few minutes. The clouds were growing darker and the rain heavier. Ezra was gone more than twenty minutes before I heard his footsteps nearby. His arms were full of small twigs and short branches. He ran out again but returned immediately and laid a small pile of larger, thicker branches next to the first. From his pockets, he pulled out fistfuls of brown pine needles and dried leaves. He fished out a piece of grey stone from inside the leaves.

   "Flint?" I asked.

   He nodded. "There's a small stream nearby, and there are always a few pieces of flint scattered around it." Next, he stood up and walked toward one of the arched doorways. The wooden doors had long since been removed. He reached up and pulled down a piece of dark metal from inside the arch. A hinge? It was twisted and misshapen making it impossible to determine what it had once been. As he walked back over to me, he squatted and scooped up some dead grasses and weeds that had collected near the wall. He placed the dried grass into a small pile in the corner near the other woods he collected and grabbed the flint. I had never seen anyone start a fire this way and I watched fascinated.

   Ezra lowered himself only inches from the ground and struck the piece of iron with the flint. A small gouge was made in the metal but no sparks. Ezra readjusted and struck again. Small sparks flew off and landed on the dirt. He struck twice and a third time, each strike sending a small cascade of sparks to the ground. The fourth time the tiny bits of metal fell into the pile of grasses, and Ezra bent down and blew gently on them, shielding the back with the curve of his hand. Flames erupted in seconds, and he sprinkled more grasses over the top, feeding the fledgling fire. Then he added small bits of dried leaves then pine needles and bits of bark. Soon a small fire was burning, consuming the bits of fuel Ezra fed to it. He added twigs and small branches, growing progressively larger with each step. The warmth was already feeding into the stones around us and soaking into my skin.

   Once the fire was burning at full strength, I huddled down next to it eager and moaned quietly as my fingers tingled sharply at the rush of warmth. Ezra pulled himself up behind me and wrapped his arms around my own, lending me what warmth he could offer. I relaxed slightly as the rain increased its assault above us. Tiny rivers and puddles formed on the ground and water dripped silently from stone to stone along the walls near the entrance where the roof had fallen.

   A couple of hours passed and Ezra had been forced to run out twice to gather more dead branches, a task that was becoming more and more daunting as the rain began soaking through to the ground. The temperature dropped, and I curled my body in on itself, hovering as close to the fire as I dared. The walls glimmered icily as a thin sheet of frozen water cracked along its surface. Then the sound of the rain shifted, pulling my attention away from the fire. I watched the puddles in horror as the tiny drops of water bounced and rolled along the earth floor. Hail. Tiny frozen pebbles mixed with the rain, collecting in the depressions on the ground. I held my breath and waited for this new fresh attack to wane. It was getting worse.

   The hail vanished as quickly as it appeared. Ezra snapped a couple large branches and added them to the fire. We waited. Ice crept silently, steadily across the floor and up the walls. My eyes closed and I curled on my side in as tight a fetal position as I could form. Ezra pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. A terrifying crack and roar split through the trees outside. Another followed, equally as horrifying, that almost resembled a challenge.

   "It's an ice storm."

   "But it's April," I retorted as if by stating this simple irrefutable fact I could somehow will the storm to retreat. Ezra rested his head on his arms and waited. I clung to the safety and comfort of the fire and listened to the battle being waged. Ice and wind battered against the forest. Each broken limb snapped like cannon fire around us. It was terrifying, chilling, and wildly exciting. Ezra sat stoic and calm, casually brushing wayward strands of hair away from my face.

   A cannon erupted directly overhead as a heavy branch buckled and collapsed, crashing onto the roof. The impact shook the rafters and sent vibrations through the walls. One of the beams broke and sunk, sending rain, ice and a century's worth of debris onto us. Ezra had pulled me up and out of the way before I fully understood what had happened. Several streams of water began falling around the fire, sending billows of steam up into the air.

   A feral rattling sound came out of Ezra's chest. "We are going to have to run. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

   "Of course, I'll be fine. I'm not made of glass."

   Ezra stopped short and turned to me. Then he laughed, shaking his whole chest. He grabbed my hand, and we ran, rain and wind stinging wickedly across my skin. The meadow looked every bit as ravaged by the battle as I imagined. Branches and trees littered the open ground. Large limbs hung above us, covered twig to needle with glittering blankets of white ice. The forest had been transformed into a miraculous fantasy. I had never seen anything more beautiful, made all the more extraordinary by its danger.   

We started back along the trail, the dense canopy of branches above delaying some of the drops. As the rain collected the water steadily increased in size until they found their way passed the thick branches to us. Soon my hair and shoulders were soaked through. We ran along the trail, dodging gnarled tree roots slick with ice that snapped at us as we ran past. I had to strain myself, trying not to slip in the mud one instant followed by dark ice the next.

The sound of a tree branch snapped menacingly above me. Ezra grabbed my hand to steady me as we neared the end of the trail. The canopy fell away, and the sky released a blanket of glacial daggers on us. The ground felt frozen while thick drops of water rippled down my skin, penetrating through my jeans in seconds. I curled into myself for a moment in a useless attempt to shield my body from the watery onslaught and then laugh suddenly. I stood up and threw my head back open to the sky. The water bit into my skin, harsh and ruthless. I laughed, raising my face to meet each deadly drop.  

   Ezra circled his arms around me from behind and spun me to face him. His arms locked tightly across my back as he kissed me, rain rushing over our faces. I was laughing and shivering.

   "Come home with me."

   "But I don't have anything to change into." I glanced down at myself, every inch drenched to the skin.

   "You won't need any. Come home with me."

Boom chicka wow wowwwww.

What do you think is going to happen next?

TEASER: "They will be watching."