The Flavor of Deception

 
Titus awoke with a start. He was lying in a large, soft bed, downy comforters covering his naked form. Ever the warrior, Titus jumped to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. He had no memory of coming into this room or of taking off his clothes and climbing into bed. The last memory he had was of Death, in all his ghoulish glory, hovering above him as a feeling of warmth washed over his body, then…..nothing.

‘What has that bastard done?’ Titus wondered. He closed his eyes and tried to bring his wife into his mind. He could bring the image of her and his children to him anytime he wanted, that was part of the deal he had made with Satan when he sold his soul. Eternity in captivity in exchange for the illusion of being with his family anytime he could. And it was only an illusion. His wife and their lovely little boys were ripped limb from limb by the Sasanian, their mutilated put on display as a warning to all Roman women.

Rage washed over him as he failed to bring the illusion of his family into being. Only the memories of their death played before his eyes.

Titus bellowed his rage as he sprang from the bed. He had nothing left, his human life was gone, his soul on display in Hades forever out of his reach and now the only concept of peace he was allowed had been ripped from him.

“DEMOCRITUS!! Κέβλος!! Where are you? Come face your doom!” His own voice echoing in the silence was the only response.

Looking around for something to cover himself with, Titus grabbed the sheet from the bed and fashioned a toga then stomped to the door. Grasping the doorknob, Titus was stunned as his wife’s face flashed into his memory. She was laughing, the little lines around her eyes prominent, her teeth catching the light. It was a portrait of the last moment they had spent together before her brutal death.
Grief brought Titus to his knees. As a warrior he was unfamiliar with the emotions that washed over him in waves. Pain, heartbreaking pain, ripped the moisture from his eyes. Tears ran freely down his cheeks and his breath caught in his lungs. ‘Desperation’, he thought, ‘this must be what desperation feels like.’

The door flew open, catching him across the shoulder and back causing him to fall face first onto the floor. Lying there, he wished for the end of his existence, for the true death that only defeated prayed for. Weeping, he rolled onto his back and stared into the face of his wife.

Lisa stared down at the half naked man lying on the floor. A map of scars showed the torture he had endured in all of his long existence. As her eyes traveled to his face, she felt the beginnings of things she had long forgotten. Recognition. Love. Desire.

She knew this man. She didn’t know how or when, but she knew him intimately. This was her husband.

‘It can’t be. I’m insane. I’ve never been married’, she thought. ‘But this man is mine and I am his. Of that I have no doubt.’

A cry of despair escaped Titus’ lips. Satan had found him and devised a new way to torment him. Titus had gotten so used to the physical torture that it no longer affected him, so the Great Tormentor had devised a new way to abuse him.

“Do I know you?” The sweetest voice Titus had ever heard, one he had longed for centuries to hear again, asked him. “Are you alright?”

Titus scooted back as she reached out a hand to touch him. He knew this was a trap, a trap that would end with him withering in pain and wishing again for his own death.

“It is safe, my friend”, a deep voice said in Ancient Greek, “Nothing here will harm you. You are safe.”

Titus’ head snapped around to see his old friend, Democritus leaning against the wall. As he stared at him, Titus began to see the similarities between the boy he once knew and the creature now known as Death.

Springing to his feet to land in a defensive posture, Titus demanded, “What have you done to me? Why, why this, the one thing that you of all people know will destroy me.”

Democritus, now known as Death or even Mitch to his friends, threw back his head and laughed. He laughed until he was weak with mirth, tears running down his face and his breath hitching in his chest. Sitting down on the floor he glanced at Lisa and the expression on her face made him laugh all the harder.

Titus glanced at the woman that so looked like his wife to see that she was as confused as he was himself. Straightening up, he relaxed his posture and tilted his head, his eyes traveling over the features of the lovely creature staring at the laughing man. The similarities were remarkable, the eyes were the same sea green and surrounded by fine laugh lines, the lips were full and rosy and slightly parted. Her hair was the same hue and caught the light the same exact way as his love’s did. It was torture.

“Enough!” Titus bellowed. He couldn’t stand looking at the woman a moment longer. “What have you done, Democritus? Are you in league with him, are you Satan’s minion?”

At the mention of Satan’s name, the beautiful woman bolted from the room. Within seconds Titus heard a door slam and muffled sobs echo down the hall. Every fiber of his being wanted to go and comfort her, but he needed answers and he needed them now.

“I haven’t gone by the name Democritus in centuries”, the laughing man said, “ call me Mitch, it’s much easier and it suits me better.”

Climbing to his feet, Mitch wiped the tears from his cheeks as one last chuckle escaped his lips. Shaking his head, he looked at his childhood friend. So many centuries had passed, so much pain and sorrow, he wondered if they would be able to recapture any of the affection they once felt for each other.

“Come, my friend, get dressed and come downstairs. We have much to discuss and I have much to explain.” Titus stepped back as Mitch reached out to lay an hand on his arm. Feeling a spark of pain, Mitch lowered his hand and continued, “You will find clothes in the drawers. I promise they will fit you.”

Turning his back on the man that he had once shared all his secrets with, Mitch swallowed the lump that had developed in his throat. He hadn’t known it would hurt this much. Walking out of the room, he quietly closed the door behind him.

Now he had to deal with Lisa and her newly founded doubts. He hadn’t expected her to find Titus yet, he had hoped to prepare her for the experience. Now she would have doubts and fears that would be difficult to put to rest.

Shaking his head, he walked toward her door. The muffled sound of crying cut him to the quick, he had become quiet found of her and hated to see her in pain. But this was a pain she must suffer if they were going to succeed. And they MUST succeed.

Death pondered the fact that he was dealing with the living more than he was with the dead. But of course, they hadn’t been the living in any true sense until he meddled with them.

Sometimes being the Master of all the Dead had its’ perks. Other times, like now, it truly and thoroughly sucked.

Stopping before Lisa’s door he steeled himself. She was quite a handful, and he half expected to be clobbered as soon as he opened the door. Gods knew she had an amazing right hook, she had used it more than once in the past few weeks.

“Good thing I heal so quickly”, he thought as he twisted the doorknob.