Pello Island: Cassia (18 page)

“But you know I didn’t kill him, Cassia.  How could I without you hearing it?”

“Darius Corvinus, please dress, or would you rather go to jail naked?”

Darius grabbed his tunic from the floor and put it over his head.  The blood from his hands left marks on the fabric, and Darius absent-mindedly tried to wipe them off, making them worse.  The guards surrounded him and walked him to the street.

Cassia ran to catch up as they began their march to the center of the city.  Flavius was waiting at the door and grabbed her before she could chase after Darius.

“Oh my gods, Flavius, he killed him!  How? I never heard anything.  How did he…?”

Flavius held her while she cried.  He had brought a litter, and he helped her climb in.  Frida joined her and the litter bearers carried her home, with Flavius walking next to her.

When they reached the shop, Cassia saw Amatus waiting outside.  She jumped from the litter and ran to him and grabbed his arms.

“Amatus, he’s dead.  My father is dead.  They are saying Darius killed him, but something is wrong.”

“Who’s Darius?” Amatus asked.

“Another noble suitor Quintus came up with,” Flavius answered.

“He killed Quintus?” said Amatus.

“No, he couldn’t have,” Cassia said vehemently.  “I was with him.  He never left the bed, I swear, and I will swear before the magistrates.”

The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that someone else had killed Quintus and made it look as though Darius had committed the crime.

“I would have heard them fighting.  I was right next to…,” she stopped.  She looked at Flavius and suddenly remembered Cicero Gaius.

“Amatus, would you mind leaving us alone?” she asked.

“Yes, Amatus, come back later,” Flavius said.

Amatus looked from Cassia to Flavius.  “I think I’ll take a seat,” he said, and sat on the stool behind the counter.

“You did it, didn’t you, Flavius?  Just like Cicero Gaius.  But this time it wasn’t for me, it was for Novia.”

Flavius faced flinched at the sound of Novia’s name.

“All this time you were just waiting for a chance, some way to avenge her.  But why Darius, why did you choose him when you knew how much it would hurt me?”

Cassia’s calmness disconcerted Flavius.  He had expected her to lash out at him, but her pain was so palpable that Flavius’ shame overtook him.

“Cassia, he’ll go to Pello Island for five years.  They’ll crucify me.”

“So we can sacrifice him, Flavius?  He will have no life now.  His father will banish him from Rome.”

Tears began to roll down Cassia’s cheeks.  She turned away from Flavius and walked into the house, leaving Amatus behind.

“You killed the old bastard,” Amatus said, and reached for Flavius’ hand.  “Flavius, if anyone deserved to die, it was Quintus.”

“I’ve broken her heart,” Flavius said.  “She’ll never forgive me this.”

“She’s young, and she’ll understand one day.  Five years isn’t so much, and I’m sure his noble friends will help him out.”

“Gods, boy, you’re so stupid sometimes.”

“All I mean is…”

“His friends will abandon him.  He’ll be lucky to find a job mucking out stables.  Nobles aren’t made for that kind of life.”

“I’ve little pity for him,” Amatus said.

“Go home, Amatus.  Give us a few days, please.”

“I’ll be at my cart if she needs me,” he said as he left the shop.

Flavius closed the door and bolted it.  He walked into the house looking for Cassia, who had gone to her room.  He found her by the window, watching the birds.

“You’re right, Cass.  I didn’t think about how this would hurt you.  I’m sorry,” he said, then left the room.

“Can I get you anything, miss?” Frida asked.

“No, thank you, Frida, I just want to be left alone.”

Flavius had Quintus’ body brought to the house, and when it was cleaned and dressed, the servants laid Quintus in the atrium on a table brought in from the dining hall.  Flavius commanded the servants to prepare food, and as the news of Quintus’ death spread, men he’d worked with for many years began to arrive to pay their respects.  Flavius hired mourners to follow the casket as Quintus was taken outside the city to a tomb he’d bought years before.  Cassia didn’t make an appearance at her father’s funeral, but instead chose to stay in her room watching the birds in the courtyard.

Kingston, New York

Cassia hugged Dr. Patricia Morgan.  It usually took several minutes for Patricia to become acclimated to Cassia’s new face, and this time was no exception.  They sat opposite each other in the examination room as Cassia brought Patricia up to date.

“They told me at the hospital that everything seemed okay, the blood tests at least.  I know nothing about this girl except that she didn’t have any money and she was kind of a slob.  She must have taken care of her teeth, though.”  Cassia flashed a smile.  “She still had all of them.”

“That’s a good sign, but she did do drugs, right?”

“The nose was red, so she must have snorted something.  I found an empty Oxycodone bottle in a drawer.”

Patricia did a cursory exam of Cassia’s body and then asked her to lie down and put her feet in the stirrups.  After examining her pelvis, Patricia told Cassia to get dressed and come to her office.

The medical clinic / spa had been Cassia’s idea.  When it became harder and harder to find no-questions-asked medical care for the group, Cassia decided to find a doctor they could trust and set up a clinic for the four of them.  She used her own money, and went looking for a building large enough to accommodate a full-service surgical unit, and spa services such as detoxification and massage.

Cassia located an old building in Kingston, within thirty minutes of the mansion in case one of them needed immediate care. As the clinic was being built, workmen discovered a basement that had been used as a speakeasy during the 1920s.  When the upper part of the building was completed and Patricia hired, she suggested they make a low-cost medical clinic for uninsured women in the basement.

Cassia embraced the idea, and the Novia Medi-Spa was born.  They hired another doctor and several medical assistants to handle the ever-growing patient load, and the clinic was now being heralded as the wave of the future.

Cassia rarely visited the basement.  She usually stayed on the spa level, restoring whatever body she found herself in.  She had her own apartment on the fourth floor, which she shared with the boys whenever they were in need of some fine-tuning.  They had already been and gone by the time Cassia arrived at the mansion, so she was alone this time.

Patricia was writing something in her chart when Cassia came to her office.  There was a sofa along the far wall that Cassia preferred to the chair in front of Patricia’s desk.  After she was settled, Patricia gave her a rundown of what they would need to do to get her into tiptop shape.

“I’m assuming you want your T.L. scheduled for this visit,” she said to Cassia.  “I know we’ve discussed this in the past, but are you really sure you don’t want any children?”

“It would upset the balance of things, or so I’ve been told,” Cassia replied.

“Okay, then, how about tomorrow?  That way you can stay here for the next two weeks healing.”

“Sounds good to me.  So, what else did you find?”

“You had X-rays done at the hospital, and they show old, healed fractures to the arms, ribs, and face.  Do you have any pain?”

“Nothing unusual.”

“You may get twinges when the weather changes, but the body is fairly young, so you have that going for you.  They also did a CAT scan and an MRI; did you ask them to do that?”

“You know I like to cover my bases.”

“Well, the body may have had an abortion at some point, but it’s hard to determine when.  Considering the lifestyle you described, it wouldn’t be a surprise.  Your sinus cavities show some scar tissue as well — again, not surprising.  Other than that, you don’t look too bad.  Any questions?”

“Not now.  Am I scheduled to see Donna this week?”

Patricia looked through the chart and nodded.  “You’re scheduled for Saturday.  I wanted to give you a couple of days to recuperate before you see her.”

“Can I see her today?”

“Why, something bothering you?”

“This body has seen some real trauma.  I think I need a release before the surgery.”

“Sure, okay, let’s go see her now.”

Patricia led the way to the elevator and pressed the button going up.  She looked over at Cassia, whose body was a good five inches shorter than the last one.

“You look very different this time, very small.  I noticed Darius looked really small, too.  Is there some reason for that?” she asked.

“We look like we did in Rome.  Morta told me they did it on purpose.  Oh, I didn’t tell you – she wants me to marry Darius.”

“Oh, no, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

 “I guess I’m trying not to think about it.  She says it’s imperative in order for everything to work out this time.  Apparently, there is some urgency about getting our ‘situation’ resolved.”

The elevator arrived and they took it to the third floor.  Donna was working with a patient and had put a “Do Not Disturb” sign on her door.

“I’ll leave you here to work things out with her.  I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.  Don’t eat after midnight.”

Donna opened the door and a tall, thin woman emerged from the sanctuary with her.

“You should feel much better, Gabi, just give it time.”

“But it really hurts right now.”

“That’s because we worked on those muscles.  You have blood flowing through them now.  The pain will stop, but it takes time.”

Gabi didn’t look convinced, but she made another appointment and staggered out of the office.

“She doesn’t believe a word you said,” Cassia joked.

“God, if I had a nickel for every one that didn’t come back after treatment, I could retire.  So, we’re not supposed to see each other until Saturday.  What’s up?”

“I’ve been really depressed since I woke up two weeks ago.  I think I need some therapy - now.”

Donna looked at the clock and sighed.  Cassia was the owner of the spa, and Donna didn’t feel comfortable telling her she couldn’t see her now because she wanted to go to dinner with her husband.

“Let me make a phone call.”

“Donna, did you have plans?  Tell me the truth.”

“I was supposed to meet my husband in an hour, but really, it’s okay.  I’ll just tell him to meet me an hour later.”

Donna left the room to make her telephone call, and Cassia felt like an ass.  When Donna returned, she waved Cassia into the treatment room and asked her what type of treatment they would be doing.

“Donna, I’m really sorry.  I didn’t mean to spoil your evening.  We can do this Saturday, really.”

“Cassia, it’s only five o’clock.  I’m not over eighty; I can eat a little later.  Relax and tell me what we’re doing today.”

Cassia wanted to detox her emotional system, so she opted for CST, Craniosacral Therapy, an alternative treatment requiring the therapist to act as a conduit for energy flowing through the body.