Lucie...I'm Home!

Alec was a spy of sorts these days, watching and waiting for something, anything out of the ordinary. This latest development with Jon and Richie certainly could be considered that. No sooner did the thought form in his mind did the doorbell ring. Alec chuckled to himself, surprised his guest bothered with the human formality. He opened the door to what appeared to be a young man who couldn’t be more than thirty years old. His t-shirt was drawn tight across well-defined muscles and tucked into equally tight jeans. Battered black cowboy boots poked out from the legs of his jeans. The man’s eyes were an unusual shade of amber, bringing to mind the smoldering coals left over after a barbecue. His scent brought that to mind as well. Thick light brown hair flowed around his shoulders, and a smirk painted his lips.

“You have some news for me?” the visitor asked, his voice at once both soothing and irritating.

“Perhaps,” Alec answered.

“It involves your friends,” he sneered at that last word.

“Perhaps,” Alec answered again.

“Do not trifle with me. Your misguided loyalty is annoying, Longinus.” He swept past Alec and made himself at home in the living room.

“They are leaving the country unexpectedly,” Alec explained, ignoring the use of his true name. “I don’t know if it is relevant.”

“It must be,” the visitor said. “They are among the plausible families, and the timing is right – it is nearly midsummer.”

Alec didn’t have to ask what his visitor meant. He knew that the other man had been tracking hundreds families for years, searching for the right ones. He had suspected these two families for generations, and had arranged for Alec to become involved with them. Over the years, the assignment went from an albatross around his neck to a blessing. He had never known such friendship as he had with these two. He was reluctant to believe now that these men were the ones his visitor had been searching for, for he knew the fate that awaited them.

“Centurian!” the visitor shouted, getting Alec’s attention. “I do not like to be ignored,” he growled, his eyes seeming to glow with anger.

“My apologies,” Alec answered, putting his right hand over his heart and making a shallow mocking bow.

“You have done me a great service once,” Alec’s guest intoned, “and I require your services again.”

The man’s words brought back a flash of memory.

The Centurian was in charge of one hundred men. Rome was nearly a thousand years old, and was now an Imperial State; no longer the Republic he had grown to love. This was his fourth Life, and at this point in history, his most important Life.

The assignment was simple: accompany King Herod’s palace guards to the site of a crucifixion and stand guard over the remains. Not a taxing duty but he was commanded by Herod himself. One of the doomed had an extensive following and Longinus’ job was to keep those followers at bay.

He had a second assignment, one that superseded that of Herod. He was to ensure that the man fated for Death, the one with the followers, truly did die. Further, he was to provide his master with a sampling of the condemned man’s blood.

The day was dreary and dark, and a sense of foreboding lingered in the air. For several hours he stood guard while throngs of people alternately shied away from him in fear, or sneered openly at him. All were weeping at the feet of the one they had called Christ. The mourners’ tears were matched by those of the heavens, and all day a steady drizzle had fallen. When the largest crowd of followers, their wails of bereavement loud and tortured, dropped as one to their knees, the ground shook. It lasted for only a moment, but there was no doubt in the Centurian’s mind that it was related to the dead man.

Dying man.

Dying, not dead, for he spoke! The rains ceased, the clouds parted briefly, and he muttered something. Something that sounded like, “forgive them, for they know not what they do.” In that moment, Longinus knew that his second assignment was given out of fear and loathing, not out of any sense of righteousness. Still, he knew first hand that the dark prince was not one to be ignored, and no matter the penalty paid on Earth by his current corporeal body, that which would befall his soul would be a thousand-times-thousand times worse. Still, if he lingered long enough in the duties of the first job, the natural conclusion would take care of those of the second. Most of the second. There was still the matter of the blood.

As the meager sun started to dip in the sky the crowd became anxious. They all knew the custom of the region; no prisoner was left to hang alive overnight. Should Nature not take its course, a soldier, in this case Longinus himself, would be tasked with dispatching the captive. One way or the other, the dark prince’s orders would be carried out.

Finally, as dusk approached, the man slumped fully, appearing to be embraced by the arms of eternal rest. His head, encircled by thorns and caked with blood and dirt, fell forward until his chin was pressed firmly against his chest. Herod ordered that before the man could be taken down, the guards must be sure he was dead. Longinus knew the only way to fulfill both his orders was to pierce the man’s side with his lance.

As he did so, he ignored the gasps of horror from the remaining mourners, the man’s mother and another woman. A moan slipped from the man’s mouth as the blood trickled down over the soldiers’ fingers. Before he could withdraw the weapon from the man’s side, Longinus heard a voice. A man’s voice. Out of place for the only people now in attendance were women.

“What have you done?” the voice murmured.

Longinus tried to find the source of the voice, but could not. As he once again readied himself to pull the spear from the dead man, the voice spoke again. “You shall take his place, walking the earth for all eternity. You shall not know the rewards of heaven, nor the rest of Death. If you repent, an angel will be sent to dispatch you with the same weapon you now wield.”

A burst of adrenaline gave him the strength to wrench the lance free and he whirled, shouting, “Who speaks?” He was met with no answers, just the tear-stained faces of the two women who loved this man most.

The blood-stained lance was turned over to a gleeful master as fulfillment of the promise.

He had had several Lives since then, feeding the myth that Legionnaire and Centurian Gaius Cassius Longinus was doomed to walk the earth for all eternity for the grave sin he committed. In truth, he had been doomed to that fate long before those words were spoken by an angry and vengeful God.

These memories flashed behind his eyes in a blink, and brought a surge of resentment for his visitor.

Lucifer’s voice permeated the fog of remembrance. “It is time to once more serve me.” He reached into the satchel that was strapped across his chest and drew out an object wrapped in cloth. With great, careful deliberation, he unwrapped the spearhead, still stained with the blood of an eon ago. “This time, the reward will be great.”

“How great?” Alec said softly, knowing this being wasn’t called the prince of lies for nothing.

Lucie chuckled. “Most men would kill for what you have – for immortality. You however long for death. How strange...but it will be granted to you if you are successful in your task.”

Alec couldn’t hold back the gasp of surprise. “What is it you wish me to do?”

“Whatever it is that is needed. And I will tolerate no failures, Centurian. Fail me in this, and you shall never see the Spear again. I will have it destroyed, and you will be sentenced to forever walk the Earth.”

Lucifer vanished with a flash of light and a whiff of sulfur. “Showoff,” Alec muttered. He sat hard on the couch to contemplate this latest task. More than anything on the Earth, he wanted to die. Wanted to finally be at rest. After two thousand years, he wanted to be free. But to do that, he would have to betray two men he thought of as friends.

Could he do it?