Bastian by Elizabeth Amber Read Free Book Online Page A

another, who summoned others, until a veritable flock trailed him. They were anticipating a show. All waiting to see what the most celebrated archaeologist Rome had ever known would discover this time.
    Sevin had seen his brother star in scenes like this one before. Bastian’s gift had first made itself known at the tender age of five, when a vision had led him to discover the Sacred Petroglyphs of the Ancients in ElseWorld. It was a discovery their father had taken credit for, to protect him from the Council’s scrutiny. But they’d eventually discovered the truth. And as a result, the entire family had been sent here, to this world. To mine the Forum for treasure, with the use of Bastian’s talent.
    The wraith halted suddenly at the northeast corner of the Temple of Castor and Pollux. Maintaining a careful distance, Bastian stopped behind her. He widened his stance, feeling the need for greater purchase with the soil and for a connection with whatever lay hidden beneath it. The past—it was what nurtured him. It fascinated him like nothing in the present ever had.
    â€œWho are you?” he murmured. But the girl only shook her head. Raising her arms to the heavens like an angel, she began to twirl in place, in a slow, ethereal circle.
    Whispers escalated among the workmen. What did he say? What’s happening? Several men crossed themselves against evil.
    But Bastian was oblivious and only waited and watched, his entire body—cells, flesh, sinew, bone, muscle, senses—all open to the past, craving to learn more of its secrets. Suddenly, more filmy apparitions appeared around the first girl, one by one like lights blinking on, until there were twelve young girls in all. Each was dressed in ancient Roman costume, their tunics with long, flowing skirts fluttering to their slim ankles.
    â€œWhy twelve?” he wondered aloud, for the philosophers had only written of six Virgins. But he expected no reply and received none.
    Clustered in moody grays and gauzy whites, the girls all solemnly appeared to await the verdict of the single man who stood at the center of their group. He was a man of religion, dressed in lengthy ceremonial robes. His authoritative hand fell upon the shoulder of one girl, his first selection. Then he chose another, and another. He would ultimately divide the dozen of them into two distinct groups, each comprising six girls. His hand fell on the last girl’s shoulder. The very one who’d led Bastian here.
    â€œAmata,” Bastian breathed, channeling the man’s utterance. Beloved.
    Her sorrow at being chosen reached out to Bastian like a living thing. She would go into service now, to the goddess Vesta. For three decades, she would tend the sacred flame. And so that nothing should turn her mind and heart from her duty, she would be forbidden to wed or enjoy fleshly pleasures.
    As they were led away, a strong gust of wind blew over the vision, ruffling skirts and hair, then moving in his direction. Just as it reached him, the girl darted a glance over one thin shoulder. Eyes that were wise beyond her age found his, as if to determine how he judged what he’d seen. Eyes that were a pure, clear, cerulean blue. Color! Suddenly, she bloomed into a riot of shades—pearly skin, rosy cheeks and lips, and wild golden hair streaked with copper. His heart pounded with equal parts of joy and shock at the sight of it.
    â€œYour name. Tell me your name!” he demanded, boldly stalking her now.
    Her eyes widened and she shook her head, her long firegold hair lifting in the wind. Before he could reach her, the fog swirled, brushing her in mystery. In gloom and gray. The scene dissipated.
    And with her departure, he became aware of the whispers. And the cold. Hells! When had the weather turned? He glanced around to find himself encircled by curious, fearful faces. Damn. He’d revealed too much. Humans already gossiped about them. Wondered about the strange