Wolf Whistle

Ah! Colour flooded Claudia’s cheeks. She’d forgotten she was naked apart from a thong! With a militant toss of her curls, she covered her breasts with her hands and marched towards the bath room. He could jolly well stay there for that! Right. What she needed on these cuts was centaury so they wouldn’t leave a scar, but first she ought to flush them out with opobalsam ‘Claudia!’

The warning came too late.

Claudia spun round, but Annia was shaking off the pot shards and the peonies. Simultaneously three pairs of eyes picked out Nemesis, glinting in a pool of sunshine beneath a marble bust.

Time seemed to freeze. Like a painted fresco, every movement was captured in minutest detail and yet there was no sound. She saw Marcus, his hair matted with blood, try to trip Annia. She saw him open his mouth, knew that he shouted. She watched Annia duck round him, laughing. Triumphant. Her sodden hair the colour of quarzite. Claudia saw the cornelians on Nemesis, and the blood of hundreds as well as her own. The water clock dripped, and Annia was gaining. No way could Claudia get there first! She screwed up her eyes and launched herself at the weapon, the tip of her outstretched finger connecting just as Annia’s hand was about to close over the hilt. Nemesis spun across the floor.

‘Bitch!’ Annia screamed.

She turned upon Claudia, who rolled on to her back to fend off the blows. The knife was just three paces away!

‘Wish now you’d stuck it in me?’

By the gods, yes. Next time there’ll be no hesitation. Claudia’s arms lashed out to defend herself as Annia clawed and punched. With a mighty thrust, her knee found Annia’s stomach and she heard the air expelled from her lungs. Scrambling to her feet, she lunged for the blade, but this time it was Annia who kicked it away.

‘This is more fun, don’t you think, Claudia?’ Annia beckoned with both hands. ‘A fight to the death?’ So confident was she that she even took time out to glance across to Orbilio. ‘Does this excite you, Marcus? Make you hard? Two women, naked, in a catfight over you?’

Her confidence was unnerving. This was no arrogant posturing. Annia was sure she would win. She might be short, but she was strong and wiry, and dammit, she was using Nemesis as bait. Claudia’s eyes flickered round. That was the thing about atriums. There’s never anything in them. Sure, she could try and lift a marble bust, but Annia would quickly beat her to it. Turn, and the bitch would jump on her back. Run? Claudia had no doubts that, in her present frame of mind, Annia could outrun her. Her heart was thumping painfully and the sweat was pouring down her face. Dammit, there was no other choice. She’d have to try for the knife.

But where was it? Croesus, it must have slid under a couch.

A momentary glance was all it took. The second Claudia’s eyes left Annia’s, she flew, her hands clamping round Claudia’s throat, her thumbs crushing her windpipe. Retching, Claudia tried to pull Annia away. The grip held.

‘Are you watching this, Marcus?’ Annia called out.

Over a shoulder streaming with long golden hair, Claudia saw his face, bloodied and twisted and snarling with pain. He was shouting, and she couldn’t hear what he said. Did it matter? Did anything matter now? She was kicking and struggling, but her flailings were wild and her arms had the strength of a baby. Why bother? she thought. Why the hell bother? In Annia’s triumphant blue eyes, Claudia saw a reflection of herself. And the image was dying.

A red mist swirled over the image. Her head was on fire, sparks flashed. From somewhere she heard the word ‘push’. It made no sense, but blinded, with the mist turning to purple and a torrent raging past her ears, instinct told her she must obey. Balling her fists, Claudia pushed her knuckles hard against Annia’s ribcage.

‘What does defeat feel like, Claudia?’ trilled a triumphant sing-song voice. ‘Is this how you imagined failure?’

Her head was about to explode. The world had gone black, she heard gargling mixed with laughter mixed with shouting. Still Claudia shoved.

Sweet Janus, Annia’s voice would be the last thing she heard.

‘What does it feel like to die, Claudia?’

‘You tell me,’ a man growled.

There was a bump, and suddenly Claudia was tumbling backwards on to the floor. Black turned to purple, purple to red, red to white. The mist cleared, but her throat was still gargling. She looked up. Annia was standing with her back to the pillar. Her eyes started out from their sockets.

‘How…’ A rattle came deep in her throat and she jerked. ‘How…’

The next time she jerked, blood gushed from her mouth. Speedwell blue eyes glazed over. Then she tipped forward on to her face. As Claudia scrambled free of the falling body, she saw the hilt between Annia’s chiselled shoulderblades. Cornelians twinkled in the afternoon sun.

Behind the column, Marcus Cornelius Orbilio looked ashen. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Never better,’ she rasped. It was the truth.