Paranormal Romance (time travel)
When the afternoon shadows grew long I went to the courthouse and found my newscaster. He was sitting on a woven grass mat, his back to the block of stone, gnawing on a lamb-chop. “Well, you certainly have changed,” He told me. “You seem to get younger each time I see you.”
I smiled uncertainly. “Do you have any news for me?”
“I do, actually.” He stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. “Bagoas means business. He’s going to do something during the polo match but I know not what. The slave-boy was unwilling to give me any details. It seems Bagoas is gifted in poisons and many of his servants have died young.” The man paused and glanced at his hands. “Perhaps it is not for me to say, but if I were you I would beware Bagoas. He has long arms and some say he can reach into the very heart of the palace.” He said this blandly, but his eyes were sharp.
I bit my lip. “Is it so obvious?” I asked.
“No my lady, but you shouldn’t leave the protection of the walls of your apartments. There are spies everywhere. Your life too is in danger.”
“Mine? Is someone trying to kill me then?” I asked lightly.
“Perhaps. I would not take any more chances of being found out in the open. There is a bad moon rising, the stars are unfavorable and the wind is blowing change.”
“Are you a fortune teller then?” I asked.
“You can chose not to believe me,” He said gently. “But I gather most of my news from the wind itself. Today news came to me of a wandering goddess and of her husband, camped not two days march away. If he hurries, he will be here late tomorrow night. But for Hephaestion the wind is blowing bitterly. I can not imaging him getting much older.” His voice was sorrowful. His eyes held mine.
“I must see Bagoas,” I whispered.
“No, nothing is ever impossible.” I thought a minute. “Which god does he worship?”
“He worships Ea, in the largest temple by the river. He goes every morning as the first rays of the sun pierce the night. Would you speak to him?”
“No. I would kill him.” I was surprised at the coldness in my voice.
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Jennifer Macaire lives in France with her husband, three children, & various dogs & horses. She grew up in upstate New York, Samoa, and the Virgin Islands. After graduation in St. Thomas, she moved to NYC where she modeled for five years for Elite. She went to France and met her husband at the polo club. All that is true. But she mostly likes to make up stories.
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