The Ruins (An Avernus Island Tale)

OTHER TITLES

BY JENNIFER KOHOUT

Legend

Untamed

Storm

The Bride of Devil’s Acre

Queen of Souls (Coming in March, 2014)

“Easy is the descent to Avernus, for the door to the underworld lies open both day and night. But to retrace your steps and return to the breezes above–that’s the task, that’s the toil.”

~
Virgil

THE MUSEUM OF WORLD HISTORY

“I’m going to kill him,” Julia muttered as she swiped her ID card with a snap and waited the three seconds it took for the security system to recognize her. Hearing the lock disengage, she pushed through the metal door marked “employees only.”

She didn’t like Ted and she certainly didn’t trust him, but she never expected outright sabotage. He reminded her of a Ken doll with his artificial blond highlights and too-white teeth. He was about as substantial as the plastic Mattel toy, and she’d made the mistake of considering him harmless.

Anger clipped Julia’s every step as she headed toward the sorting room. There were no marble tiles in the staff area, that expense was reserved for the museum’s main floor, and the ankle strap sandals were impractical on the cement floor. But the high-heeled shoes brought Julia’s height up to five feet, nine inches and did nice things to her calves.
 

Julia found Ted at his workstation. The iPad in his hand was personal, and she caught a glimpse of naked flesh before he darkened the screen.

“
You bastard!
” Julia hissed. Heart pounding, she braced her palms on his desk and glared at Ted.

“Hello, Jewels,” Ted drawled. “What has your panties in a twist?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t look good on you,” Julia snapped. “The Cyprus piece was
my
acquisition.”

Ted leaned back in his chair and rested his ankle on his knee. “You must be referring to the package that arrived today.”
 

Ted indicated a crate sitting open and empty on Julia’s desk. The Museum of World History, for all its name implied, was a small museum and Julia shared her work space with the other catalogers and restorers.
 

“A beautiful piece,” Ted acknowledged but Julia knew he didn’t care. “I didn’t think you would mind my delivering it up to Prestwood. I’m sure we can come up with some way for you to thank me for the favor.”

Julia nearly choked on her rage. “Favor? Is that what you call taking credit for my work?”
 

She spent weeks negotiating the loan of the ceramic tankard from Haru Nakano. Nakano owned one of the largest private art collections in the world. The tankard wasn’t the most impressive piece in his collection, but it would make a lovely centerpiece to the museum’s Cyprus section.

“We’re all here to serve the museum, Jewels,” Ted said, parroting Robert Prestwood, the museum curator.
 

“You’re here to serve yourself,” Julia said. Ted had grand plans but a lazy work ethic. In a room full of cluttered work surfaces, Ted’s was notably clean.

“I look out for myself.” Ted’s foot dropped back to the floor as he sat forward. “My days of playing with broken bits of junk are over.”

Alarm tingled at the base of Julia’s spine. “What are you talking about?”

Ted sneered. “Preston is making his recommendation for the assistant curator position to the Board of Directors in three weeks.”

Julia’s heart plummeted to her stomach.
 

“After I took him the Cyprus piece, Robert all but guaranteed the position would be mine.”

Which was exactly what Julia had been counting on.
 

“You slimy son of a bitch,” Julia whispered. The assistant curator position was new to the museum and the next logical step in her career. After five years in the sorting room, cataloging and restoring ancient relics, it was time for Julia to move up or move on from MWH.

Ted’s eyes narrowed. “Be careful how you talk to me,” he warned. “As assistant curator, you will report directly to me, and I can make your time here very unpleasant.”

“Are you threatening me?” Julia asked, incredulous.

“And if I am?” Ted asked. “What are you going to do about it?”

Julia remained silent. They both knew reporting him would make her look weak. The man was an HR nightmare–Julia considered his sexual innuendoes one of his more redeeming qualities–but any complaint on her part would be seen as proof that she didn’t have what it takes to succeed in the male-dominated world of art.

“That’s what I thought,” Ted said. Smirking, he walked out from behind his desk. “But don’t worry,” he said, taking that last step that put him inappropriately close to Julia. “I can also be very generous to the people that please me.”

Julia knew that most women found Ted attractive. He had boyish good looks that would serve him well into middle age. But something oily and slick slithered behind his baby-blue eyes and his smile was always a little cruel.
 

She took a step back as Ted’s fingers brushed her waist, uncaring if it looked like a retreat. “You don’t deserve the position.”

“True,” Ted said, unabashed. “But you’re the only one who cares.”

Julia didn’t understand Ted, not really. She loved antiquities. More than art, she loved the glimpses they provided into a time long gone. Both of her parents had been archeologists, and her first memories were of digging in the sand, finding broken pieces of ceramic bowls, and playing house in the crumbled walls of ancient civilizations.
 

“Eventually, Robert and the others will realize their mistake.”

“Guess whose’s job it will be to make sure that doesn’t happen?” Ted asked.

Julia wasn’t surprised by Ted’s assumption. The man was a master at avoiding work all while still looking good.
 

“I’ll quit,” she bluffed. She thought about her father and the healthcare benefits that were part of her compensation package. Her grandmother’s death had lessened some of the financial burden of providing for her father’s medical needs, but hospice was expensive and that money wouldn’t go far.

“Without a reference?” Ted asked. “I don’t think so. I think you’ll stay right here and do what I tell you.”

Julia could see that Ted liked that idea. His eyes dropped to where her breasts pressed against her shirt, and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. Julia suffered his look, gritting her teeth and asking, “Enjoying the view?”

“Not nearly enough,” Ted said. “Why don’t you slip those buttons free and show me those great tits you’ve got hidden under there.”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” Julia snapped before she could stop herself.

Ted grabbed Julia’s arm as she went to move past him and jerked her close. His breath was hot against her face and smelled of the roast beef sandwich he’d had for lunch.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Ted said. “Lets see what else you can do with that pretty mouth of yours?”

Julia’s face flamed, but she forced herself to stand still long enough to say, “Be careful, Ted, even you can go too far.”

With that, Julia yanked her arm free and stalked out of the sorting room.

MELISANDRA BLACK

Julia let her anger propel her out onto the exhibit floor. Her arm throbbed where Ted had grabbed her, and she knew there would be bruises. The anger she had been feeling was tempered by the powerlessness to do anything about it.

Tuesday afternoons in the museum were usually quiet. Julia walked by a few tourists, people on vacation and away from work. Thankfully, there were no school field trips on the schedule for this week. She had always loved art, but more and more it seemed like the kids that came to the museum were more interested in a day away from the classroom than with learning about the history of ancient civilizations.

Julia let the peace and quiet of the museum flow over her, let the past lives of people long since gone drown out her modern-day troubles. Stopping at the museum’s small Egyptian display, Julia considered the mummified remains of a female that had lived and died more than three thousand years ago.
 

Did they have it easier back then? Life was short. Testing showed the woman had died at the age of twenty-seven, two years younger than Julia was now. Basic healthcare and hygiene had been lacking, and disease and famine were common occurrences.
 

No
, Julia concluded.
It wasn’t easier back then. Their troubles were just different.

She moved on, her steps slowing as her anger went from a boil to a simmer. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the combination of cleaning solution and purified air. She knew every piece on display, each one as familiar and comforting to her as a friend.

Turning a corner, her feet unconsciously took her to her favorite part of the museum. The Greek and Roman antiquities were always a big draw and were staged at the heart of the museum.
 

Glancing up, she admired the domed ceiling with its Mount Olympus mosaic that let in natural light and gave the room a warm and inviting feel.
 

Except for one other visitor, the area was empty.

Julia circled the room slowly. Her destination was always the same, but she still liked to take her time getting there.
 

She enjoyed the black-figured Siana cup, and she appreciated the bronze horse. And what woman wouldn’t love the intricate gold necklace? However, none of them came close to her love for the marble statue of Theseus battling the minotaur.
 

Coming to a halt in front of the life-size statue, Julia crossed her arms over her chest, unintentionally accenting the generous swell of her breasts, and stared.

She didn’t try to guide her eyes. Instead, she let her gaze wander, let her look pass over the two combatants locked forever in battle. The statue was exquisite in its detail, the struggle of both man and beast captured in the grimaces on their faces and in their straining muscles.
 

Theseus stood naked and proud. Arm raised as he prepared to deliver the killing blow. But it was the minotaur that never failed to captivate and always captured Julia’s attention.
 

She caressed the broad expanse of his chest with her eyes, touched on the muscles of his abs that rippled even in marble, and traced the dip of his hips to an impressive groin.
 

Naked, his cock hung thick and uncut against his massive thigh. She’d never been with a man who wasn’t circumcised. She wondered what it would be like to suck an uncut cock into her mouth, to feel him harden as she worked him with lips and tongue. Would he taste the same? Would the skin be velvety soft the way so many men were?
 

Julia’s eyes drifted closed, and her hand went to the collar of her shirt, her fingers brushing against the small swatch of exposed skin. She imagined she could hear their grunts: Theseus’s human cries of pain and eventual victory against the minotaur’s roar of ultimate defeat.
 

But what if the minotaur won the battle and rose from the sun-baked sand victorious?