Too much was familiar. Over and over again, she witnessed echoes of her own time. Everything reminded her of her own folly, and the chaos that had followed.

She drifted to a window to watch the smoke-veiled stars, but her gaze saw a clearer, older sky. The night sky over a distant outpost of the Empire. Londinium. Much smaller than it was now. But large enough to become a living hell.

She saw not the tall brick and plaster buildings of London, but the courtyards and villas of her time, ablaze, smoke churning up into the night. Livia had stood upon the roof of her own villa and watched as the city destroyed itself. Screams and shouts rose up, as choking as the smoke. The cries of children. The shrieks of a blood-crazed mob.

Through the haze of time, she still felt the tears dampening her cheeks.

This isn’t what I wanted.

The thrill she had felt in summoning the Dark One turned fetid. A sick cavern had opened in her stomach, watching from up high as the Dark One’s wicked influence transformed the people of Londinium into vicious animals. Yet it wasn’t only mortals who tore the city down. Vile creatures from the depths of the underworld had clawed their way to the surface, mixing with the humans, urging them on to greater brutality. Or tearing the mortals apart, their human blood splattering on frescoed walls and mosaic-covered floors.

This is my doing. I’m to blame for all this death.

“Can’t you think of something peaceful?” Bram’s voice growled out from behind the canopy. “My dreams are full of blood.”

He shoved back the silver silk of the canopy with one arm as he sat up in bed.

She glided closer. “What did you see?”

“A Roman city on fire. Demons in the streets. Nothing pretty.”

“My memories.”

He pressed the heel of one hand into his eye. “We seem to share them now.”

“Then you know that mine are as pleasant as yours.”

A humorless smile curved his mouth. “A shame you didn’t spend your life tending flower gardens or making love to beautiful women.”

She couldn’t stop her laugh. It caught them both by surprise, and they stared at one another for a moment, uncertain.

“It’s damned cold with the canopy open.” He jerked his head in a summoning motion. “Come and sit or hover or whatever it is you do.”

She raised a brow. “I’m to join you in bed?”

“If you’re going to keep me awake with your memories, I’d rather be awake someplace warm. So either come here or stop thinking.”

She wavered. Sharing a bed with him seemed far too . . . intimate. Ridiculous. He was mortal. She was spirit. There would be no shared intimacies.

Drifting forward, she moved through the canopy. Her torso emerged from the mattress, near the foot of the bed.

He frowned. “Can’t you sit on the bed? I don’t think I can talk with someone who’s poking up from the mattress.”

“But I don’t need to sit.”

“Just . . . do it.”

“For a man of such esteemed breeding, you’ve terrible manners.”

“A benefit of privilege.” Seeing that she wouldn’t comply without a little more finessing on his part, he said, grudgingly, “Please.”

She decided to be amenable. Concentrating, she hovered higher, until her body fully emerged from the mattress, then lowered herself back down, tucking her legs under her. She focused her thoughts on creating a solid surface beneath her, and exclaimed in surprise when she actually found herself sitting atop the bed.

“Sitting,” she murmured. “How novel.”

“Many people seem to enjoy it.” He let the canopy fall back, enclosing the bed in soft shadow. She heard more than saw him edge back until he sat upright, propped against the headboard. “Even myself, on occasion.”

“What a rich and varied life you lead.”

“I used to think so.”

“And now?”

He rubbed his palms against his face. “Now I’m rethinking my original assessment.”

“That seems to be the way of it,” she said quietly. “We see the past so much more clearly than the present.”

For a moment, he was silent. She studied the pattern on the blanket rather than look at him, for he was a man, beautiful to look upon, and she felt clutched by a surge of loneliness, cut off forever from the company and comfort of the flesh.

“The Hellraisers,” he said, breaking the silence. “We didn’t know what we were doing. When we opened that box in the underground temple, none of us knew who or what was kept within it. I remember seeing the box in that Roman skeleton’s hands, and all I could understand was that I had to open it. A voice in my head, an urge in my muscles. Everything shouted at me to open that box.”

“The Dark One’s doing. Even within his prison, he wasn’t without influence.” She stared at the images of flame that marked Bram’s skin. Within the span of a day, they had grown, spreading down his abdomen. She forced her gaze up. “He sensed the power within you, within all of you. He coveted that power, and lured you to him.”

Bram made a soft, scoffing noise. “We had titles. Leo had wealth. But we spent our hours chasing diversions and pleasure. Nothing powerful about any of us.”

“Your power was latent, unused, but it was there. It dwells within you now.” She felt it coursing through her like lightning, and her form glowed brighter. “Such a banquet of strength—the Dark One couldn’t resist.”

“And we were the fools who blundered right into his trap.” Then he stared right at her, and the shadows within the bed couldn’t hide the hard, sharp blue of his eyes. “What’s your excuse?”

“No excuse,” she answered. “What I did, I did with full knowledge. I spent months ferreting out the secret of how to call upon the Dark One. Burned through amphoras of lamp oil as I stayed up late into the night, pouring over ancient texts in the temple libraries. I searched this wild land of Britannia to find the power I’d need to perform the summoning. I found what I was looking for in an Indian slave and a Druid priestess. They became my prisoners, and I understood full well what I intended to do with them. I combined spells of Hecate with the primitive power I uncovered here to steal the women’s magic. There was no blundering.” She shook her head. “Not at all.”

“A calculated strategy. The same way an officer plans his attack.”

“I’d have made a good soldier. Had I been born male.”

He lifted a brow. “If you’d wanted to become a soldier, you would’ve done so. Sex had nothing to do with it.”

She almost smiled. Already he knew her better than any of her kin. They had been statesmen, her family, but without real ambition to better the Empire. Other families dedicated themselves to the shaping of Rome. Not her father, her uncles and brothers. Content with their roles as minor players, they couldn’t understand her ambition.

“Rome’s first female general,” she mused. “Perhaps. Though Roman people worshipped in temples, they did not believe in magic. It was hidden from the eyes of ordinary mortals. I was ever careful to keep my power veiled. Even so, wielded with cunning, magic had always been my weapon of choice, not the sword.”

“That’s why you summoned the Devil. To gain more magic, more power.”

“Would it surprise you to learn that once, my motives had been altruistic?” At his skeptical look, she amended, “Not altruistic, perchance, but not entirely selfish, either. I loved Rome. She was a shambling mess, beset by strife, but I thought somehow I might make it better. For its citizens, for the peace of its empire. Stabilize it, in a fashion.”

“Lofty aspirations.”

“I’ve never been lacking in determination. If there’s something I want, nothing keeps me from pursuing it.”

“So I’ve learned,” he said, dry.

“Everyone learns it, sooner or later.” To her family, she’d been an enigma, a wolf amongst lapdogs. “That’s why I journeyed from Rome all the way to these distant shores. There was only so much I could learn at home—and Britannia was rich with untapped magic. I had gained enough power to find new sources, and track it to this land. Yet this knowledge was mine alone.”