The Flames that Engulfed Us

Chapter 33: Touchy, Touchy, How Could That Go Wrong

I went unnoticed still. "Boy, describe." The Roman sneered.

"No." Lincoln said, his voice swelling with the same confident defiance he used whenever he was in trouble.

"Fine. I describe."

Then, there was Latin again. Lincoln was watching carefully, and I noticed the shift, subtle as it was from listening to calculating. He was ready for a fight.

"I no know English. You tell boy."

He gestured around, his eyes landing on C.C. He pointed, and Lincoln pivoted. None of the men noticed me, the way the looked at C.C keeping out of their line of sight, but Lincoln only saw that I wasn't there anymore. He scanned the room, and when he looked at me, he was silently pleading. That was two people who didn't want me to mix in. That was two people I was going to disappoint.

"A whip? Well, it's what you're holding, and it's used... I don't know. Just cut to the chase and do it, Paul."

"You ever seen it?"

Lincoln was looking back at the Roman's face, and the question had caught him off guard. Had he ever seen a whipping? Of course not outside of the movies.

"No. I haven't."

More Latin. I should have learned it, but maybe it was a good thing I didn't understand him. I got the feeling that Ancient Rome would not have been my cup of tea. Or Lincoln's. Or anybody's really.

"They want me do. I do now."

This was it. I wanted to hurl. I could try to get some force behind it or get close enough to do it on the Roman. It would be worth it. The men looked disinterested, but they still did whatever Paul said. He dropped the English entirely, only using English to directly address Lincoln.

They forced Lincoln's on his knees, and he let them. That was the part that got me. He didn't try to fight. I wanted to take him and hug him close to me, but the circle of men stood in between us. Lincoln craned his neck, still begging. I hope my look apologized and it must have because he seemed to understand. He couldn't expect me to act any differently than he would. I could see it in his eyes that for that moment, he wished I loved him a little less or was a little more selfish or something.

Lincoln shivered as his bare back was exposed to the room. They had a block, and he was on his knees, hands resting on it, his head bowed. C.C. was watching me carefully.

Don't get mixed up.

They both said that, but I couldn't. As they bound Lincoln in place, I thought I was going to snap. I didn't start moving until the whip was unfurled. I didn't start running until it snapped back. I only touched the edge of it moments before it would have collided with his skin, but I felt it ripple gold, and it froze in the air.

Lincoln looked up when his world didn't erupt in pain, and he looked up at me. Then his face exploded in a grin, that even an angry outburst of Latin couldn't wipe away. The Roman dropped the whip, and it still hung in midair. He moved towards me, and Lincoln's muscles all tensed as though he'd be able to do anything.

That was a day of firsts for me. It was the first day I'd ever been angerly cussed at by an ancient Roman. It was the first time I heard the beautiful form of Latin paired so scathingly with the cusswords I knew. Lincoln looked up, a rage burning in his eyes.

"Don't speak to her like that," he snapped.

"Boy, I in charge. You not."

Lincoln couldn't argue with that. He wasn't in charge, and I don't think any of us were. Whatever the Roman thought, he was still taking orders. They just weren't from us. He was standing in front of me, his face contorted in rage.