The Red Queen

The next day, Maria comes home early to a familiar sight; Bo in nothing but her “Kitchen Ninja” apron, black chef cap and peach knickers, cooking something, and singing along to “Horse With No Name”.

‘Do you ever go to work...?’ she says, half embracing Bo and kissing her.

‘I’m an eccentric billionaire, with a devoted wife...’ quips Bo, ‘...I don’t need to work’.

‘No, seriously...’ said Maria, removing her shoes and flopping down on the sofa, ‘...you need to be at the University a bit more... isn’t it still Holy ground...?’.

Bo smiled to herself. Saint Augustine's had been bought and converted into lecture halls by Central University eleven years ago. Its status as Holy ground was never redacted.

‘I’m there this evening...’ answered Bo, absently, ‘...to give a lecture on ancient warriors and their influence on today’s society to some fifth-year grad students. Part of their history PHD. I can take my sword to use as a prop...’

‘Faaabulous...’ replied Maria, stretching, ‘...by the way, they’ve found Geller...’ she added, sitting up as Bo served up the food.

‘Head-hunter 6, police 0...?’ asked Bo. Normally, that would be insulting. But Maria knew better now.

‘Geller is officially number 7...’ Maria corrected, smelling her food, ‘...wow! What is this...? It looks like a chicken kebab...!’

‘Shawarma...’ answered Bo, ‘...marinated chicken, pan-fried and served on a flatbread with salad... kinda like an open gyros...’

‘Let me guess...’ started Maria, ‘...taught to you by some Greek in the 12th century...’ she mocked.

‘It’s actually an Ottoman dish from the 16th century...’ corrected Bo, ignoring the obvious mockery, ‘...and it was Talos that taught me to cook this particular variant’.

‘So...’ started Maria between mouthfuls, '...why don’t you guys fight on Holy ground? I wouldn’t have thought it really matters where you fight...’

‘I asked Talos the same question...’ Bo said, ‘...and all he said was “there’d be dire consequences”. I was never sure what that meant until he recounted what had happened in Pompeii in August, 79 A.D. An Immortal named Agrippa was beheaded on the steps of the Temple of Apollo by a relatively new Immortal named Cassius, whom Agrippa was teaching. The Quickening awoke Vesuvius, and the rest is history...’.

‘So, that’s a bad thing to do, then...?’ asked Maria, ‘...fight on Holy ground...’

’Well, you can fight on Holy ground...’ answered Bo, '...but killing on Holy ground is a pretty bad thing to do. Call it coincidence if you will, but Akrotiri, a Bronze Age settlement on the island of Santorini, was destroyed in the Theran eruption and buried in volcanic ash, just as Elisheba Halimi was beheaded by her jealous husband Diego Gonzalas as she meditated in the Pantheon. On the bright side, it was the inspiration for Plato’s story of Atlantis...’.

‘Wow...’ breathed Maria, ‘...so why don’t more of you guys live on Holy ground? Wouldn’t it be safer...?’

‘From Immortals, yes...’ said Bo, ‘...but there was a small group of around seven or eight mortal vigilantes called “hunters” formed in 1131 that believed us all abominations against God and vowed to kill us all...!’.

‘Wow...!’ breathed Maria, ‘...are they still a threat to you and your kind...?’

‘Not any more...’ laughed Bo, '...they’d spent two years gathering so-called “evidence” against a local Abbess and tried to kill her. But they failed to do any research on how to kill her...’

‘Sounds like you knew her...’ said Maria, ‘...an old friend...?’

‘Oh, Sangeeta was more than just an “old friend” ...’ answered Bo ‘...I met her in 1042 and it was Sangeeta that taught me that life is full of changes, and that I should learn to accept who I am, good or bad. She also taught me how to conduct myself as a “proper lady” - something Talos could never teach me! Until then, I was a damned good warrior, better than almost any man alive... but utterly hopeless as a lady...!’. They finished their shawarma, and Bo gathered up the dishes, before heading for the kitchen area once more, intending to clear the cooking utensils and wash the plates that were used.

‘So, what happened...?’ asked Maria, standing at the end of the long kitchen worktop, pouring out some rosé wine into two glasses, ‘...to the hunters, I mean...?’

‘The house where they met up was “mysteriously” destroyed in a fire in 1133, which damaged most of the City beyond repair. Many claimed it was staged, so that a new, larger city could be built, but it was probably just Talos defending Sangeeta’s name...’

’Him again..?’ echoed Maria, handing a glass over to Bo, ‘...what was he doing in London..?’

‘Oh, he and Sangeeta had been lovers for centuries...’ explained Bo, as she accepted the wine, ‘...she was almost as old as he was, and I think he was a bit pissed off when she became a nun, but she still knew how to be a lady, and he thought she’d be the perfect person to teach me how to be one. So, I lived as a nun for a while and I learned to embroider, play the chordophone (which is an early form of guitar), sing and dance...’.