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Deception: The Ethereal Gods Book Two by Rachel Callahan

Published by Rachel Callahan

https://sites.google.com/view/rachelcallahanauthor

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 Rachel Callahan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner
except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: Rachel.callahan.author@gmail.com.

Cover by Carol Marques at Carol Marques Cover Designs

Formatting by Cauldron Press
Editing by CB Editing Services
Proofreading by Locke and Key Proofreading Services

ISBN: 978-1-7776969-2-4 (ebook)

ISBN: 978-1-7776969-3-1 (paperback)
To my amazing readers. Thank you for taking a chance on this new author and loving Liv and her
guys as much as I do.

If anyone else needs to hear this, live life without regrets, and don’t let other’s opinions get you
down. Chase your dreams.
 C O NT E NT S

Chapter One / Olivia

Chapter Two / Olivia
Chapter Three / Mateo
Chapter Four / Olivia
Chapter Five / Olivia
Chapter Six / Olivia
Chapter Seven / Olivia
Chapter Eight / Olivia
Chapter Nine / Olivia
Chapter Ten / Mateo
Chapter Eleven / Olivia
Chapter Twelve / Olivia
Chapter Thirteen / Olivia
Chapter Fourteen / Olivia
Chapter Fifteen / Adrian
Chapter Sixteen / Olivia
Chapter Seventeen / Olivia
Chapter Eighteen / Olivia
Chapter Nineteen / Olivia
Chapter Twenty / Kyros
Chapter Twenty-one / Olivia
Chapter Twenty-two / Olivia
Chapter Twenty-three / Olivia
Chapter Twenty-four / Maximus
Chapter Twenty-five / Olivia
Chapter Twenty-six / Olivia
Chapter Twenty-seven / Olivia
Epilogue / Olivia

Acknowledgments
About the Author
“A nother round,” Nelle announces, slamming her empty shot glass onto the bar. She shakes her
head, her long black beach waves moving around her as a shudder runs over her body. The
fiery liquid still burns its way down my throat. I quickly replace the cool glass for the tart wedge of
lime and suck the citrus past my lips.
“Maybe we should slow down.” I chuckle, placing my glass onto the bar next to hers. I purse my
lips, running the words through my mind once more. A few months ago, I never would’ve said
something like that. I open my mouth to take the words back, when Nelle’s hand presses against my
forehead.
“Are you feeling alright? You don’t sound like the Liv I know,” she exclaims, her brown eyes
creasing in concern.
Am I alright? Memories of what brought us here flit through my mind. Not only did I find out that
I’m actually a god, not a demigod like everyone thought, but I have the powers of a light major. A
point that was made very clear by the sudden appearance of a pair of massive wings. I feel an echo of
them between my shoulder blades, although I hadn’t known of them before, they were like an
extension of me. Maneuvering them had been as easy as moving an arm or a leg, like a limb I never
knew I had, but my brain had instantly made the connection.
On top of that, headmaster Mavros was revealed to be Titus, the God of Vengeance, and was
responsible for all the previous attacks on the school, including the one during the Ascension
ceremony. A shiver runs up my spine at the memory of the shadow demons and the dread that sat like
lead in my stomach once we realized they were able to duplicate once cut down. The anger that had
burned through me at the thought of them hurting any of the guys or my friends, and the fire that burst
forth from my palm as that rage burned through me.
Fear skitters up my spine at the memory of power, at the nearly bottomless well of energy just
waiting to be formed inside me. My throat closes up, I won’t be using them any time soon if I have
anything to say about it. Having that power in the palm of my hand, the death and destruction I caused
… there’s no way I will be attempting that again and have the chance to injure someone innocent this
time.
It’s easier to be alone, there’s no one to let you down when they don’t show up. I have myself to
rely on, and my friends of course. With that I shake those thoughts from my head, owing it to these
girls to be present, especially after they dropped everything to get away with me.
“Wow, I feel like I was just possessed for a second. Pour em up.” I chuckle, swiping Nelle’s hand
away. Am I alright? Probably not. Am I going to attempt to forget my problems on the beach with my
girls and a margarita? Abso—fucking—lutely.
“That bitch Rebecca, the responsible ghost, better stay the fuck away from us,” Nelle warns,
shaking her fist at the sky. As though some invisible being is just biding its time, waiting for us to let
our guard down and control us into making better choices.
“That bitch Rebecca, always trying to make us stay sober. Boo, she sucks.” I join in on the joke,
finally putting Nelle at ease. She turns to the bartender and orders us all another round. I don’t miss
Kali’s blue eyes narrowed in a disapproving stare from the corner of my eye. Which I sheepishly
ignore, my lips tipping down into a frown. These two are going to be the death of me, like an angel
and a devil on my shoulders. Yet, this angel isn’t very innocent, I note as I watch her bringing a shot
glass to her lips and tipping her head back, her long red curls falling behind her. She sticks her tongue
out at me once she notices my amused gaze on her.
“What? I’m allowed to have some fun.” She huffs, placing her glass back down on the counter. I
mime zipping my lips and throwing away the key. I flash her a grin and throw back the shot waiting in
front of me, shivering at the harsh alcohol making its way down my throat.
“Pool or beach?” I ask, gathering my beach bag from my feet. I pull out some cash from the
pocket, tipping the bartender before we make our way out of the covered poolside bar.
“Definitely beach,” Nelle blurts, handing me a margarita in a to-go cup. I shake my head, huffing
out a breath of amusement and gladly accept it. Kali nods in agreement, accepting her margarita. We
wander down the narrow path to the sandy beach. The fine white sand flows into my flip-flops, the
grains working between my toes.
“Good morning, ladies,” Alejandro, our butler provided by the resort greets us, before guiding us
over to our cabana.
“Morning, Alejandro,” Nelle croons back at him, overpowering both mine and Kali’s greetings.
We slide onto the large beach bed one at a time, and I relax back against the pillows, sighing at the
feeling of sunlight bathing my skin and the fresh ocean breeze tickling my nose, as the gauzy curtains
sway in the wind. Nelle is staring after Alejandro, her eyes glued to the tight khaki shorts of his
uniform. I elbow her in the ribs, startling a chuckle from Kali. Nelle turns, shooting a glare in my
direction.
“Was that necessary?” She huffs, her bottom lip pulling down into a pout. She gets over the
interruption quickly, remembering the margarita clutched in her hand.
“What about Domenic?” I ask, half-joking with her, half actually wanting to know if anything
would happen between my two friends.
“Who knows?” She shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. “You can have four boyfriends, so that’s
what I’m aiming for too,” she announces proudly. I pause, my easy smile evaporating at her words.
Unbidden thoughts of the four gods I ran away from only a week prior float through my mind,
Adrian’s sly, sexy smirk, his crystal blue eyes, sparkling in the sun, and his sunkissed brown hair.
Kyros’ honey-brown eyes are so warm and comforting, pairing perfectly with his adorable dimples
and his artfully tousled curls, always sitting in the perfect place. Mateo and his hazel eyes, and
cropped chestnut hair, his bulging muscles begging to be gripped, the way he attempts to hide his
amusement, but I can always tell by the slight quiver of his lips or crinkling of his eyes. Maximus’
emerald green eyes, usually hard as stone, but I swear I can glimpse the warmth in them, his black
hair and sexy stubble, the perfect length to trail your fingers along his chiseled jaw.
 Mate. The word echoes inside my head, seeming foreign, yet right at the same time. Why, though?
Was it all because of this mate bond? Maximus spelled it out for me before when he admitted that he
was stuck with watching me because no one else had wanted to. Had the mate bond forced them to
fight for me, even though they didn’t want to? And even if they’d wanted to stop me, did I really want
them to? The thought of mates, of being tied to someone else for eternity absolutely terrifies me.
Despite that, I can’t help but feel a pang of regret deep in my chest, a sliver of loss in my heart at what
I thought I was building with Adrian, and the connections I had with Kyros, Mateo and Maximus.
No, Liv, you need to stop thinking about them. I left to get away from them, especially since they
want nothing to do with me. I need to get over them, I need something to take my mind off of the
clawing ache in my chest at every memory of them.
“Fuck,” Nelle curses, seeing my face drop. I wave her off, taking a sip of my drink to save myself
from having to respond right away. The buzz of alcohol creeps along my skin, the warmth mixing with
the glorious feeling of the sun heating my body, causing a small smile to play on my lips.
“Let’s do something,” I exclaim, shooting up from my seat. Kali raises with me, concern creasing
her brow. Nelle merely covers her eyes with her hand, having relaxed back into the lounger.
“Do we have to?” She groans, rolling away from me.
“Yes, get your ass up.” I grab her shoulder in an attempt to turn her back toward me. But she
brushes off my grasp, moving out of my reach.
“There will be alcohol,” I coax.
“Fine,” she gripes, slowly getting up, still acting as though she isn’t intrigued, despite the keen
interest I see in her eyes. I tap my chin in thought, glancing up and down the beach.
“You seriously made me get up when you don’t even have an idea yet?” she asks incredulously,
her voice raising an octave with her annoyance.
“Ssssshhhhh,” I press a finger to her lips, removing it quickly at the feeling of her sticky lip gloss.
She swipes a hand towards me belatedly, her arm moving slower than her brain could register,
colliding with her own face instead of my hand. I choke on the burst of laughter that spills from my
lips, and belatedly clap a hand over my mouth, too late to stifle the sound. Her eyebrows lift, stunned
after the blow she dealt to her own face. Her look of shock is absolutely priceless.
“I swear to god, Olivia—no wait, I don’t swear to any gods,” she corrects herself, the slip only
causing my laughter to increase. She grits her teeth, groaning in annoyance. I begin composing myself.
Kali has a hand clasped over her mouth, attempting not to further antagonize Nelle.
“You promised me alcohol, not causing myself bodily harm.” Nelle glowers back at me, sending
me back into hysterics.
“I’m about to go run off with Alejandro and leave your ass behind. Like, bye bitch, see you
never.” Her words have the opposite effect, making me laugh even harder. Kali finally loses her last
shred of willpower, joining me in my fit of laughter.
“Oh, great, there’s two of you now, fabulous.” Nelle crosses her arms, impatiently tapping her
foot until we finish.
“Okay, okay, I’m done.” I gasp, attempting to compose myself.
“Good, because you owe me now. I demand payment in the form of booze and babes.” She
declares, lifting her head to look down her nose at me. “Gimme.” She extends her hand, grabbing at
the air in front of her, shutting her lids firmly. As though I’m about to drop a bottle and a boy right into
her lap. I roll my eyes, glad she hasn’t seen the movement, sparing me from her retort.
I scan the beach once more, searching for anyone to fill her demands. A smirk pulls across my
lips. A group of four guys around our age are playing volleyball just to the right of us. I tap my chin in
thought, observing their forms, their muscular chests on full display. Sure they’re attractive, but they
couldn’t compare to my gods. I shake the thought from my head, scolding myself for the slip. They
aren’t my gods—they aren’t my anything. Maximus made that perfectly clear. I fight off the pain that
thought brings, slicing through my chest like a blade.
I take a deep breath pulling on the old Liv, the one that would stride over there and invite the
group of guys to come over in a heartbeat. I glance over at Kali, who’s biting the corner of her lip,
brows creased in concern. I avert my eyes, not wanting her to dissuade me. They say the best way to
get over someone is to get under someone new, right? Maybe that’s precisely what I need. Let go of
the hurt and betrayal the guys made me feel, and have a meaningless fling with one of these guys.
I pull in a deep breath, centering myself and strengthening my resolve. I don’t let myself glance
back at the girls, my feet moving before my brain even realizes what I’m doing.
“I wasn’t serious. I’ll come with you.” Nelle giggles, bouncing up from the sunbed to join me.
I add a bit of sway to my steps, smiling to myself as the four men stop playing their game. Their
gazes glued on me and Nelle. Two guys step forward, the first is the tallest of the group, with short
cropped black hair, and dark brown eyes, he has the most muscular form of the bunch and he carries
the volleyball at his side. The man beside him has a more slender build, and he shakes his shaggy
brown hair out of his blue eyes. The other two men stand behind them, one with medium black hair
and the other with short blond hair.
“Hey guys.” I come to a stop at the edge of the makeshift court. The four guys make their way
over, smiling back at me. I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my face, my other hand
holding my margarita.
“Sorry to interrupt your game, but my friends and I were looking for something fun to do—” Nelle
pauses, giving them an appraising look “—and we were hoping you may have a few ideas.” She lets
the words trail off, allowing their minds to fill in the blanks of the meaning behind my words.
“That’s if we’re not interrupting.” Nelle smirks. I see the tallest of the group give me a wry grin
before stepping closer, his eyes roving up and down my form.
“I was just saying we should wrap this game up,” he declares, looking back at his friends. They
all nod in agreement.
The four men follow behind us, as we make our way back to Kali, and I suppress the shudder that
runs through my body at the feel of their leering eyes. My stomach turns at the thought, but I push it
aside, urging my mind to forget.
“So, what do you girls like to do for fun?” the tall man asks, sidling up to me. His mischievous
smirk resurfaces those memories of Adrian, causing my heart to pang in my chest. I silently scold my
traitorous heart, telling that bitch to calm the fuck down. I never have and never will be the type of
girl to obsess over some guy. So I force a smile onto my face, grinning back up at him.
“I can think of a few things,” I offer vaguely, my grin masking the hollow feeling creeping into my
stomach. I would almost believe my words to be genuine if it wasn’t for the sour taste they left in my
mouth. I take a sip of my margarita, saving myself from having to respond further.
“We got the boys, now we need the booze.” Nelle cheers as we meet up with Kali. Kali’s eyes
assess me, apparently seeing through the facade.
“To the bar,” I announce, waving the others after me, not wasting any time. I don’t dare meet
Kali’s gaze again, knowing I might just crack at her appraisal.
THE PING - PONG BALL leaves my hand, arcing over the table and sinking perfectly into the plastic cup
on the other side. The plop of the water confirming the perfect shot.
“For fuck’s sake,” Nelle grumbles, plucking a shot from the tray beside her and tipping her head
back.
“That was actually mine,” her partner Grant murmurs, patting her on the shoulder in consolation,
his shaggy brown hair almost covering his blue eyes.
“Ssshh, let me drown my sorrows.” She pushes his hand away and stalks over to me.
“Nice shot,” tall boy, otherwise known as Jeremy, compliments, raising his hand for a high five. I
oblige, just for the fact of rubbing it in Nelle’s face.
“I am the beer pong champion.” I cheer, my hands rising in triumph. “Oops, I mean we.” I correct,
glancing back at him.
“No, that’s okay. You did most of the work.” He chuckles, “All hail the beer pong queen.” Raising
his hands above his head, he gives me a small, devout bow.
“Ya, ya beer pong queen. Now you need to catch up.” Nelle scowls, shoving a shot glass in my
face. I gladly take it, tipping it back to swallow the sugary-tart liquid. My lips pucker at the sweet and
sour flavor.
“I know a game where we can all catch up,” Jeremy interjects, swiping a shot from the tray and
pounding it back, his face twisting at the sweet and sour taste. He coughs, not expecting the tart after-
taste.
“What the hell is that?” he asks, washing away the taste with a swig of his beer.
“A pornstar shot,” Nelle supplies, giving him a wink. We both can’t help but laugh at his open-
mouthed stare, apparently never having heard of the drink before.
“So, what’s the game?” I ask, sparing him from any further embarrassment. Face already tinged
red, he clears his throat, composing himself once more.
“Never have I ever.” He smirks, the playful expression turning my stomach. I force a smile onto
my lips, following the others over to the table.
“I missed it?” Kali asks, pulling up a chair beside me as she returns from the bar, with the other
two guys, Jake and Chris, and places the drinks on the table.
“It was over pretty fast,” I admit, taking one of the offered glasses.
“Okay, save your big talk, miss beer pong queen. I don’t want your ego to get too inflated.” Nelle
huffs, flopping down into a chair across from me.
“What are we doing now?” Kali asks, bringing her drink to her lips. The wide brim of her straw-
hat flops back. She quickly slaps a hand down on the top of her head to keep it from falling off. Her
drink sloshing up over the edge of the glass. She grimaces at the cool liquid hitting her legs, and I
clasp a hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh. Despite my not-so-subtle attempt to hide my
amusement, she notices. Whipping her head around to glare at me.
“We’re playing, never have I ever,” Nelle interjects, saving me from Kali’s glare. “I’m going
first,” she announces proudly, sitting up straighter in her chair. I assess Nelle, seeing the devilish
gleam in her eye. Oh, she definitely has something up her sleeve. Something I’m sure I won’t be very
fond of.
“Never have I ever … ” she starts, tapping her chin in thought—a wide grin spreading across her
lips. “Screamed the name Tiffany repeatedly, at the top of my lungs, in a crowded club. Drawing
everyone’s stares in the immediate.”
I purse my lips, lifting the glass off the table and taking a long sip. Not taking my narrowed glare
off Nelle for a second. Jeremy clears his throat beside me, the rest of the table looking at us. Waiting
for the rest of the story. I sigh, placing my drink back down with a little too much force.
“Never have I ever … given my coat check ticket to some random girl named Tiffany in the
middle of winter and made my best friend try to find her.” I quirk my eyebrow up in challenge,
crossing my arms over my chest. Nelle grudgingly takes a sip of her drink, glaring back at me. Oh,
two could play this game.
“In my defense, she didn’t have money, and my tipsy mind thought that putting both our coats
together was the perfect idea. And when she asked for the ticket I let her hold onto it, she seemed
trustworthy.” Nelle pouts, looking around for support. Her teammate, Grant, pats her on the shoulder
again. This time she accepts the gesture of consolation.
“Well, it turned out she left five minutes after that to hook up with some guy. So we had to drive
back to the club the next day to get said coat.” I give her a triumphant grin. Kali chuckles beside me,
taking another sip of her drink.
“Fucking Tiffany,” Nelle and I chorus, raising our glasses in a familiar toast.
“I have one,” Jeremy offers, drawing my attention to him. “Never have I ever been skinny
dipping.”
I lift my glass to my lips and look around the table. Nelle takes a drink, as does Grant, and the
others sit still, looking at us. Kali blushes but doesn’t drink.
“Well, that’s what vacations are for. Let’s put it on the itinerary.” I nudge Kali, causing a laugh to
burst from her lips.
“Is that an open invitation?” Jeremy asks with a teasing grin. Dragging his eyes up my body. I hide
my initial reaction, putting on the flirtatious mask of old Liv once more.
“Maybe,” I giggle and shrug my shoulders. I don’t dare look back at him, knowing my face will
fall, knowing I couldn’t hide the look of disgust on my face. I silently send out a plea to the universe
that this game will end soon, and I can get away from this guy.
“I have one,” Grant announces proudly. He looks over to Nelle as though she’s supposed to give
him some award for coming up with an idea. As I expected, she gives him a lazy smile, her brows
lifting in question. Barely containing her boredom. “Never have I ever … had sex in public.”
Heat blossoms in my cheeks at his words. Memories of the night in Santorini unfolding in my
mind. Staring out at the setting sun over the sea while Adrian sank into me. The bustling restaurant
mere feet below us. I take a long sip of my drink, willing the cool liquid to soothe the heat creeping
down my neck. Nelle gives me a teasing smirk before taking a sip herself. Jeremy and another one of
the guys take a sip from their glasses—I don’t miss the heated look Jeremy sends my way.
“Never have I ever … had a threesome.” One of the other guys offers, and my blush intensifies at
his words. My mind drifts to thoughts of the guys. Not these guys, my guys. I envision the night with
Adrian, our frenzied fucking in the stairwell. What was supposed to be an appetizer, teasing my taste
buds before the main course. Once I saw Kyros frozen, eyes glued to me, the first thoughts that came
to my lust-addled mind were not to cover up. No, I wanted his hands on me too—his lips—his tongue
—the warm press of his skin against mine. Kyros, filling me from behind while I wrap my lips around
Adrian’s—
Jeremy clears his throat beside me, pulling me from my fantasy world. I avert my gaze, biting my
lip nervously. I cast a glance at Nelle, seeing her, not so subtly giggling under her breath. When she
notices my look, she waggles her eyebrows teasingly.
“I have one,” Kali says beside me. I turn my attention toward her, giving her a grateful smile.
Happy to not have the feel of the group’s eyes on me. “Never have I ever … been in love.”
My heart freezes in my chest. This game brings up thoughts and feelings I can’t handle right now.
My eyes lock on Kali, and her brows crease in concern, her drink partway to her lips. My mouth
grows dry, my chest tightening. My lungs struggle to take in air. All the oxygen in the world has
disappeared.
“Liv?” I hear Nelle ask. Panic evident in her tone. Despite hearing it, I can’t do anything to quell
her nerves. I’m unable to even move my gaze from Kali’s. I feel a masculine hand lower onto my
thigh, the touch making my blood turn cold. My stomach roils at the unwanted contact, yet I can’t
move my body. My lips refuse to emit any sound, parting slightly, the air whistling past them the only
noise. Kali grips my shoulders, her slender fingers digging into my skin harder than I would’ve
thought possible. I see her lips moving, yet the noise barely filters in. Her words sound muffled, as
though my head is submerged in the ocean beyond.
The pressure of the masculine hand is ripped from my skin. Raised voices filter through my mind,
yet I can’t make out the words. I feel my brows furrow, my brain desperately attempting to clear the
fog. Kali’s eyes lift from mine, focusing on something over my shoulder.
“Olivia,” I hear a familiar voice growl out my name. His warm palms cup my face. Kali’s hands
move from my shoulders, and she slides out of the way, letting him move into my field of view. My
shoulders slump in relief at the sight of his face. Not caring about the fiery anger I see in his ocean
blue eyes. I try to stop myself, but my heart wins out. I bring my hands up to clasp his. The contact
soothes my soul, like a drug addict getting their next fix. I know it isn’t right. I know this isn’t what he
wants, yet I can’t help myself. My stupid traitor heart sings in his presence.
I stare up into his eyes, seeing the pain and sorrow there. Seeing the hurt and betrayal. My brows
crease at that. Confusion fogging my brain over. Why would he be hurt? I let my hands fall from his.
Memories flashing through my mind remind me that I shouldn’t be relieved to see him. I left to get
away from them, from the gods that viewed me as nothing more than a burden.
“How did you find me?” I ask softly, my words leaving my lips in a whisper.
“How did I find you? That’s seriously the first thing out of your mouth?” he blurts, the words
leaving his lips in a furious rush. He goes to open his mouth again but thinks better of it, taking a quick
glance around at the small groups surrounding us. I sigh in exasperation, standing from the table.
“Liv, you don’t have to—” Nelle starts, her gaze flashing to Adrian. Her normal, boisterous
personality vanishes. She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing on him.
“It’s okay,” I interrupt, patting her arm in comfort. There is no use in running. Besides, I’m not
even sure I could anymore. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but my powers have felt pretty
nonexistent since I brought myself and Kali to the mortal realm. Sure, I can still feel the pool of
energy within my chest, but the fear of using it is too great. The flames that flowed from me now flood
my mind. I won’t risk my friend’s safety, just for my petty attempt at escape, especially after how
futile it turned out to be.
Adrian’s hand closes around my upper arm, a little tighter than what I’m used to from him. I
observe him closer, seeing the bags beneath his eyes, the hollow look to his typically playful,
handsome face. My stomach twists with guilt. The last time I saw him, he could barely keep himself
upright with the amount of power he expended. The multiple portals he needed to make to avoid any
other creatures coming in from the infernal realm had drained his energy.
“Hey,” Jeremy steps forward, blocking off our path. He puffs out his chest in an attempt to look
intimidating, but his form is lanky next to Adrian’s chiseled muscles. Even if he wasn’t a god, Adrian
could knock him on his ass without breaking a sweat. Adrian and I both cock an eyebrow at his
attempt. He eyes Jeremy up, huffing out a breath in irritation at the minor inconvenience.
“I suggest you move. Now,” Adrian says firmly, the words coming out roughly through his gritted
teeth. Jeremy jumps at the sound, yet he stupidly stands his ground. Apparently braver than I gave him
credit for.
“It’s fine,” I sigh in exasperation. My annoyance at this stranger, ratcheting up even higher than
before. I realize the mistake I’ve made when both of their gazes jump to me, Jeremy’s in surprise, and
Adrian’s—well, the best description would be cold fury. My stomach drops at the sight, expecting
that rage from Maximus or Mateo, not from my fun, playful, and caring Adrian.
Adrian pulls me after him until we’re out of sight and coming to a stop behind one of the nearby
villas. That’s when I feel the cool glide of his power washing over us, shielding us from view. I
wobble slightly on my feet, the haze of alcohol finally hitting me. I hadn’t even realized the effect of
the alcohol before now. Having been on edge with going through the motions of flirting with Jeremy.
“Are you drunk?” The tired words leave his lips on a sigh of frustration.
“Are you?” I ask on a sharp gasp, giggling to myself at his pursed lips. He scrubs a hand down his
face in exasperation. His eyes look even more tired than before. I reach up and pinch his cheeks,
wanting to see him smile. I pull them wide, frowning when it doesn’t work. I really don’t like seeing
him like this.
“I think you need a shot,” I announce, my hands leaving his face abruptly. I swing around, ready to
march over to the bar when my sandal catches on a rock, my momentum carrying me forward. The
sandy ground, getting closer by the second. Adrian’s strong hands wrap around my waist, halting my
descent.
“I don’t need a shot,” he almost growls, pulling me back up to face him. I waste no time wrapping
my arms around him, snuggling into his chest.
“You saved me,” I croon, banding my arms around him even tighter. I feel him relax into my
embrace slightly. Tension still radiates off of him. He huffs out a sigh, the rush of air ruffling my hair.
“Why did you do it?” he asks, the words spoken so softly I almost don’t hear them.
“Do what?” I ask distractedly. With my eyes now open, I see his half unbuttoned linen shirt,
exposing his bare chest beneath. My giddy drunken state, now turning to one of lust with his body
pressed against me. I turn my face into his chest, letting my lips catch on his taut skin. He moans at the
contact, relaxing into my touch—some more of his tension washing away. I trail soft kisses up his
body, raising up on my toes to do so. I feel his body react to my touch, his hand threading through my
hair to cup the back of my head. Needing to feel me against him, just as much as I need the warm
comfort of his skin.
My lips reach his collar bone, teasing the sensitive skin there. I hear the sharp intake of breath at
the contact, and I smile against his skin. Happy that I can make him feel like that. Maybe I could even
be happy with just the physical aspect of the relationship. I used to just be satisfied with that. Never
wanting the emotional connection. I skim my mouth up to the crook of his neck, sucking on the
sensitive skin there. He presses me into his body, needing the contact, the connection.
He stiffens, hands moving to my shoulders and pushing me away. He keeps his hands there,
holding me at arm’s length, not allowing me to curl back into the comfort of his embrace. My skin
feels cold despite the warm afternoon sun beating down on us.
“Leave?”
My brows furrow at the words that slip past his lips. His voice wavering slightly. The sad, angry
look from earlier returning. I tilt my head, racking my hazy mind for the meaning behind this single
word packed with so much emotion, my heart can barely take it. It’s not a demand, but a heart-
wrenching plea.
“Why did you leave?” Adrian’s words click in my mind, continuing our previous conversation.
Before drunk Liv decided that giving in to the feeling of lust sounded much more appealing than
having a serious discussion.
My jaw drops, my mind searching for the right words to say. I really didn’t want to see Adrian in
this much pain. “Maximus said,” I start, not even knowing where I’m about to go with that thought.
“I don’t care what Maximus said,” Adrian spits out, vitriol leaking from each and every word.
“He lied to you, Liv.” The words hit me like a freight train. My mind goes over the interactions with
Adrian and the other guys once more. Seeing the real genuine connection. Never seeing the forced
responsibility Maximus made me believe was there. Or rather, I made myself think. I roll the words
Maximus uttered to me once more, my eyes widening as the realization hits me. He never actually
said half of the things I allowed to poison my mind. My own issues of intimacy, stuck on the few
muttered words, amplifying them, giving them power.
“How could you just leave me—leave us, just like that. Like we never mattered to you at all. Like
I never mattered to you.” The words burst from his lips in a rush. As though they had been bottled up
for the past week. Allowing him to stew in the hurt and betrayal I made him feel. All because of my
own issues. In not wanting to let myself get hurt, I hurt someone that I—
“Then I find you at a resort in fucking Mexico. Half drunk with another man’s hand on your leg.
Acting like he should be the one comforting you and seeing if you’re alright instead of me. Instead of
your mates,” he seethes—teeth gritting together.
I part my lips, wanting to assure him nothing happened, wanting to apologize. When he steps
away, his hands drop from my shoulders. My heart leaps in my chest, fear tightening it at the loss of
contact. I step forward, raising my hands out to him, wanting to make everything better but he steps
out of my reach. I come to an abrupt halt when my fingers hit an invisible barrier.
“I can’t think. I can’t focus when you touch me.” He breathes on a pained sigh. As though the lack
of contact is driving another dagger through his chest—right along with the others I’ve already
plunged there. My hand drops in defeat, my shoulders slumping. The relief I felt when I saw his face
evaporates, leaving me in the same state. I struggle to pull in each breath. The feeling of loss cripples
me. Our eyes lock on each other. Both feeling the same emotions, yet unable to comfort each other.
“I have to go,” he whispers, his body dissipating before my eyes. I cry out a sound of protest. Not
even recognizing the words leaving my lips, but it’s too late. All that stands before me is thin air and
his footprints, still embedded in the soft sand. Before I even register what is happening, I fall to my
knees, the impact vibrating through my bones. Yet my brain doesn’t even register the pain. My hands,
having braced my fall, dig into the sand around me. The grains falling through my fingers, leaving
nothing left but emptiness.
A gust of air brushes against my skin, ruffling my hair and brushing it back from my face. I barely
recognize the shift in the air for what it is. My eyes glued to the sand, sifting through my
splayed fingers—there in one moment and gone in the next—just like Adrian.
“Olivia,” I hear a masculine voice exclaim, the tone familiar, yet not the voice echoing through my
mind. The question of why did I leave playing on repeat like a skipping record in my head. Warm
hands cup my cheeks, tipping my head up gently to find a pair of honey-brown ones.
“Kyros.” The name leaves my lips. I hardly recognize the hollowness of my own words. “I’m so
sorry.” The words barely more than a whisper.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asks the questions in such quick succession they struggle to
register in my mind.
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry I left.” I finally meet his eyes properly this time, seeing the concern and
sadness there—none of the anger that was in Adrian’s.
“Shh,” he soothes, drawing me into his chest. I rest my cheek against him, savoring the feeling of
comfort and safety he always evokes. “We can talk about all of that later.” He smooths a hand over my
hair, cradling my head against him.
“No,” I insist, pushing away from him. Not wanting to take comfort in his embrace when I had just
hurt him, hurt all of them.
“I hurt you—”
He cuts off my words, pulling me back into him. “It was a misunderstanding. Just because you hurt
me doesn’t mean I’m going to hurt you back.” He freezes, pulling away from me just enough to meet
my eyes. “Is that what happened here? Adrian just left you here like this?” he asks incredulously.
I purse my lips, not knowing how exactly to answer. Yes, technically, Adrian did leave me here,
but I didn’t want them to fight. Not over me, not over what I had done to them. He had every right to
react like he did, especially after seeing—
My stomach twists at the thought, at the lengths I was willing to go to just to feel like my old self
again. To convince myself that I could push down my feelings for these men. That I could just walk
away.
“He has every right to be angry, just like you.” I try to pull out of his grip again, but he doesn’t let
go, freezing me with his look.
 “I need this.” The words are so real and raw I stop fighting against his hold. “I need to feel you in
my arms. Yes, you hurt me, but I’ve been going out of my mind with worry for the past few days. We
all have. I just need to feel you safe in my arms right now. The rest—the rest we can figure out later.
As long as you promise to come to me with these thoughts and feelings rather than keeping them
bottled inside.”
Moisture wells in my eyes at his words, and warmth fills my chest at the fact that he didn’t want
to just walk away from me, labeling me as someone not worth his time any longer after the way I
walked out on them. Instead, he pulls me back into his chest just as the tears fall in earnest. I clutch at
his back, not realizing how much I needed this—needed him, too, until this moment.
His chest shakes against mine, his tears falling onto my shoulder. I smooth my hand over his back,
trying to comfort him just as much as he’s taking care of me.
“I don’t think you realize the danger you could have been in, Olivia. Titus just attacked us. He
easily could have taken you, and none of us would have known.”
My chest tightens at his words. I had been so self-involved that I put not only myself but everyone
else at the resort, including my friends, at risk. Just because I wanted to run from my problems.
I nod against his chest, my arms tightening around him. Knowing that no apology or explanation
would justify my actions. Both of our breathing finally settles, taking comfort in each other’s
presence. He threads his hand through my hair, kissing the top of my head. The gesture is so sweet it
warms my heart, relaxing me further. I mold my body against his, not wanting to move from this spot,
even with the scorching afternoon sun beating down on us and the sand plastered against my skin.
“Liv?” Nelle calls, the sound of footsteps growing louder. I peek up from my place nestled against
Kyros as she makes her way around the corner.
“Oh.” She stops in her tracks, eyebrows creasing, her head tilting to the side.
“He isn’t god boy,” she observes, pointing at Kyros and me. I feel Kyros’s chest vibrate under my
cheeks from his laughter. We both reluctantly part, and he helps me up from the sand. I grimace at the
sand stuck to my knees from staying there for too long.
“God boy?” Kyros questions. Moving to my side, he hooks an arm around me as though I might
just topple over at any second. Which I just might with all the alcohol and emotional turmoil mixing
inside of me. Definitely not a great combination.
“Ya, where did he go? I would really like to give him a piece of my mind.” Nelle huffs, crossing
her arms over her chest. Darting her gaze around us, searching for him. As though he would magically
pop up from behind us. On second thought, I guess that is actually something he could do.
“He isn’t here anymore,” I say swiftly, not wanting to continue talking about Adrian.
“He left?” she asks incredulously, stalking toward us. I narrow my eyes on her, hoping she’ll
leave it at that. “Especially after how he just marched in there and dragged you away.”
I grit my teeth at her, not wanting her to stir the tension between the two men any more than it
already had been. Nelle gives me a nonchalant shrug, not caring about the trouble she was about to
cause.
“Nelle’s just being dramatic.” I wave off his concern, urging Nelle to keep her mouth shut this
time. She rolls her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently. Nelle finally relents, sighing in defeat before
stomping away from us. She pauses, turning on her heel to face us again.
“Oh, by the way, I’m Nelle. The best friend,” she says sternly, as though that title is the equivalent
of assassin or something. “I already like you better than god boy, just don’t let it get to your head.”
With that, she turns back around, continuing her stomping until I can no longer hear her footsteps.
“Well, that was interesting.” Kyros chuckles, pulling me into his side.
 “Oh, trust me, that’s nothing compared to the other stunts she’s pulled.” I lament, tucking my face
into his chest.
“She did say that she likes me better than Adrian, so I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
I look and his smile widens. “Don’t let her hear you say that,” I warn. “She’ll knock you back
down to second place.” I nudge him playfully.
“I’m not going to forget what she said,” he murmurs close to my ear, his tone turning serious.
“We’ll talk about it later. I just want you to know, I’m here for you. I want you to be able to talk to me
about these things without any fear.”
I nod at his words, letting myself relax into his touch. I suck in a deep breath, steeling myself for
whatever drama may face us when we turn that corner. To my surprise, only Kali and Nelle sit at the
table when we reach the bar. Nelle gives me a not-so-subtle wink, telling me that was all her doing.
Well, if I could kiss that bitch right now, I would. I mouth a silent thank you, beyond grateful not to
have to deal with any more drama today. Well at least no Mexico drama. I’m sure there’s plenty
waiting for me back home.
“Are you ladies ready to go back now? Or is there anything else on your agenda today?” He
glances at my swimsuit, only just realizing my lack of clothing. His cheeks redden, and his eyes dart
back up to meet mine—clearly embarrassed at having been caught checking me out. I bump him with
my hip and snuggle in closer to his side. I can’t help but find it endearing.
“Well actually, there’s this club we were hoping to hit up tonight,” Nelle suggests, looking up at
Kyros hopefully. A laugh escapes my lips, and her face falls, realizing he wasn’t actually serious.
“Are we going to take the plane back?” Kali asks excitedly. Already hopping up from her chair.
Her face falls a moment later at Kyros’ blank expression.
“Plane?” he asks, unaware of how exactly we got here.
“Ya, plane. How else would we get to Mexico?” Nelle scoffs, taking another sip of her drink as
though we weren’t just about to leave. “Oh wait,” she mumbles, just remembering the fact that her
best friend has powers now.
“Well, that explains why we couldn’t pick up your power signature after the college campus,”
Kyros mutters to himself, and I can almost see the gears in his head whirring with the information. My
lips quirk to the side as I think over his words. I figured they would have some way to track my
powers, but I hadn’t known for sure. My biggest concern was having to use my powers again. In the
heat of the moment, it was instinctual to dissipate Kali and me to the mortal realm. But now—fear
skitters up my spine at the thought of using them.
“I would like to travel on a plane,” he considers. Kali’s face brightens with joy at that.
“—but that might take too much time.” He grimaces, looking just as disappointed as Kali does
now. “No, sadly, we’ll have to save the plane for another time,” he concludes, voicing his thoughts
out loud.
“You could have just said that from the beginning,” Kali mutters, her lip lowering into a slight
pout.
“I’m assuming you have a room,” he suggests, surveying the surrounding villas.
I nod in response, but before I can get a word out, Nelle blurts, “Ugh, gross. Can’t you keep it in
your pants a little longer? I’m not so sure if you’re in first place anymore.”
Kyros’s face reddens again at the words, his mouth opening and closing, searching for the words
to respond.
“You have a one-track mind, babes.” I sigh, giving her a disparaging look. “We need someplace to
dissipate from. It would look a little suspicious if we all just vanished into thin air.”
 “Oh, look at you, little miss logical,” Nelle teases, sticking her tongue out at me. I guide her up
from the chair, and she looks back out at the beach longingly. Reaching out for it as though she could
grab it and hold on.
“Can’t we stay a little longer?” she pleads, her bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout at
Kyros’s back. I pull her along beside me, Kali leading the way to our villa. Kyros looks back over his
shoulder at us, grimacing when he looks at Nelle. He rubs the back of his neck—indecision warring
in his eyes.
“We have to go,” I tell them both, putting my foot down. I can’t keep running away from my
problems. I have to face them head on and deal with the consequences of my actions.
We reach the villa and gather our things. Nelle packing back up the suitcase she brought. Kali and
I pack our few belongings that we purchased at the resort into our beach bags while Kyros waits
patiently for us to be done.
“I can’t take all of us back at once,” he admits, rubbing his neck nervously. “So, I’ll take Nelle
back first and then bring you both back to the ethereal realm after. Unless—”
“No, that sounds fine,” I cut him off. The powers inside me still waiting like a sparkling lake,
ready to be used, yet the fear builds inside me, not wanting to risk using them again so soon after—
Nelle wraps her arms around me, pulling me from my thoughts. Her arms tighten until I move to
wrap mine around her, resting my chin on her shoulder.
“I’m always here for you, girl. You know that, right?” she asks, her voice pitched low so only I
can hear. I nod, my chin dipping against her shoulder, and I tighten my hold on her, wishing I didn’t
have to be separated from my best friend, my sister, once more.
“I’m only a phone call away, or a magical poof, whenever one of these assholes pisses you off,
and you need some sister time,” she jokes, raising her voice now for Kyros to hear. He chuckles,
nervously shifting on his feet.
“Now you,” Nelle untangles herself from my embrace, her smile tight, showing me the emotional
toll leaving me is taking on her too. She turns toward Kali, wrapping her into a tight embrace next.
She pauses a moment before returning her embrace. “I better hear from you. You’re my sister now
too,” I hear Nelle murmur.
“Of course.” Kali nods when they part, wiping a stray tear from her eye.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with us to that club tonight?” Nelle laughs through her sniffles,
batting away the tears that well in her eyes. Kyros glances at me nervously, his eyes flashing from
Nelle and back to me again. I giggle under my breath, shaking my head at him, knowing the sweet man
definitely would go out with us tonight if I asked him to, despite all the problems that would
undoubtedly cause.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She shrugs, grabbing the handle of her suitcase with one hand and
clasping Kyros’ outstretched hand with the other. With that, they’re gone, disappearing out of sight.
“Are you okay? What happened with Adrian?” Kali asks, rushing over to me now that the others
have left.
“I hurt them, Kali, I didn’t know, I didn’t mean—”
She cuts me off, clasping my hands. “You did what you needed to do at that moment, don’t
apologize for that.”
“But I—”
“No, you were hurt too. Could this situation have been avoided if there was better
communication? Absolutely,” she explains, holding my stare. Her words are firm and sure.
“Relationships aren’t perfect right off the bat. You have to work on them.”
 “I—” I start, unsure of what to say. My first instinct is to deny that there’s any relationship at all,
but that isn’t true.
Before I can think of a response, Kyros appears before us. Raising his hand out towards us. I take
a deep breath and close my eyes briefly. Steeling myself for the large dose of reality I’m about to get.
I exhale. Kali is waiting for me to make a decision before she makes a move. I step forward, placing
my hand in his, and Kali follows right after, clasping his other hand. He pulls me into his side,
looking down at me, his eyebrows creased in concern. Giving him a small smile, I nod, accepting that
I need to make this next step. I close my eyes again as Kyros’ powers sweep over me, the familiar
feeling of dissipating overtaking me. Depositing me back into the shit show I know is waiting for me.
I pace before the grand entryway, keeping my gaze focused on the distance. Searching for any
sign of their return. I grumble under my breath, annoyance rising in me. What on earth could
be taking so long? I clench my hands into fists, attempting to get rid of the tingling sensation spreading
through them. My heart is racing in my chest. I already want to pummel Adrian for leaving her there in
the first place. But, knowing Kyros, our mate batted her eyelashes and got him to go along with her
hair-brained plans.
I brush a hand back through my short hair, the movement doing nothing other than to expel some of
the nervous energy rushing through my body.
“Is she here yet?” Maximus rumbles behind me. I jump at his voice, nearly leaping into the air in
surprise. I internally scold myself for letting my defenses get so low. I am the God of War. I need to
be ready at a moment’s notice. I can’t let my senses grow so weak that even Maximus’s hulking form
could sneak up on me.
“Do you think I would be pacing like this if she was here already?” I lash out, taking out my
frustration on him. The fucker deserves it, after all. He’s the reason our mate left in the first place. I
block out that small voice at the back of my mind that says he wasn’t the only one at fault. No, it was
his fault. I would continue to put all the blame on his shoulders. Maybe a little on hers too. If it wasn’t
for the asshole Osias and his fucking meetings, I would have been here more. I would have made sure
there was no doubt in her mind of our connection.
I hear his warning snarl behind me, the two of us too near our breaking point to be exchanging
heated words. Especially when Kyros isn’t here to talk us down.
“What did Adrian have to say for himself?” I ask, changing the subject to someone we could both
direct our anger towards. I give him a sidelong glance. His fists are clenched and his teeth gritting in
frustration.
“He had nothing else to say,” he growls the words, turning around, looking for something to slam
his fist into to release the anger boiling inside him. The only thing being the pillars, holding up the
stone overhang on the entryway. That is not a mess I’m willing to clean up.
“Kyros will get her back here, don’t worry, brother.” I clasp his shoulder, willing us to both
believe the words. I see the effects of my sentiment almost immediately. He unclenches his hands,
allowing them to rest at his sides, his eyes losing the flames of fury once lighting them.
 A figure forms in the distance, cutting our conversation off abruptly—a single form appearing on
the cobblestone path. The wards had been repaired almost immediately after our battle with Titus. I
echo Maximus’s growl beside me, seeing the solitary male form making his way up the path.
“If that is Kyros, without her, I swear to the ethereals—” I grumble the words I’m sure are running
through his mind as well, before I see the figure clearly, making his way up the marble stairs.
“Osias,” The name leaves my lips on a snarl. I instinctively step forward into his path. There is
no way I’m going to let this colossal asshole in here when my mate is about to show up at any
moment.
“I didn’t realize I ordered a welcoming team.” He chuckles, eyeing me dismissively. “What great
service. I should come here more often.” The sarcasm rolls off of him in waves.
He climbs the last stair, rising to his full height. He matches me, Maximus standing a couple of
inches taller than us both. Osias’ blond hair gleams in the sunlight, making him look like the superior
god he always claims to be. His sea-green eyes assess me before he scoffs, as he always does.
Apparently, finding something lacking. I puff out my chest in the challenge, my fists clenching at my
sides. Barely holding myself back. The only thing stopping me from sending a fist squarely into his
pompous face is the fact that my mate will be here at any moment.
I breathe out a sigh of frustration, my earlier nerves shifting from wanting her back now to hoping
Kyros will continue to waste time, wherever he is.
“What are you doing here?” I grind out between clenched teeth. Repeating the command, not to
punch him through my head, hoping it will keep my fist from acting on its own accord.
“What do you mean? Now that the Ascension has finished, I have every right to attend this
school,” he states smugly, crossing his arms over his chest in triumph. His perfectly tailored power
suit only adds to the pompous look.
“When was the last time a god actually attended to see their demigod progeny? Let alone the
leader of the majors attending for no reason but to be a pain in my ass.” I scoff, mirroring his posture.
If he wants to act like a pompous prick, I can do the same.
“Well, since you caused a temper tantrum when you were told it was your turn to monitor the
school. I figured I might as well come by to see what all the fuss is about.” He chuckles
condescendingly.
I hear a laugh rumble from Maximus’ chest, and I give him a sidelong glare. Not needing these two
fuckers ganging up on me right now. If anything, Maximus should be on my side. We really can’t let
Osias know about Olivia, especially since finding out she is a goddess. His attention would not be a
good thing.
“Hello Maximus, good to see you doing well. Hope life at the school isn’t treating you as poorly
as your brother over there,” Osias murmurs conspiratorially, pointing at me with his thumb over his
shoulder.
Maximus goes to open his mouth, but I shoot him another glare, willing him to shut it back up. The
last thing we need is for him to let something slip. Giving Osias the information we’re desperate to
keep from him. Maximus purses his lips in frustration before giving me a curt nod, understanding
lighting in his eyes. Despite my hatred for the pompous prick before me, he and Maximus had always
gotten along. Osias is one of the few gods who can understand him completely, having to handle and
deal with the same powers as him.
“Cut the shit Osias. I know you have an ulterior motive,” I press on, needing to get to the bottom
of his seemingly random visit.
“I don’t answer to you,” he states, stepping closer to me, his hands dropping to his side. His
earlier facade fades away—the true leader of the ethereal majors coming out now. Good, after
thousands of years, I really have neither the time nor the patience to deal with his bullshit.
“I am in charge of the safety and security of the demigods in this school. So, yes, you do have to
answer to me.” I step forward, mirroring his intimidation tactic.
His face transforms so drastically at my words, I can’t help but blink in confusion. His eyebrows
lift, a smile creeping across his lips, keen eyes sparkling with pure delight.
“I’ll take your position then,” he pronounces, as though simply saying the words would make it
true.
“Excuse me?” I ask incredulously—my jaw-dropping in shock. Osias wants to watch over the
school. The only ethereal god exempted from taking a shift every few hundred years, now states that
he will take my position. My jaw snaps closed, eyes narrowing on him. Full of wary suspicion.
“You heard me. I’m taking your spot. You can go back to your home.” He crosses his arms back
over his chest, his expression not allowing any room for argument. “You should be grateful,” he
proclaims, setting my teeth on edge.
“You can’t just—” I pause at the chime of a phone. All three of us check our pockets, pulling out
our phones with the same level of anxious energy. I sigh in disappointment at the lack of new
messages on my home screen. I stuff the contraption back in my pocket, ready to continue my tirade,
when Osias lifts up a finger in front of my face. I bare my teeth at him, sure steam must be rising from
my skin with the anger burning through me at his snide gesture.
His brows crease, smug smile dropping from his face. I pause on the rare slip from the leader. His
face is usually either an impassive mask or glowing with pompous glee.
“On second thought, you’re right. I’ll just head out,” he mumbles distractedly. I freeze, never
having heard the asshole say anyone but himself is right before. Despite him doing exactly what I
want him to do right now, I can’t help but want to stop him and find what he could have received that
would make him change his mind so abruptly.
I bite my lip, indecision warring within me. I glance over to Maximus, who merely shrugs, his
brows furrowed in confusion. Just as Osias turns around, motion draws my gaze out to the pathway.
Three figures, still shrouded in darkness, begin to emerge.
Fuck—fuck—fuck. I glance back to Maximus, the fucker just as useless as always, just stands
there in shock, unsure of what to do now. Asshole Osias always fucking ruins everything. Why
couldn’t he get his little epiphany five minutes earlier?
“On second thought, why don’t we give you a tour of the school. I’m sure all the students and staff
would love to meet their fearless leader,” I offer, attempting to usher him into the building. Anything
to take his gaze off the forms of Kyros, Olivia, and Kali taking shape in the distance.
Osias only holds up a hand to silence me. The asshole must know just how much he continually
sets my nerves off. I hold myself back, though, not wanting to get into the middle of a god fight with
Olivia so close. Osias keeps his gaze trained on the three of them, making their way up the pathway
now. Maximus shoots me a curious glance, to which I bare my teeth, giving him the finger. He can
think of something then. Osias is about to meet our mate, the goddess that shouldn’t be in about five
seconds flat.
I direct my gaze over to Olivia, a swath of sheer fabric tied around her waist, still wearing her
swimsuit from the beach Adrian found her at. I grit my teeth at the fact that any other man got to see
her like this, the red bikini top shows off her ample cleavage. But, if I’m honest, I’m mostly jealous
that I didn’t get to see her first.
I purse my lips. Debating whether or not to clock the fucker over the head just for seeing her like
this. My eyes trained on the back of Osias’ head. That’s when I notice his body language change, his
shoulders slumping in relief. My eyes dart back to Olivia, and she stops in her tracks, her eyes
widening in shock. Not on Maximus or me. No—on Osias. Her hands fall to her sides, dropping the
beach bag that was propped on her shoulder, the contents spilling out onto the stone path.
“Dad?” she asks in disbelief, tears flooding her sea-green eyes, the same exact shade as my
number one adversary. How had we not noticed this before? My mind had completely skipped over
him when thinking of possibilities of her parents, especially since we’d been convinced the god of
fire was her father after she used that power to battle against Titus and the shadow demons.
What kind of sick joke is the universe playing on me now?

OLIVIA

MY HEART STOPS SEEING the three figures waiting for me on the front steps of the school. I recognize
the hulking forms of both Maximus and Mateo, yet the third—my feet freeze, my eyes scanning his
form. Taking in the familiar blond hair and sea-green eyes, just like my own. Yet his face looks
younger than I remember it, making me pause for a moment despite his power suit being unmistakable.
My mind flashes to the appointments with the personal shoppers and seamstresses. Helping him pick
out every one of his hand-tailored suits.
My father is waiting on the front steps of the school for me. My father that everyone said couldn’t
be my father, now that we’d learned I’m a goddess, not a demigod. My supposedly human father is
standing in front of me, seemingly not caring that he is surrounded by some of the most powerful gods
in the realm. He looks at least twenty years younger, more like how I remember him looking as a
child. The laugh lines and crow’s feet are no longer visible on his handsome face.
His shoulders slump in relief at the sight of me. Yet, his gaze remains wary, darting subtle glances
to the three gods surrounding him. I barely feel the bag drop from my shoulder, my arms falling limply
at my sides of their own volition.
“Dad?” I squeak, my tone a mix of relief and confusion. Not exactly knowing how this is
happening right now, and frankly not caring. My petty reasons for not calling him sooner evaporate at
the sight of him, at his reaction to that word. His face breaks, the last shreds of his usual mask of
indifference he shows the rest of the world cracking before me.
I rush towards the stairs at the same time he descends them. Meeting in a collision at the bottom.
My usually stony father wraps me into a tight embrace. His large hands cradle my face into his chest.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia,” he rushes out, before I even get a chance to say anything. He smooths a
hand over my hair in a comforting gesture. The confusion and sadness from this past month resurface
at his words—the emotions crashing over me like a tsunami. My chest shudders, the first sign of tears
pricking at my eyes. Not caring how many people will see me crying in my father’s arms.
“I’m so sorry for not preparing you for this. I never should have left you alone on your birthday.
This shouldn’t have happened,” he soothes, wrapping me tighter against him. “We have to go,” he
whispers against my ear before pulling back slightly to hold my gaze, his expression serious once
more.
My lips pull down into a frown, seeing the fear in his eyes. I can’t leave, especially not after what
I just did, what I found out before I ran away.
“I can’t—” I start, my words cut off by the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs. Mateo and
Maximus standing on either side of us a moment later. My father curses, turning towards the gods and
shielding me from their view.
“I suggest you forget what you just heard, gentlemen. Otherwise, I will make your life a living
hell,” he warns, guiding me back down the cobblestone path—his tone a clear warning.
“Dad, wait—” I try to explain, but Mateo interrupts, speaking over me.
“You won’t be taking my mate anywhere,” he bellows, the words reverberating through the
otherwise silent courtyard—fury blazes in his cold eyes. I wince at his words, wishing he could have
broken the news a bit more gently. A sword forms at his side out of thin air, ready to fight my father
rather than let me go again. Without thinking, I step in front of him, shielding my father from the god of
war.
“You won’t touch my father,” I vow, with just as much fire in my words. He stills, shocked into
silence, his sword fading instantly back into nothing.
“Olivia,” father admonishes, pushing me back behind him again. I open my mouth to argue, yet he
catches me off guard, his mouth opening and closing, no words falling from his lips. Completely
speechless. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a time where anyone, especially me, has left him
fumbling for words.
“Is it true?” he asks, his mind finally catching up with the statement flung from Mateo’s lips.
“Not exactly,” Kyros starts, stepping forward, inserting himself between Mateo and my father. I
don’t miss how Maximus now moves to cover the pathway. Blocking off my father’s planned escape
route.
“I knew it.” My father starts forward, malice gleaming in his eyes, focused squarely on Mateo.
“What I mean to say,” Kyros rushes out in an attempt to hold him at bay. “It isn’t the entire truth.
Liv is mated to Mateo, yes, but she is also mated to me, Maximus and Adrian.”
His eyes move to each of the three men in disbelief before landing on me. I merely shrug, too new
to the world and the idea of mates to really be able to say for certain. I mean, I have been
inexplicably drawn to the four of them since I first laid eyes on them. Apparently, that’s some part of
the mate pull or something. My frazzled mind desperately tries to piece together the fragmented bits of
conversation I could remember from that day.
His shoulders slump in defeat, yet he keeps me angled behind him, attempting to protect me from
my mates still.
“Is turning back time one of my abilities?” he asks, the words directed almost to himself.
“Perhaps I could go back and prevent—” Mateo cuts off his words with a growl, and Osias’ head
snaps up to glare back at Mateo.
“Fine—fine.” He relents. “Let’s go somewhere private. You’ve already caused enough of a
spectacle.” He directs the words toward Mateo, causing the god of war to bare his teeth, snarling
back in response.
“We can go to the god’s residence. Adrian should be here for this too,” Kyros offers, his gaze
darting to me at the mention of the god of illusion.
“Oh, he will definitely be part of this conversation. I have a few choice words for him.” My
father mutters under his breath before turning to head back down the path. “Who is this?” He pauses,
his eyes locked on to Kali.
She shrinks back at the weight of his attention. Inclining her head in respect. A smart move on her
part. I quickly step forward, not wanting him to scare the shit out of my new friend.
 “Dad, this is Kali, a new friend I’ve made here.” I look back at her, saving the rest of the
awkward introduction. Since she already must have picked up the fact that this is my dad.
“She’s the progeny of the goddess of fertility,” Kyros fills in. Apparently meaning something to all
of them. My father nods in acknowledgment.
“Of course, she is,” he mutters under his breath, but doesn’t bother to elaborate. “Well, Kali,
demigod of fertility. My daughter will see you later.” He dismisses her. I must admit it is one of the
kinder send-offs he’s given anyone though.
Kali stumbles forward, clasping her arms around me. “Call me later?” she asks, keen intrigue
apparent in her eyes.
“As soon as I can,” I promise, clutching her tightly before moving away. “Thank you,” I whisper
quietly, thanking her for her friendship and support, especially throughout the past few days. I mean,
not everyone would be willing to up and leave at a moment’s notice, following your friend to not only
a different country—but a different realm.
“Anytime.” She chuckles. Despite her laughter, I see the sincerity in her eyes. With that, she
moves up the stairs, glancing back a final time before making her way through the grand bronze doors.
“Hopefully, she’s a better influence than that Penelope, you’re always hanging around,” My dad
mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Don’t lie, dad, you love her.” I chuckle, nudging him with my elbow. He grumbles awkwardly,
not wanting to admit the daughter-like affection he holds for my best friend. I glance around at the
guys seeing their shocked faces at the exchange. I cock an eyebrow up at them, not understanding what
the big deal is.
I look down for my beach bag, not wanting all my personal items strewn out in the courtyard.
However, I don’t find it. I look up to see Maximus standing before me, my red and white striped
beach bag already clutched in his palm.
I attempt to reach for it, but he moves it just out of my grasp, and my fingers close around thin air.
I huff out a sigh of annoyance and move closer, going for the bag again. At that exact moment, he takes
a step back, keeping the bag just out of my reach. He places a hand on the small of my back, guiding
me down the path after the others.
I really want to be mad at the asshat—blame him for my own problems and mistakes, but I can’t. I
shouldn’t have believed his biting words, when all their actions screamed the opposite. I made that
mistake, and now I have to own up to it. Despite telling myself that, I can’t seem to make my chicken
heart apologize to him just yet. Instead, I relax into his touch, allowing the strength and warmth of his
contact to comfort me as we follow behind the others, back beyond the wards.
My father reaches out a hand to me, scowling when he sees Maximus’s hand splayed on my back.
I reach out to take it before Mateo steps between us, squaring off with him again.
“I don’t think so. Who’s to say you won’t just take Olivia back to the mortal realm like you hid her
away for the past twenty years.” Mateo crosses his arms triumphantly, as though proud that he thought
of such a plan before he had time to enact it.
“I will remind you that although she may be your mate,” He pauses, cringing in disgust at the
words. “She is still my daughter, I have my reasons for why I did what I did, and I don’t need to
explain them to you.”
I give him a pointed look at that, true he doesn’t need to explain anything to Mateo, but he still
needs to explain it to me. His face softens as he meets my eyes, losing some of the cold demeanor.
“Let’s compromise,” I suggest, stepping towards Kyros. Since he seems like the safest option in
my father’s eyes, seeing as he didn’t mow Kyros over earlier when he stepped between the two of
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of History of the
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Title: History of the Waldenses

Author: J. A. Wylie

Release date: July 20, 2024 [eBook #74084]

Language: English

Original publication: London: Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co, 1880

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HISTORY OF THE

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 HISTORY
OF THE

WALDENSES.

map of the waldensian valleys.

 HISTORY
OF THE

WALDENSES.

BY THE
Rev. J. A. WYLIE, LL.D.,
author of “the papacy,” “daybreak in spain,” etc.

Illustrated.

Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co.

LONDON, PARIS & NEW YORK.
[all rights reserved.]
 PREFACE.

This work—​which is a reprint of the Sixteenth Book of the History of

Protestantism—​is exclusively occupied with the subject of the
Waldenses. It describes succinctly the conflicts they waged and the
martyrdoms they endured in defence of their faith and their liberty,
and is published in the present form to meet the requirements of
those who take a special interest in this remarkable people.
Recent events in Europe have brought the Waldenses into
prominence, and thrown a new light upon the grandeur of their
struggle and the important and enduring issues which have flowed
from it. To them, in a very particular manner, are we to trace the
constitutional liberties which Italy at this hour enjoys. In the eventful
year of 1848, when a new constitution was being framed for
Piedmont, the Waldenses made it plain to the Government that there
would not be standing-room for them within the lines of that
constitution, unless it embraced the great principle of freedom of
conscience. For that principle they had contended during five
hundred years, and nothing short of it could they accept as a basis
of national settlement, persuaded that any other guarantee of their
liberties would be illusory. Their demand was conceded: the principle
of freedom of conscience—​the root of all liberty—​was embodied in
the new constitution, and thus the whole inhabitants of Piedmont
shared equally with the Waldenses in a boon which the struggles of
the latter had been mainly instrumental in securing.
Not only so: in process of time the constitution of Piedmont was
extended to the rest of Italy, and the whole Italian nation is at this
hour sharing in the fruits which have sprung from the toil and the
blood, the unswerving faith, and the heroic devotion of the
Waldenses. Nor is their work finished even yet. They have
understood the end for which they have been preserved through so
many ages of darkness and conflict, and have energetically thrown
themselves into the evangelisation of modern Italy, and doubtless
these ancient confessors are destined to win, in the land where they
endured so many dark sorrows, not a few brilliant triumphs, and by
the labours of the present to add to the obligations which
Christendom owes them for the services of the past.
J. A. Wylie.
 CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER I.

the waldenses—their valleys.

Submission of the Churches of Lombardy to Rome—​The Old

Faith maintained in the Mountains—​The Waldensian
Churches—​Question of their Antiquity—​Approach to their
Mountains—​Arrangement of their Valleys—​Picture of
blended Beauty and Grandeur 1

CHAPTER II.

the waldenses—their missions and martyrdoms.

Their Synod and College—​Their Theological Tenets—​Romaunt

Version of the New Testament—​The Constitution of their
Church—​Their Missionary Labours—​Wide Diffusion of
their Tenets—​The Stone Smiting the Image 10

CHAPTER III.

first persecutions of the waldenses.

19
Their Unique Position in Christendom—​Their Twofold
Testimony—​They Witness against Rome and for
Protestantism—​Hated by Rome—​The Cottian Alps—​
Albigenses and Waldenses—​The Waldensian Territory
 Proper—​Papal Testimony to the Flourishing State of their
Church in the Fourteenth Century—​Early Bulls against
them—​Tragedy of Christmas, 1400—​Constancy of the
Waldenses—​Crusade of Pope Innocent VIII.—​His Bull of
1487—​The Army Assembles—​Two Frightful Tempests
approach the Valleys

CHAPTER IV.

cataneo’s expedition (1488) against the dauphinese and piedmontese

confessors.

The Confessors of the Dauphinese Alps—​Attacked—​Flee to

Mont Pelvoux—​Retreat into a Cave—​Are Suffocated—​
French Crusaders Cross the Alps—​Enter the Valley of
Pragelas—​Piedmontese Army Advances against La Torre
—​Deputation of Waldensian Patriarchs—​The Valley of
Lucerna—​Villaro—​Bobbio—​Cataneo’s Plan of Campaign—​
His Soldiers Cross the Col Julien—​Grandeurs of the Pass
—​Valley of Prali—​Defeat of Cataneo’s Expedition 31

CHAPTER V.

failure of cataneo’s expedition.

The Valley of Angrogna—​An Alternative—​The Waldenses

Prepare for Battle—​Cataneo’s Repulse—​His Rage—​He
Renews the Attempt—​Enters Angrogna with his Army—​
Advances to the Barrier—​Enters the Chasm—​The
Waldenses on the point of being Cut to Pieces—​The
Mountain Mist—​Deliverance—​Utter Rout of the Papal
Army—​Pool of Saquet—​Sufferings of the Waldenses—​
Extinction of the Invading Host—​Deputation to their
Prince—​Vaudois Children—​Peace 43

CHAPTER VI.
 synod in the waldensian valleys.

The Old Vine seems Dying—​New Life—​The Reformation—​

Tidings Reach the Waldenses—​They Send Deputies into
Germany and Switzerland to Inquire—​Joy of
Œcolampadius—​His Admonitory Letter—​Waldensian
Deputies at Strasburg—​The Two Churches a Wonder to
each other—​Martyrdom of One of the Deputies—​
Resolution to Call a Synod in the Valleys—​Its Catholic
Character—​Spot where it Met—​Confession of Faith
framed—​The Spirit of the Vaudois Revives—​They Rebuild
their Churches, &c.—​Journey of Farel and Saunier to the
Synod 52

CHAPTER VII.

persecutions and martyrdoms.

A Peace of Twenty-eight Years—​Flourishing State—​Bersour—​A

Martyr—​Martyrdom of Pastor Gonin—​Martyrdoms of a
Student and a Monk—​Trial and Burning of a Colporteur—​
A List of Horrible Deaths—​The Valleys under the Sway of
France—​Restored to Savoy—​Emmanuel Philibert—​
Persecution Renewed—​Carignano—​Persecution
Approaches the Mountains—​Deputation to the Duke—​
The Old Paths—​Remonstrance to the Duke—​To the
Duchess—​To the Council 63

CHAPTER VIII.

preparations for a war of extermination.

77
Pastor Gilles Carries the Remonstrance to the Duke—​No
Tidings for Three Months—​The Monks of Pinerolo begin
the Persecution—​Raid in San Martino—​Philip of Savoy’s
Attempt at Conciliation—​A Monk’s Sermon—​The Duke
 Declares War against the Vaudois—​Dreadful Character of
his Army—​The Waldenses hold a Fast, &c.—​Skirmishing
in Angrogna—​Night Panic—​La Trinita Occupies the Val di
Lucerna—​An Intrigue—​Fruitless Concessions—​Affecting
Incidents—​La Trinita Demands 20,000 Crowns from the
Men of the Valleys—​He Retires into Winter Quarters—​
Outrages of his Soldiers

CHAPTER IX.

the great campaign of 1561.

Mass or Extermination—​Covenant in the Valleys—​Their

Solemn Oath—​How the Waldenses Recant—​Their
Energetic Preparations—​La Trinita Advances his Army—​
Twice Attempts to Enter Angrogna, and is Repulsed—​A
Third Attempt—​Attacks on Three Points—​Repulsed on all
Three—​Ravages the Valley of Rora—​Receives
Reinforcements from France and Spain—​Commences a
Third Campaign—​Six Men against an Army—​Utter
Discomfiture—​Extinction of La Trinita’s Host—​Peace 88

CHAPTER X.

waldensian colonies in calabria and apulia.

An Inn at Turin—​Two Waldensian Youths—​A Stranger—​

Invitation to Calabria—​The Waldenses Search the Land—​
They Settle there—​Their Colony Flourishes—​Build Towns
—​Cultivate Science—​They Hear of the Reformation—​
Petition for a Fixed Pastor—​Jean Louis Paschale sent to
them—​Apprehended—​Brought in Chains to Naples—​
Conducted to Rome 104

CHAPTER XI.
 extinction of waldenses in calabria.

Arrival of Inquisitors in Calabria—​Flight of the Inhabitants of

San Sexto—​Pursued and Destroyed—​La Guardia—​Its
Citizens Seized—​Their Tortures—​Horrible Butchery—​The
Calabrian Colony Exterminated—​Louis Paschale—​His
Condemnation—​The Castle of St. Angelo—​The Pope,
Cardinals, and Citizens—​The Martyr—​His Last Words—​His
Execution—​His Tomb 114

CHAPTER XII.

the year of the plague.

Peace—​Re-occupation of their Homes—​Partial Famine—​

Contributions of Foreign Churches—​Castrocaro, Governor
of the Valleys—​His Treacheries and Oppressions—​Letter
of Elector Palatine to the Duke—​A Voice raised for
Toleration—​Fate of Castrocaro—​The Plague—​Awful
Ravages—10,000 Deaths—​Only Two Pastors Survive—​
Ministers come from Switzerland, &c.—​Worship
conducted henceforward in French 123

CHAPTER XIII.

the great massacre.

Preliminary Attacks—​The Propaganda de Fide—​Marchioness

de Pianeza—​Gastaldo’s Order—​Its Barbarous Execution—​
Greater Sorrows—​Perfidy of Pianeza—​The Massacring
Army—​Its Attack and Repulse—​Treachery—​The Massacre
Begins—​Its Horrors—​Modes of Torture—​Individual
Martyrs—​Leger collects Evidence on the Spot—​He
Appeals to the Protestant States—​Interposition of
Cromwell—​Mission of Sir Samuel Morland—​A Martyr’s
Monument 132
 CHAPTER XIV.

exploits of gianavello—​massacre and pillage of rora.

Ascent of La Combe—​Beauty and Grandeur of Valley of Rora

—​Gianavello—​His Character—​Marquis de Pianeza—​His
First Assault—​Brave Repulse—​Treachery of the Marquis—​
No Faith with Heretics—​Gianavello’s Band—​Repulse of
Second and Third Attacks—​Death of a Persecutor—​An
Army raised to invade Rora—​Massacre and Pillage—​
Letter of Pianeza—​Gianavello’s Heroic Reply—​Gianavello
renews the War—500 against 15,000—​Success of the
Waldenses—​Horror at the Massacre—​Interposition of
England—​Letter of Cromwell—​Treaty of Peace 151

CHAPTER XV.

the exile.

New Troubles—​Louis XIV. and his Confessor—​Edict against

the Vaudois—​Their Defenceless Condition—​Their Fight
and Victory—​They Surrender—​The Whole Nation Thrown
into Prison—​Utter Desolation of the Land—​Horrors of the
Imprisonment—​Their Release—​Journey across the Alps—​
Its Hardships—​Arrival of the Exiles at Geneva—​Their
Hospitable Reception 166

CHAPTER XVI.

return to the valleys.

179
Longings after their Valleys—​Thoughts of Returning—​Their
Re-assembling—​Cross Lake Leman—​Begin their March—​
The “Eight Hundred”—​Cross Mont Cénis—​Great Victory in
the Valley of the Dora—​First View of their Mountains—​
 Worship on the Mountaintop—​Enter their Valleys—​Pass
their First Sunday at Prali—​Worship

CHAPTER XVII.

final re-establishment in the valleys.

Cross the Col Julien—​Seize Bobbio—​Oath of Sibaud—​March

to Villaro—​Guerilla War—​Retreat to La Balsiglia—​Its
Strength—​Beauty and Grandeur of San Martino—​
Encampment on the Balsiglia—​Surrounded—​Repulse of
the Enemy—​Depart for the Winter—​Return of French and
Piedmontese Army in Spring—​The Balsiglia Stormed—​
Enemy Driven Back—​Final Assault with Cannon—​
Wonderful Deliverance of the Vaudois—​Overtures of
Peace 189

CHAPTER XVIII.

condition of the waldenses from 1690.

Annoyances—​Burdens—​Foreign Contributions—​French
Revolution—​Spiritual Revivals—​Felix Neff—​Dr. Gilly—​
General Beckwith—​Oppressed Condition previous to 1840
—​Edict of Carlo Alberto—​Freedom of Conscience—​The
Vaudois Church, the Door by which Religious Liberty
Entered Italy—​Their Lamp Kindled at Rome 203
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
Map of the Waldensian Valleys Frontispiece
Monte Castelluzzo and the Waldensian Temple 8
Waldensian Missionaries in Guise of Pedlars 17
View in the Valley of Roumeyer, Dauphiné 25
View of La Torre 39
View in Turin 53
The Village of Balsiglia, San Martino 81
The Vaudois taking their Oath 89
View in the Village of Angrogna 97
Parting of Paschale from his Betrothed 111
Group of Roman Peasants 121
Interior of St. John Lateran, Rome 129
The Entrance to La Torre 145
Cromwell and Milton 161
The Pass of Pra Del Tor 169
View of the Protestant Church of St. Jean,
Waldensian Valleys 177
The Vaudois Crossing Lake Leman by Night 184
View in the Village of San Laurenzo, Angrogna 193
Church of Chabas, the oldest in the Valleys 201
Tomb of General Beckwith 209
 CHAPTER I.

THE WALDENSES—THEIR VALLEYS.

Submission of the Churches of Lombardy to Rome—​The Old Faith maintained in
the Mountains—​The Waldensian Churches—​Question of their Antiquity—​
Approach to their Mountains—​Arrangement of their Valleys—​Picture of
blended Beauty and Grandeur.
It was the ninth century, and superstitious beliefs and idolatrous
rites were overspreading the Church, when Claudius, Bishop of
Turin, who was deeply imbued with the spirit of Augustine, set
himself to arrest the growing corruption with all the fervour of a
living faith, and the vigour of a courageous and powerful intellect. To
the battle for the purity of doctrine he joined that for the
independence of the Churches of Lombardy. Even in Claude’s day
they remained free, although many Churches more remote from
Rome had already been subjugated by that all-conquering power.
The Ambrosian Liturgy was still used in the cathedral of Milan, and
the Augustinian doctrine continued to be preached from many of the
pulpits of Lombardy and Piedmont. This independence of Rome, and
this greater purity of faith and worship, these Churches mainly owed
to the three Apostolic men whose names adorn their annals—​
Ambrose, Vigilantius, and Claude.
When Claude went to his grave, about the year 840, the battle,
although not altogether dropped, was but languidly maintained.
Attempts were renewed to induce the Bishops of Milan to accept the
episcopal pall, the badge of spiritual vassalage, from the Pope; but it
was not till the middle of the eleventh century (1059), under
Nicholas II., that these attempts were successful. Petrus Damianus,
Bishop of Ostia, and Anselm, Bishop of Lucca, were dispatched by
the Pontiff to receive the submission of the Lombard Churches, and
the popular tumults amid which that submission was extorted
sufficiently show that the spirit of Claude still lingered at the foot of
the Alps. Nor did the clergy conceal the regret with which they
surrendered their ancient liberties to a power before which the
whole earth was then bowing down; for the Papal legate, Damianus,
informs us that the clergy of Milan maintained in his presence that
“The Ambrosian Church, according to the ancient institutions of the
Fathers, was always free, without being subject to the laws of Rome,
and that the Pope of Rome had no jurisdiction over their Church as
to the government or constitution of it.”[1]
But if the plains were conquered, not so the mountains. A
considerable body of Protesters stood out against this deed of
submission. Of these some crossed the Alps, descended the Rhine,
and raised the standard of opposition in the diocese of Cologne,
where they were branded as Manicheans, and rewarded with the
stake. Others retired into the valleys of the Piedmontese Alps, and
there maintained their scriptural faith and their ancient
independence. What has just been related respecting the dioceses of
Milan and Turin settles the question of the apostolicity of the
Churches of the Waldensian valleys. It is not necessary to show that
missionaries were sent from Rome in the first age to plant
Christianity in these valleys, nor is it necessary to show that these
Churches have existed as distinct and separate communities from
early days; enough that they formed a part, as unquestionably they
did, of the great evangelical Church of the North of Italy. This is the
proof at once of their apostolicity and their independence. It attests
their descent from apostolic men, if doctrine be the life of Churches.
When their co-religionists on the plains entered within the pale of
the Roman jurisdiction, they retired within the mountains, and,
spurning alike the tyrannical yoke and the corrupt tenets of the
Church of the Seven Hills, they preserved in its purity and simplicity
the faith their fathers had handed down to them. Rome manifestly
was the schismatic, she it was that had abandoned what was once
the common faith of Christendom, leaving by that step to all who
remained on the old ground the indisputably valid title of the True
Church.
Behind this rampart of mountains, which Providence, foreseeing
the approach of evil days, would almost seem to have reared on
purpose, did the remnant of the early apostolic Church of Italy kindle
their lamp, and here did that lamp continue to burn all through the
long night which descended on Christendom. There is a singular
concurrence of evidence in favour of their high antiquity. Their
traditions invariably point to an unbroken descent from the earliest
times, as regards their religious belief. The Nobla Leyçon, which
dates from the year 1100,[2] goes to prove that the Waldenses of
Piedmont did not owe their rise to Peter Waldo of Lyons, who did not
appear till the latter half of that century (1160). The Nobla Leyçon
though a poem, is in reality a confession of faith, and could have
been composed only after some considerable study of the system of
Christianity, in contradistinction to the errors of Rome. How could a
Church have arisen with such a document in her hands? Or how
could these herdsmen and vine-dressers, shut up in their mountains,
have detected the errors against which they bore testimony, and
found their way to the truths of which they made open profession in
times of darkness like these? If we grant that their religious beliefs
were the heritage of former ages, handed down from an evangelical
ancestry, all is plain; but if we maintain that they were the discovery
of the men of those days, we assert what approaches almost to a
miracle. Their greatest enemies, Claude Seyssel of Turin (1517), and
Reynerius the Inquisitor (1250), have admitted their antiquity, and
stigmatised them as “the most dangerous of all heretics, because
the most ancient.”
Rorenco, Prior of St. Roch, Turin (1640), was employed to
investigate the origin and antiquity of the Waldenses, and of course
had access to all the Waldensian documents in the ducal archives,
and being their bitter enemy he may be presumed to have made his
report not more favourable than he could help. Yet he states that
“they were not a new sect in the ninth and tenth centuries, and that
Claude of Turin must have detached them from the Church in the
ninth century.”
Within the limits of her own land did God provide a dwelling for
this venerable Church. Let us bestow a glance upon the region. As
one comes from the south, across the level plain of Piedmont, while
yet nearly a hundred miles off, one sees the Alps rise before one,
stretching like a great wall along the horizon. From the gates of the
morning to those of the setting sun, the mountains run on in a line
of towering magnificence. Pasturages and chestnut-forests clothe
their base; eternal snows crown their summits. How varied are their
forms! Some rise like castles of stupendous strength; others shoot
up tall and tapering like needles; while others again run along in
serrated lines, their summits torn and cleft by the storms of many
thousand winters. At the hour of sunrise, what a glory kindles along
the crest of that snowy rampart! At sunset the spectacle is again
renewed, and a line of pyres is seen to burn in the evening sky.
Drawing nearer the hills, on a line about thirty miles west of
Turin, there opens before one what seems a great mountain portal.
This is the entrance to the Waldensian territory. A low hill drawn
along in front serves as a defence against all who may come with
hostile intent, as but too frequently happened in times gone by,
while a stupendous monolith—​the Castelluzzo—​shoots up to the
clouds, and stands sentinel at the gate of this renowned region. As
one approaches La Torre the Castelluzzo rises higher and higher, and
irresistibly fixes the eye by the perfect beauty of its pillar-like form.
[3] But to this mountain a higher interest belongs than any that mere
symmetry can give it. It is indissolubly linked with martyr-memories,
and borrows a halo from the achievements of the past. How often,
in days of old, was the confessor hurled sheer down its awful steep,
and dashed on the rocks at its foot! And there, commingled in one
ghastly heap, growing ever the bigger and ghastlier as another and
yet another victim was added to it, lay the mangled bodies of pastor
and peasant, of mother and child! It was the tragedies connected
with this mountain mainly that called forth Milton’s noble sonnet:—
“Avenge, O Lord, Thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold.
* * * in Thy book record their groans
Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold,
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
The vales redoubled to the hills, and they
To heaven.”
The Waldensian valleys are seven in number; they were more in
ancient times, but the limits of the Vaudois territory have undergone
repeated curtailment, and now only seven remain, lying between
Pinerolo on the east and Monte Viso on the west—​that pyramidal hill
which forms so prominent an object from every part of the plain of
Piedmont, towering as it does above the surrounding mountains,
and, like a horn of silver, cutting the ebon of the firmament.
The first three valleys run out somewhat like the spokes of a
wheel, the spot on which we stand—​the gateway, namely—​being the
nave. The first is Luserna, or Valley of Light. It runs right out in a
grand gorge of some twelve miles in length by about two in width. It
wears a carpeting of meadows, which the waters of the Pelice keep
ever fresh and bright. A profusion of vines, acacias, and mulberry-
trees, fleck it with their shadows; and a wall of lofty mountains
encloses it on either hand. The second is Rora, or Valley of Dews. It
is a vast cup, some fifty miles in circumference, its sides luxuriantly
clothed with meadow and corn-field, with fruit and forest trees, and
its rim formed of craggy and peaked mountains, many of them
snow-clad. The third is Angrogna, or Valley of Groans. Of it we shall
speak more particularly afterwards. Beyond the extremity of the first
three valleys are the remaining four, forming, as it were, the rim of
the wheel. These last are enclosed in their turn by a line of lofty
mountains, which form a wall of defence around the entire territory.
Each valley is a fortress having its own gate of ingress and egress,
with its caves, and rocks, and mighty chestnut-trees, forming places
of retreat and shelter, so that the highest engineering skill could not
have better adapted each several valley to this very purpose. It is
not less remarkable that, taking all these valleys together, each is so
related to each, the one opening into the other, that they may be
said to form one fortress of amazing and matchless strength—​wholly
impregnable, in fact. All the fortresses of Europe, though combined,
would not form a citadel so enormously strong, and so dazzlingly
magnificent, as the mountain dwelling of the Vaudois. “The Eternal,
our God,” says Leger, “having destined this land to be the theatre of
his marvels, and the bulwark of his ark, has, by natural means, most
marvellously fortified it.” The battle begun in one valley could be
continued in another, and carried round the entire territory, till at last
the invading foe, overpowered by the rocks rolled upon him from the
mountains, or assailed by enemies which would start suddenly out of
the mist or issue from some unsuspected cave, found retreat
impossible, and, cut off in detail, left his bones to whiten the
mountains he had come to subdue.
These valleys are lovely and fertile, as well as strong. They are
watered by numerous torrents, which descend from the snows of the
summits. The grassy carpet of their bottom; the mantling vine and
the golden grain of their lower slopes; the châlets that dot their
sides, sweetly embowered amid fruit-trees; and, higher up, the great
chestnut-forests and the pasture-lands, where the herdsmen keep
watch over their flocks all through the summer days and the starlit
nights: the nodding crags, from which the torrent leaps into the
light; the rivulet, singing with quiet gladness in the shady nook; the
mists, moving grandly among the mountains, now veiling, now
revealing, their majesty; and the far-off summits, tipped with silver,
to be changed at eve into gleaming gold—​make up a picture of
blended beauty and grandeur, not equalled, perhaps, and certainly
not surpassed, in any other region of the earth.
 monte castelluzzo and the waldensian temple.

In the heart of their mountains is situated the most interesting,

perhaps, of all their valleys. It was in this retreat, walled round by
“hills whose heads touch heaven,” that their barbes or pastors, from
all their several parishes, were wont to meet in annual synod. It was
here that their college stood, and it was here that their missionaries
were trained, and, after ordination, were sent forth to sow the good
seed, as opportunity offered, in other lands. Let us visit this valley.
We ascend to it by the long, narrow, and winding Angrogna. Bright
meadows enliven its entrance. The mountains on either hand are
clothed with the vine, the mulberry, and the chestnut. Anon the
valley contracts. It becomes rough with projecting rocks, and shady
with great trees. A few paces farther, and it expands into a circular
basin, feathery with birches, musical with falling waters, environed
atop by naked crags, fringed with dark pines, while the white peak
looks down out of heaven. A little in advance the valley seems shut
in by a mountainous wall, drawn right across it; and beyond,
towering sublimely upward, is seen an assemblage of snow-clad
Alps, amid which is placed the valley we are in quest of, where
burned of old the candle of the Waldenses. Some terrible convulsion
has rent this mountain from top to bottom, opening a path through
it to the valley beyond. We enter the dark chasm, and proceed along
on a narrow ledge in the mountain’s side, hung half-way between
the torrent, which is heard thundering in the abyss below, and the
summits which lean over us above. Journeying thus for about two
miles, we find the pass beginning to widen, the light to break in, and
now we arrive at the gate of the Pra.
There opens before us a noble circular valley, its grassy bottom
watered by torrents, its sides dotted with dwellings and clothed with
corn-fields and pasturages, with a ring of white peaks encircling it
above. This was the inner sanctuary of the Waldensian temple. The
rest of Italy had turned aside to idols, the Waldensian territory alone
had been reserved for the worship of the true God. And was it not
meet that on its native soil a remnant of the Apostolic Church of
Italy should be maintained, that Rome and all Christendom might
have before their eyes a perpetual monument of what they
themselves had once been, and a living witness to testify how far
they had departed from their first faith?[4]
 CHAPTER II.

THE WALDENSES—THEIR MISSIONS AND

MARTYRDOMS.
Their Synod and College—​Their Theological Tenets—​Romaunt Version of the New
Testament—​The Constitution of their Church—​Their Missionary Labours—​Wide
Diffusion of their Tenets—​The Stone Smiting the Image.
One would like to have a near view of the barbes or pastors, who
presided over the school of early Protestant theology that existed in
the valleys, and to know how it fared with evangelical Christianity in
the ages that preceded the Reformation. But the time is remote, and
the events are dim. We can but doubtfully glean from a variety of
sources the facts necessary to form a picture of this venerable
Church, and even then the picture is not complete. The theology of
which this was one of the fountain-heads was not the clear, well-
defined, and comprehensive system which the sixteenth century
gave us; it was only what the faithful men of the Lombard Churches
had been able to save from the wreck of primitive Christianity. True
religion, being a revelation, was from the beginning complete and
perfect; nevertheless, in this as in every other branch of knowledge,
it is only by patient labour that man is able to extricate and arrange
all its parts, and to come into the full possession of truth. The
theology taught in former ages in the peak-environed valley in which
we have in imagination placed ourselves was drawn from the Bible.
The atoning death and justifying righteousness of Christ was its
cardinal truth. This, the Nobla Leyçon and other ancient documents
abundantly testify. The Nobla Leyçon sets forth with tolerable
clearness the doctrine of the Trinity, the fall of man, the incarnation
of the Son, the perpetual authority of the Decalogue as given by
God,[5] the need of Divine grace in order to do good works, the
necessity of holiness, the institution of the ministry, the resurrection
of the body, and the eternal bliss of heaven.[6] This creed its
professors exemplified in lives of evangelical virtue. The
blamelessness of the Waldenses passed into a proverb, so that one
more than ordinarily exempt from the vices of his time was sure to
be suspected of being a Vaudés.[7]
If doubt there were regarding the tenets of the Waldenses, the
charges which their enemies have preferred against them would set
that doubt at rest, and make it tolerably certain that they held
substantially what the apostles before their day, and the Reformers
after it, taught. The indictment against the Waldenses included a
formidable list of “heresies.” They held that there had been no true
Pope since the days of Sylvester; that temporal offices and dignities
were not meet for preachers of the Gospel; that the Pope’s pardons
were a cheat; that purgatory was a fable; that relics were simply
rotten bones which had belonged to one knew not whom; that to go
on pilgrimage served no end, save to empty one’s purse; that flesh
might be eaten any day if one’s appetite served him; that holy water
was not a whit more efficacious than rain-water; and that prayer in a
barn was just as effectual as if offered in a church. They were
accused, moreover, of having scoffed at the doctrine of
transubstantiation, and of having spoken blasphemously of Rome as
the harlot of the Apocalypse.[8]
There is reason to believe, from recent historical researches, that
the Waldenses possessed the New Testament in the vernacular. The
“Lingua Romana,” or Romaunt tongue, was the common language of
the south of Europe from the eighth to the fourteenth century. It
was the language of the troubadours and of men of letters in the
Dark Ages. Into this tongue—​the Romaunt—​was the first translation
of the whole of the New Testament made so early as the twelfth
century. This fact Dr. Gilly has been at great pains to prove in his
work, The Romaunt Version[9] of the Gospel according to John. The
sum of what Dr. Gilly, by a patient investigation into facts, and a
great array of historic documents, maintains, is that all the books of
the New Testament were translated from the Latin Vulgate into the
Romaunt, that this was the first literal version since the fall of the
empire, that it was made in the twelfth century, and was the first
translation available for popular use. There were numerous earlier
translations, but only of parts of the Word of God, and many of
these were rather paraphrases or digests of Scripture than
translations, and, moreover, they were so bulky, and by consequence
so costly, as to be utterly beyond the reach of the common people.
This Romaunt version was the first complete and literal translation of
the New Testament of Holy Scripture; it was made, as Dr. Gilly, by a
chain of proofs, shows, most probably under the superintendence
and at the expense of Peter Waldo of Lyons, not later than 1180,
and so is older than any complete version in German, French,
Italian, Spanish, or English. This version was widely spread in the
south of France, and in the cities of Lombardy. It was in common
use among the Waldenses of Piedmont, and it was no small part,
doubtless, of the testimony borne to truth by these mountaineers to
preserve and circulate it. Of the Romaunt New Testament six copies
have come down to our day. A copy is preserved at each of the four
following places: Lyons, Grenoble, Zurich, Dublin; and two copies at
Paris. These are small, plain, and portable volumes, contrasting with
those splendid and ponderous folios of the Latin Vulgate, penned in
characters of gold and silver, richly illuminated, their bindings
decorated with gems, inviting admiration rather than study, and
unfitted by their size and splendour for the use of the people.
The Church of the Alps, in the simplicity of its constitution, may
be held to have been a reflection of the Church of the first centuries.
The entire territory included in the Waldensian limits was divided
into parishes. In each parish was placed a pastor, who led his flock
to the living waters of the Word of God. He preached, he dispensed
the Sacraments, he visited the sick, and catechised the young. With
him was associated in the government of his congregation a
consistory of laymen. The synod met once a year. It was composed
of all the pastors, with an equal number of laymen, and its most
frequent place of meeting was the secluded mountain-engirdled
valley at the head of Angrogna. Sometimes as many as a hundred
and fifty barbes, with the same number of lay members, would
assemble. We can imagine them seated—​it may be on the grassy
slopes of the valley—​a venerable company of humble, learned,
earnest men, presided over by a simple moderator (for higher office
or authority was unknown amongst them), and suspending their
deliberations respecting the affairs of their Churches, and the
condition of their flocks, only to offer their prayers and praises to the
Eternal, while the majestic snow-clad peaks looked down upon them
from the silent firmament. There needed, verily, no magnificent fane,
no blazonry of mystic rites to make their assembly august.
The youth who here sat at the feet of the more venerable and
learned of their barbes used as their text-book the Holy Scriptures.
And not only did they study the sacred volume; they were required
to commit to memory, and be able accurately to recite, whole
Gospels and Epistles. This was a necessary accomplishment on the
part of public instructors in those ages when printing was unknown,
and copies of the Word of God were rare. Part of their time was
occupied in transcribing the Holy Scriptures, or portions of them,
which they were to distribute when they went forth as missionaries.
By this, and by other agencies, the seed of the Divine Word was
scattered throughout Europe more widely than is commonly
supposed. To this a variety of causes contributed. There was then a
general impression that the world was soon to end. Men thought
that they saw the prognostications of its dissolution in the disorder
into which all things had fallen. The pride, luxury, and profligacy of
the clergy, led not a few laymen to ask if better and more certain
guides were not to be had. Many of the troubadours were religious
men, whose lays were sermons. The hour of deep and universal
slumber had passed; the serf was contending with his seigneur for
personal freedom, and the city was waging war with the baronial
castle for civic and corporate independence. The New Testament—​
and, as we learn from incidental notices, portions of the Old—​
coming at this juncture in a language understood alike in the court
as in the camp, in the city as in the rural hamlet, was welcome to
many, and its truths obtained a wider promulgation than perhaps
had taken place since the publication of the Vulgate by Jerome.
After passing a certain time in the school of the barbes, it was not
uncommon for the Waldensian youth to proceed to the seminaries in
the great cities of Lombardy, or to the Sorbonne at Paris. There they
saw other customs, were initiated into other studies, and had a
wider horizon around them than in the seclusion of their native
valleys. Many of them became expert dialecticians, and often made
converts of the rich merchants with whom they traded, and the
landlords in whose houses they lodged. The priests seldom cared to
meet in argument the Waldensian missionary.
To maintain the truth in their own mountains was not the only
object of this people. They felt their relations to the rest of
Christendom. They sought to drive back the darkness, and re-
conquer the kingdom which Rome had overwhelmed. They were an
evangelistic as well as an evangelical Church. It was an old law
among them that all who took orders in their Church should, before
being eligible to a home charge, serve three years in the mission
field. The youth on whose head the assembled barbes laid their
hands saw in prospect not a rich benefice, but a possible
martyrdom. The ocean they did not cross. Their mission field was
the realms that lay outspread at the foot of their own mountains.
They went forth two and two, concealing their real character under
the guise of a secular profession, most commonly that of merchants
or pedlars. They carried silks, jewellery, and other articles, at that
time not easily purchasable save at distant marts, and they were
welcomed as merchants where they would have been spurned as
missionaries. The door of the cottage and the portal of the baron’s
castle stood equally open to them. But their address was mainly
shown in selling, without money and without price, rarer and more
valuable merchandise than the gems and silks which had procured
them entrance. They took care to carry with them, concealed among
their wares or about their persons, portions of the Word of God,
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