In The Blood Of The Greeks (Intertwined Souls Series Book 1)

  Mary D. Brooks

  In The Blood

  Of The Greeks

  Intertwined Souls Series Book 1

  Copyright © 2015 Mary D. Brooks

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced

  or transmitted in any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  AUSXIP Publishing – Sydney, Australia

  DEDICATION

  To my dear friend Evelyn Elephan –

  your courage and strength was

  an inspiration to me. Peace and Respect

  Cover by:

  Jazzy “Aiglon” Trafikowska

  Photography by:

  KT Jorgensen

  Models:

  Kat Cavanaugh (Eva Muller)

  Penny Cavanaugh (Zoe Lambros)

  Illustrations by:

  Lucia Nobrega

  AUSXIP Publishing

  Sydney, Australia

  www.ausxippublishing.com

  Invictus

  Out of the night that covers me,

  Black as the pit from pole to pole,

  I thank whatever gods may be

  For my unconquerable soul.

  In the fell clutch of circumstance

  I have not winced nor cried aloud.

  Under the bludgeonings of chance

  My head is bloody, but unbowed.

  Beyond this place of wrath and tears

  Looms but the Horror of the shade,

  And yet the menace of the years

  Finds and shall find me unafraid.

  It matters not how strait the gate,

  How charged with punishments the scroll,

  I am the master of my fate,

  I am the captain of my soul.

  - William Ernest Henley

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Rosa Alonso – I’ve always said that an author needs a Rosa in their corner. Thank you for being a superb human being and above all, a fantastic editor and dear mate.

  Jazzy Trafikowska – Your talent is extraordinary, your generosity is amazing and above else, your friendship means the world to me. Thank you.

  Joy Scavo – Funny as hell, a joy to be around and an incredible human being. Thank you my friend.

  Penny Cavanaugh – the maker of dreams coming true. Muchas gracias senora!

  Kat Cavanaugh – Thank you for indulging my reality! You are a kind and gentle soul.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  MORE OF THE INTERTWINED SOULS SERIES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Prologue

  April 16, 1941

  Thunder boomed overhead and across the valley as the night sky was lit up with exploding artillery shells in the hills surrounding the small farming town of Larissa, Greece. This once sleepy town was the scarred battlefield between the Allies who were defending the town and the oncoming juggernaut that was the German army.

  When the Italians tried to invade Greece, the invaders had been defeated. Great jubilation had resulted in a joyous celebration that stretched for days. In the town, the pride over the news that the Italians had been beaten back flourished amidst the sorrow for the fallen.

  But after the euphoria of the victory against the Italian invaders had faded, the Greek government realized that the Axis powers had not been defeated, only stalled. The government stumbled from one crisis to another, trying to starve off the inevitable. What they feared the most happened in the spring of 1941, a day that many Greeks had been anxiously anticipating for months.

  The Germans had arrived at the outskirts of Larissa and were raging through the hills and valleys like hungry locusts. The British, Australian, and New Zealand soldiers kept the Germans at bay until they could hold them no longer, and now a retreat was in progress.

  Burning cars, trucks, and bodies of soldiers and Greeks littered the roadways as the battles continued.

  A young girl stood outside on a clear night, gazing at Mount Ossa in the distance. The sound of falling shells and the rumble of tanks thundered in the background.

  Zoe Lambros looked up into the heavens for a long moment, closed her eyes, and prayed to God for victory. She crossed herself on finishing a prayer she was certain God would listen to. He had to. He was on their side.

  Zoe was a carbon copy of her mother, Helena, with long curly red-colored hair that reached her waist and green eyes her father had said reminded him of emeralds in the sunlight. She was barely five feet-four inches, with a slight frame.

  Zoe noticed their plough horse, Zeus, was standing next to the wagon. She wasn't sure why the horse was out so late and she walked the few yards to the tall animal. "Loud night for you, Zeus," she said and patted the horse.

  The horse shoved his head towards Zoe and she giggled at the animal's playful nature. "I'm absolutely certain that the Germans will be defeated. We defeated the Turks in 1821, then the Italians. Now it is the Germans who will feel the full force of our brothers... God is on our side, and as Father Haralambos often says in church, ‘If you have God on your side, you don't need anyone else.’"

  A thunderous explosion made Zoe jump a little as the noise reverberated through the night. "Oh, that must have destroyed several of those Germans tanks."

  "Zoe, come inside, child." Helena Lambros, a slim redheaded woman with sparkling emerald colored eyes came out of the farmhouse and put her arm around her daughter's shoulders.

  "I was talking to Zeus, Mama. I think we are winning. Listen to those rockets. That's the Allies—they are winning and we are beating those horrible Germans like we beat the Italians!"

  Helena's gaze turned to the mountains and sighed. "God willing, we will all come out of this alive."

  "We will. Father H said we have God on our side and that means we will win."

  "Don't call the reverend ‘Father H.’"

  "Why?"

  "It's not respectful. He is a man of God and we should show him respect."

  Zoe gazed up at her mother with a dubious look on her face. "I don't think God minds."

  Helena grinned and shook her head. She kissed the top of Zoe’s head. "You are going to give me a lot of grief as you grow older but I love you."

  "I love you too," Zoe replied a
s she put both arms around her mother's waist and hugged her. "Why is Zeus outside?"

  "Papa is going to hitch the wagon to Zeus and we are going to Thieri's cabin."

  "Now?"

  "Yes. I want you to come inside and help pack."

  "Why are we going to Thieri's cabin?"

  "Zoe, we don't have a lot of time," Helena replied and kissed Zoe on the top of her red-gold head before going back inside.

  Zoe scowled. She looked back at the horse and gave him a final pat. "I don't know why we are going to Thieri's cabin but we will be seeing the Germans being routed. I love Athena's Bluff, Zeus. We will have a really good view of the Germans from up there."

  Zoe patted the horse one more time and walked back to the farmhouse. She found the living area piled high with blankets in several bundles and two suitcases sitting near the kitchen.

  Zoe navigated around the suitcases and entered the kitchen. The smell of homemade bread permeated the room. Five loaves were cooling on the table and another two were in the oven. Her mother had taken out pickled vegetables that were stored in jars from their pantry.

  Helena gave Zoe a white bed sheet which had been ripped into long strips. "Take these to Papa and tell him I’ll be ready in about thirty minutes."

  Zoe collected the makeshift bandages and quickly walked the short distance to her room. She knocked and entered when she heard a faint ‘come in.’ Lying on her bed was Jimmy Peterson, a young Australian soldier, a few years older than her. His right trouser leg had been torn from the knee down, and a large bandage was wrapped around his lower leg. Zoe grimaced when she saw the blood that had seeped through the bandages.

  Three men were sitting near the bed. Zoe’s father, Nicholas Lambros, was a tall, broad shouldered man with thick curly black hair sprinkled with white at the temples. His golden brown eyes crinkled in delight on seeing his youngest walk in.

  Sitting next to Nicholas was Apostolos Kiriakou, her brother Theodore’s best friend and the town only surviving medic, although Zoe didn’t think he was a real doctor. Next to Apostolos was another Australian soldier. They had been at the farm for the last three days trying to get Peterson well enough to travel. Sergeant Clarence Timmins spoke Greek but with a very strange accent, much to Zoe’s amusement.

  Nicholas stood and took the bandages from Zoe. He gazed lovingly at his daughter and smiled down at the upturned face. "I’m so proud of you. You have been a big help to our guests and God will reward you for your loving spirit. Don’t be afraid."

  "I’m not afraid, Papa. Our friends and our brothers will beat them back to where they came from, won’t you, Sergeant Timmins?"

  Clarence turned towards Zoe and smiled. "We will win, little sister."

  Nicholas bent down and kissed the top of Zoe’s red hair. "God willing, we will be victorious."

  "Mama said she will be ready in thirty minutes."

  "Good. Now I’m going to change the bandages. Why don’t you take Sergeant Timmins and help him load the wagon?"

  "Alright." Zoe nodded and waited for the soldier to join her before they left the room. He greeted Helena before he picked up the blankets and headed outside. In no time and without Zoe’s help, the wagon was ready.

  "So how is the picture coming along?" Clarence asked as he sat down on an upturned bucket near the barn.

  "Drawing!" Zoe corrected him and chuckled. "How did you learn Greek?"

  "My grandmother is Greek."

  "Where is she from?"

  "She was from Constantinople and then they threw them out and she went to Egypt."

  "Is that why you have a funny accent?"

  Clarence rocked back and laughed at Zoe’s question. He shook his head. "No. That’s my Australian accent. My grandmother met my grandfather, who is an Australian, and they went to live there."

  "Say something in Australian?"

  Clarence gazed down at the inquisitive young girl and smiled. "Bonzer sheila," he replied in English. He smiled at the total confusion on Zoe’s face. "You are an excellent young woman," he translated.

  "Bonzer sheila," Zoe mouthed and giggled at the unfamiliar sounds.

  "You should come to Australia, ZoZo."

  Zoe laughed at the affectionate nickname Clarence had overheard from her father. "I want to see what’s out there beyond Mount Ossa."

  "At the moment, a lot of bad men."

  "After you defeat the bad men, I want to come to Australia and see that bridge...oh." Zoe stopped and fished around in her pocket and brought out the photograph that Clarence had given her. She then raced into the barn and came back with her sketchbook. Flipping through the pages she found the artwork for the Sydney Harbour Bridge. "This is for you."

  Clarence took it and smiled. "Wow, this is beautiful. Can I keep it?"

  "You like it? Yes, you can keep it."

  "One day you are going to be a great artist. I will take you to this bridge."

  Their conversation was interrupted when they were joined by Nicholas and Apostolos. Zoe watched the men as they loaded a truck and put a blanket and hay to cushion the ride for the wounded soldier. The time had come for them to leave.

  "Papa, are you going with them?"

  Nicholas took Zoe’s hand and walked her to a nearby chair. He sat down and took his daughter in his lap.

  "I have to go with Apostolos and the boys around the gorge to evade the Germans."

  "Why can’t Apostolos do it? I thought you were coming with us to the cabin."

  "I want you and Mama to go to the cabin. Don’t come down until I come to get you. Alright?"

  "Alright, but why do you have to go?"

  Nicholas hugged Zoe tightly. "I know a secret way around the gorge. Do you remember the summer we went hunting and Theo caught that wild pig? That’s where we are going."

  They sat in silence for a moment, gunfire and exploding artillery sounding louder and closer. Zoe sniffed and grimaced at the smell of gunpowder in the air.

  "You will be back, right?"

  "I will be back."

  "You promise?" Zoe asked as she looked up at Nicholas. "A promise is a promise, Papa."

  "No, I can’t promise, little one. No one can promise—"

  "But Papa—"

  "Zoe, we are going to try and stop the Germans but you have to do your part. You have to be strong and be like Persephone Andrakakis."

  "She was ferocious and a hero in the war of Liberation!"

  "That’s right. You have to be like her. Whatever happens, my little girl, you have to be strong. You have to be courageous and never let anything stop you. If I don’t make it back, your mama is going to need you."

  Zoe stared at the ground for a long moment. "I don’t want you to go."

  "If I don’t go, my baby, how are we going to win this war? Remember the brave men and women during the Liberation? They had to go and fight for our motherland." Nicholas turned Zoe’s face towards him. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

  "Yes, this much." Zoe threw back her arms. "I love you even bigger. Bigger than Mount Ossa!"

  "Only that much?" Nicholas teased, making Zoe laugh. He tenderly kissed her on the cheek. "Be brave, be strong, and listen to Mama while I’m gone. Can you do that for me?"

  "Yes, Papa but—"

  "Shh." Nicholas wrapped his strong arms around Zoe and kissed her on top of her head. "Be brave."

  "Yes, Papa." Zoe used the back of her sleeve to wipe her eyes. "I will be brave."

  "I love you and never forget how much. I will always love you. You are my favorite daughter."

  Zoe looked up at Nicholas, her emerald eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I’m your only daughter."

  "That’s why you’re my favorite," Nicholas replied as he gently tapped Zoe’s nose. "Now I have to get up and say goodbye to your mama. It may be a few days before I come to the cabin."

  Zoe stood and watched Nicholas walk towards Helena, who was anxiously standing by the wagon. He put his arm around her waist and even in the darkness Zoe could see ho
w much they loved each other. She had never seen anyone look at another person the way her parents looked at each other.

  They quickly boarded the wagon and after saying another round of goodbyes, Nicholas led Zeus towards the road leading to Athena’s Bluff and relative safety.

  Chapter One

  May 1942

  Helena strode purposefully up the slight incline. She glanced at the fields, fields that had once been sown with wheat or cotton but were now sadly neglected. Not that she wanted it that way, but the war had made life in Larissa overwhelmingly oppressive. She was not a farmer and she struggled without her beloved Nicholas to tend to the fields. She was an artist and sold her art in town to buy the meager food rations. She sold her work to the Germans or to the Italians who had been stationed in the town. Reluctantly, she had sold her favorite painting, one she had painted for her Nicholas as a present. It was now enjoyed not by her husband, as she had intended, but by the German commandant.

  Helena stopped, lifted her head up to the heavens, and surveyed the coming storm. She shook her head and trudged up the hill to the small farmhouse she shared with her daughter Zoe. As she walked, waves of memories swept over her, as they had every day of her life since the beginnings of this hated war.

  Helena was a widow, just another casualty of the war. Though only in her mid-thirties, she looked far older, a legacy of the long war against first the Italians and then the Germans. Both enemies had exacted their price from her family and her community. Her red-colored hair had started to gray prematurely.

  She was a strong woman with firm beliefs and a faith in God that gave her the strength to continue after the death of her beloved husband Nicholas, and sons Michael, Thieri, and Theodore. Her three beautiful sons, strapping young men, had died on the front lines defending Greece against the invading Italian army in Albania, a sacrifice that no mother should ever endure.