The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (141 page)

Yes, she decided, money did have its privileges.

She smiled at Angela as the housekeeper passed in the hall, still giving her a slightly wary look. Beatrice knew the fact that she could be awake and alert during the day freaked the woman out. Despite that, Angela was so sweet that Beatrice could hardly blame her for it. She knew she was an oddity. She had the strength of an ancient vampire wrapped in the coordination and attitude of a baby. She had never fit in during her human life, why start now?

“B, got it!”

Ben barreled into the library and dropped off a new computer keyboard, a neoprene case she had cut out to fit it, and a large plastic bag that looked like a large version of the bags they received when they bought donated blood.

Speaking of blood...

Her fangs popped out when Dez entered the room. Beatrice had no idea why it was still happening. She had absolutely no desire to drink from Dez, but the longer her friend was pregnant, the more Beatrice reacted when she was near. Tenzin had speculated that, far from bloodlust, it was a latent protective instinct for Dez and her unborn child.

“Hey, I think we’re going to take Ben to the Colosseum this afternoon. He keeps asking to see where the lions ate the Christians. Think we should worry?”

“I doubt it. And you know that there’s no specific historical accounts of—”

“Yes, yes.” Dez rolled her eyes. “I know. Next you’re going to tell me Russell Crowe never really fought there, either.”

Beatrice snorted. “Well, you guys have fun. Want to meet somewhere for dinner later?”

“Don’t you and Gio have the meeting with the mother-in-law of doom later?”

She shrugged. “There’s some sort of cocktail party at her place later tonight, but not until one or two in the morning, so we could meet you guys for dinner.”

“Okay, cool! We’ll call the house after the sun sets. Also, I’m very curious what a Roman aristocrat serves at a cocktail party.”

“Um, I’m going to guess... cocktails.”

Dez narrowed her eyes. “And the blood of her enemies.”

“Oh, well that too, of course.”

“Of course!” Dez skipped out of the room and Beatrice wondered when the fabled exhaustion of pregnant women would hit her friend. So far, Dez seemed to have
more
energy, not less. Though apparently, from the agonized whining she heard from their room every day, the morning sickness was in full swing. Angela just clucked her tongue at Dez and fed her grapefruit for some reason.

Beatrice was reading through the journals again when she heard Giovanni start to wake. She set them down and slipped upstairs. She was trying to be better about being next to him when he woke because she knew he liked it. She was also worried about him. He seemed to be dreaming more, though when he woke, she suspected the dreams were more like nightmares. His eyes held a lean, haunted look that was only growing worse.

She slid under the covers next to him just as he began to move, tucking herself under his arm as he pulled her tight, even as he slumbered.

“Mmm.” He began to murmur something in Italian. His accent, she noticed with pleasure, was heavier since they’d arrived. He slipped into his native language more, and she was grateful that understanding him was no longer a problem. Beatrice had already been able to speak English, Spanish, and Latin before she turned. But now she could speak Italian and a lot of Mandarin, too. She could also read classical Greek, Persian, and Arabic. She was still working on her Hebrew.

Giovanni stopped speaking and nuzzled into her neck as he began to tease her clothes off even before he was fully awake. Now that, she decided, was talent.

“You move differently here.”

“I what?” Giovanni blinked and looked around as they walked up the Via dei Condotti, past the luxury shops, headed toward the
ristorante
where Matt had chosen to meet them after their walking tour with Ben.

“You move differently.” She slid an arm around his waist, keeping pace with easy strides. “I don’t know, you’re more... Italian, I guess.”

“Beatrice, I am a Florentine. I will always be a Florentine.”

“But see”—she poked his side—“Like that. In L.A. you would just say you’re Italian. But here, you’re
Florentine
.”

“So?” He frowned. “I’m in Rome. There is a difference. Is there something wrong with this?”

“No, it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“And you walk different, too. You’re not in as much of a hurry here.”

He just grunted at her, no doubt thinking she was imagining it, but she wasn’t. He looked... lighter, somehow. Comfortable. In California, she often thought Giovanni seemed more British than Italian, but here, he gestured more. His accent was stronger. His shoulders were more expressive, and his eyes more languorous.

“Whatever it is, it’s hot. So go with it.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He leaned down and whispered something very dirty in her ear. If she could have blushed, she would have. Then he nipped at her ear and murmured, “Does it sound better in Italian?”

“Yes.”

He pinched her waist and kept walking. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They spotted Matt waiting outside the restaurant. He waved at them and jogged over.

“Hey, guys. Dez and Ben are inside. I just wanted to catch you before you went in. Gio, Emil Conti’s inside.”

Giovanni only raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Matt shrugged. “He does live around here, so it’s not that unexpected.”

Beatrice looked between them. “Emil Conti? Who’s that again?” The name sounded vaguely familiar.

“Old Roman,” Giovanni said. “Water vampire, very old family from the Republic. He’s older than Livia, but has never enjoyed her popularity. He’s not the attention-seeking kind.”

“Brilliant guy, though,” Matt added. “He could easily take Rome if he really tried.”

Giovanni hummed. “That’s debatable. I’m not certain what his support would be like. He and Livia have entertained a low-key rivalry for a few centuries, so I know she considers him a threat, but I’m not sure he has the ambition. Is Donatella with him?”

Matt shook his head. “No, a female companion. No one I recognize.”

“Probably just out for a meal.” Giovanni tugged on her waist and walked forward. “Tesoro, nothing to worry about. Let’s say hello, then we’ll join you, Matt. Thank you for the notice.”

“No problem. He nodded at me. Recognized me, so I’m sure he’s expecting you.”

“Oh my, Kirby,” Giovanni said. “Don’t tell me we’ve become predictable. I might have to fire you.”

“Eh.” Matt shrugged. “I’m not worried. Who else would keep the secret of your embarrassing pro-wrestling addiction?”

Beatrice laughed and squeezed her husband’s waist. “He’s got a point.”

Giovanni scowled, but she could see the smile flirting at the corner of his mouth. “Blackmail is an ugly business.”

“But so lucrative.” Matt held the door open and a mustached host, who nodded toward Matt and Giovanni, greeted them. She saw her mate scan the restaurant, but her own senses had already located the energy signature in the corner. They walked toward the vampire, who rose to greet them when they were a few feet away.

Like everything else in immortal society, Beatrice had discovered that greetings usually mirrored the culture and time where the vampire originated. She briefly wondered what the form of greeting had been in the Roman Republic, but was surprised when Emil Conti simply held out a hand to Giovanni. The two men shook before Beatrice was introduced.

“Emil, I would introduce my wife, Beatrice De Novo.”

“A pleasure.” Emil bowed slightly over her hand as he took it. Emil Conti looked nothing like an ancient Roman. He looked like a very formal, very successful, Italian businessman. He was handsome and wore clothes straight out of a fashion magazine. His dark hair was trimmed neatly, and his broad smile was gleaming white. Beatrice wondered whether dental care was really that good in ancient Rome, or whether he’d had work done.

“Beatrice, this is Emil Conti, a very old acquaintance of mine.”

“May I call you Beatrice?” the vampire asked politely. “A beautiful name.”

“Sure.” She couldn’t help but smile back. “It’s nice to meet you, Signor Conti.”

“But you must call me Emil, of course.” He turned to Giovanni. “May I congratulate you on your marriage? I cannot deny I was surprised by the news, but very happy for your fortune. It is a blessing to find one’s true mate.”

Giovanni glanced at the blond woman still sitting at the table silently. “And where is Donatella this evening?”

Emil gave a careless shrug. “Shopping, probably. I think she’s in town, but she’s getting ready to leave for the lakes for the summer. You know how the city can be.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want to keep you; I saw your friends waiting for you, but thank you for introducing me to your lovely wife.”

“Will you be at Livia’s later?”

“Of course,” he said. “Who would miss it?”

“You, Emil.” Giovanni chuckled. “If you could avoid it graciously.”

Emil gave another shrug and waved them off. “Go, enjoy your meal. I’ll see you at the circus later. The squid-ink capellini with lemon and caviar is excellent tonight.”

“Thank you.”

Beatrice smiled. “Very nice to meet you.”

He gave her a little bow and a wink. “And you as well, Beatrice De Novo.
Benvenuto a Roma
. May you have a pleasant visit in our beautiful city.”

They walked back to the table and she could feel Giovanni’s fingers in the small of her back.

“Benvenuto a Roma,” he muttered. “Welcome to the shark pool, Tesoro.”

Castello Furio, Lazio

“So, this is a
castle
?”

“Yes.” He looked out the window as they twisted through the country roads northeast of the city. “Livia keeps a rather lavish apartment in the city during the winter, but she leaves the city in the summer when it starts getting warm and there are more tourists.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

“And she likes to make people come to her.”

“That kind of makes sense, too.”

He laughed and draped an arm around her in the dark car he had ordered. They were seated in the back with the privacy shield raised so they were not disturbed. Livia had offered to send a car for them, but Giovanni had demurred, stating that he didn’t know how long they would be able to stay. He had done the polite dance over the phone the evening before with Livia’s social secretary, the secretary pressing Giovanni to spend a few days at the castle, while Giovanni insisted that they could not neglect their own guests in the city. In the end, her husband’s polite stubbornness had prevailed.

“So, we will go. We will introduce you to everyone. She will try to persuade you to persuade
me
to stay for a few days at the country house—”

“You mean, the castle.”

“Why are you stuck on the ‘castle’ bit? This is Europe. There are castles everywhere.”

“But not all of them are owned by my mother-in-law.”

He frowned. “Livia is not my mother.”

“But you said she kind of acts like it.”

Giovanni shrugged. “She tries to.”

Beatrice sighed and leaned into his shoulder. “This is so damn complicated. I thought my family was dysfunctional.”

“Tesoro, you don’t know the meaning of dysfunctional until you have spent time in an ancient Greek or Roman family.”

“I’m starting to get that idea.”

They turned into a small lane leading to an elaborate gate that didn’t open by electronics, but by two uniformed servants who swung the gates out when Giovanni rolled the window down to identify himself. She saw the quick look of deference on the servants’ faces before she caught the sheepish expression on Giovanni’s face.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re kind of a big deal here, aren’t you? Even more than your usual bad-assedness.”

He cleared his throat and squirmed a little. “That is not a word, and I am somewhat well-known.”

“Kind of how Tenzin is well-known at Penglai Island?”

He actually tugged at his collar. “Perhaps. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? That dress suits you. The color is... appropriate.”

“Nice try, handsome. And what do you mean, ‘appropriate?’”

“Really, there is nothing to worry about. They will all be dazzled by you.”

“Right.”

They pulled into a long, circular driveway in front of the biggest house Beatrice had ever contemplated entering. It was, as advertised, a castle. Round, stone towers marked the corners and huge walls rose between them. A massive iron gate was swung open as women in glittering dresses and formally-dressed men walked or darted across the lush green lawn in front. She gripped Giovanni’s hand harder and wished, for some reason, that she had her
shuang gou
strapped to the back of her plum-colored cocktail dress.

“Missing your swords?”

“What?” She looked at him, amazed by his perception, until she realized that she was reaching over her shoulder as if to draw a weapon. Her husband only wore a sexy smirk. Well, that and a very nicely cut jacket and shirt over a pair of slim-cut black slacks. He looked...