The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (154 page)

“He snuck into our villa that night and fucked me against a wall as my husband snored beside us. It was magnificent.”

Though his stomach churned, Giovanni remained motionless and silent. At least she wasn’t stabbing him.

“When he finally brought a vampire to turn me, Andros tied my husband up and made him watch. That was even better. Andros fucked me and drained my blood, then my sire gave me his before Andros killed him so he would not interfere. He was nothing. A pawn. I was Andros’s
mate
. From the first night of my immortality, I belonged to him.”

Livia smiled and ran a finger across his throat.

“My first meal was my stupid, fat husband. I can still taste his blood. It tasted like revenge. While it wasn’t cold, thank the gods...” She bent down and whispered into his ear. “It was very,
very
sweet.”

Livia took both hands and traced along Giovanni’s arms.

“But you, Giovanni... Andros loved you. He adored you. Almost as much as me, I think.”

Far more, you stupid cow.
Giovanni rolled his eyes.

She curled her lip and slapped him. “If only he had listened to me and killed you.”

Livia rose and stepped away from him. “Do you know who built this chamber? Your father did. I told him if he was determined to keep you, then he must build a chamber here that could contain you. I never trusted you, do you understand that? In five hundred years. Never.”

Giovanni sat up and looked around. So, this chamber was of his father’s design?

“He could be such a genius. Turning me. Using my human connections and my dead husband’s gold. Finding the book. We were made to rule, he and I. We
would
have ruled, if you hadn’t killed him, you stupid boy.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat silently, examining her. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

“The. Roman. Whore.”

She pulled a dagger from between her breasts, walked over, and stabbed him in the neck. Bending down, she whispered, “I will enjoy killing you. Then I will drink your blood and the blood of your little wife, you bastard.”

Livia spun and left the room as Giovanni sat stunned and blinking.

So, his father had built this chamber.

Giovanni pulled the dagger from his neck and pressed a sheet to the wound.

And Livia had left him a blade.

How generous.

Chapter Fourteen

Residenza di Spada

Rome, Italy

June 2012

It was late afternoon, and the house was buzzing with activity.

Ben and Dez were doing research into Bulgarian cosmetics companies and their not-exactly-public financial information. They were trying to determine who else might be funding Livia’s enterprise, or if she was in it on her own. So far, Elder Zhongli was the only other immortal they’d found any evidence of and, according to Tenzin, he was most decidedly dead.

Matt seemed to be making phone call after phone call in the downstairs study. She couldn’t tell whom exactly he was talking to, but Beatrice thought he was speaking French.

She could hear Carwyn and Ziri making plans downstairs in the library. Carwyn had an appointment to speak to someone at the Vatican about unrelated church business, and Ziri was speaking with Emil Conti about a visit to see Giovanni wherever Livia was holding him. Apparently, no one knew of Ziri’s connection to Beatrice or Stephen, so he could be presented as an impartial observer and gain access to the dungeons. Emil Conti was willing to play along.

Angela had been cooking all day. The whole house was suffused with the smell of herb bread, lemon, and fresh basil from the pesto she made.

If she listened closely, Beatrice could hear the soft rise and fall of Lucien’s breaths in the second floor guest room. He had been at the house for over a week and Beatrice was still surprised by how weary the simplest tasks seemed to make him.

Tenzin left just before dawn, saying she had some business to take care of and would take shelter with the Chinese delegation she would be joining with Elder Lu’s son.

So Beatrice sat in her empty bedroom, wearing one of Giovanni’s shirts she’d stolen from the laundry, and going quietly mad as another day passed without her husband resting in their bed.

Finally, she picked up the phone and called Los Angeles.

“Hello?”

“Caspar?”

“Beatrice, darling—Isadora, B’s on the phone.” She heard the quick shuffle of feet and her grandmother picked up the other line.

“Mariposa?”

Beatrice smiled just hearing her voice. “Hey, Grandma.”

“How are you, dear? Matt called us a few days ago, and Dez called us yesterday, but they didn’t seem to know much.”

“No change, really.”

“But it’s been over a week now! Has anyone been to see him? Does he get a—a lawyer? A doctor? Is there anyone that you can call or petition?”

“It’s not really that kind of arrest, Grandma.”

She heard Caspar soothing her grandmother in the background.

“Beatrice.” His calm voice soothed her, as well. “I know Tenzin and Carwyn are there. Are there any other vampires who have publicly voiced support for Giovanni?”

“Not publicly. At least not right now. She’s really powerful, Cas. These Roman vampires are like sheep or something. There are a few who seem to stand up to her, but for the most part, they all just follow along.”

“She’s still being careful. Gio has enough of a reputation for her to be very cautious about all of this. I expect she’s quite angry about having to arrest him as she did. It doesn’t sound as if that was her plan. Please be patient, my dear.”

Beatrice knew all of it. She had heard the arguments for patience and prudence. She had listened and followed the instructions of those far older and more experienced than she, vampires she knew loved Giovanni, too. Still, she could feel the tears well up in her eyes, and she cleared her throat. Caspar trailed off.

“How are you holding up, dear girl?”

Her voice caught. “Um… can I… can I just talk to my grandma for a little bit, Caspar?”

“Of course.” She heard him put the phone down, followed by
 
a few murmurs in the background and a closing door before Isadora came back on the line.

“Beatrice?”

At the sound of her name, silent tears began to stream down her face. Soon, she was choking on her cries as Isadora made soothing noises in the background.

“Oh, my girl. If I could only be there for you now.”

“I can’t do this, Grandma. I can’t be who I’m supposed to be without him here.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No! Everything’s wrong. I can’t think straight. I don’t feel like myself. I have to force myself to eat, and I know it’s not good for me. I can usually sleep a little bit when he’s here, but now, it’s just…
nothing
. And everything is wrong, and I can’t do this.”

“Beatrice, you can. And according to what everyone says, this is upsetting, but—”

“It’s not upsetting! It’s infuriating!” She stood and tried pacing the room, but the rotary phone wouldn’t let her get far. She gripped the back of the chair so hard that the wood splintered. “I’m so angry, I want to kill something, Grandma. I want to kill
her
. I want to tear her heart out. I want to rip Lorenzo’s head off his body and toss it to a pack of dogs. I want to round up all the spineless weaklings that follow her orders and tear every last one of them apart. I want to burn this damn city to the ground and spit in its ashes. And there is nothing—
nothing
—I can do except sit here and wait for ridiculous protocol and negotiations!”

By the time she had vented her anger, her grandmother was speechless.

“Well...”

“Grandma?”

“Beatrice, this is one of those times when I am reminded that you are a vampire now.”

A harsh laugh broke from her throat, but it quickly turned to tears again. She brushed at her tears. “I’m pretty sure I’d feel this way if I was still human, too.”

“Possibly, but the potential to carry out the bloodshed would not be as likely.”

She grabbed another of Giovanni’s handkerchiefs and cleaned her blood-streaked face.

“Beatrice, you must be strong. For him. For yourself. For Ben. Control your anger. Nothing good can come from losing control. I’m sure they’re probably expecting you to be foolish and out of your mind with your Gio in prison, so prove them wrong.”

“I know you’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m your grandmother.”

She couldn’t help the smile. “Thanks, Grandma.” There was silence over the phone as both women seemed to catch their breath.

“Hey, Grandma?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Distract me, okay? Tell me what trouble you and Caspar have been up to lately.”

Isadora’s tinkling laugh did more to soothe her weary heart than all the kind words from her friends.

“Well, I went to a wonderful painting workshop at the Huntington the other day. Did you know that Caspar has started volunteering in the gardens there? All those little old women just adore him. I’d be jealous, but it’s too adorable how he preens for them. It’s rose season now, and you know how he loves his roses. Oh! And I should tell you about the art opening that Ernesto took us to the other night. It was wonderful, the girl who was featured…”

As Isadora chattered about roses and art galleries, Beatrice closed her eyes. The familiar voice of her grandmother and the everyday news she spoke of was its own kind of meditation. A reminder that, past the blood and the intrigue, beyond the danger and the heartache, another kind of life waited for her and Giovanni. A life filled with family and love. With their own pursuits and challenges.

If only they could get there.

Finally, she broke into her grandmother’s news, anxious to rest her mind on one more subject.

“Grandma, I know Matt usually keeps an eye on things if we’re not there—“

“Don’t worry about us, Beatrice. We have quite a bit of company, if you know what I mean. Baojia is usually here in the evenings and then there’s a lovely woman and a gentleman that Ernesto introduced us to that help with the driving and taking care of this and that around the house during the day. They’re quite understanding of us old people!” Isadora laughed, but the keen edge to her voice let Beatrice know she was well aware of the security that Ernesto had arranged.

“Well good. I hope you don’t give them too many problems. The two of you are troublemakers, I know.”

“But only the best kind of trouble!” Isadora laughed.

By the time she hung up the phone an hour later, Beatrice thought she could just about make it through a few more nights without killing anything.

Unless a good opportunity presented itself, of course.

She was studying some of Geber’s journals later that evening and watching Ziri and Lucien from the corner of the library. The old vampire patted Lucien’s gaunt cheek as he rose. He walked over to Beatrice.

“I will be visiting your mate later this evening with Emil Conti. It has all been arranged. I will be able to send my voice to him without anyone else hearing. Did you have a message?”

I love you. I miss you. Don’t die. You cannot leave me alone in this world. I will kill anything that harms you. I will raze a thousand castles to get you back.

“Tell him,” she said, “I will see him soon.”

Ziri smiled as if he could read her thoughts, but only nodded and walked out of the library.

“He admires you.”

She turned toward Lucien’s voice. “Oh?”

“He admires your resolve and control. It is unusual in one so young.”

Beatrice closed the journal. She hadn’t really read anything anyway. “What is he to you? Ziri? You call him ‘Uncle.’”

“He’s not an uncle, not in the human sense. But he is one of my mother’s dearest friends.”

“Your mother is the earth vampire who worked with Geber, isn’t she?”

Lucien smiled and rose. He walked toward Beatrice and settled into the chair across from her. They were sitting in the corner of the library closest to the fire. As always, Beatrice found the sound, scent, and presence of the flames soothing.

“She is. There is more to the story, but Ziri says he will fill us all in when Giovanni is back. He doesn’t like telling stories twice.”

“Okay. I suppose. Since I don’t seem to have any choice in the matter, I’ll be patient. How are you feeling?”

“As well as I have been.” He raised an eyebrow. “Ziri keeps telling me that he will explain more soon, but he is being irritatingly close-mouthed about it. He has always been like that. Maybe that is why he and my mother get along so well. They can sit in a cave and not speak for fifty years and be totally content.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I am not sure… well, I am not sure.” He looked up and shrugged. “I suppose that sums up my life, lately. I am not sure of much.”

Her own curiosity burned, but Beatrice forced herself to remain calm and strove for the patience she knew her husband would expect. “Who’s your mother? Will you tell me about her?”