The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (181 page)

“Signor Bianchi would visit frequently?” Giovanni asked.

“Not frequently. He often traveled out of the country.” She smiled. “Occasionally. But I always enjoyed his visits.”

“I see.”

“Signor Bianchi gave me your name, Dottore.” Her eyes flickered. “He said that if anything were to ever happen to him, that I should contact you. Were you a relative of some kind? Has something happened?”

Beatrice looked into the woman’s eyes. She didn’t appear to be under the influence of any kind of amnis, but at the same time, her cautious expression told Beatrice she knew her employer was something other than what he seemed. Nevertheless, she appeared honest and forthright as she spoke with Giovanni about the collection. Her husband broke the news to Signorina Rossi that her employer was no longer living.

The single home belonging to Paulo Bianchi had been buried in Lorenzo’s files. It wasn’t particularly noteworthy. A large country home in the province of Perugia. A weekly caretaker and a single employee who lived in the cottage on the grounds and received a generous, but not extraordinary, salary. In their search for Lorenzo’s more illicit investments, the mundane had simply escaped their notice.

A shout drew their attention to the small cottage at the side of the house.

“
Mama
?” A small boy of nine or ten appeared in pajamas. A cloud of light brown curls covered his head and he blinked as he looked up at them from the open doorway. “
Chi e qui?
Has Signor Paulo come to visit?”

Signorina Rossi gave him a sad smile. “No, Enzo, we have other visitors. Go back to sleep; I’ll be with the books if you need me.”

The boy waved once more, then turned and went back in the house, closing the door behind him. Signorina Rossi gave them a sad shrug. “I will have to tell him tomorrow. Signor Paulo was a favorite of his. He would usually visit with Enzo when he came to see the books.”

Beatrice frowned, curious if there were more humans on the property. “His father?”

The woman gaped. “Oh! No, no. Paulo was just a friend. Enzo’s father… well, when Signor Bianchi gave me this position after university, it was very unexpected. A godsend, really. Not many employers would be so understanding about a single mother bringing a baby to work.”

Beatrice glanced over at Giovanni, whose face was carefully covered by a polite mask. “Signorina Rossi, we don’t want to keep you any later than necessary. If you would only show us—”

“Of course. I’m sure your time is limited. Though you may stay in the collection as long as you like, of course. I’ll show you how to lock up. If Signor Bianchi trusted you, you are most welcome.”

She ushered them in the door and Beatrice breathed in the cool, dry air that was so familiar and welcome. The smell of old paper and ink assaulted her. Vellum and the faint must it always held. The curious vanilla smell of old books and dusty covers. She looked around in awe.

Though there was an entryway of sorts, and she could see a small office to one side, the house had been renovated into a vast library. The vaulted ceilings sheltered row after row of dark, wooden bookcases and the arched windows were covered in smoked glass to protect the room from the harsh light that would shine through during the day. Signorina Rossi guided them through the room.

“In my ten years, I’ve had the privilege of curating the collection here. We rarely have visitors, though I do coordinate the loan of some materials to private institutions and universities. Most of the collection is private. I will confess, I almost feel guilty that many of these items are not in a museum, but that is not my decision, of course.”

She guided them among glass cases, which displayed pieces of the collection. Beatrice grabbed Giovanni’s hand and felt him clutch her fingers tightly as they walked among the treasures.

A finely preserved Asian scroll with red lacquer finish. Papyrus leaves pressed between clear protective sheets. A vividly decorated manuscript of intricate Arabic script that glowed with gold-flecked illuminations. A collection of small clay tablets marked by tiny cuneiform writing.

“Most of my time is spent organizing the collection. It was not in any order when I was first hired, and I am still organizing parts of it. It keeps me very busy!” Dottor Rossi laughed before she turned. As if she could sense the waves of emotion around her, the librarian halted and fell silent. Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath. “I’m sure you would prefer to examine it at your leisure. I’ll leave you here. If you have any questions, please feel free to knock on my office door, but I will allow you your privacy.”

Giovanni was silent, but Beatrice stepped forward and took the woman’s hand, shaking it and sending a subtle message for the woman to go to her home and leave the key on the desk near the door. The friendly curator smiled and nodded before she left, and Beatrice waited until the door swung shut to turn to her husband.

He was overcome, and Beatrice was rocked by conflicting emotions when he pulled her into his chest. Sorrow. Joy. Relief. Anguish. Even pride. Giovanni looked around at the books that had caused so many trials and so much pain. A mystery that had brought them both the greatest joy and the deepest suffering.

“Beatrice…” He could not seem to form the words, so he held her hand and wandered among the rows of bookcases, stopping occasionally to open a manuscript box or scan the stacks.

Beatrice said, “This collection… Gio, it’s priceless.”

“She’s right,” he mused. “Most of this needs to be put into larger libraries or museums.”

“But not all at once.”

“No, not all at once.”

He looked around at the collected treasures of his sire. Of his grand-sire. Centuries of wisdom hidden away from sight. They strolled among the lost books, and she could see him breathing in their scents. They would donate the most valuable pieces so the world could share them. Slowly, over many years, Andros’ collection would belong to the world again. They had time.

Just then, a familiar volume caught her eye. Sitting unobtrusively on a shelf across the room, it was tucked among the others, but the scent of her father’s blood marked the worn leather cover. She dropped Giovanni’s hand and walked toward it. Then she reached over, picked up Geber’s manuscript, and clutched it to her chest. Giovanni approached her from behind and placed his arms around her waist as the tears fell.

“Do you want to destroy it, Tesoro?”

She shook her head and patted her eyes with the handkerchief he held out for her. “It’s just a book, Gio. It’s just a book. It’s not a secret anymore. It can’t hurt us.”

He reached around and plucked the small book from her hands, placing it on the table before he turned her and enfolded her in an embrace.

“That one goes home with us.”

“Yeah,” she sighed and buried her face in his neck. ”Good idea.”

After a few minutes, they parted to continue exploring. The library was arranged around a central reading area containing sturdy wooden tables and chairs, which was lined with glass display cases. Leading away from the reading tables, there was a long corridor down the center of the room, and two rows of bookcases lined either side. Small benches were placed at intervals, but the corridor was cloaked in darkness.

Beatrice looked for a light switch and spotted one on the far wall. She flicked it on with a pencil that lay on one of the library tables, and her eyes darted toward the single glowing light that lit the back wall.

“What is it?” she asked, blinking into the brilliant glow.

Giovanni’s voice was soft when he answered. “San Lorenzo protecting the Holy Chalice.”

An enormous stained glass window covered the back wall. Large and intricate, the yellow light shone from behind as if the window was lit by the afternoon sun. The scattered rainbow of colors dripped down the center aisle and Beatrice walked toward the light as Giovanni followed behind her. On the far wall, under the vivid stained glass, was a brass plaque with a Latin inscription.

Beatrice stepped closer to read it. “There’s a quote here.”

Desine iam tandem precibusque inflectere nostris,

Ne te tantus edit tacitam dolor et mihi curae

Saepe tuo dulci tristes ex ore recursent.

Uentum ad supremum est.

“What is it?” Giovanni asked.

“It’s from Virgil. The last book of
The Aeneid
.”

His voice was soft. “What passage?”

“It’s when Juno and Jupiter are making peace in the end. ‘Now cease, at last, and give way to my entreaties, lest such sadness consume you in silence, and your bitter woes stream back to me often from your sweet lips.’” She paused, blinking back the tears as she read the final line. “‘It has reached its end.’”

Beatrice heard him gasp, and she spun around. Giovanni’s jaw was clenched tightly, and he was staring up at the window. She could feel his energy reach out toward hers as he held out his hand. She walked over and his arms encircled her. She closed her eyes and held him tight.

“Has this reached its end, Gio? Even after all the evil, he did some good, too. So much lost, but so much gained. We found each other. The past is gone, and no one can take our future. You asked me once to let it be enough.” She nodded and pressed her cheek against his chest. “It is. For me, it is enough.”

Giovanni pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. His eyes searched hers before he nodded. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Yes, Beatrice, it is enough,” he whispered before he kissed her again. “It is enough.”

The light behind the stained glass glowed brightly, a reminder of all they had searched for and all they had found. Beatrice pressed her cheek against Giovanni’s as they embraced, and she could feel their hearts beat together in a slow, steady rhythm. The two lovers held each other as the light poured over them, and everything was illuminated.

THE END

Five years later…

It was late Saturday night when Ben strode through the kitchen door. He put his motorcycle helmet on the kitchen table and tossed his backpack on the floor. Then he opened the refrigerator to grab a beer before he listened for who was around.

The only sound of life was the television in the study. It sounded like someone was watching an old kung fu movie with the volume turned low. The corner of his mouth turned up, and he walked down the hallway toward the noise. Tenzin sat on the couch frowning as she watched the screen. She didn’t even glance at him.

“These movies are horrible,” she said.

“Then why do you keep watching them?”

“I don’t know.”

She fell silent for a few more minutes.

“Are you done with your tests at school?” she asked, still staring at the screen.

“Yep.”

“So you are done with the human schools?”

“For now.”

“Good.”

Ben propped his feet on the coffee table and looked around at the familiar room. He took a drink and stared at the screen. Then he looked at the small woman sitting next to him on the couch.

“Tenzin?”

“Yes?”

“I’m bored.”

She turned from the television, and he smiled at the gleam in her eyes.

“Me, too.”

Continue reading in the ELEMENTAL WORLD

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Building From Ashes
is what I have been waiting for ever since I read
A Hidden Fire!
Carwyn is one of my favorite of Elizabeth's characters and it was wonderful to read his story.
 

The way Elizabeth Hunter weaves the past and present to deliver this story as a whole is genius.
5 STARS.

—Rebecca, BENDING THE SPINE

In a world teetering on the edge of change, two beings struggle to find their purpose. Will their paths lead them closer together or tear their worlds apart?

For a thousand years, powerful earth vampire Carwyn ap Bryn has served others. God. His family. His friends. But tragedy and loss disrupt his peaceful existence, causing him to question everything he has committed his eternity to. Brigid Connor has known about vampires since they rescued her from a painful childhood. But not even their vast elemental power can save her from the demons that torment her. As loyalties are tested and new paths are forged, a lurking danger slowly grows in the Elemental World. Carwyn and Brigid learn that even secrets revealed can come back to haunt you when you least expect it.