The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (72 page)

“Yeah, I did. And he knew just how to make me happy.”

He darted back to his side of the plane and draped his arm over the back of the couch. “Did he? Did he
really
?”

She paled and looked away from him, staring at the dark window over his shoulder and the stars that winked out.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I shall do my utmost to consult with you on future matters of strategy and defense when it pertains to you.”

“Good.”

“But I reserve the right to overrule you based on my experience and superior knowledge of the immortal world.”

“Bossy.”

“Mortal.”

They glared at each other in silent struggle for a few minutes before she walked to the other bed in the cabin and lay down, turning her back to him as she fell asleep. Giovanni watched for hours, memorizing the sound of her soft breath, steady heartbeat, and the small unintelligible murmurs that comforted him. He glanced at Ben and felt his dormant heart beat once as he remembered the interrogation of Lorenzo’s man in Los Angeles.

“He knows about your boy, di Spada, and your human woman. He still has many friends,” the shriveled vampire had gloated as his limbs slowly charred under Giovanni’s grip. “You’ll never find all of them before he kills your people.”

“Is that so? Tell me more, Pirro. How did you escape the massacre on Lorenzo’s island? Were you hiding in a corner? Did you run away from the fight?”

The small dark vampire grinned before another burst of flame from Giovanni’s hands caused him to arch his back in agony.
 

“How—how does it—” He hissed, overcome with agony.

“The fire?” Giovanni leaned closer to the assassin, almost embracing the vampire as his lips murmured in his ear. “I’ve sent my fire through your dry veins, you fool. It’s a slow burn. One that will eat you from the inside out.” He gripped Pirro’s arms more tightly, and he could see Baojia’s approving nod from over the assassin’s shoulder. “I’ll stop it if you tell me who the traitor is on this boat.”

“I don’t know,” he choked. “It burns. He didn’t tell me how—”

“—badly I could hurt you? No, he likes to leave that part out because it makes him look weak, Pirro.” Giovanni stepped away, keeping a hand on the vampire’s shoulder and forcing the fire a little further into his veins. The gashes Giovanni had opened on the vampire’s arms, face and abdomen continued to leak the sludge that was the last of his dehydrated blood. Still, he pushed his amnis onto the assassin and forced the silent fire deep into the dry body in front of him.

“Tell me,” he said again. “Who is working for Lorenzo? Who gave you the information about the human diver?”

“Does it bother you that your woman keeps a lover, di Spada? Does it—” The vampire let loose a bloodcurdling scream as the fire reached his heart, which only tried to pump feverishly as the vampire curled in pain. Giovanni could hear the slow churning as it tried to move the bloody sludge through Pirro’s body, which only pushed the burning further.

“Tell me,” he murmured in the man’s ear, “and I will kill you quickly.”

“I don’t know,” Pirro finally croaked out of his dusty throat. Giovanni thought he could see a faint puff of smoke as the vampire spoke.

“I don’t believe you.” He hit him with another wave of fire, and the smoke poured out of the assassin’s scream.

“I don’t know!” he shrieked. “He was in Tripoli three months ago. We all knew he was meeting with the master, but none of us saw him.”
 

Giovanni released the vampire’s shoulder and allowed him to slump to the ground, where he curled into a small, smoking ball of pain.

“Tripoli?” he mused to Baojia.

The stoic vampire nodded. “I’ll be able to find out who was traveling then. It’s enough.”

“Are you sure? I’m happy to take the time for further questioning.”

Pirro whimpered on the floor, delirious from pain.

“We’ve been busy for quite some time. Do you know how much my father wants your human?” Baojia shook his head. “He knows you’re going to take her soon. How hard do you think he’s trying to persuade her to join us right now.”

Giovanni’s eyes darted up, as if he could see through the steel layers of the ship to the top deck where he had left Beatrice. He looked back to Ernesto’s enforcer. “Why do you want her? Why is he so set on having her in his family?”

Baojia shrugged. “I have watched her these years—” The vampire was cut off by Giovanni’s snarl. “—and I understand her appeal. She has a certain type of perception that is rare. Her eyes see through the layers of things, don’t they? That is a very valuable trait.”

Giovanni’s lips curled. “She is mine.”

The enforcer’s eyes locked with his. “Is she? Really? I think Beatrice De Novo belongs to no one but herself, di Spada, no matter who may taste her blood.”

A feral sound crawled up from his throat and he reached down to pick up Lorenzo’s assassin, pummeling him until he was a lump of smoking flesh.

“Do you have any more use for him?” he asked Baojia.

The vampire frowned and shook his head, so Giovanni threw the lump to the floor, where it was quickly engulfed in blue flames that turned the body to ash. Baojia opened the doors leading to the small balcony and turned on a fan that slowly sucked the remains of Lorenzo’s assassin into the wet night air.

Houston, Texas

Christmas Eve 2009

“
Da nobis quæsumus Dómine Deus noster: ut qui Navitátem Dómini nostri Jesu Christi mystériis nos frequentáre gaudémus; dignis conversatiónibus ad ejus mereámur perveníre consórtium. Qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitáte Spíritus Sancti, Deus, per ómnia sæcula sæculórum
. Amen.”

The familiar Latin of the priest poured over him like a balm as he sat next to Ben and Beatrice late on Christmas Eve. Isadora had insisted that the five of them celebrate midnight mass together, and Giovanni surprised himself by asking if there was one being celebrated anywhere in the old language.

He sat with his arm around Ben, who had slumped to the side in exhaustion, and his gaze rested on Beatrice’s profile as she watched the priest deliver the last of the liturgy. Giovanni flashed back to the many human days he’d spent with his uncle listening to the same words spoken by ancient men who had taken the same vows as the young Irish priest standing in front of him.

It was good to remember that even some things in the human world did not change.
 

He may not have practiced regularly, but he had been Catholic in his human life, and in the deepest part of himself, Giovanni still considered it a part of his identity. There was little doubt in his mind that in two hundred years, he could sit in another church, thousands of miles away from this one, and listen to the same words spoken in a slightly different accent.

He heard the last of the ancient mass ring through in the stone church, and he gently shook Ben awake.

“Is it over?” he whispered.

“Yes, time to go home.”

“It feels like home, even without a basketball hoop,” he muttered. “That’s kind of weird, huh?”

He smiled and mussed Ben’s hair as the boy stood. “No. I don’t think so. Home is about people.” He saw Beatrice glance at him and knew she had heard him.

Caspar, Isadora, Beatrice, Ben, and Giovanni all drove back to the house in River Oaks where the humans quickly retired for the night. He went to the library and started a fire, content to sit on the couch and enjoy the quiet with Doyle, who was curled onto a chair. If he concentrated, he could still smell Beatrice’s scent that seemed to linger everywhere.

The longer he concentrated, the stronger it grew until he realized he was ignoring the sound of quiet steps coming down the hall.

Beatrice entered the room, barefaced and beautiful, looking very young as she stood in the doorway. She was wearing an old Houston University t-shirt and what he thought might have been a pair of his boxers he’d left at the house years ago. He couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face when he saw her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she murmured before she walked over to the couch and lay down next to him, resting her head on his thigh as she stared into the fire with sleepy eyes. “I still miss you, even though I’m mad at you.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually.”

“You do have forever, don’t you?”

But you don’t
, he thought. “I can be patient. I told you to take as long as you need.”

She continued to speak, unguarded in her exhaustion. “What if it takes a long time? What if I’m old and wrinkled before I love you again?”

A soft smile crossed his face. “I sincerely hope it doesn’t take that long…” His hand lifted to stroke her hair and he could feel her begin to drift again. “But your beauty is not the reason I love you, Beatrice, even though it takes my breath away at times,” he whispered as he watched the firelight dance across her skin.

“You don’t breathe. Not that hard to take your breath away,” she said, slowly blinking longer and longer as she stared at the fire.

“Harder than you might think. Sleep,
tesoro
.”

And she did.

Early the next morning, he could hear Ben’s shrieks as the boy woke for his first real Christmas. He smiled in satisfaction before the day pulled him under.
 

When he woke and left the small room he slept in, he could still hear Ben’s incessant chatter. He dressed in a pair of grey slacks and a red shirt he remembered Beatrice complimenting before he made his way downstairs.

The changes to the Houston house were subtle but perfectly reflected Isadora’s tastes. She and Caspar had lived at the house since Beatrice had moved to Los Angeles, and both of them seemed exceedingly happy. Though it was late in life, Caspar finally seemed to have found the right woman for him.

“Merry Christmas,” he said to Beatrice’s grandmother when he saw her on the second floor landing. She was arranging a vase of flowers, and she turned to smile at him.

“Merry Christmas, Gio! We’ve missed you today. Especially Ben; he’s so excited.” She stood on her tiptoes, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Where is everyone?” he asked politely, though he could already hear the television in the living room. Isadora had never quite accustomed herself to his preternatural senses the way Beatrice had.

“Oh, they’re doing their awful Christmas horror movie marathon again. Only this time, Ben is an enthusiastic participant. It’s quieter than normal without Carwyn this year.”

He smiled at the reminder that their lives had moved forward without him. “He’s dealing with some complications at home, I believe. He apologized for not making it for the holidays.”

“I know he has a large family. Is everything all right?”

That was an excellent question, he thought. The priest had been uncharacteristically close-mouthed for the past couple of months, and Giovanni was beginning to worry.

“I’ll ask him tonight. We’ve scheduled a call later.”

He left Isadora humming as he walked downstairs and rushed into the living room at vampire speed, scooping Beatrice up and setting her on his lap before she could take a breath.

“Oh!” she gasped before she laughed. “I’ll never get used to that.”

Her mood was lighter; he could tell by the ease around her eyes and the quick tilt of her smile. “Merry Christmas, Beatrice.”

“Gio,” Ben bounced up and down next to him. “Cas and Isadora got me an iPod, and B got me an electric scooter, and there’s a whole bunch more presents under the tree, too. And a lot of them are for you!”

Ben may have been a very streetwise twelve, but this morning, Giovanni thought he looked every bit the child he should have been for so many years. Then his words registered, and he turned to Beatrice, tugging her hair as she sat on his lap.

“An electric scooter?”

She grinned and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “He’ll be fine, old man. I’ll teach him to ride it. Just be glad it’s not a dirt bike.”

“A dirt bike?” Ben shouted in excitement. “I want a dirt bike!”

“If I could get headaches, I would have one right now. Thank you. I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“So stuffy,” she muttered, but she leaned back into his chest and let him wrap his arms around her waist. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the old movie on the screen.

“Is this…”

“
Horror of Dracula
, 1958. I thought it was appropriate. Ben hadn’t seen it.”

“You have a sick sense of humor.”

“But the vampires in this one have British accents. It’s practically highbrow.” She stared raptly at the screen and only wiggled in his lap when he pinched her waist. He bit back a groan before he leaned slightly closer to her neck, realizing he needed to feed if he was going to be this close to her. His fang pierced his lip, and he tried to shift in his seat.

“
Tesoro
,” he said quietly. “I need to go.”

“Why?” she asked absently.

He cleared his throat and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he let his fangs peek out from behind his lips and felt her pulse pick up.