The Force of Wind

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “Born five hundred years apart? Finding our way to each other through pain and loss. All that so we can have hundreds, maybe thousands, of years together? Lucky.”

  This time, it was Beatrice that moved, stroking his face and kissing his lips as they lost themselves in each other again. After another hour, he had exhausted her, and she was sleeping again. He dressed and slipped from the room to walk through the gardens, calling one of Tenzin’s guards to watch Beatrice’s room. Baojia showed up anyway.

  Giovanni strolled through the palace grounds, working his way across the gardens until he was wandering through the stones in front of Elder Zhongli’s wing.

  “Well, you smell like you’ve had a good night.”

  He turned to his son, who was sprawled on a bench, pleased to have found him so quickly.

  “I’ve had an excellent night, thank you.”

  “Your human is very alluring, but I’m surprised you haven’t killed her yet. I tend to break human women. That’s why I gave up on them years ago. Too fragile.”

  “Not all of us are barbarians.”

  “Oh”—Lorenzo threw out a laugh—“yes we are. Just because we fool ourselves with the trappings of courtly life does not mean we’re not monsters.”

  “Becoming a philosopher in your old age, Lorenzo?”

  “Oh no.” His blue eyes gleamed in the darkness. “I quite enjoy being the thing that goes bump in the night. In fact, I revel in it.”

  Giovanni stepped closer to his only child. At one point, he and Lorenzo had been almost like brothers, lashed together, trying to survive the whims of a madman. That they had gone such drastically different directions still bothered him.

  “Why do you want this elixir?”

  Lorenzo’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah! So Stephen did figure it out, did he? I thought he would, especially when I discovered he was here. I wonder how he put the pieces together to come here. It’s very curious.”

  Giovanni had wondered that himself, but he did not voice his suspicions to Lorenzo. “How did you know he was here?”

  “Oh, what’s the saying?” Lorenzo glanced over his shoulder toward the Zhongli’s guards that shadowed him on the palace grounds. He smiled. “‘A little bird told me?’”

  “Of course.” So Zhongli Quan did have some ulterior motive inviting Lorenzo to the island. Otherwise, why would he have tempted him with Stephen’s whereabouts?

  “You never answered my question. Why do you want this elixir?”

  Lorenzo grinned. “I’m a humanitarian.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  He shrugged. “I’m a monstrous humanitarian?”

  “Why?”

  Lorenzo only rolled his eyes. “As if I would tell you, Papà! What do you think? I’m going to reveal all in some strange, enlightening monologue? What makes you think I even have a reason? Maybe I just want it so others can’t have it?”

  “You’re too calculating for that.”

  Lorenzo stood in the blink of an eye. “Yes, I am.”

  His son stepped closer, and Giovanni could feel the heat running along his skin. It would be so easy… But he saw Lorenzo’s guards step closer, so he smiled and turned to go.

  “I’ll see you around, Lorenzo. We’ll have to have some father-son bonding time when your guards aren’t around.”

  “So sentimental, Giovanni. I do love a good family reunion. If only Niccolo was here.”

  Giovanni turned, cutting his eyes toward the guards before he looked at Lorenzo. “If Andros was here,” he whispered, “you wouldn’t be.”

  “Oh, I know.” Lorenzo’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. “I remember. Everything.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mount Penglai, China

  September 2010

  “Stupid, irritating, obscure, dead, Persian guy.” Beatrice muttered as she scanned a copy of a sixteenth century manuscript, searching for the exact ingredients of a curative concoction that her father thought might be similar to one of Geber’s ingredients. “Why couldn’t he just write in clear language instead of putting everything in code?”

  Stephen glanced up. “Trust me, I understand. Having his journals was the only thing that let me decipher the manuscript at all. Otherwise, it would have been complete gibberish.”

  They were buried in Zhang’s personal library, which Stephen said rivaled the monastery library where the manuscript was being kept. Zhang Guo’s selection of manuscripts and scrolls was… intimidating.

  Beatrice stretched her neck and looked around. “Is this library bigger than Lorenzo’s collection? Well, it’s rightfully Gio’s, I suppose.”

  “It’s comparable.” Stephen nodded and looked around. “The subject matter is just wildly different. I really could go on for ages about Andros’s collection from the ancient world. He seemed to have a particular fascination with the near East and Minoan culture.” Stephen chuckled. “If you got your hands on it, you could spend an eternity cataloguing its contents. It wasn’t exactly organized in any fashion. And, of course, Lorenzo moved it periodically, so I’m sure some things have been lost or damaged.”

  She shook her head. “So, in addition to kidnapping and murder, the bastard’s guilty of putting ancient documents at risk. I really have to kill him now.”

  Stephen shook with laughter. “Oh, Mariposa…” He reached across the table and brushed her cheek. “I’m so lucky to see you again.” Stephen sighed a little, and she could see his eyes line slightly with pink tears. “I never really thought I would, you know? I hoped, but I never thought it would be safe for us to be in contact. If you hadn’t come under Giovanni’s aegis—”

  “My life would be…” She laughed. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “You’d probably be safer.”

  “Yeah, but I’d be bored silly. I’d get myself into trouble.”

  “I doubt that. Though you do seem very suited to all this. It’s rather amazing, if you think about it.”

  She shrugged and continued scanning the pages. There were numerous mentions of mercury, but she had yet to find the original formula for “mercury of life” that Tenzin had recommended she look for.

  “Dad, why didn’t you just memorize the damn formula with your super-duper vampire brain? I’m trying not to be judgmental here, but—”

  Stephen barked out a laugh. “It wasn’t exactly a cookie recipe. There were so many steps, and I didn’t know half of what the terms were, much less how to concoct them or process them. I mean, I was an assistant professor of medieval literature, for heaven’s sake. It probably would have made more sense to a chemist or a holistic doctor, though so many of the ingredients were obscure, even a trained alchemist might have had problems.”

  “But Lu’s monks seemed to understand them?”

  “I spent most of my time at the monastery learning Mandarin first, then translating the book from Arabic into Mandarin so Fu-han could read it. Then, I had to explain what a lot of Geber’s codes were, and all of his journals were written in Persian.” Stephen shook his head. “I had a feeling things were becoming clearer to him, but then I was called here. I’m still sending letters back and forth to him, explaining this or that word or phrase. And he and Zhang are the Spagyric experts, not me.”

  “And that’s the plant alchemy, right?”

  “Yes, which is a specialty even within normal alchemy. If Geber hadn’t written his findings in his journals, I’d have had no idea what the book was or what the formula was supposed to do.”

  “But Lorenzo knows?”

  “He doesn’t know what the formula is, clearly, but I believe he knows what it’s supposed to do. I saw him examining the journals and smiling that creepy, satisfied grin he has.”

  Beatrice shivered involuntarily when her father mentioned his name. “Did he really torture you?”

  Stephen’s eyes clouded in pain. “Beatrice, I don’t want to talk to you about that. It’s not… it’s just not something…”

  She shook her head and looked back to the b
ook. “It’s okay. Never mind. I know. Gio said it was probably pretty bad.”

  He paused, staring down at the table where they sat. “It’s in the past. He can’t hurt me anymore. I’m too strong now.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “You’re my dad.”

  “Exactly. It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way round. You were always an old soul, even as a child.”

  She snorted. “I must have been so obnoxious. Grandma always said she turned grey early because of me.”

  “You were a joy. Just… headstrong.” He grinned. “And frighteningly perceptive for a cute little girl.”

  Beatrice looked up at her father. She was still struck by how young he looked, frozen in time the same age he had been when she was young. “Was I?”

  “What?”

  “A joy? Was I? Was it worth it being a single dad when Holly left me with you? I must have been a surprise. And you couldn’t hit the clubs with your friends when you were twenty-two, could you? Not with a baby and no one to help you.”

  “Oh.” Stephen shrugged. “I had Grandma and Grandpa. Who needed to go out dancing when I had toothless baby smiles at home? You made things plenty exciting.”

  She thought of all the Friday nights when she was young when her father had taken her to the skating rink or the movies, instead of spending time with other adults. Though she hadn’t recognized it at the time, his whole life had revolved around her. “Thanks, Dad. For not… you know. When I met Holly a couple years ago, she said she knew I’d be better off with you. That you’d take care of me. So… thanks.”

  His voice was hoarse when he finally replied. “You are completely welcome, Beatrice. Your mom is the one that missed out.”

  A booming voice came from the hallway. “Agreed.”

  Beatrice turned when she heard Giovanni. He walked over and sat down next to her, kissing her cheek.

  “Hello, Tesoro,” he whispered in her ear. “I missed you.”

  “Sorry, I got caught up here.”

  “No problem at all. Let me help your father. Baojia is waiting for you in the practice room. More weapons training tonight.”

  She leapt up. “Oh! He said I could try out the dao and maybe some other stuff tonight. Cool.” She was halfway out of the room before she turned back. She skipped over to Stephen and leaned down, brushing a kiss across his cool cheek. “See you later, Dad.”

  “Bye, Mariposa. Have fun with the swords. Don’t stab anyone.” Stephen paused and frowned. “Well, unless you’re supposed to.”

  “See? You’re still such a dad,” she said as she winked and darted out the door. She could hear the two men chuckle as she raced down the hall.

  “The saber, or dao, has a different balance than the jian,” Baojia said softly as he circled her. “You must learn to carry it in a different way. Your stance will be different. Your thrusts will be different. Remember, the sword is not a weapon; it is an extension of your arm, and you must balance yourself with that in mind.”

  She took a deep breath, moving slowly through the tai chi forms as he instructed. Painfully slowly. Her muscles were tense and quivering. Beatrice tried to focus on her balance and the weight of the blade in her hand.

  “Would it be better if I just stayed practicing with the jian?”

  “And be limited to one weapon? What do you think?”

  “I think it’s always better to have options.”

  Beatrice took a deep breath as her instructor stepped into her line of sight, eyeing her up and down as she moved. “Yes, it is,” he said in a rough voice.

  Beatrice blushed, not sure if they were still talking about swords.

  “So”—she cleared her throat—“after this, do I get to try out the pike? I’ve been curious about that one spear with the thick base.”

  “So many jokes.” She heard him say under his breath. She burst into laughter and stumbled, shaking her head when she saw his eyes dance.

  “Okay, I walked into that one.”

  He laughed. “You, my dear, walk into them all the time.” He grabbed the saber from her and hung it back on the wall. “I’m just forcing myself to be on my best behavior.”

  “Oh really?” She blinked at herself when she heard the flirtatious tone of her voice. What was she doing? She shook her head and turned back to her teacher.

  Yes, Baojia was her teacher.

  Her instructor.

  Baojia was… distracting.

  He narrowed his eyes as he looked over the weapons Tenzin had decorating the walls. She saw a devious smile cross his face as he walked to a rack of spears and chose two. He held them up for her.

  “So, spears…” He lifted one eyebrow. “European or Asian? What’s your preference?”

  She rolled her eyes and reached for the one in his right hand. “This is your best behavior? And European, if you’re asking.”

  He shrugged. “Pity. You really should try both.”

  “I’m sure the European will suit me fine, thanks.” She examined the weapon, enjoying the razor-sharp point and smooth wooden grip. Baojia brushed past her.

  “Strange that you chose the Asian one, then.” He walked to the other side of the practice mat and bowed. “Now, watch, and I’ll show you how to handle this.”

  Harmless flirtation was the furthest thing from her mind an hour later when she finally handed the spear back to Baojia. He had demonstrated the hook swords, or shuang gou for her, knocking the long wooden spear from her hands at a distance when he hooked the two lethal weapons together to demonstrate their reach. The spear had splintered in her hands as she held it, and she was more determined than ever to learn to wield the complex weapons, no matter what Giovanni thought.

  Baojia was encouraging and smiled a little as they put the weapons away. “You’ll be ready within a year after you turn, I think. Given what you are learning now and your natural aptitude for weapons, you will be ready to wield these as soon as your reflexes catch up with your mind and your amnis.”

  “What do you mean, ‘catch up with my amnis?’”

  Baojia shook his head. “It’s impossible to explain to a mortal. Even a bright one like you would not understand it.”

  She grimaced. “Oh, well, I guess I should be flattered you’re willing to teach a mere mortal like me anyway.”

  “Yes.” He smiled and walked behind her to stretch her arms. “You should be. I usually don’t bother with humans.”

  “So why me? Ernesto’s orders, huh?”

  She couldn’t see him as he lifted her arms, stretching them before they moved into hand-to-hand combat practice.

  “Why you?” he murmured. “What an interesting question…”

  That I notice you’re not answering.

  “Yeah, well, I’m Miss Popular for some reason. Even the bad guy wants to hang out with me.”

  He lifted her arms, running a hand down her tricep to knead it. His fingers were cool and strong against her sore muscles. “I told you not to worry about Lorenzo. Take a bath later. Soak your arms, or they will be stiff.”

  She cleared her throat. “Well then, I’ll just put all those icky thoughts about murdering him out of my pretty little head, won’t I?” She pulled her arms away and walked across from him. They bowed and began practicing. Baojia never really hit her. Not like Tenzin. He seemed more interested in teaching her how to attack. If he did manage to land the odd blow, he usually apologized very formally.

  “You should leave killing him to Giovanni or Tenzin. Or me, if he threatens you.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  He frowned as if she was speaking Farsi, which was on her list of languages to learn after she turned. Come to think of it, she thought, it was entirely possible that Baojia already spoke Farsi.

  “Why should you leave killing Lorenzo up to Giovanni, Tenzin, or myself? Because he’s a vampire and you’re not, foolish girl. Don’t kill yourself by being an idiot.�
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  “Now there’s the kind of sweet talk I expect,” she grunted as she struck his shoulder. She went to land a kick, but he grabbed her leg and held onto it.

  “I’m serious, B.” He waited until she met his dark eyes. “Don’t think you can challenge him. Compared to Giovanni or myself, he’s not that strong, but he is very smart. He’s a survivor, and in our world, strategy counts as much as strength.”

  She scowled at him. “It’s not like I’m going to go hunt him down right now. Let’s just say it’s… on my list.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Does Gio know you have a list?”

  Did he? Probably. She often thought Giovanni could read her mind, he knew her so well. Baojia and Beatrice went back and forth for a few more minutes until she heard the practice room door open. His scent reached her nose even before she turned.

  “Hey,” she said, and a smile spread across her face. Now there was a distraction.

  Giovanni leaned against the wall of the practice room. He had changed into a pair of loose, black pants and a shirt that hung open at the neck. The sleeves were rolled up, and Beatrice could see the muscles of his forearms as he crossed them over his chest and watched her.

  He smiled at her, a languorous, easy grin that made her insides melt. His eyes raked over her flushed body, and she felt her heartbeat pick up. The things that vampire could do with a single smile…

  He curled a finger, beckoning her. Beatrice walked toward him, making another list in her mind, when Tenzin darted into the room.

  “Stop right there.” Tenzin held up a hand and nodded toward Beatrice. “You, practice. You”—she glared at Giovanni—“I told you not to distract her. You’ll get her back later. She needs to work.”

  Giovanni narrowed his eyes, while Beatrice scowled. “Tenzin,” she said, “I don’t like you very much right now.”

  “Nor do I,” Giovanni muttered. “Ignore her. You’ve practiced enough for one night.”

  Tenzin pulled his collar. “She has not.”

  “I really think…” Beatrice pouted when Tenzin shoved Giovanni into the hallway. She turned to see Baojia watching her with a smile. “What?”