The Force of Wind

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “I hate you,” she spit out through bloody lips. “I hate you, I hate you. I’m going to kill you if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Do you think so?”

  She couldn’t stop the sob that escaped her lips when she saw her father’s lifeless eyes. “You will die, Lorenzo, and I will make it painful. You will scream in agony.”

  “So much anger,” he murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It is my only purpose in this life, do you understand me?”

  He leaned down and left a lingering kiss on her cheek before he whispered in her ear. “I know you think that you’ll kill me, but I’m quite sure there will come a day when you will be putty in my hands. I’m quite looking forward to it.”

  “Never.”

  “Oh.” He stood and wagged a finger at her. “Never is a long time in our world, precious girl.” He winked before he ran and jumped into the river, sinking out of sight beneath its black currents.

  “No!” she screamed in frustration before she caught sight of her father’s head again. “No, no!” She sobbed bloody tears as she continued to struggle against the blade that pinned her to the ground. The night was silent, marked only by the soft sounds of night birds and her own cries. A few moments later, she heard a rushing sound and Baojia leaned over her.

  “No,” he groaned. “No, Beatrice. Not this.” His voice as pained as she had ever heard it.

  “He killed my dad.” Beatrice couldn’t tear her eyes from Stephen’s head.

  “Hold still, B. You’re going to be all right, but hold still.”

  “My dad’s dead, Baojia.”

  She heard him choke, but her eyes were still locked on her father’s staring face.

  “Damn it to hell!” he yelled as he stood. “Hold still, this is going to hurt you again. You’re healing too fast.”

  “It won’t hurt. I don’t feel anything anymore.” It wasn’t strictly true; she was beginning to feel twitching in her toes as her nerves knit together around the blade in her spine.

  “I’m going to pull the sword out and it’s going to break your spine again, so just hold still.”

  She finally looked up at him. His eyes were red and there was a deep cut around his neck, as if someone had cut his throat from ear to ear.

  “What happened to you?”

  He shook his head. Anguish. He was anguished. “It’s not important,” he whispered. “Hold still.” He gripped at the sword in her stomach, grasped it with both hands while his blood ran down, and pulled.

  Beatrice screamed as her shoulders bucked up. She fell back to the earth with a thud, feeling the blood spill out beneath her again. Baojia tossed the sword away and came to cradle her head as she lay on the ground.

  “Hold still, B. Please, hold still.” There was a gaping wound in her stomach where the sword had torn her abdomen, and she couldn’t feel her legs again. He stroked her hair back. “Shhh. Don’t move. Give your body time to heal.”

  “Gio,” she whispered, aching for her mate. “I need...”

  “Giovanni Vecchio!” Baojia screamed into the night. “Where are you?”

  No sooner had he called out than she heard quick footsteps on the stairs and felt his familiar energy rush toward her. She looked up and saw him, pale face and furious eyes, cradling Tenzin in front of him.

  “Take her,” Giovanni called to Baojia before he rushed over. Baojia gathered Tenzin in his arms, but she lifted a pale hand, reaching toward Stephen’s body by the riverbank.

  Beatrice began crying again as Giovanni knelt beside her.

  “My dad, Gio. He killed my dad.” She clutched at his shoulders as Giovanni cradled her in his arms and lifted her from the cold ground.

  “Please, Tesoro, you need to go in the water.”

  “My dad.”

  “I know,” he choked out. “Tenzin collapsed in the library. I came as quickly as I could. I had to carry her.”

  “He took the book and jumped in the river.”

  Beatrice heard the splash as Giovanni waded in. He dipped her down, submerging her in the river as the water swirled around her body, embracing her in its cool, healing depths. She looked up at Giovanni through the rippling surface of the water. For the first time, she saw his own tears fall as he watched her pain. They dropped into the water over her face, meeting her drifting tears before the river washed them away.

  “Take the water in, Beatrice. As much as you can. Let it heal you.” He shook his head and blood scattered over the water.

  “My dad,” she mouthed, as the water filled and covered her.

  “I know.”

  He lifted her head out and pressed their cheeks together, leaving her body in the water to heal. She felt tears on her cheeks, but she didn’t know who was crying.

  “Lorenzo killed him.”

  “I know.”

  “Where was everyone? I tried. I tried so hard, but there was so much blood and there were too many of them.”

  “Shh, don’t talk.” He held his wrist in front of her mouth and she bit into it, taking in his blood as her body floated in the stream. She could feel her bones knitting together. Her flesh stretched over her wounds. The prickling in her legs grew as her spine healed. Soon, her body was itching all over as her amnis joined the water to make her strong again. She continued sucking at Giovanni’s wrist, and he watched every wound, examining them as they healed.

  A few minutes later, she released his wrist and reached out, leaving the safety of the water as she threw herself into her mate’s embrace. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as they trudged to the edge of the riverbank. She dropped to the ground and looked for her father.

  Stephen’s body was laying on the edge of the river, and Tenzin was crouched beside him, stroking his lifeless cheek. She had laid Stephen’s head next to his body and Baojia stood over them both, watching the night sky.

  “Where are Zhang’s people? They should be here by now.”

  “They had to travel fifteen hundred kilometers by air in one night,” she heard Giovanni say as she sat by Tenzin and took her father’s hand. Tenzin’s eyes darted to her, and Beatrice saw her tense before her shoulders relaxed.

  They all sat silent over Stephen’s remains before a low keening began from Tenzin’s small form. She rocked back and forth, one hand on Stephen’s cheek and the other braced on his chest. Beatrice heard her murmur a low chant in the old language she shared with Zhang, and she felt her tears fall again.

  Giovanni knelt down behind her and tried to pull her away from her father, but she shrugged him off and reached over to embrace Tenzin. The small vampire curled her shoulders, but Beatrice kept her hands out until finally, the small woman turned to her and Beatrice could see the desolate look in Tenzin’s grey eyes.

  “Tenzin?” Beatrice whispered. Tenzin reached over, pulling her into a fierce embrace. The two women rocked together until they heard a sound like a flock of birds flapping in the wind. Tenzin quickly dried her eyes.

  Zhang’s men landed in a crouch, eyeing the bloody clearing and the bodies of Stephen and the three guards that lay around them. The leader approached cautiously as Tenzin rose to her feet, stoic again in the face of her father’s men.

  “Mistress Tenzin.” He nodded deeply to her. “Your mate… Elder Lu’s monks?”

  “The monks are dead. There is a small group of boys who escaped out the southern passageway. Follow the river down, and you should find them. Help them to find shelter in the nearest village until we hear from Lu. They should not go back to the monastery.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” The leader motioned toward two of his men, who took to the air.

  “Zhongli’s guards are in the forest. His ‘honored guest’ slaughtered his men before he went up to the monastery.” Beatrice watched as a flicker of confusion passed over the vampire’s face at Tenzin’s words. She could see Tenzin sag almost imperceptibly, and Giovanni’s hand reached out for her arm.

  “The monastery was ransacked,” he said.
“Most of the monks were killed. Master Fu-han among them.”

  “And Miss De Novo’s property?” the guard asked.

  “Stolen by Lorenzo,” Beatrice said as she looked down at her father’s body again. As if she cared about the book. Part of her knew it was important, but she was frozen in her grief.

  “Mistress Tenzin.” Zhang’s guard bowed again and spoke softly, “may we help you with Stephen’s body?”

  “No!” Tenzin bent down, then looked at the body and shook her head. “I mean… yes. Take him up to the monastery.” She turned and glanced at Beatrice before she took to the air.

  Zhang’s guard split up. Some of them followed Baojia to the edge of the forest where Zhongli’s men lay; others gently lifted her father’s remains before they followed Tenzin up the mountain.

  She felt Giovanni grasp her shoulders. “Beatrice, we need to find you some blood. Most of the monks were killed and you need fresh—”

  “I don’t—” She broke off, overwhelmed again. “I’m not hungry. I don’t want blood. I just want my dad. I want to be with Tenzin. Can we follow—”

  “Beatrice,” he broke in with a hoarse voice. “You need blood. You drank from me, but you had a terrible injury. I’ll find an animal in the forest if you want, but you need to feed.”

  For some reason, the idea of killing a helpless animal seemed to break her. She slumped into Giovanni’s chest as his arms wrapped around her, and she shook with tears.

  He held her close. “You survived, Beatrice. You survived. That is a victory. You and your father faced four opponents, and you survived. Even Baojia was gravely wounded by those men.”

  “But my father didn’t survive.”

  She heard him clear his throat and sniff. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “I would take this pain from you if I could.”

  “I need to go to my father.”

  “Beatri—” Giovanni broke off and turned toward the forest. There was a rustling sound as a monk walked through the trees. Giovanni grasped Beatrice’s shoulders, holding her still as the scent hit her nose. Though the smell wafted over her, and her fangs descended, she had no desire to pursue the human.

  “You should be with Zhang’s men,” Giovanni said.

  The boy answered in Mandarin, and the two had a quick, heated exchange she couldn’t understand. She stared at the guard she had killed and the blood she vomited over his corpse. She imagined that it was Lorenzo’s head the lay next to the body. The thought brought her some comfort and a hint of satisfaction.

  Beatrice felt Giovanni’s hands tighten on her shoulders.

  “Tesoro, this monk has offered to feed you. He will hold out his wrist—”

  “No!” Beatrice had no confidence that she could eat without harming the young man. He had come closer, and the churning in her stomach increased. Her fangs were sharp in her mouth.

  “You will drink from his wrist, and I will make sure you do not take too much, but it is the best thing for you.”

  “I’ll hurt him.”

  “No, you won’t. I’m here. I won’t let you hurt him.”

  “And I am, as well.” She heard Baojia approach. The two grasped her shoulders as she turned and faced the young man. He was no more than sixteen or seventeen, and his head was shaved like the monks she remembered from Mount Penglai. He wore saffron robes and a resolute expression. She hissed instinctively, but shrank back when she saw the look of fear enter the young man’s eyes. Still, he held up his wrist to her face, and Giovanni held her hair in his iron grasp as Beatrice leaned forward and latched on to the young man’s wrist.

  It was heaven. Thick, sweet blood flooded her mouth, slid down her throat, and filled her angry stomach. She could feel the boy’s pulse, and she sucked in rhythm to it, watching him with hungry eyes as she struggled against Baojia and Giovanni’s grasp. She eyed the pulsing vein in the neck, watching it like a predator as she drank. Soon, she could feel the aching in her throat lessen, but she did not release. She could see the boy pale in front of her, and a surge of satisfaction ran through her as the hint of fear permeated the air. If she could just get free of their hands…

  “Enough!” Giovanni’s fingers pinched her nose and pulled her away from the vein.

  “No!” she snarled, lunging at him before Baojia pulled her back. Giovanni quickly healed the boy’s wrist and spoke quietly to him in Mandarin before the young monk disappeared into the forest. Then he turned to Beatrice, and Baojia released her into his embrace.

  “We must go up to the monastery. Dawn is coming and Tenzin needs you.”

  She blinked as her reason returned. She walked toward the stairs, holding his hand as they climbed the old staircase together. Baojia trailed behind them.

  Beatrice turned and gave one last look at the clearing where her father had died. Though his body lingered, she knew Stephen’s soul had fled. She clung to the vision of his peaceful face the moment before he was killed. Whatever her father’s last vision had been, it had brought him joy, and she sent a silent prayer that his soul had found the home he had sought for so long in life.

  She turned back to Giovanni. Her husband met her gaze, then bent down and picked her up, cradling her in his warm arms as they made their way to shelter.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Wuyi Moutains

  Fujian Province

  China

  November 2010

  They were ensconced in the library when dawn came. Giovanni carried Beatrice past the reek of blood by the door, guiding her to an alcove where low cushions lay scattered.

  “Where are Tenzin and my father?”

  “Here,” he said as he laid her among the cushions. “At the back of the library. Tenzin is with him.”

  The monastery library was a long hall, dug deep into the mountain and carefully lined with shelves for the books and scrolls. Small alcoves branched off from the main hallway, most lined with low cushions and some with tables, the ideal location for quiet study and contemplation.

  “I want to go to her.” Beatrice couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t just that she wanted to see Tenzin; it was as if she needed to. She felt a pull of longing past understanding, even as she fought against exhaustion.

  “You need to rest.”

  “Please, Gio.”

  He knelt down next to her, studying her face before he nodded silently. He stood and walked down the hall. A low murmur reached her ears before a rush of air and then Tenzin was beside her. She placed her arm around Beatrice and lay next to her; the comfort was instantaneous. Giovanni silently paced the hall while Beatrice blinked back tears.

  Tenzin spoke in a low voice. “It is his blood, do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will guard him today. You will help me prepare the body tomorrow night when you rise, as a daughter should.”

  “Yes.”

  “My father’s guards are here. They are numerous, and I have sent for more.”

  Beatrice could only nod.

  “Rest, my girl. Let your mate care for you.”

  “You’ll be nearby?”

  “Yes.”

  After a few more minutes, Beatrice could feel her eyes start to droop as the sun rose in the sky. Tenzin slipped away, and she felt Giovanni come to her, lying down and gathering her in his arms as the dawn took them both.

  He was there when she woke, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Beatrice blinked for a moment in confusion.

  “Where are we?”

  He paused. “The library at the monastery.”

  In a harsh second, it all flooded back. Lorenzo and the four vicious guards. The current that radiated up her arms when she cut the head off one vampire. The sickening realization that Lorenzo had felt the same when he cut off her father’s head.

  Her father.

  She began to shake, burying her face into Giovanni’s chest; he stroked her hair until she was spent. Though her body was refreshed from sleep, her mind was still weary with grief.

  “Wa
it here,” Giovanni said. “Zhang’s men brought blood.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  His grip tightened on her shoulders.

  “You must not stop eating.”

  Just then, Tenzin appeared in the hallway bearing two mugs of blood. Beatrice’s fangs descended as she caught the sweet smell.

  “Eat.” She handed both to Beatrice.

  Beatrice nodded and drank as Tenzin turned to Giovanni.

  “Go get Baojia. I want to speak to him about yesterday.”

  Giovanni rose and walked down the hallway. Beatrice finished the first mug and started on the second as Tenzin sat across from her.

  “You must not refuse to eat. He is worried because it is a common reaction of our kind to grief, but a dangerous one, especially for a new vampire.”

  “Okay.”

  They both fell silent as Beatrice drank. Though the burn in her throat lessened, she felt no satisfaction from her meal. After a few minutes, Giovanni returned with Baojia. She saw her mate inspect the cups she drank from. “I finished them both,” she murmured. He sat next to her and took her hand as Baojia sat across from them. The deep cut across his neck had healed and the only evidence was an angry red line and his grim expression.

  All four were silent until Tenzin spoke.

  “Explain.”

  He nodded. “I was on my way back to the river when I caught the scent of vampires and human blood from another corridor. Thinking there were more humans being drained, I followed the passageway. It was similar to the one you had sent the boys down, but on the opposite side of the mountain.

  “The northern route.” Tenzin said. “Continue.”

  “The further I followed, the more scent I picked up. I smelled Lorenzo and the river, so I knew where he was going. I didn’t want to turn back and waste time.” His eyes narrowed. “I met six vampires at the exit.”

  “That must be the route Lorenzo took back to river,” Giovanni said. “That’s why we did not detect him.” Tenzin only nodded as Baojia continued.