“Fuck off, Dick,” Gavin snapped.
“Uh… thanks?” Chloe’s eyes were the size of saucers. “That’s very flattering, but no. No, thank you.”
“Your loss.” Richard tossed his head and turned to the room. “We will fly, my friends. Fly higher and brighter than any acting company before us!”
Ben, Chloe, and Tenzin all broke into applause. Richard took a bow.
“And bloodier,” Beatrice whispered.
Giovanni frowned. “What?”
“Bloodier than any other acting company before them. I’m just saying. Don’t think I want to hang with their groupies, you know?”
“Excellent point.”
“I’m full of ’em.”
“You’re full of it?” Giovanni pulled her to his side. “I’m hardly surprised.”
“Ha ha ha.”
Richard and Gavin put their heads together. Gavin must have thought he could make a good deal of money off the venture, otherwise he’d have twisted Richard’s neck off for propositioning Chloe.
Ben was trading wry barbs with Tenzin in the opposite booth, and Chloe had picked up the rotary phone on the corner of the bar.
Giovanni watched the hum of activity and wondered if this was the last time he’d ever be called to deal with the problem that was Richard.
He probably wasn’t that lucky.
Chapter 5
Richard Montegu finally took his bows after the most brilliant performance of Hamlet Chloe had ever seen. She wasn’t the biggest Shakespeare fan, but the first official production of the Saint Germain Players had to be in the top five theatrical experiences she’d ever witnessed.
And that was counting Hamilton.
The modern staging, setting the action within a film studio in the nineteen forties, was a stroke of brilliance that let the natural flamboyance of the cast shine. It was odd to see vampires on stage playing humans without the facade of being humans.
Of course, some of them were humans.
And there was a vampire movie being performed as the play within the play.
If Chloe thought about it too hard, she ended up with a headache.
The audience stood and clapped, maybe not as outwardly enthusiastic as a human crowd, but just as in awe of the lead actor. Richard was, quite simply, born to be on the stage.
Richard had been spending more time at the Dancing Bear with Gavin since Gavin had become his partner in the venture. The elegant vampire was preening and flattering, alternately insecure and egotistical. He was attention hungry and incredibly vain.
So… he was exactly like most lead actors Chloe had ever met.
“What did you think?” Gavin leaned down to ask among the applause.
“That was a hell of a show,” she said. “How many more nights here?”
Gavin had rented out a small private theater for the performance. The show was lavish and intimate. Tickets were considered a prize and sold on an invitation-only basis.
And they were very, very expensive.
“They’ll be in New York two more weeks. Then the show is going to Los Angeles. Already sold out there. Then a short engagement in Chicago before it goes overseas.”
“London?”
“And Paris.” Gavin smiled. “And Rome. Vienna. Berlin. Istanbul.”
“You’re going to make quite a lot of money off this, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” He looked at her. “Does my money bother you?”
Chloe thought about it. “No, because you work. I think if you had it and didn’t work, it would bother me, but I see how hard you work and you earn every penny.” She nodded at the stage. “Especially when you work with Richard.”
“Fucking Richard,” Gavin said. “At least this way, if he’s giving me headaches, I can threaten to cut his wardrobe budget. That shuts him up very quickly. The man likes velvet a little too much.”
“Cruel. And inventive.”
“And don’t forget.” Gavin put his arm around Chloe as the lights went up and the theater began to empty. “If he gets too bad, I can always call Giovanni.”
* * *
Fin
Desires of the Heart
What defines love? Who defines family?
With their nephew growing older every year, Giovanni and Beatrice return to Rome for the holidays, this time with a new vision for their future and the future of their family.
Some lives are destined for joy. Some for pain. Can Beatrice conquer her own insecurities to create a new future for a child born in war?
Chapter 1
Rome
Christmas
Ben spun in a circle, trying to spot the next clue. “We do this every year.”
“And every year it’s fun.” Tenzin swooped over his head, teasing him as she gripped the end of the string. “Just find it already. I already did. You’re so slow.”
“No, I’m human and I can’t see in the dark.”
Beatrice watched them with a smile on her face. Ben was a good sport, but he was in his midtwenties and hardly got excited about playing the string game anymore.
Tenzin on the other hand…
“Ha!” He bent down and used a knife to pry up the cobblestone beneath his feet. “Found it.” He unrolled the small paper beneath the stone and frowned. “Shit. Tenzin, I’m going to need your help on this one.”
“It’s Mandarin,” Beatrice called. “You should know those characters.”
Ben gave her a dirty look. “If someone hadn’t completely changed the rules—”
“The old rules were too easy.” Giovanni handed Beatrice a glass of red wine and sat next to her by the fountain. “Latin riddles in the house had been played out. The courtyard is an entirely new game.”
“With more flying,” Tenzin said. “Which makes everything better.”
While the rules of the game had become progressively harder as Ben aged, the basic idea had remained the same. Clues placed in odd locations, linked with a single string, creating a web that only crossed at one point.
For Tenzin, a delightful flying challenge.
For Ben, a game his aunt forced him to play every Christmas.
For Beatrice, a reminder of a family and a childhood that were quickly fading into the past.
Her heart hurt. “It’s too much.”
“What?” Giovanni frowned. “You didn’t want—”
“It’s not— It just doesn’t feel right without her. And him. What am I doing?” She dashed tears from her eyes. “I make him play this every year, and I know he doesn’t like it. He just plays it for me. And he didn’t even know my dad.”
“It’s not only your father’s memory, it’s your own. And it’s a tradition.” He put his arm around her. “Traditions are important.”
Beatrice couldn’t talk around the lump in her throat.
“She’s recovering extraordinarily well,” he continued quietly. “Her doctor said it. She has so much to live for. Caspar is with her at every moment, and you know how tough he is.”
“I also know the statistics.”
Giovanni said nothing because he knew she was right.
“Women over eighty have three times the risk of death in the first year after a hip break,” she said. “Even if they’re healthy.”
“Isadora is not a statistic,” Giovanni said. “She’s your grandmother.”
“And she’s old.” Beatrice’s smile was brittle. “I knew that—I know that—but somehow…”
“You thought she was going to live forever because you are.” He squeezed her hand. “I know.”
“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” She looked up with shining eyes. “About this? Is the timing wrong?”
“If Isadora hadn’t broken her hip, you wouldn’t even be questioning it.” His voice hardened, grew hoarse. “We’ve been talking about this for over two years now. Talking with Arturo for months.”
“I know.”
“So why are you second-guessing yourself?”
“Because…”
Why was she second-guessing herself?
If anything, it might give her grandmother more reason to fight back to health, not that Isadora claimed the hip fracture was slowing her down.
She was still in Los Angeles, surrounded by her adoring husband, countless friends, immortal family, and adoring staff. Beatrice checked in with Matt and Dez daily. Their daughter Carina was six and the light of Isadora’s life.
Beatrice whispered, “You know why.”
Giovanni slid an arm around her. “You’re on the precipice of losing someone you love to natural death,” he whispered. “It’s normal to doubt allowing yourself to love someone new, someone who may one day choose not to spend eternity with us.”
Beatrice watched Ben. “I’m thirty-seven and he’s the closest thing I have to a son. And the thought of losing him…”
It terrified her. Froze her completely.
“I don’t know what to tell you.” Giovanni kissed her temple, the beard he’d been growing out rough against her skin. “Except that I’ve experienced this before. The love and the loss. I can’t tell you it’s not painful, because it is. I’ve lost friends. Lovers. I’ll lose Caspar one day.”
“And yet you still adopted Ben.”
“Because I know something you still have to learn. The love is worth the loss.”
She nodded. She wouldn’t trade one moment with Ben, not ever. Even though every year that passed only brought his mortal end closer.
Change your mind.
Ben laughed and held up the last rock. “Found it!”
Change your mind. Don’t make us say goodbye.
Tenzin flew over and tied the string around the base of the fountain, following it back to where the strings met in the branches of an evergreen tree that was decorated for the holidays. “So did I!”
She held up a bright red silk pouch filled with a prize that Beatrice knew both Ben and Tenzin would love.
Spanish gold coins from the eighteenth century.
“Oh!” Tenzin clutched the purse to her breast. “Do I have to share?”
“Yes,” Beatrice and Giovanni said together.
Beatrice’s life was crazy. And beautiful. And full.
And it had room.
“So,” Giovanni said. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.”
Chapter 2
The office of Arturo Leon was in Vatican City. Oddly enough, though vampires weren’t officially recognized by the Catholic Church, there were more working in the Vatican than in most secular governments. Vampires around the world identified with the continuity and tradition of the Catholic Church, and there was more than one immortal member of clergy.
It was Arturo’s job to keep track of them.
Beatrice and Giovanni sat side by side in front of a large oak desk Giovanni guessed had been carved in the baroque period. It was a jarring addition to an otherwise spare office. Sleek filing cabinets and floor-to-ceiling bookcases took up most of the space in the room. Giovanni suspected the filing cabinets were as ruthlessly organized as Arturo’s bookshelves.
Beatrice was scanning the bookshelves while they waited for the priest. “Alphabetized within subject matter.”
“You mean they’re not just for decoration?”
She gave him an eyebrow, and Giovanni smiled and took her hand.
“You’re not nervous anymore,” he said.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I have faith.” She smiled. “Faith that whatever is meant to happen will happen. He may have changed his mind. We weren’t exactly the most doting parents to Ben.”
Giovanni took a deep breath and let it out. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
“That may be setting the bar a little too low.”
“He’s never been arrested.”
“Yes, he has. We just got him out. With bribery.”
Giovanni frowned. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“So, we may not have passed whatever mysterious standards the man has invented. Who knows?”
“Don’t worry.” Giovanni squeezed her hand. “I have faith too.”
The man in question entered the room with a gust of wind from the hallway that smelled of candle smoke, incense, and printer ink. “Mr. Vecchio and Ms. De Novo. I do apologize for keeping you waiting.”
“We haven’t been waiting long,” Beatrice said. “It’s fine.”
“Nevertheless.” The trim Spaniard sat in his seat and arranged two files before him. “I dislike being late for appointments.” He opened one file. “I have your file here.”
“I’m sure you do,” Giovanni said quietly.
Arturo shot him a hard look, but Giovanni only smiled mildly.
“You are both confirmed Catholics,” the priest said.
“We are,” Beatrice said. “And we were married in the church.”
“After your civil marriage in Santiago.”
“Correct.”
“Why did you delay your church marriage?” he asked.
“None of your business,” Giovanni said.
Both Arturo and Beatrice stared at him.
Giovanni reclined in the seat. “Why all the questions, Arturo? We both know that I’ve raised human children successfully to adulthood. I keep my people safe. I put their needs before my own when it is necessary. Those under my aegis do not come to harm. Beatrice has lived an exemplary human and immortal life, establishing allies around the globe and conducting herself with extraordinary restraint, even for a young vampire.”
“Yes, she is young.”
Giovanni raised an eyebrow. “Is that what this is about?”
Beatrice spoke up. “What are your concerns?”
Arturo folded his hands on the desk. “It is normal for vampires of your age, men and women, to desire children. The human need for progeny does not die when you become immortal. But are you prepared to take a child who is not your own? Who has no relation to you? Your own mother—”
“My own mother was an asshole, which is why I’m glad I was raised by my grandmother, who was a saint. And a very devout Catholic too, not that it matters.” Beatrice’s voice was angry but controlled. “And any child Giovanni and I adopted would have a relation to me. She or he would be my son or daughter. Family isn’t defined only by blood. Not for me.”
Arturo looked at her for a long time. He gave a quick nod. “Very well. Your recommendations are very extensive, which I’m sure you know. And some were… unexpected.”
“Dear Lord, did Tenzin send you a letter?” Giovanni rubbed his temple. “I told her—”
“Not only she”—Arturo lifted a sheaf of papers stapled together—“but the entire court of Penglai Island also submitted letters on your behalf.”
Giovanni didn’t know whether to be touched or annoyed. He hadn’t asked Tenzin for any help because he was somewhat afraid she’d decide to take vengeance on his behalf should something go wrong in the process.
Apparently she’d ignored him.
“I have to say, this child will have very extensive connections in the immortal world before she even knows what a vampire is,” Arturo muttered, paging through the documents. “I have letters from Penglai, Los Angeles, Ireland of course, here in Rome—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Beatrice muttered. “Did she tell everyone?”
“Apparently.”
“I’m going to kill her.”
“You shouldn’t,” Arturo said. “This speaks well for you. Though we typically don’t approve of vampires publicizing adoptions—makes the children a target, of course—in your case, your alliances are secure enough that it helps rather than harms your case for others to know this child will belong to you.”
Giovanni’s heart leapt. “Does that mean she’s ours?”
“No.” Arturo closed their file and opened another. “She belongs to God and herself. But I have spoken to the committee in charge of refugee resettlement, as well as the sisters who have been caring for the little girl
since her guardian was lost, and they agree with me that with the proper human help—which it is clear you have from your letters of evidence—you will make excellent adoptive parents. Even with your… peculiar condition.”
“She’s ours.” Beatrice breathed out, gripping Giovanni’s hand.
“You will be monitored,” the priest said. “There will be home visits overseen by the bishop in Los Angeles.” Arturo shot Giovanni a look. “You will be expected to cooperate fully.”
He tried not to roll his eyes. “Of course.”
“And keep in mind, this child has dealt with trauma, some of which may not be evident for some time. Though she’s only eighteen months, she has lost three caregivers.”
“Three?”
“Her parents were mathematics professors and members of the Syrian church. They fled Aleppo when the mother was pregnant. The father was killed in transit to Turkey, and the child was born in a refugee camp. The mother drowned on the boat crossing, and the child was saved by another mother on the boat. She cared for the little girl until they reached Italy, but the woman already had three children. Taking care of a fourth was impossible. The child was surrendered to the sisters six months ago. She’d become quite attached to the woman who was caring for her. She hasn’t coped well.”
“And she’s been in the orphanage since?”
“All efforts to find living family have failed. With the current political situation, records are nearly impossible to find. Once things stabilize, more research might prove fruitful, but for the moment, no living relatives have been located, and we don’t want to keep her in an institutional setting longer than necessary. She is an orphan.”
Giovanni would find the rest of her family. If it was possible to find them and give the little girl a link to her lost parents, he would find it.
“Other adoptive parents were considered,” Arturo admitted. “Human parents. But the child doesn’t sleep well. She acts out. She is… strong willed.”
“Good,” Giovanni muttered. “And of course she acts out. Her life has been one long series of losses. She needs routine. Safety. Consistency.”
The Stars Afire Page 12
