“Terrified, I know.” He clenched his jaw. “But he won’t hurt her. Not yet. And I am no longer interested in resolving this peaceably. He ambushed me in my own home, and he took her from me. I was foolish to underestimate him.”
There was a long pause on the line before Carwyn continued in a soft voice.
“Did you trade those damn books for her like Gav said?”
He cursed in a dozen languages before he answered. “He was experimenting like the sick little bastard that he is. He was going to take her, but I’d tipped my hand before. He was trying to determine if it was Beatrice or the books I was reacting to. It’s better…” He cleared his throat before he continued. “It’s better for her if he thinks I’m not attached to her.”
He gripped the doorjamb, cracking the oak paneling and sending plaster dust crumbling to the floor.
“You’re right,” Carwyn said in a soothing voice, “he won’t hurt her. He needs her to retrieve her father. We just need to get her back before Stephen De Novo hears about this and returns to Lorenzo. If that happens, all bets are off.”
He couldn’t find the words to speak to his old friend, so he took a deep, measured breath. The scent of her fear still permeated the living room, and he clenched his eyes in frustration.
“Giovanni,” Carwyn was saying, “you realize, she might not understand. You know—”
“I know,” he muttered. “I knew the minute I let him take her she might never forgive me for it. But it’s better than her being injured or tortured to get back at me.”
He turned and, leaning against the wall, slowly sank to his haunches. He paused, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, savoring her scent, even if it was tinged by the adrenaline he hated. He felt his heart give a sporadic thump as he stared at the sofa where Lorenzo had threatened her, and Giovanni had to fight back another wave of anger. He gripped the phone to his ear, anchoring himself to the sound of his friend’s voice.
“Do you love her, Gio?”
He closed his eyes, but could only see her broken, empty stare as Lorenzo’s guard carried her away.
“What do you think?” he asked in a hollow voice.
There was another long pause before Carwyn responded.
“We’ll get her back.”
“Yes, I will.”
“And your son?”
Giovanni grit his teeth, letting his fangs pierce his lip as they descended, reveling in the taste of blood that filled his mouth and the sharp bite of pain.
“My son will burn.”
“I’ll wait for your call.”
He hung up the phone and walked upstairs without a glance. In a little over a ten minutes, he had dressed, shaved off his singed hair, and walked back downstairs. He stopped on the second floor to sit in Beatrice’s bedroom, soaking in her scent and the familiar traces of her that littered his home.
There was a stack of books on her bedside table. She left them everywhere, scattered around the house in little caches, always ready to be picked up and continued when a few moments could be stolen. Her boots stood by the closet. She hadn’t worn them to work that afternoon, and he found himself wishing she had, as if the sturdy shoes could have protected her from the monsters who took her away.
A small picture of Beatrice and Isadora sat in a frame on her bedside table. He grabbed it, extracting the picture and putting it in his pocket before he walked down to the first floor.
Gavin waited in the living room, eying him as he walked down the stairs.
“I made some calls.”
“And?”
“You know I’m only doing this because Carwyn is the closest thing I have to a friend, don’t you? And because Lorenzo is such an ass. I’m not picking sides in any damn war. I refuse.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “She’ll be fine. It makes no sense for him to hurt her. Not now, and you know how little interest he has in human women.”
“That is so very reassuring,” Giovanni snarled. “What do you know?”
Gavin measured him as he stood on the staircase. Finally, he gave a small shrug. “She did seem amusing. And clever. Carwyn said you were less of an asshole when she was with you.”
“Wallace, I would kill you without a moment’s hesitation if it would make you give me this information faster. What did you find out?”
“You didn’t hear it from me and all the usual speech, but that crazy plane he has took off from a private airfield north of Katy a half an hour ago, headed to La Guardia airport in New York. They must have driven straight there. That’s all my contact knew. They didn’t file anything else.”
“Could he be staying in New York?”
The Scotsman snorted. “Not likely. You know how the O’Brians feel about the little prick.”
Giovanni frowned, remembering the surly clan of earth vampires that had taken over the New York area around the turn of the last century. They were notoriously hostile and suspicious, and Lorenzo had made them his enemies by throwing his money behind the old guard they had wiped out when they rose to power a hundred years before.
“No, it’s most likely a stop-over on the way to Europe. Most of his allies are there,” Giovanni continued to mutter, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the peaceful life he’d cultivated for the last three hundred years was crumbling around him, returning him to the tumultuous early centuries of his life.
Just as he was about to kick Gavin out so he could go up to the library, he heard a crack at the French doors. He frowned, but stayed where he was, flicking off the lights in the living room and peering into the night. He thought he saw a magnolia branch sway, but no breeze stirred the other trees.
He heard another crack, but this time, he saw a pebble fall. He snuck out the kitchen door and around the side yard, reaching out with his senses to determine who or what was on the grounds. He scented the air, relaxing immediately when he recognized the familiar aroma of cardamom that always lingered around her. He walked to the back garden and scanned the trees.
He heard a chirp from the low hanging magnolia tree and glanced up to see the small vampire perched on a branch, her legs dangling and her feet bare. She appeared to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, and her glossy black hair fell in two sheets that framed her face. Her eyes were a clouded grey and beautifully tilted by an ancient hand, but when the girl smiled, vicious fangs curled behind her lips like the talons of some primeval bird of prey.
A strange calm settled over him.
“Hello, Tenzin.”
“Hello, my boy,” she said in Mandarin. “I thought you might need me.”
“I’ve lost her.”
The girl shook her head. “She was taken from you. But you’ll get her back.”
His eyes furrowed in grief, and she floated down from the tree to perch on his back, laying her head on his shoulder so she could watch his face.
“I’ve seen it. She is your balance in this life. In every life.”
He whispered in English, “You know I don’t believe in that.”
“You put too much faith in your science, my boy. Science changes. Truth doesn’t.”
He paused before asking, “Do you know where she is?”
“Water. Lots of water. He’ll go where he’s strong.”
He raised an eyebrow as he walked toward the house with her still clinging to his shoulders. “Is that a vision, or five thousand years of experience killing your enemies?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you decide to believe today.”
Despite everything, he felt a small smile cross his face. “I’m glad you’re here, bird girl.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound that had always reminded him of a wind-chime. “I’m fate’s messenger this time. That is all. I saw her long, long ago.”
He halted near the doors, dropping her and spinning around.
“What do you mean?”
An impish grin crossed her face. “You are right to be patient. Where is the food? I�
�m hungry. It’s very warm here.”
Giovanni sighed, knowing he would get no further information from her. “We have to take care of Beatrice’s guards first. Lorenzo killed them. Then we’ll go hunting.”
She cocked her head and switched to English. “You’re sad about the humans?”
“Yes.”
“Did they die protecting your woman?”
“Yes.”
Tenzin shrugged. “They were warriors. That’s a good death.”
“It would have been better if they hadn’t died at all.”
They walked through the French doors and into the living room. Gavin was on the phone again, and his eyes widened at the sight of the small woman who skipped in front of him. He and Tenzin walked through the dark kitchen and into the courtyard with the burbling fountain.
Tenzin stopped, examining Giovanni’s face as he observed the bodies of the two humans he had hired to guard Beatrice.
“This was their fate,” she said gently.
“Tenz—”
He stopped when she held up a hand, her grey eyes pinched in sadness.
“Let’s not argue while the crows can get them, my boy.”
He sighed and bent to examine the two bodies, noting with dismay the deep gashes and bites that could never be explained to human authorities.
“We’ll take them to the country where Carwyn hunts. I’ll call his friend so he’s expecting us.”
Tenzin nodded. “This is good. Then we can hunt, too. We’ll need it.”
“He’s probably going to Europe.”
She paused for a moment and her stormy eyes seemed to swirl as he watched her. “Your son is in Greece, I think.”
He frowned. “Why? Why Greece?”
Tenzin thought for a moment, but simply shrugged as she hoisted one large body to move it to the garage. “It sounds right.”
He sighed, frustrated with her typically vague pronouncement. “But—”
“Think for yourself instead of doubting me,” the small vampire said as she carried the guard into the garage. “Think about the water. You may wield fire, but you came from water, and so did your son. Does that water mean something to him?”
He thought of his sire and the ruins of the school where he’d held them. He remembered the stories they’d both listened to, the tales of gods and monsters. Tenzin walked back into the courtyard, and cocked her head.
He nodded. “Yes, it sounds right.”
Just then, Gavin walked through the kitchen door. He nodded toward Giovanni and looked at Tenzin, who was hoisting the second body and carrying it to lie with the first.
“Is that—”
“Yes,” Giovanni said. “It is.”
“Amazing. I’ve heard stories.”
Tenzin flitted back into the courtyard and over to Gavin, sniffing him a little. “Are you a wind walker, like me?”
“Well,” Gavin smirked, “not like you.”
“You get your flying yet?”
The Scotsman looked a little embarrassed. “Uh…no, not yet.”
She shrugged and washed her hands in the fountain. “You will soon. And then, I think your life will change.”
Gavin chuckled. “Well, I hope it doesn’t change too…” He trailed off when he saw the serious look in Tenzin’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “Right then, I’ll be looking for that.”
She nodded and started back into the house.
“Tenzin?” Gavin called. “Can I—”
She turned back to him with a quick grin. “You want to see my teeth?”
He smiled a little, before he gave a quick nod.
She floated up to stare him in the face and bared her curved fangs, which resembled nothing less than small scimitars. She grinned then darted inside the house. Giovanni shook his head at her theatrics and the normally unflappable Scotsman’s shocked face.
“Now that is something.”
“Yes, she is.”
“And they’re always out?”
“Her fangs?” he snorted. “Tenzin told me once that they used to retract, but she spent so much time killing her enemies her fangs forgot how to hide.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? It’s Tenzin. She likes telling stories.”
Gavin stared off into the distance, while Giovanni stared at him.
“Well?”
“What?”
“Lorenzo?” he growled.
“Ah yes, back to the nasty business. Shipping. Water vamp. Gun running and seclusion. He’s in Greece. Apparently, he has his own island. Sadly, it’s probably going to take a while to narrow it down. There’s quite a few of them.”
He remembered her terror when they dragged her out of his house, and he felt the flames lick along his collar again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. Tenzin had said he was right to be patient with Beatrice.
He could be patient.
Because when Giovanni found him, Lorenzo would burn.
Chapter Twenty-one
South Aegean Sea
June 2004
“Do you require another drink, Miss De Novo?”
She glanced at the small servant who stood next to her chair before staring back at the ocean that surrounded her.
“No, thanks.”
“You must ring the kitchen if there is anything you need. Or let your guard know.” Beatrice glanced at the sturdy Greek who stood near the entrance to her room. As far as she could tell, he didn’t speak a word of English. She wasn’t sure he spoke at all.
But he watched.
He watched every move she made during the day, unless she ducked into the small bathroom in the chamber where she had been kept for the past week.
“Sure. Thanks. I’ll let him know.” She looked back at the ocean, letting her thoughts drift in and out with the crashing surf.
The servant crept away, following the small trail that connected all the exterior rooms of Lorenzo’s strange house. She watched him duck into what she thought was the kitchen area of the vampire’s house, which had become her prison.
It was sprawling, built into the half-moon bay of what she had been told was Lorenzo’s own island. Cliffs speared up from the surface of the water and the house was nestled in the crook above the rocky beach.
She knew there were other rooms, built back into the cliffs where the sun could not reach. All the exterior rooms faced the water and opened to the ocean with large doors not unlike a garage. She wasn’t locked in, per se. But unless she wanted to jump fifty feet into the vast expanse of the Aegean, there wasn’t anywhere she could go.
When she had woken after being dragged from Giovanni’s house, she immediately heard the sound of large engines droning. She thought she was in the belly of a cargo plane of some sort, though it was outfitted luxuriously with plush seats, tables and beds.
She saw Lorenzo, lounging in a pair of white slacks and shirt that only emphasized his inhuman paleness.
“Where are we?”
He looked up with an indulgent smile.
“You’re awake! On my plane, of course. Headed to what will be your home for some time. Do you want any refreshment?” She glanced at his own crystal glass, filled with a thick red liquid she assumed was human blood. Lorenzo noticed her looking.
“I’m not a heathen like Giovanni. I drink human, of course, but I don’t like drinking from the tap.” He shuddered. “So disgustingly intimate, in my opinion. I only like getting that close to someone when I’m fucking them or killing them.”
He winked at her when she blanched. “No need to worry about that, my dear. I want you fresh and unharmed when your father comes begging for you.”
“Where are we going?”
Lorenzo sighed with a smile. “Somewhere far more temperate than Houston. I don’t know how you stand the weather in that horrid city.” He shivered. “Absolutely horrendous. We’re going to a little private island in the Aegean, my dear girl. A special place. Only a very few people know about it, so you should
feel privileged.”
“Be still my heart,” she said dryly.
Lorenzo laughed, his sharp fangs falling down in his delight. “Oh, there you are, Miss De Novo, I knew I would like you once I got you away from my father. He’s so stifling, isn’t he? Terribly boring vampire. And I was sure you had that quick wit that so delighted me with Stephen.
“Even when I was torturing him,” a wistful expression crossed Lorenzo’s angelic face, “he would come up with the most inventive barbs. What a treat he was.”
A sick feeling churned in Beatrice’s stomach, and she thought she might throw up again, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and change the subject.
“How are you flying? I mean, doesn’t your wonky energy mess up the plane and stuff?”
He chuckled. “What an excellent question. Yes, it would if the cargo compartment had not been especially designed for me. All sorts of wonderful, insulating materials they’ve come up with in the last few decades.”
“Yeah? Well, God bless chemistry, I guess.”
He chuckled, but continued paging through the magazine he’d been perusing. It appeared to be something about boats, but she couldn’t read the language on the front cover; she thought it might be Greek.
“Just consider this trip a vacation, my dear. After all,” an evil grin spread across his face, “you’ll have an ocean view room.”
Ocean view room, my ass. She stared at the endless sea that imprisoned her. The small interior door to her room was always locked. Any traffic in or out came by way of the large ocean-facing doors she was currently sitting in front of. They could be pulled up completely, so her room was always open. In the morning, her silent, watchful guard came and unlocked her, throwing open the room to the ocean breeze.
If she hadn’t been a prisoner, it would have been beautiful.
She had no privacy except the small washroom that contained a toilet, a sink with no mirror, and a shower with no curtain. She could not lock the door, and lived in fear of someone walking into the bathroom if she lingered too long. The room had come stocked with clothing; when she arrived, two silent women undressed her and threw her clothes into a garbage bag, leaving her naked and crying on the floor of her room. She crawled to the bed, intending to cover herself with a sheet until one of them came back and wordlessly opened the small chest of drawers was filled with pure white clothes.
A Hidden Fire Page 26
