* * *
English needs better words.
Then find another language to tell me how you feel. You find the right words to tell me, and I will learn the language.
Ben closed his eyes. “I know what you mean.”
“As for what happened with Saba? How many times have you hidden something from Chloe because the truth would only hurt her? How many times have you left out a part of a story so you didn’t provoke a fight among your friends? We all do that, Ben. It’s a way of protecting the people we love. She didn’t hide it from you to hurt you.”
“But she obviously thought that I’d go off, half-cocked, and try to hunt Saba down or something.”
“Would you have?”
“Maybe,” he muttered. “I was pretty stupid a couple of years ago, and I wasn’t very careful with personal safety.”
“Yeah. So she was probably right.”
Fuck.
Ben sighed. “Yeah. She probably was.”
“Remember when I told you last year that a five-thousand-year-old vampire wasn’t going to change?” Beatrice bumped his shoulder with hers. “I was wrong. She has changed. Not who she is, but how much she’s allowing herself to feel. There was a wall around her for as long as I’ve known her. As long as Giovanni has too.”
“She still has a lot of walls, B. Trust me on this.”
“Maybe, but she’s given you the key.” She stood and touched his chin, tilting his face up until he met her eyes. “She trusts you, Ben. And that changes everything.”
The fire came creeping into his sleep, slipping under the door of his old bedroom and teasing his nose with the smell of smoke and incense. He rolled over in his bed, his arm falling to the ground, and felt the heat teasing his fingertips.
His eyes flickered open, and he lifted his arm to see his right hand engulfed in flames, but his skin wasn’t blistered or black.
A man in black robes with fearsome tattoos marking his cheeks stood at the foot of his bed, smiling silently.
“You think to take what is mine?” The man reached toward the door and with a flick of his finger, it swung open, revealing a blazing inferno across the threshold where his childhood home had been engulfed in flames. “I will burn everything you hold dear.”
Screams rose as smoke choked the breath from Ben’s lungs and tears streamed down his face. But even as the fire choked him, he was not consumed.
Tenzin didn’t come back to the San Marino house the next night, but he found a note at her warehouse that simply read: Going home.
Since he’d be seeing Beatrice, Giovanni, and Sadia in a couple of weeks, he flew himself back to New York, following the path that Tenzin had taught him, which took a little over three nights. He flew over the desert, stopping at a refuge near Santa Fe. Then he headed northeast, stopping at a hideaway near a waterfall in the Ozarks. From there, he made the Chesapeake Bay just before sunrise, and from that it was only a short flight north to get home.
Ben was crossing high over the Brooklyn Bridge when he sensed her. The air over Manhattan was misty and humid, and the wind felt thick with a coming storm, but he sensed her anyway. When he landed on the rooftop, he saw her through misted glass panes, sitting in the greenhouse in their roof garden.
Ben was silent when he entered, watching Tenzin gently hold Layah, her female lovebird, on her outstretched pinky. Layah was fluffing her yellow and orange feathers as Harun, her mate, watched from a nearby palm frond.
“Are you still mad at me?” Tenzin asked, keeping her voice steady. “Please don’t upset the birds. They’ve just become accustomed to me again.”
Ben sat at the small bistro table. “I’m not mad.”
“Then I’m sorry.” She frowned a little bit. “I feel like I spend much of my life apologizing now. As if I am always doing the wrong thing.”
It was such a Tenzin response; he had to take a moment before he responded. “If I was still angry with you, would you have apologized?”
“No. Because I don’t think I was wrong. I am sorry you were hurt, not that I didn’t tell you.”
Yes, that sounded about right. “Why didn’t you tell me about Saba sooner?”
She gently set Layah next to Harun, who began to furiously groom her, displeased with being separated from his partner for even a few moments.
“What good would it have done?” Tenzin pulled up her knees in the ridiculously flexible squatting position she favored when she was relaxing. “I told you I found Johari, and I didn’t kill her. You asked me not to kill anyone, and I didn’t.”
“What did you do to her?”
She didn’t speak at first.
“Tenzin?”
“I cut off her hand and threw it into the ocean. Then I flew to Nairobi, found the vampire she loved, and told him that Johari had killed an innocent student and mortally wounded someone who considered her a friend.” Tenzin shrugged. “It was all true. Her hand will grow back, but he will never see her in the same light as he once did, and she deserves that.”
Ben almost found himself feeling sorry for Johari. “She was foolish to make an enemy of you.”
“I don’t consider her an enemy.” Tenzin held her pinky finger out to Harun, but he ignored her. “She is nothing to me. A pawn, just like so many others who belong to Saba. Johari was following orders,” Tenzin said. “As she must. Saba’s children are not rebellious. Even Lucien—as old and independent as he is—he will not defy his sire.”
“I wouldn’t ask him to.”
“Good,” she said. “Because he would not.”
Ben rose and walked to the small refrigerator that they kept in the glass house. He pulled out a small bottle of blood-wine and cracked it open on the edge of the table. Then he took a long pull and felt the edge of his hunger fading away.
“I need to feed,” Ben said.
“Gavin’s pubs are open until dawn.”
“I know. I just don’t want to see anyone quite yet.” He focused on her feeding sunflower seeds to the birds. “I was panicking a bit when I went to the warehouse. Thank you for leaving a note.”
She shrugged. “I guessed that you would need some time to brood.”
He took another long drink and blurted out, “I keep waiting for you to get bored with me and leave.”
Tenzin froze, and Ben sat in silence, his heart exposed and beating furiously between them.
She looked at him, but she didn’t offer any platitudes. Which was good, as he wouldn’t have believed them.
“I cannot promise that will never happen. Not bored with you exactly. Just… bored.”
That he would believe. “Can you promise me that you’ll come back?”
Tenzin considered it. “Yes. I can promise that.”
And he could live with it. “Give me a little warning if you feel it coming.”
She nodded again. “I can do that.”
His dream from the night before haunted him.
I will burn everything you hold dear.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out Ben was scared of going up against an ancient fire vampire even more powerful than the extremely dangerous fire vampire who had raised him.
“Why do you really want to do this job, Tenzin? Lucien thinks the bone scroll is a myth, and if it exists, there’s no guarantee that Saba or Arosh would even be able to use it. It’s dangerous, difficult, and could easily land us in a lot of trouble with people we don’t want to fight with. Normally I’m with you on this kind of job—”
“No, you’re not. You’re notoriously cautious, Benjamin.”
“I have to be cautious because you’re not!”
“It’s an important artifact,” she said. “And even the chance that they may use it to control all four elements is too much power concentrated in one place.”
“There are lots of dangerous and important artifacts out there.”
“And I don’t like the idea of Saba and Arosh having more influence. Even the rumor that they hold that bone scroll shifts the center
of power back toward the West. That is why my father came to inform me of it.”
“So we can find it and use it for the council in Penglai?”
“Absolutely not.” She looked up. “I would never agree to that, and Zhang knows it. Besides that, the whole of Penglai is about balancing power,” Tenzin said. “From the eight immortals to the very architecture of the island. The bone scroll is the antithesis of balance.”
“Again, who is to say that Arosh or Saba would even be able to use the thing? If the blood of Mithra legend is correct—”
“Saba told Johari that I wanted you hurt.” Tenzin looked away. She stared into the distance, and he saw her jaw clench. “She told her daughter that I wanted to force your turning.”
“But you didn’t tell her any of those things.” Fuck. Had she been lying about that too? “Right?”
“Of course I didn’t tell her that.”
“So why do you want—?”
“What if she wasn’t lying?” Tenzin stared at the ground. “What if part of me did want that? What if Saba thought she was doing me a favor?” Her lip curled up. “It makes me want to kill her.”
“You can’t kill Saba, Tenzin.” He didn’t even know if that was possible. Saba was a power unlike anything Ben had known. There was no fighting with her; there was only negotiation.
“I know I can’t kill Saba.” She glared at the wall of the glass house.
“Okay, now repeat that until you start to believe it.” Ben walked over and sat on the floor next to Tenzin. “We’re not going into Ethiopia to start a war. That’s the whole point of bringing her Desta’s manuscript and her crown. To remind Saba of what happens when she loses her temper and to trade for the scroll and safeguard it. Convince her that its best place is with us.”
Tenzin was silent.
“Right?” He prodded her with his knee. “No war. No wanton destruction of valuable global heritage sites.”
“No war,” she finally muttered. “No damaging world heritage sites.”
Ben sat down next to her. “Besides, you and I both know that you had no plans to force turning on me because you were arrogantly sure that you’d eventually have been able to persuade me to choose it for myself, right?”
Tenzin nodded. “That is true. But I do not consider that arrogance; it is simply confidence.”
Ben put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “See? So Saba wasn’t right. She wasn’t reading your mind or your motivations at all. She was just… taking advantage of a situation and trying to steal your father’s treasure.”
Tenzin rested her head on Ben’s shoulder. “I am glad you are home, my Benjamin.”
“Me too.” He played with the ends of her hair. “Want to go get some blood for me, then come back and have wild sex?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “That is exactly what I would like to do.”
12
Tenzin had reluctantly agreed to fly across the Atlantic in Giovanni’s converted cargo plane, but only because it saved a considerable amount of time. Plus she disliked being cold and wet, and the shortest route to the Horn of Africa was inconveniently close to the North Pole.
So she bundled herself into the plane with the abnormal amount of luggage Chloe had insisted on packing for her, her amnis-proof tablet loaded with computer games, and the promise of a private compartment when she got sick of the other people on the plane.
It wasn’t just her, Ben, and Chloe traveling on this trip. Giovanni, Beatrice, and Sadia were coming with their entourage, which included Dema, Sadia’s nanny; Zain, their driver who was far more than a driver; and Doug.
She had never met Doug, but he was middle aged for a human, on the shorter side, was grey at the temples, and had a bit of a belly. He was not at all what Giovanni usually chose for security, which meant he must have had other skills that were secret.
Tenzin needed to keep an eye on Doug.
In the meantime, Ben and Giovanni were engaged in a lively exchange about the crew they would need in Ethiopia, while Chloe, Dema, and Sadia watched a movie and Tenzin played a game where you accumulated flowers and made gardens explode. It was both pretty and destructive. Satisfying.
Except for those damn annoying computer bees.
“I guarantee you,” Ben said, “from looking at the terrain and the sites we’re going to be searching, we need an earth vampire. Not for the British compound, but for the north? Absolutely. Tenzin and I can fly there, but we need someone like Carwyn—”
“Carwyn is busy right now; I told you. He and Brigid have another job, and honestly, they’re not looking to make waves in that part of the world, especially outside the aegis of the Roman Church. They have very little sway in the Horn.”
“Not Carwyn, I mean someone like him. A local would be best,” Ben said. “Let’s face it, not all earth vampires are going to understand the delicacy of the operation, and the first thing that will kill this mission is going in heavy-handed. The whole point is restoring cultural treasures, not destroying them.”
Zain spoke to Doug, who was sitting in the booth across from him. “We’re going to have four-wheel drives, right?”
Doug nodded. “You’re not getting anywhere in the north without them. Unless you can fly.”
Zain laughed a little. “Not this one; and no, thank you.”
“A local?” Giovanni shook his head. “You’re looking for an earth vampire in Ethiopia or even East Africa who doesn’t owe allegiance to Saba? It’s not going to happen. Even those who aren’t directly in her line are going to have allegiance to her in some way.”
Tenzin kept her attention on the exploding flowers. Giovanni was right; Ben was asking for the impossible.
Beatrice chimed in. “Ben, what are you looking for specifically? Someone with local knowledge? Or someone who just understands delicate excavations?”
He sighed. “I mean, preferably both.”
Giovanni said, “And that’s what I’m telling you. You’re not getting both. Now Doug—”
“You already explained about Doug—”
Tenzin’s ears perked up. What about Doug?
“—so I guess someone with some kind of archaeological or anthropological experience would be best. I know you know some vampire archaeologists, Beatrice—”
“No.” She was looking at her phone. “I’m actually not thinking of an archaeologist at all.” She pointed her phone screen at Ben. “What do you think?”
Ben leaned forward to look at the screen, then sat back in his seat with a frown. “He’s an adrenaline junkie.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She showed the phone to Giovanni. “This was from last year. He was just there. I mean, he may get a little overenthusiastic at times—”
“Hardly unusual for someone in Carwyn’s clan,” Giovanni muttered.
Tenzin looked up from her game. “If you’re thinking about inviting Rene DuPont into this group, I will be leaving it. I do not have the patience for that man right now.”
Ben’s lip curled. “Really? You think I’d stoop that low?”
Giovanni cocked his head. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Rene’s a treasure hunter, but—”
“No.” Ben was firm. “Absolutely not. I’ll get on board with Beatrice’s suggestion if it’s between the two.”
The smile that Giovanni managed to hide told Tenzin that was exactly the reaction the vampire had intended to provoke.
Sneaky Italian.
The conversation became intriguing enough that Tenzin finally stopped playing the exploding-flowers game. She walked over and motioned to Beatrice, asking for her phone. She looked at the social media account the immortal published, though he wisely avoided more than a hint of his face in the pictures. She scrolled through his pictures of cheese wheels and saw an album full of mountains.
The Andes. The Himalayas. The Scottish Highlands.
And the Simian Mountains in Northern Ethiopia.
Daniel Rathmore was her friend Carwyn’s youngest son, a farmer
of some kind and an adventurer. Tenzin barely knew him, but she knew Giovanni and Beatrice had spent time with him in Cochamó and Ben knew him through family connections.
“He’s been in these mountains?” she asked.
“He’s been mountain climbing there,” Ben said. “I don’t know if that means anything other than he came here as a tourist.”
“Still.” She shrugged. “He’s the priest’s son, so he may have the personality of an overgrown puppy, but he’ll respect the sacred sites. I agree with Beatrice; he’s a good choice.”
Giovanni turned to Doug. “Doug?”
The human nodded. “I’ve run across him over the years. He’s not the worst choice. Not the best one, but I agree with you—finding someone without loyalty to Saba is the sticking point. Call him up. The adventure aspect will probably tempt him more than the money, which isn’t a bad thing.”
Tenzin narrowed her eyes at Doug. Giovanni was checking with Doug after she’d already given her approval?
Yes, she definitely needed to keep an eye on this human.
Ben had never spent an extended period of time in Addis Ababa, but even so, the pace of transformation in the capital city of Ethiopia—the rapid construction, dense traffic, and constant roadwork—were things he always blanked out. The city was constantly evolving, with skyscrapers and new apartment buildings springing up like reeds as city-beautification projects refaced the sprawling capital that hosted hundreds of embassies, charities, and the headquarters of the African Union.
Addis was a city in constant flux, and the pulse of activity was evident everywhere, even at the airport in the middle of the night.
They arrived at the private terminal of Bole International Airport and were swiftly led through immigration and customs by none other than Doug, who proved to speak fluent Amharic. He greeted the officials they met like old friends, shaking hands and bumping shoulders as they made their way through the terminal.
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