Her lips were pursed. Her hair twisted up in a knot secured with a pencil.
Dear God…
She smiled. “I believe this was in another set of letters. Giovanni had already sent me the ones here because they were written by a Roman priest and he thought they belonged with the Vatican correspondence in the Vecchio Library in Perugia.”
“I’ve heard what an impressive collection it is.”
Her eyes lit talking about her work. It was… entrancing.
“It is so diverse,” she said. “At first, I could make nothing of the theme, but over time, I began to see that all the documents—save for a few pieces here and there—related to the virtue and progress of humanity. It is a primer, so to speak, of the ideal Classical individual. A map of self-improvement, if you will, gathered through the greatest periods of human achievement.”
He saw Giovanni grimace and suspected some of the rumors he’d heard about the fire vampire’s sire must be correct.
“A fascinating collection, then. I hope to see it someday.”
There was the rush of her blood again. He didn’t think she feared him, so it must be pleasure? Excitement to share her work?
“Of course, Signore Ferrara—”
“Zeno.”
“Zeno.” Her pulse didn’t slow. “We often have visiting scholars. You would be most welcome.”
How many of those scholars came to examine the books, and how many to see the beautiful, demure director of the Vecchio Library? How many were vampires like himself? He felt his fangs drop on instinct, so he looked back at the table, not wanting her to notice.
She had turned back to her own work by the time he wrestled his instincts under control.
He did not become possessive of humans. It was not his priority, and he had chosen not to indulge that aspect of his immortal nature. His assignations with women over the years had been friendly but casual. Respectful, always. For the offer of blood, the giving of it, was as sacred to him now as it had ever been. In war. In the sacrament. Blood was life.
But Zeno would be the worst sort of liar if he didn’t confess that he wanted Fina’s.
Though young vampires such as him could be highly possessive, he’d always fought against it. He had given up all possessions when he joined the church. Given up the wealth gained through lying and manipulation. And though he drew a generous salary for his work at the Vatican, he lived simply.
He had learned as a human: Earthly possessions had a way of owning their master.
And to possess one such as her? Infinitely more dangerous.
“I think I have something,” she said, flipping the paper over. “It is in the postscripts on back. I had overlooked them because they don’t refer to anything related to wine. But if we’re looking for the identity of the writer, I think they might be compelling. I believe these two priests were quite close, as it appears the Roman priest—”
“Brother Pietro.”
“Yes, Pietro—might have been counseling Rafael in some spiritual matter.”
Zeno said, “I’ve just sorted these and I’m beginning to skim the contents. I believe you’re correct. Look at 1801.”
Zeno and Fina moved down the table, standing across from each other as they looked for the correct letter and its response.
“Here,” she said. “In May. This is what I saw. In the second to last paragraph, it reads: ‘I urge you, brother, to fight against this temptation. For you know there can be no end that will satisfy God or yourself. Pray for guidance and confess to your brothers there. But do not… do not be tempted.’ Please forgive my Spanish; it is not the best.” She stopped and looked at Zeno. “What was in the letter before this one? To what is he referring?”
Zeno found the one dated before the letter Fina had read. He skimmed it, but there was nothing. Nothing but the day-to-day life of the mission. The concern about a sudden disease that had struck the animals. He flipped it over to examine the back of the letter. Eight small words sat lonely on the back of the page.
I cannot stop my thoughts turning to Antonia.
“Antonia,” he said. “He cannot stop thinking of Antonia. Was Father Rafael in love?”
Beatrice moved next to him, taking the letter from his hands. “Who was she?”
Giovanni asked, “Is there any way of knowing? She could have been anyone.”
Fina said, “She was obviously known to both of them. A relative of Pietro’s perhaps?”
Beatrice asked, “What kind of records does the church keep on eighteenth-century Franciscans? Anything?”
“Hmm.” Zeno thought he might know of someone who would know, but the human would be sleeping at two in the morning. “Let me work on that tomorrow. For now, let’s see what else we can find.”
Beatrice frowned. “Not that I don’t love a good mystery, but does this have anything to do with a manuscript on early viticulture?”
“You want to know where your book went, no?” Zeno growled. “It seems to me that the more we find out about Brother Rafael, the more we might be able to trace his manuscript. Fina, do you have the next?”
“The next after the mention of Antonia is the one I read before,” she said. “It would be Rafael’s turn to respond.”
He looked up; her heart was racing again.
“Are you all right, cara?”
“Fine.” She flushed. “Thank you.”
“Are you tired? I forget that you are not a monster of the night like me.”
That got a smile out of her. “I’d hardly call you monstrous.”
“Wait till you see me in a temper.”
A crooked smile curved her lips. “I cannot imagine.”
Giovanni burst into laughter, and Zeno threw a sharpened pencil at his face, which he caught easily.
“The next letter, Zeno. Before I tell her all your secrets.”
“Very well.” He walked down the line. “Ah, here. ‘My dear brother, only you know how much I honor her. Only you know how pure our love. How can such be called a sin? For I carry her in my heart in this foreign place. She is light.’” He glanced up, feeling Fina’s eyes on him. “‘Though I know she cannot be mine, still I long for her happiness.’”
Wordlessly, Fina picked up the next letter and scanned it.
“Here, just at the bottom: ‘Though your sincerity is honorable, yet our faith must bid you to abandon this, brother. For other purposes mark your steps. Purposes far greater than earthly temptations.’”
Zeno found the next letter.
“‘Do the scriptures not write that God himself is love? Brother, I cannot abandon hope when I have no word that hope is lost. For the lady’s devotion remains true, though I am oceans away from her. I go to Santa Maria tomorrow. I must pray.’”
Fina read again, already finding the next letter Father Pietro had written.
“‘My dear brother, surely you must see that there is no hope. For our vows are eternal—’”
Zeno broke in. “Obviously, that’s not true.”
Fina smiled and continued, “‘—and our work is God’s own. What comparison is there between… fleshly gratification and heavenly delight?’”
Zeno cocked his head. “I’m rather sure there can be both. Very well, here’s the next from our boy, Rafael. Don’t buy it, brother,” he muttered to the page. “‘He writes, ‘And yet, my dear Pietro, my devotion is steadfast. Had all hope been lost for me, I know you would have written of it. Therefore, I shall hope. And though an ocean separate us, and the world condemn us, I believe heaven does not.’”
Beatrice crossed over to read over Zeno’s shoulder. “That’s beautiful.”
Fina read, “‘I cannot deceive you that the lady remains unattached, though faithful to her family and to God. Her position in society is uncertain should she remain unwed. And what have you, a poor Franciscan, to offer her, even were you to abandon your vows? I plead with you to flee from this strange attachment.’”
“A harsh fate,” Giovanni said. “Even if Rafael h
ad abandoned his vows, he stood to return to his lady with nothing. Would he even be able to return to Spain? Was Antonia Spanish or Italian? It seems clear that though Rafael was of the Spanish church, Pietro was a Roman.”
Beatrice picked up the next letter and handed it to Zeno.
“Only one line at the bottom of the page: ‘My soul is in agony. Surely God must save me from this.’”
“‘Pray, my brother,’” Fina read back to him, her voice aching. “‘For God does not desire his children suffer pain such as this. Pray and devote yourself to your work.’”
“‘I cannot pray,’” Zeno read from the next, his own heart beating once as he listened to her. “‘For what are empty words against this despair? Without her, the light is gone. My work brings me no joy without the contemplation of her countenance. I see her smile within the sun. Her hair in the trailing vines I tend. I can only touch them since I cannot reach her.’”
“‘I beg of you, brother—’” there were tears at the corner of Fina’s eyes “‘—to tend your vines as you would tend the one you love. What purpose is there in this world without the Lord’s mission? I mourn for your pain. Devote yourself to God’s work as you would devote yourself to her. For in this, you must find the satisfaction lost to you in this life. And know that this world is only a prelude to the next. There is still hope.’”
Was there still hope?
Zeno skimmed through the last letter. He read it. Read it again, the words locked in his mind. Then he let his eyes meet Fina’s as he recited Rafael’s last missive.
“‘I will come for her. I have no choice. She is all that is light and beauty in my life. My soul is but a mirror of her own. My heart, her twin in devotion. Surely God cannot condemn us. Surely the world must be kind. I will come for her, though oceans separate us. I have a plan. Tell my love to wait for me. I beg you, my brother, tell her I shall come. For what is an ocean against eternity?’”
Zeno let his eyes fall back to the page. “Presidio de Monterey, 1803.”
CHAPTER THREE
Rome, Italy
For what is an ocean against eternity?
He was so much more than she had imagined. Fina lay in her bed, breathless at the memory of Zeno’s voice, reading the letters as if the two of them had been the lovers, parted by fate.
The dark tangle of his hair, touched with silver at the temples. The laugh lines at the corner of his eyes. He must have been in his forties when he’d been turned. Unusual, from what she had learned. But then what did she know? She was a child in his world, stumbling through life with her organizer and briefcase, assisting those far wiser than herself.
He seemed so very human… until he did not. She could see the flashes of predatory awareness in him when his temper slipped. The body that moved just a little too fast. She did suspect, as Beatrice had called him, that he could be the “terror of the Vatican.” For surely a man—a vampire—like Zeno was no tame thing.
How did he feel so familiar? Was it his letters, which had so perfectly captured Zeno’s mercurial personality and gruff humor? It had to be. Fina had felt immediately comfortable despite having never met him before. This stranger. This vampire! It was if their minds were already familiar, even if their bodies were not.
The way he’d watched her… Even miles away from Vatican City, in the luxurious Vecchio home, she could still feel his eyes.
“Mama?”
She heard Enzo’s sleepy voice from the hall. They’d only returned an hour before dawn. Fina was both exhausted and wired by the night. She lay in her bed, dressed for sleep, but sleep did not find her.
“Come in, Enzo.”
Her boy pushed open the door. Twelve years old. Where had the years gone? Soon he would be a man. Her heart ached a little at the knowledge, even as she felt a surge of pride. She had done this. No one had helped her, save for Giovanni’s son. She had raised Enzo. Loved him. Taught him. And she had done well.
Enzo rolled onto the side of the bed, rubbing sleepy eyes. “Did you just get home? How was the library?”
“It was fascinating, darling, but why are you awake?”
“I heard you come in, I think. The gate…”
“Ah, of course.” The gate to the massive old house was very close to his room. “I’ll be sure to be quieter tonight. We were talking loudly, I think.”
He nodded, his eyes falling closed. “I should go back to bed.”
“Yes, do. I’ll be sleeping late today, I think. Do you have plans?”
“Angela said something about the market.” He yawned and sat up. “And Rudy and I are helping her decorate the house. She’s fun.”
“Such a good boy.” She ruffled his hair. “What would I do without you?”
“Get lots of work done, and be very boring.”
“Oh.” She groaned and rolled into the pillow as he laughed. “You know your mama.”
“Did you have fun?” he asked. “You sounded like you had fun at the library.”
“I did,” she said. “It’s a wonderful thing to love your work.”
“Good.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Good night. Good day, I mean.” He bared his teeth. “Soon you’ll be just like the vampires.”
She laughed, but within minutes of Enzo closing the door, Fina had fallen asleep.
When she woke, it was to the dip of her bed. Fina opened her eyes to see Beatrice leaning over, fangs hanging down in her smiling mouth.
“Aah!” Fina sat bolt upright, scrambling toward the headboard.
“Hey!” Beatrice said. “Sorry I surprised you, but you will not believe what I found out today!”
“Are you going to bite me?”
Finally understanding that Fina was terrified, Beatrice leaned back. “What? No.”
“But your—” Fina motioned to her mouth, heart pounding. “They’re just… long and—and sharp. And you’re not going to bite me?”
Beatrice cocked her head. “Do you want me to bite you?”
“No!”
“This—” she waved at her mouth “—happens for a lot of reasons. Excitement is one of them. Sorry, I was just so jazzed about what I found. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” She smiled, and Fina noticed her fangs were a little shorter. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It really wasn’t, but Fina did understand her employers were not human. She knew that. Maybe she just didn’t know that as well as she thought.
Fangs. Long, sharp fangs.
Zeno would have them too.
“You were the last one sleeping,” Beatrice said.
“Oh.” She looked toward the window. The sun was already down, and she could hear a football skittering around the cobblestones of the courtyard below. “Enzo?”
“Mmhmm.”
There were other voices, too. Male voices. Shouting something.
“Mitto!”
The skidding ball.
“Mittere!”
Another kick.
“Misi.”
“Missus!”
Fina frowned. “Is that…?”
“Gio invited Zeno over for Angela’s dinner. I think he’s going to the market with us later, too.”
She sat up, totally forgetting that Beatrice’s fangs had scared her. “Zeno’s here? And they’re—”
“Declining Latin verbs while they kick around a soccer ball? Yes. Yes, they are. My husband thinks Latin is God’s language and everyone should know it.”
Fina started laughing just as they started on habeo.
“My son, your husband, and Zeno are… They’re being such… There is an English word, but I cannot remember.”
“Nerds,” Beatrice said, joining in the laughter. “They are being really, really big nerds right now.”
“Yes.” She couldn’t stop laughing. “Yes, that is the word.”
Beatrice stood and walked to the window, where the kicking and shouting had ceased.
She waved at whoever she saw and said, “I think Zeno heard you laughing. He’s got that hungr
y, dazed expression on his face.”
And all of a sudden, she was thinking about fangs again. “Hungry?”
“Not the kind of hungry you’re thinking.”
She flushed and Beatrice laughed.
“Okay, now it’s the kind of hungry you’re thinking. Oh my, I bet he loves that blush you have.”
“It’s incredibly embarrassing. I’ve blushed since I was a girl. I hate it.”
“You better get used to the fangs, Fina, because when this goes up—” she pointed the finger of her right hand straight “—these go down.” The other hand came up, two fingers dropping like fangs.
“Oh.” Well, that was more than she ever expected to know about vampire sex. “That’s… interesting.”
“Yes, it is.” Beatrice grinned. “You and Zeno couldn’t keep your eyes off each other last night. I noticed.”
“Was I that obvious?” She paused, thought about what Beatrice had said. “It was more than just me?”
“Oh yeah. What kind of letters have you two been writing for the past couple years?” She waved out the window again, then pointed down and nodded. “Gio wants me to come down and meet them. I’ll hold Zeno off from charging up the stairs until you’re ready.”
“Please do.”
Why was she talking about this with her employer? But employers didn’t break into your room and jump on your bed, excited about a discovery. They didn’t call their husbands “nerds” while that husband was playing football with your son. They didn’t tease you about a man—vampire—you were dangerously attracted to.
“Beatrice?”
She paused at the door. “Yeah?”
“Are we friends now?”
Beatrice smiled. “I’m trying to be. I don’t do very well with the whole scary-vampire-lording-over-humans thing yet. Give me a few hundred years or so, and I’m sure I’ll have it down.”
Fina smiled. “I don’t have many friends. I didn’t want to assume.”
“Assume away.” She glanced down the hall. “But don’t take long to get ready. Those boys are champing at the bit.”
Fina didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she quickly dressed and hurried downstairs.
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