“The perfect housekeeper for a vampire,” Cheng said.
“Harun took no notice of Layah at first. She was only another human. Another servant. She cooked his meals the same way her grandmother did and kept the house clean. She was so quiet some of his apprentices would joke that she couldn’t speak at all.
“But she could speak, and in fact, she could sing. She sang as she worked, and while Harun slept he could hear her. He was an ancient vampire and did not sleep deeply. He heard her sweet songs in his dreams, and he asked her to sing them when he woke. When he was in a bitter mood or frustrated with a difficult job, he asked her to sing to soothe his temper.”
“And she did?”
“Always.” Tenzin shifted her gaze to the dark windows outside Cheng’s cabin. “One night Harun realized that he didn’t hear Layah when he woke. He went to her room and saw that she had a fever. She burned so hot Harun feared she would die. He called a human healer from the village and the healer came, but Harun would not leave her. The healer took the veil from her beautiful hair, and Harun was transfixed by its beauty, for her hair was a blend of gold and silver and unlike anything he’d seen in his many years.”
“Did he love her?” Cheng asked. “It is one thing to be fixed on a beautiful object, but another to truly love.”
“Faced with the prospect of losing the human who had given him peace for the first time in his immortal life, Harun realized he did love the woman. Her beauty was revealed by far more than her hair.”
Cheng ruffled Tenzin’s hair. “But beautiful hair always helps.”
Tenzin felt a smile growing. “Layah grew healthy again, and Harun began to give her gifts. He moved her to a richly appointed room in his house, gave her jewelry and fine clothes, and hired another girl to help her tend his house. Eventually Layah told him that she would need to return to her village and her mother’s house because she was no longer his servant. All her work was taken up by another, and all she did was sing and make his tea. Harun demanded that she stay—”
“Demands are a sure way to convince a human woman you love her,” Cheng said. “Or so I’ve been told.”
“—but he asked her to be his wife and not his servant.” Tenzin turned to Cheng. “Asked. Not demanded.”
Cheng’s smiled was sad. “But would he have truly let her go?”
“I don’t know.” Tenzin turned back to the treasure. “She stayed. He created the most beautiful jewelry after he and Layah married. Her hair inspired him to blend gold and silver in many of his pieces.” She pointed. “Like that headband. They were together for many years, and she bore him seven children.”
“Vampires can’t father children.”
Tenzin shrugged. “Harun did many impossible things. Why couldn’t he have fathered children too?”
“Did she turn?”
Tenzin’s heart hurt. “No. She never did. And he never left her. Layah grew old and died, surrounded by their children and grandchildren. Harun buried his wife and finished all the swords he had promised to make. Then he walked into the light to join her.”
Cheng took a deep breath and slipped his arm around Tenzin’s shoulders. “You were never going to be Harun, Cricket.”
“No.” She stared at the gold-and-silver headband fashioned for a queen who would never die. “I am not so generous.”
Cheng left Tenzin at the dock with four richly carved boxes bearing Arosh’s treasure. He bent down and kissed her forehead. “You know how to find me.”
“I do.”
She was dressed in her finest court clothing. Embroidered red silk adorned her body, and gold and jade combs decorated her hair. She would walk onto Penglai Island as the daughter of Zhang Guolao, head unbowed, a warrior returning with honor from battle, laden with treasures too long lost.
She didn’t know if Johari had made it back to Alitea yet, but she had no doubt the vampire would eventually deliver her message to Saba. It could take years, but Johari had the eyes of a survivor.
“Tenzin.” Myung was Penglai’s boatman, someone Tenzin rarely encountered. He bowed and gestured to the front of the ship. “Welcome, daughter of Zhang.”
“Myung.” She stared at him. “You know I hate the bowing people.”
The vampire grinned. “Why do you think I always greet you with a bow?”
“Irritating ant.” She boarded. “My thanks for safe passage.”
“The daughter of Elder Zhang is always welcome on my boat.”
They set sail across the water, and Tenzin pushed a little wind into Myung’s sails, making the water vampire laugh. As they approached the island, the fog parted and the shining jewel of the immortals rose from the sea.
It was spectacular from the water, just as the elders intended. She rose and disembarked, overseeing the transfer of the treasure from the boat to the carriages. Once they reached the top level of the island, eight servants appeared, each ready to help carry a chest. Tenzin took the leather sword case that Cheng had made for the Laylat al Hisab and carried it against her breast as the servants brought each chest with them, two by two.
She followed them through the garden and immediately sensed Ben’s amnis. She looked around but did not see him. He would likely be locked in Zhang’s quarters. There were too many humans running around the palace grounds for a newborn to be on the loose.
Tenzin walked through the jeweled doors and into the Hall of the Elders, scanning the room for familiar faces as she walked toward the front.
There. Giovanni was in the Hall, watching the procession of treasure and filial devotion. Tenzin locked eyes with him and was relieved to see no hatred. The familiar blue-green eyes followed her as she walked.
As one, the elders rose and Tenzin stopped at the steps of the Hall. She bowed toward her father and placed the sword on the ground before his feet.
“Zhang Guolao, elder of Penglai, Eternal Ruler of the Naiman Khanlig, High General of the Altan Wind.” She took a breath. “My father and immortal sire, as you have blessed me with the gift of eternal life, I humbly present the gift of Arosh, Fire King of the Western Mountains. In accordance with the Treaty of Kashgar, I bring you the final gesture of peace between your house and his.” Tenzin rose to her knees, opened the box, and lifted the sword from its silk bed. “Crafted by Harun al Ilāh, the Laylat al Hisab, the Night’s Reckoning, was recovered from the East China Sea, and has finally come to your hand.”
Tenzin rose and walked up to her father’s throne, holding the sword before her.
She could feel Giovanni’s eyes on her back, among the throngs of the curious and suspicious. “Aabmen,” she said quietly. “Your sword.”
Zhang’s eyes met hers. “No finer weapon has ever been given to me. You are welcome at my side.”
Tenzin bowed her head, handed over the sword, and took her place to the right of Zhang’s throne.
Zhang spoke to the assembly. “Let the rest of Arosh’s gift be presented to the court of the elders, that we may convey our gratitude to the Fire King in turn and thank him for his offer of peace at last.”
As the servants opened the rest of the boxes of treasure and lifted each item from their glass cases, the murmurs of amazement swept through the crowd. Even in Penglai, the richness of Arosh’s gifts and Harun’s brilliance could not be diminished.
“I also have documented reports from Benjamin’s assistant Fabia that detail the rest of the excavation,” Tenzin said quietly. “The glass pieces will need extensive desalination to ensure they are preserved. I’ll make sure Tai receives the details and the inventory.”
Zhang waved a careless hand. “It’s fine, Tenzin. I am pleased the scholars at the university will be recognized for their work. I look forward to seeing an exhibition one day.” He lifted the sword. “This really is an extraordinary blade.”
“It is.”
“Will you take it to my armory, daughter? Tai will find the perfect place for it.”
“Of course.”
She left the Hall via the antec
hamber where Ben had first met Zhang. She took to the sky, her heart moving slowly as she approached her father’s house. She entered through the front door, only to be met by Tai.
Ben’s amnis was everywhere—golden, warm, and even stronger than before. She looked around, but though his amnis and scent were everywhere, she didn’t see him.
“Tenzin.” Tai smiled. “It’s good to see you.”
Tai and Nima had once nurtured a deep and respectful friendship that saved the wind vampire when the previous elder, Zhongli Quan, had betrayed the council and been executed along with most of his children. It was Nima’s testimony that had saved Tai, along with his reputation for honesty. Tai had become devoted to Zhang, who had spoken in his defense and taken him into his household.
“It’s good to see you too,” Tenzin said. “How is he?”
Tai smiled. “I know you don’t inquire about Zhang.”
“No.”
Ben wasn’t far away, probably in private rooms where he couldn’t be tempted by the smell of human servants.
“Benjamin is well and healthy,” Tai said. “I look forward to knowing him better when we leave for Khentii.”
“I see.” So her father was taking Ben to Mongolia. “He’s not accustomed to cold weather, so make sure—”
“I can speak for myself.”
Tenzin schooled her expression before she turned to face him. In the few short days she’d been away, he’d already grown in power and grace. His new eyes still startled her, but his body moved with the quickness and fluidity his human body had augured.
“Hello, Benjamin.”
“Tenzin.” His expression was as blank as hers.
Tai reached for the sword. “May I—”
“Let him see it first,” Tenzin said. “If he likes.”
Ben walked toward her, lifting the sword from her fingers. He gripped the hilt and raised it, stepping back and testing it with expert handling.
“It’s beautiful.”
“And beautifully made.”
“Yes.” He examined the hilt. “It looks like it was never lost.”
“Immortal like Zhang.”
His voice was cold. “Like us.”
She had once been able to read his heart in his voice. In his expression. No longer. Perhaps the secret of Benjamin had been in his eyes, which were no more.
“Yes,” she said. “Immortal like us.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No.” She swallowed hard. “Death would be too easy.”
Ben handed the sword to Tai, who left them in Zhang’s entry hall, standing across from each other like the two wary predators they were.
“Is death easy?” Ben stuck his hands in his pockets. “I don’t remember it feeling easy.”
Tenzin took a deep breath. “When we were flying, you—”
“I remember what I said that night.” Ben’s eyes stayed on her. “But I’m not that man anymore. I’m not a man at all. I don’t know what I am.”
“You are still you.” How could she make him see? “The man you were—”
“Is dead.” His voice was flat. “And this vampire is pretty damn confused.”
She stayed silent and waited for him to speak.
“See, I lost my human life.” His voice was rough. “And I also lost my best friend, because she betrayed me in a way she promised that she never would.” He cleared his throat. “But I’m not going to kill myself. I wouldn’t do that to my family. I’ll figure this out. I’ll make the best of it.”
“I am pleased to hear that.”
“But some things didn’t change.” He lifted his chin. “I’m still done. I’m not going back to New York. I mean, I’m flying to fucking Mongolia for a year.”
“After that—”
“After that, I’m still done.” His face was like stone. “I told you, Tenzin, even if I had an eternity, I wouldn’t spend it waiting around for you. So… goodbye.” He turned and started to walk down the hall.
“Benjamin.”
He stopped, but he didn’t turn. “What?”
“We have both been changed.” The realization was new and delicate, like skin revealed when a scab fell away. “More than you know.”
“Tenzin…”
She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing more than her name.
Tenzin watched his back, the strong line of his body standing poised in the hallway, halfway between one place and another.
“I will wait,” she murmured.
“What?” Ben turned, and his eyes were narrowed with suspicion.
“You said you wouldn’t waste your eternity waiting for me, but I will.”
“You’ll… wait?” He looked confused. “For what?”
“Yes.” She nodded and stepped toward the open door. “I’ll wait.”
“Tenzin!”
She turned toward him, and his expression was finally one she could read. He was exasperated.
“Yes doesn’t answer my question.”
She couldn’t stop the smile. “I know.”
Pushing back the temptation to linger, Tenzin walked out the door and flew away.
35
Giovanni sat in her rooms in Penglai, sipping tea and avoiding her gaze.
“It’s fine.” Tenzin poured tea. She’d changed out of her dress clothes and into more comfortable leggings and a tunic when she reached her rooms. “I knew he wouldn’t want to see me anymore.”
“He’s hurt and angry. You remember how all your emotions are heightened during that time.”
“Not really.” She lifted her cup. “I was regularly traumatized and abused for the first few hundred years of my life, so I don’t remember much. I choose not to.”
Giovanni paused lifting the tea to his mouth. “I didn’t know that.”
“You always suspected.”
“Yes, I suspected.” He set down his tea. “Tenzin—”
“I’ll go to the mountains, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m overdue for a visit. There are still matters with some of Nima’s family that need to be settled.”
She had needed quiet and time to think after everything that had happened in Puerto Rico. She really needed it now.
Giovanni said, “Something has changed.”
Tenzin thought about the desperate flight to her father, her helplessness and her fury. The taste of Ben’s blood in her mouth and the inevitable explosion of their amnis colliding like winter storms over a mountain.
His lips leaving hers as surely as he’d left her body and walked away.
She remembered sleep. And dreams.
And over and above all, the sensation of a curved bronze blade slipping from her fingers and falling to an ocean grave.
“Yes, something has changed.” Tenzin sipped her tea. “I wanted to see Beatrice before I left. Has Sadia already left for Rome with the nanny?”
Giovanni said nothing.
She set down her cup. “I see.”
“She’s angry, Tenzin. You knew how he felt—how he’s always felt—and you ignored him. He’s her son and she’s angry right now.”
“I understand.” A different ache grew in her chest, and Tenzin let out a bitter laugh. “Tell her I don’t expect her to thank me.”
“She won’t.”
“Even though I know she’s grateful.” Tenzin looked Giovanni square in the eye. “You both are. Because you don’t have to be the villain now, do you?”
His eyes narrowed. “If you think—”
“What would you have done, Giovanni Vecchio? This isn’t Caspar growing old peacefully in his home, surrounded by his family and the woman he loves.” She leaned forward. “This is Benjamin, bleeding out in your arms, his human body paralyzed by the blade of your enemy, telling you ‘I didn’t want to die yet.’”
Giovanni said nothing.
Tenzin sat back and lifted her chin. “Don’t tell me what you would have done, because I know.”
“What did you give Zhang?” he asked quietly.
> “I will never tell you that.” Tenzin picked up her tea. “You haven’t earned the right to my secrets. I love you deeply, my boy, but some things you will never know.”
The fortress in the Khentii mountain range was a low, four-sided castle with two forward towers facing a broad, grass-filled valley. The castle surrounded an open courtyard where a large bonfire burned. The structure had to be at least five hundred years old, but the floors were polished, the walls were in perfect repair, and a bathroom had been added.
Just one, but Ben didn’t have to use it as often lately. So far it was the only convenient thing about being a vampire.
His throat burned all the time. He was constantly hungry. He still couldn’t control his amnis enough to make himself warm, so he was always, always cold. Of course, the frigid Mongolian autumn weather probably didn’t help. He was starting to think fur wasn’t just a fashion statement.
The land was bleak but stunningly beautiful. The skies were clear, and no human settlements spoiled the night sky for miles and miles around them. The wilderness that protected the humans from Ben also protected Ben from the temptation of the humans.
“I will teach you.” Zhang ushered Ben to the north wing of the fortress that butted up against the mountains. “For the next year, you will be my student in the ways of survival. I will teach you how to best your enemies, how to protect yourself, and how to find purpose in eternity.”
A hundred times a night, Ben wondered whether these were the same lessons Tenzin had lived through when she’d been a new immortal. It had been a different time and there hadn’t been a fortress, but Zhang’s wisdom was eternal, right?
Ben walked along the far wall of the training room, eager to try the many weapons in his sire’s collection. He was starting to see that Tenzin had inherited her obsession.
“You will have to fight differently now.” Zhang spoke behind him. “You will have to think differently. Move differently. Your enemies will not strategize in months or years but in decades and centuries.”
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