“Like a dance club?”
“Kinda. It’s more like a social club. I’m not sure, but Emil Conti’s going to be there along with most of the most influential vampires in the city. Ziri said that she’s trying to be more visible since word got out that Gio escaped.”
“That probably made her look pretty bad, huh?”
“Yes. But Emil requested another visit, so she had to admit he’d escaped. And she knows we were at the reception the night it happened.” A satisfied grin spread over her face. “It’s driving her crazy. And yes, it makes her look really bad.”
He sat down. “Well, that’s good, right? That’s what you want.”
“Yep, that’s what we want. And that’s why she’s hanging out in the city more and having this reception. She’s trying to show off and make sure people remember she’s still the queen. But Emil’s going to be there, along with his wife, who I haven’t met yet.”
“So you’re gonna go make nice?”
“I’m going to go hang out and try to boost his ego and his reputation. The more people think of him, the more likely he’s going to be to make the moves we want to get Livia out of power. Hopefully, flattery will get us everywhere.”
Ben asked, “Anyone going with you?”
“Not this time.” She glanced up into his worried eyes. “It’s fine, Ben. Nothing’s going to happen to me. It’s a very public event. I’m not even going to be very far away from here.”
“You sure? Maybe Matt—”
“This is a vampire thing, Ben.”
“Tenzin?”
She dropped her pencil and reached a hand across the table. “Ben, honey, I’ll be fine.”
He shrugged and tried to act nonchalant. “Okay, whatever.”
She smiled and patted his hand. “Now, go take that shirt to Jean. He’s a little too proud of that hairy French chest. We don’t want him scaring Angela.”
Ben burst into laughter and stood. He walked out and looked back at his aunt. Beatrice was sitting at the table, looking pensive, and staring at the moon through the open window. He gently closed the door.
“My dear, if looks could kill, then you would be a splatter on the wall.”
Beatrice glanced up to see Emil Conti standing over her with a martini and a cool smile. “Emil, I doubt you’re complimenting my outfit, so I’m going to assume she was glaring at me again.”
He chuckled as he sat next to her in the plush velvet chairs that lined the VIP section of the club.
She had been mistaken, Livia was entertaining them at a nightclub. It was one she owned, and Beatrice could feel the vibrations of the music from the dance floor below. The favored vampires who had received an invitation stood at the edge of the darkened glass, surveying the humans who crowded the club like their own, personal buffet.
Which, Beatrice thought, they kind of were. The few humans allowed upstairs were swimming in amnis and quickly taken to the private rooms. The grunts and moans of pleasure were dampened by the thick walls, but not completely drowned out.
“A vampire-owned nightclub,” she said. “Kind of a cliché, isn’t it?”
Emil smiled. “It’s a cliché for a reason. It’s a good business to be in and provides an excellent cover. She’s had this one since the seventies. Thankfully, the decor has been updated.”
“You own any?” They were somewhat isolated in their corner of the balcony. Beatrice had staked out a spot earlier where she could keep an eye on the whole party, but still be heard if she lifted her voice. It also had a great view of the table where Livia and Lorenzo had set up court.
“I don’t. I have very boring businesses like shipping companies. Fishing. Though I do own several small cruise lines.”
“That could be fun.”
“If I had a taste for retiree blood, I’m sure I’d get my fill.”
They laughed together, but both of them looked over to the head table.
Both Livia and Lorenzo had humans draped over them and made no disguise about taking a sip openly. The vampires surrounding them looked on like a hungry pack. Even Emil narrowed his eyes, but Beatrice had a feeling it wasn’t in envy.
“Doesn’t that piss people off?” she asked, her voice raised to allow the sensitive ears around them to hear. “I mean—I don’t like to compare—but at my grandfather’s parties in Los Angeles, everyone is allowed to bring their own company, if you know what I mean.” Beatrice noticed the subtle attention that had shifted in their direction. So had Emil. A smile flickered across his mouth.
“In truth, Beatrice, most cities do not have the strict discipline about feeding that Rome has.” His voice was very carefully neutral. “It is one thing that sets us apart.”
You’re definitely not saying that’s a good thing, are you? His dark eyes were narrowed in calculation as she continued. “It’s definitely unusual. I know I’m young, but I’ve traveled quite a bit. Other than the feeding thing, you’re lucky to live here. I love Rome. The energy. The sights. It’s an amazing city.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay. Despite the unpleasantness earlier this summer.”
“I’m sure things will all be sorted out. I’m relieved that Gio is no longer confined, but then, no one contains my husband for long.”
“And you have no idea where he is?”
She smiled. Are you asking for me or the silent audience we’ve attracted? “None at all.”
Laughing eyes met hers. “Of course not. After all.” Emil looked around the room. “I can scarcely keep track of my own wife, and she’s never been arrested.”
“Are you talking about me?” A graceful vampire slinked over and draped herself across the arm of Emil’s red velvet chair. Donatella Conti was, according to Ziri, a very keen water vampire with very good instincts. She had been turned during the Renaissance, the same as Giovanni, but was a distant relative of the Borgia family. Her union with Emil Conti was a political manipulation of her sire, who had died shortly after the match. Beatrice couldn’t quite figure Donatella out.
She was a gorgeous chestnut brunette who wore designer fashions like they were loungewear. She made no disguise of her disdain for Livia, but still seemed to live in a charmed bubble of popularity. She and Emil had both come with other dates, but gravitated toward each other throughout the evening.
Emil ran a possessive hand over her thigh. “Of course we are talking about you, my love. Who else?”
Beatrice said, “I love your dress. That color is amazing on you.” It was a blood-red cocktail dress that Beatrice remembered some skinny actress in Hollywood wearing to an awards show the year before. The actress looked anemic in it. Donatella looked stunning.
“Thank you,” Donatella said, as her gaze raked over Beatrice’s uniform of black jeans and a skin-tight black shirt. She’d dressed it up for the night with satin top that Dez had picked out and her tall, black boots. “I like your boots, Beatrice De Novo.”
Beatrice let her fangs run out and smiled. “Thanks. These are Gio’s favorites. I’m pretty sure I don’t match Livia’s dress code, though.” It was true. She was the only woman wearing jeans in the club, but no one dared turn her away at the door.
“And, I suppose, that is why Rome loves you.” Donatella smirked. “And you are American. You can get away with it.”
“Oh?” Beatrice said. “I think Roman women can get away with a lot more.”
Emil smiled and ran a hand up the curve of his wife’s calf. “You are quite right.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” Beatrice said. She could hear the chatter around them drop off and she was fairly certain Livia, Lorenzo, or both were listening as well.
The smile fell from Emil’s face and he glanced around. “Change can be dangerous. Disruptive.”
“Change can also be healthy.”
“If done for the right reasons, I suppose so.”
Beatrice looked up at Donatella, who was watching her with narrowed eyes. “For instance, Donatella, I saw a similar dress on an actr
ess last year. She looked like a little girl playing dress-up. You, however…” She trailed off, hoping that the vampire had picked up her cue.
As if she had orchestrated it, Donatella slid into Emil’s lap. A smile flirted at the corner of her mouth. “It’s all about finding the right person, isn’t it, Beatrice? The right person can wear the boldest colors.”
“They can. It’s good to shake things up every now and then.”
Emil stroked his wife’s hair while Donatella and Beatrice exchanged a private smile. “You ladies,” Emil murmured. “Always talking about the newest trends.”
Beatrice cast her eyes around the club at their silent audience. “Emil, I am all about new trends.”
She was on the street, waiting for her car to pick her up, when Emil caught up with her.
“Beatrice, please, allow me to offer you a ride home.”
She looked around. Livia’s guards watched them from the front of the club. Her driver pulled up, but she waved him away and turned back to Emil. “That would be nice, thanks. Where’s Donatella?”
He shrugged. “I believe that she is seeing her companion home. Mine brought her own driver.”
They slid into the dark blue luxury sedan, and Emil immediately raised the privacy screen, encasing them in silence. He swung his eyes toward her and bared his teeth.
“You play a dangerous game, Beatrice De Novo. No one is sure how you got him out, but we know that Giovanni did not escape on his own. There was no way it could have happened. I saw his cell myself. I don’t know what he has planned, but—”
“Neither my husband nor I have any interest in ruling Rome.” Her fangs had slid down in reaction to his aggressive stance, but Beatrice curbed her natural instincts and tried to relax. This was their potential ally, she reminded herself, and he had every reason to be suspicious.
“Then what are you insinuating? Surely you must have noticed that others were listening to you tonight.”
“I think you know exactly what I’m insinuating.”
“Assistance only?”
“Let’s just say, we like to help our friends.”
Emil sat back and relaxed his stance. “What you’re talking about has many risks.”
“Like I said, change always does.”
“We’re not talking about fashion crimes anymore, Beatrice.”
“I never was, Emil.” She tapped her finger on her knee and watched him. “She can’t remain in power. It will not be allowed. If there is no other option, Giovanni will remove her. But we’re hoping there are other options.”
Emil watched her with a measuring stare. “Other options would prove to be far less trouble for you. But I don’t know that you’re aware of how much power she really has.”
“You’re talking about these rumors circulating. About her cure for bloodlust?”
He shifted in his seat. “It’s never been stated quite that succinctly, but everyone knows she has ties to the pharmaceutical industry. If that is something she has attained, the cure could bring her immense wealth and influence. Every vampire in the world would pay to be free of the one thing that controls us. Only a shield against the sun would be more valuable.” He cleared his throat. “Some of us may have tried to discover the truth of these claims, but so far it’s been rather—”
“It’s a cosmetics factory in Bulgaria.” Beatrice took a chance. If Emil was going to risk his neck, she had to give him something. “They started production earlier this year.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know this?”
“Put it this way, I’m very good at research.”
She saw him deflate in his seat, but still, his eyes flared. “So, it is true? She has discovered a cure?”
“Not exactly.”
He frowned. “Please, continue.”
“This formula was given to me by the Elders of Penglai Island. They wanted it protected. Not even their most skilled alchemists really understood it. And then Lorenzo stole it. And make no mistake, Emil. He did steal it. He did kill my father. He almost killed me.”
Emil snorted. “I doubt he’d kill you. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”
“Please, he’d want anyone that Giovanni had. That has nothing to do with me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, but tell me more about this. As much as I dislike Livia, this does sound like something that could be good for our kind, Beatrice. Whatever our personal rivalries, we should think of the greater good of all—”
“See that!” she interrupted. “That right there? That’s why you’re the best person to lead Rome. You really do care about the city. You care about the vampires who live here. You feel a responsibility to them.”
He drew himself up, almost as if she had insulted him. “It is my belief that those who have power have a responsibility to—”
“It’s good! I’m not saying it isn’t. It’s nice to meet someone who’s not completely self-interested. But the thing is, this formula is not safe. And she knows it.” Actually, Beatrice had no idea whether Livia knew the effects of the elixir on amnis, but that didn’t matter. Getting Livia out of power was more important. “We think it’s a poison, Emil.”
He looked skeptical. “Why would she want to poison her own people? I know she’s not benevolent, but it’s hardly in her best interests to kill all of them.”
“We’re not sure, but we’re trying to find out what, exactly, it does.”
He sighed. “Beatrice, I like you. I think Livia is a bad leader. And I believe your claims against Lorenzo. In fact, after Tenzin’s speech, I’m fairly sure all of Rome knows that he murdered your father, but the fact remains that Livia has many allies. Allies here and abroad. She has done many favors for many people in her two thousand years. Unless those people decide to cut her off…”
“Well,” Beatrice said quietly. “I guess we’ll just have to make them realize that it’s time for a change.”
Emil crossed his legs and leaned back in the seat. He tapped his fingers restlessly on one knee as he glanced between Beatrice and the lights of the Eternal City that flashed past the car. He was silent until they pulled up to the Pantheon. Beatrice heard the driver get out and walk around to open her door. It opened, but Emil grabbed her hand as she was climbing out.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re right. Change is good. Change is… necessary.”
She smiled and nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
Beatrice whistled as she walked up the street and watched Emil’s car turn the corner. She had just made her most important ally.
Chapter Twenty
Plovdiv, Bulgaria
July 2012
Giovanni stepped out of the telegraph office tucked into a corner of the Kapana district and strolled up the cobbled streets. Summer nights were warm in Plovdiv, and pedestrians crowded the walkways of the neighborhood on their way to the clubs and restaurants of the graceful old town. Bulgaria’s second largest city, and one of the oldest in Europe, had enjoyed a surge of prosperity since the last time Giovanni had visited. Like much of Eastern Europe, the city had always maintained a fairly high immortal population, with Lucien Thrax being one of its oldest inhabitants.
He and Carwyn had received a polite, if muted, reception from the vampire who ran the city after a letter of introduction from the old Thracian had paved the way. Their business in town was not questioned, which was all Giovanni wanted. If everything went as planned, they wouldn’t be in Bulgaria long.
He caught the red of Carwyn’s hair against the dark green wall of an outdoor cafe. The former priest was drinking a glass of plum rakia and writing a letter at a small table. A smile flirted at the corner of his mouth. Giovanni sat down next to him and Carwyn tucked the letter under the edge of his book.
“Who were you writing, Father?”
Carwyn smiled. “I told you—“
“I’ve been calling you that for three hundred years, Carwyn. I’m not going to just stop, you know.”
“Fine, but I ma
y stop answering.”
Giovanni chuckled. “So?”
“What?”
“Who were you writing?”
“None of your business.”
“You are quite the mystery lately.”
The vampire shrugged and sipped the fruit wine. “What’s so mysterious? I decided that a thousand years of service to the church was enough. After all, when I took my vows, I was only expecting to live forty or fifty.”
“I’m not questioning your decision, my friend.” Giovanni cocked an eyebrow. “Are you?”
Carwyn smiled and looked over at the fountain that trickled in the small square and the flow of young people that passed by. “No. I’m not going to deny it feels a bit odd, but I’m at peace about it. I’m… excited. It’s a new chapter in life. There are going to be some changes for me.”
Giovanni nodded. “So, is this the immortal version of a mid-life crisis?”
Carwyn snorted and waved over a young man to order two more glasses, then he turned back to Giovanni. “I blame the girls, you know.”
“Why?”
“I’m warning you, never make daughters. You raise them. Give them hundreds of years of guidance and love, and then they think they know everything. Try to tell you what to do. Very irritating.”
“What? All of them?”
“Not Carla, thank God, but then, she never speaks to anyone but me and Gus. No, it’s the rest of them, Gio. They plot against me.”
Giovanni smiled, thinking of the most likely culprits. Deirdre, Isabel, and Gemma may have been scattered around the globe, but he had no doubt the three sisters could gang up on their father if they put their minds to it.
“I’ll keep that in mind. No daughters. Have you told anyone else yet?”
“Other than the cardinals? No.”
“How did they take it?”
“How do you think? Officially, they weren’t pleased. But they can’t say anything when, officially, I’ve never existed in the first place. Besides, I’ve always been an oddity. Most immortal priests were turned from the Roman church and have far more respect for the Vatican.”