The man’s son broke into the conversation, murmuring in their own tongue, as he and his father seemed to have a low-voiced debate. Finally, the father raised his hand and his son fell quiet. “If you want to go there. I will not stop you. But I must know that no one will come looking for you and causing us trouble.”
Giovanni said, “No one will come after us. We do not wish to bring trouble to your home.”
The older man nodded and sat back in his chair. “Otar will take you as far as the base of the trail, but that is all. He will not accompany you up the mountain.”
Carwyn’s eyes darted toward Giovanni’s, and he nodded. Carwyn said, “That is more than we ask; we appreciate your hospitality.”
“Tell me again,” Giovanni said. “Why do you not want us to go there?”
Otar spoke from behind them, surprising Giovanni when he spoke in English. “That mountain is cursed. No one goes there. Or at least, no one comes back.”
“Cursed by what?”
The younger man shrugged. “The old people tell legends. And sometimes, the girls disappear if they go too close.”
“Only the girls?” Carwyn asked.
The young man was about to speak, but his father interrupted. “There are still robbers in the hills. It is better now than it was, but… we keep our children close to the village. Especially at night.”
Giovanni turned to the father. “Tell me about the legends.”
“They are nonsense.”
He smiled. “I am curious. I am a literature professor in Italy. I love stories and myths.”
The father shrugged. “The old people say that an angel appeared to Queen Tamar hundreds of years ago when she visited the mountains. He shone like fire and fell in love with our queen, so she gave him this mountain and let him build a stone tower. He stayed in the tower when she returned to the lowlands and her castle, but she returned here every summer to visit him. Many years passed in peace, but when the messengers came to the mountains, telling the people that the queen had died in her castle, the mountain she had given the angel was engulfed in flames. All the trees burned and none grew again. The angel continued to live there, but he grew angry with the Svan people. Hundreds of years passed, and the village that once thrived in the gorge beneath was deserted. Now, no one goes there. It is cursed.”
An angel of fire.
Giovanni wondered what Arosh would think of the legend. He wondered if he would even get to ask or whether these dark hours in the small village would be his last before he was killed by the legendary immortal.
“You will stay in my son’s house tonight, my friends. You may leave in the morning for your trek.”
Carwyn smiled and demurred. “No, no. We must travel at night. My friend’s skin condition makes it necessary to travel at night. And we only need your son to point us toward the trailhead. We will be happy to find our own way.”
Giovanni was glad he was so pale. The men had been suspicious of his ‘sunlight allergy,’ but had been more than happy to take the money for their hospitality without too many questions. As they made their way out of the small home and toward the horses they had ridden into the remote village, Carwyn and Giovanni were careful to shake hands with the men, ensuring their cooperation through subtle amnis and removing any suspicion from their minds.
“You are sure you want to go there?” Otar asked Giovanni as he saddled his packhorse.
“Yes, very sure.”
“I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but if it’s treasure, I don’t think you will find any in those mountains.”
“Do people come looking for treasure?”
The young man’s eyes held a playful kind of mischief. “Many things have been hidden in these mountains over the years. Often, they are found. More often, they are not.”
Giovanni’s mouth lifted at the corner, wondering what treasure hunters had been disappointed. In the old man’s house alone, he spotted several icons that any museum in Western Europe would love to have in their collection. Here, they hung on the walls, watching over humble families and simple meals.
“Truly, my friend”—Giovanni slapped the young man on the shoulder—“you must not worry about us. We are not here to look for anything that might bring harm to your family.”
“I’m not worried about my family, but I’ll be surprised if I see you again.”
Carwyn left the small house with a bottle of wine and a wrapped package that smelled like the flat bread they had eaten earlier. An old woman patted the vampire’s rough cheek and waved at them from the glowing door of the kitchen as they mounted their horses and followed the young man up to the trailhead.
“Leave it to you to think of your stomach, Carwyn.” Giovanni spoke in Latin, hoping the young man didn’t have any other surprises.
The vampire grinned. “If it’s my last night on earth, and I’m not in the company of a beautiful woman, then wine is the next best choice. Well, beer would be better, but wine will do.”
Giovanni chuckled and followed the soft padding of the horse in front of them. Otar led them up the western trail and into the hills. After a few miles, the young man stopped.
“This is as far as I will go with you. Keep to this trail and when you get to the dead tree line, you’ll know you’re at the right mountain. It will rise on the west side of the trail. Trust me; you won’t miss it. I have been there only once. It was during the daytime, when it is safe.”
Giovanni said, “I thought you said that no one went there.”
The young man smiled. “Only brave little boys and unhappy girls go to this mountain. The boys go during the day. The girls, at night. The boys we see again.”
Giovanni’s eyes sought Carwyn’s. What treachery was Arosh involved in? Was he feasting from the women of this small, mountain town?
Carwyn said, “Thank you, Otar.”
The young man nodded and turned his horse around. “Good luck finding whatever you’re after!”
“Thank you.”
Giovanni and Carwyn continued up the trail. It became narrower, and thick stands of forest rose on either side. Despite the peaceful surroundings, Giovanni could feel the steady thrum of energy that grew stronger the farther they traveled up the mountain.
“Do you feel it?”
Carwyn nodded. “Oh yes. These hills are… different.”
Eventually, the two vampires dismounted their horses, who were quickly becoming agitated by the crackling energy that permeated the air. Giovanni and Carwyn took their packs and strapped them on their backs before they turned the horses and shooed them away. The animals sped down the trail, and the two friends continued in silence until Carwyn started singing.
Giovanni smirked. “Really, Father? I’m trying not to think about the fact that I may never see my wife or family again, and you start a drinking song?”
“Well, it’s no use meeting somewhat certain death in a bad mood, is it?”
“I suppose you may have a point.”
“And why are you so certain that he’s going to kill us, Gio? You’ve become so cynical in your old age.”
“I’ve always been cynical. And tell me, my friend, have you ever seen two male fire vampires in the same room? The same building? The same city, for that matter?”
“Does Lan Caihe count?”
Giovanni snorted, thinking of the young, androgynous fire vampire of Penglai. “No, Lan doesn’t count.”
“Well then… no.” His mouth twisted. “That’s odd. I’ve never thought about it before. I haven’t. Not that I know many fire vampires at all.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
“Don’t get along?”
“We tend to kill each other on sight. It’s a very hard instinct to quell. Females do far better than males.”
“Good to know.” Carwyn paused, then took a long drink of the wine the old woman had given him before passing it to Giovanni. “Drink up.”
Giovanni grabbed the bottle and took a drink. It didn’t taste a fra
ction as sweet as his wife’s mouth, but he tried not to think about that. He tried not to think about Beatrice at all. Otherwise, he’d be too tempted to turn himself around and abandon the whole crazy plan. The farther they traveled, the heavier the air seemed to grow. If he was human, he doubted he could have stood under the pressure. The air was thick with amnis when they spotted the first charred trees.
Otar had been right; there was no mistaking this mountain. Unlike the surrounding hills, the slope that rose up from the gorge was a vast, wasted ruin. Rocks tumbled down and sharp spires of blackened conifer trunks dotted the landscape that glowed grey under the full moon.
“Think this is it?”
Giovanni took his foot off the trail and stepped up. As soon as he touched the base of the mountain he caught a whiff of almond smoke. The unmistakable scent of another male fire vampire filled his nostrils, and a certain dread fell over him. “This is it.”
They went slowly, not wanting to surprise whatever presence dwelled at the top of the mountain. Even Carwyn, who was usually at home in remote hills, seemed grim. Giovanni heard him praying under his breath as they climbed.
“Father?”
“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?”
Giovanni turned to him and held out a hand. “Thank you. For everything.”
He saw Carwyn’s eyes glow bright in the moonlight, and his voice was hoarse when he grasped Giovanni’s hand. “Don’t be so morbid, Sparky.”
Just then, a rushing sound filled the air. The wind whipped by as if churned by some great flying beast. They turned, but nothing showed itself in the night. Giovanni took a deep breath and continued their silent climb.
They had just climbed over a scarred knoll when they heard the rushing wind again. This time, it was closer. Then, he felt a great rush of wind, as if the air around him was being sucked up toward the summit of the mountain. His heart faltered for a moment.
“Carwyn, duck.”
They both dropped to the rocks before the wave of scarlet fire swept down the mountain. Carwyn’s amnis pushed up, and a wall of rock rose before them. They pressed against it as the flames rolled down the slope. Giovanni could even feel the rock they sheltered behind begin to heat, and he struggled to rein in his own instinctive reaction. The fire bloomed on his skin and burned away his shirt and coat. His fangs ran out, but he bit his lip tried to control himself.
“Carwyn?”
“Yes?”
“I know you’re not, strictly speaking, a priest anymore—”
“Trust me when I say I’m rethinking that decision just now!”
“Pray anyway.”
The flames halted for a minute and Giovanni stepped out from behind their earthen shield, the blue flames swirling along his skin, but contained for the moment.
“Arosh!” he called.
He felt the slow suck of air again, and he darted back behind the rock as the flames swept down the mountain again. They were slower this time, creeping and testing, and Carwyn rolled the rocks and earth up around them to smother the flames before they reached their feet.
A whispering Persian voice came on the wind. “Who seeks Arosh?”
Giovanni took a deep breath and answered. “I am Giovanni, son of Nikolaos Andreas, sired by Kato of Minos.”
The flames were no longer testing. They came in furious waves. Carwyn roared as one curled up his leg. He sank his foot in the rock to kill the burning tendril.
“I don’t think that helped much, Sparky!”
“Apparently, I’m not the only one who hated my father.”
The flames halted again, so Giovanni tried another name.
“We have been sent by Ziri, the Numidian. We come as friends!”
The deep voice came again, closer this time. “I have no quarrel with the holy man. Tell Saba’s son to depart from this place. I have no wish to anger her or the immortal’s god. But the son of Andreas is mine.”
Carwyn looked confused. “Saba’s son?”
“He must mean because you’re an earth vampire. If you want to go, go.”
Carwyn reached into his coat and pulled out the wine bottle, uncorking it and taking a long drink. “Tempting, but no.”
Giovanni’s heart was racing and he could no longer contain his own flames. He could feel them rushing over his body, and his heavy canvas pants were burning at the cuffs. “He’s going to kill us.”
Carwyn nodded. “That seems to be more likely by the moment, yes. I wonder if it would help if he knew you killed your sire.”
Giovanni swallowed the growl that wanted to leap from his throat when he felt the heavy amnis press around them. He quelled the flames as much as he could before he stepped out from behind their rocky shelter, but the blue fire swirled as he held his arms out. He threw out a burst of flame when he saw the spear of fire heading toward him.
The battling flames met and burst high into the night sky, flooding the rocky slope with red light. Then they stopped, and a great roar erupted from the top of the mountain, as Giovanni’s fire leapt forward. He fought the instinct telling him to strike back and called on every ounce of self-control as he forced himself to pull back. Then he stood bare and smoking on the rugged cliffs as he cried out:
“I am Giovanni Vecchio, murderer of my sire, Nikolaos Andreas! I am sent from Ziri, seeking his friends Arosh and Kato. I ask for an audience with the great kings. I mean no harm upon this mountain or the immortals here!”
A gaping silence followed his pronouncement. He could hear Carwyn’s soft prayers coming from behind him and suddenly, Giovanni heard footsteps.
Emerging from the smoke, the ancient fire vampire approached, his black eyes raking Giovanni’s blue fire and his amnis sparking in the air around him. Red flames licked along his ruddy brown skin, and long, black hair flew out behind him. His regal forehead needed no crown to speak its authority, and mysterious symbols were tattooed on the rise of his cheekbones. He wore brown leather leggings, but nothing else except an angry glare. He came to a halt a few meters above Giovanni, hands fisted on his hips as he examined the younger immortal in front of him.
“Did you really kill Andreas?”
Giovanni took a deep, calming breath and pulled his fire back further. “Yes.”
The vampire arched a black eyebrow. “And Ziri sent you?”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Are you Arosh?”
Giovanni felt a fluttering wind behind him, and a vampire came to light behind the ancient one. The silent immortal crouched down and eyed him with a feral gaze. The fire vampire reached down and petted the wind vampire’s head as he would a beloved pet, and he calmed. Then the vampire looked at Giovanni, and his mouth turned up at the corner.
“Some have called me Arosh, but I am known by many names.”
“I seek Arosh, ancient king of the East, friend of Ziri of Numidia, and friend of Geber, the alchemist.”
There was a flicker in the old one’s eyes. “Geber, you say?”
“Are you the Arosh I seek?”
“I am.” Arosh craned his neck to look over Giovanni’s shoulder. “You may come out, holy man.”
Giovanni heard Carwyn call out, “Is the posturing done?”
Arosh looked amused. “Yes, for now.”
“Good.” Giovanni heard Carwyn stride toward them, packs clutched in his hands and wine tucked under his arm. “And, strictly speaking, I’m not a holy man anymore. But I do have wine.”
A smile broke over Arosh’s fearsome face. “Wine, my friend, is always welcome. I think I will like you. What is your name?”
“Carwyn ap Bryn. Son of Maelona of Gwynedd, daughter of Brennus the Celt.”
“You are well met, Carwyn ap Bryn. And you, Giovanni Vecchio, if you are who you both say. Come with me, my son will follow us.” He motioned to the wind vampire, who took to the air and circled above them. “I hope you brought no men with you,” Arosh said, “or Samson will kill them.”
Carwyn and Giovanni exchanged a cautious look. “We
are alone.”
“Good. He doesn’t harm the girls, but he’s been trained to kill the men.”
“Understood. It’s just us.”
They walked up the mountain, their host skipping over rocks and rubble as he climbed. Arosh made no pretense of human speed, so they didn’t either. As they crested the summit, Giovanni could see a house in the distance. As they approached, they were met with a square tower surrounded by a lavish estate. Lush trees surrounded the home, and Giovanni could hear laughter and music coming from inside. The grounds were lit with torches and gravel paths ran through neat gardens. He could hear a fountain burbling somewhere and a murmur of female voices.
Their host yelled out, “Nothing to fear, my jewels.”
Suddenly, a bevy of women poured out of the fortress, tumbling and laughing over each other in their rush to greet Arosh. They gathered around him, nubile teenagers and lush women of all ages, all stroking his arms and hair as he walked into the house. He pulled them along, kissing their eager mouths and running his fingers through their hair as they made their way into the glowing home.
Giovanni and Carwyn both stood, gaping at the vicious fire vampire surrounded by the crowd of women. Samson, the silent wind vampire, landed behind them, cocking his head when they stared. He held out a hand and motioned them toward the house. They followed cautiously, and Giovanni’s eyes roamed the lavish house and the girls who came out to greet them, grabbing their hands to lead them into the house with cheerful smiles.
“Gio?”
“I’m as confused as you are, Father.”
“Why do I feel like we just found the vampire version of the Playboy Mansion?”
“Because I’m fairly sure we did.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rome, Italy
October 2012
“Wow, look. It’s another priceless and culturally significant work of art.”
“Stop with your gushing enthusiasm. It’s embarrassing to walk next to you.”
“You’re the one letting yourself go.”
Dez turned and slapped Ben’s shoulder as they strolled through the Galleria Borghese.