Tenzin’s voice was uncharacteristically soft when she finally spoke. “Was this the first?”
The first person he’d ever killed? Ben nodded.
He was familiar with violence. It had been a constant, lurking shadow his whole life. Ben had seen a lot. He’d watched a man kick another to death and leave him broken in an alley. He’d seen a gloating man stabbed, his blood spilling out in the mud as the money was stolen from his body by greedy hands. But Ben had never killed anyone.
“Ben?”
He whispered, “Yeah?”
“Was the man attacking Dez?”
He nodded.
“Was he hurting the baby?”
“He…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “He was kicking her. He had to see she was pregnant. Her shirt was up, and her belly… He couldn’t have—”
“You were defending Dez. You were protecting the baby.”
He blinked back the tears, but they fell down his face anyway.
Tenzin slipped her hand in his, and Ben gripped her small fingers.
“You did well, Benjamin. You did right.”
Ben held on to Tenzin’s hand, and the two sat in silence as Dez slept under their watch.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Svaneti, Republic of Georgia
November 2012
Giovanni decided that the home of Arosh—which could only be described as a palace—was an odd, but not uncomfortable combination of museum and harem. Silks and tapestries hung from the windowless walls. The rooms were lit by golden oil lamps and heated by glowing braziers. The rooms they had been shown to when they arrived were equipped with luxurious baths and opulent furnishings. The only electricity in the palace seemed to be in the bedrooms, a nod to the humans who occupied most of the rooms.
And by humans, Giovanni meant women. Dozens of them. Hundreds, possibly. Women of every age, shape, and color ran laughing through the house. They cooked Giovanni and Carwyn rich meals and offered their willing wrists for the vampires to drink. They tended the house and the gardens. They read books in the vast library. Many were beautiful, but not all. Some bore the scars of past abuse or injury, but all seemed content. Most appeared to be between seventeen and forty, but a few older women passed them in the halls, as well.
And one woman, a regal beauty named Zarine, ruled the house.
Her accent was Armenian. Her long, black hair curled down her back and her brown eyes were warm and wise. She appeared to be in her fifties or sixties, and she was fiercely protective of her master.
“Doctor Vecchio, are you sure that you will not take sustenance from one of the girls? You have been here for several weeks now. Arosh would be most disappointed that you have not fed properly.”
He leaned forward on the silk-wrapped chaise. “And where is our host this evening, if I may ask?”
Zarine’s eyes lit with amusement. “He is… occupied this evening.”
“He is occupied every evening.”
“He does not deprive himself. It is not his nature.”
Giovanni bit his tongue and glanced at Carwyn, who was sipping wine and frowning at a group of passing women.
As soon as they had arrived at the house, Carwyn had given Arosh the letter from Ziri. The ancient fire vampire had taken it, glanced at the unbroken seal, then promptly disappeared into the palace with a dozen girls.
They hadn’t seen him since.
Giovanni and Carwyn had been fed and watered. They had been given luxurious rooms and a tour of the house, which was filled to the brim with ancient treasures from all over the world. Arosh was a collector of all sorts of beautiful things. Art and women just seemed to top the list. There were also many treasures that looked Greek or Minoan in origin, but there was no sign of Kato, the fabled water vampire.
“Zarine, I do not wish to seem ungrateful—”
“Then don’t. You are being given the finest hospitality of my master’s home. It would be most unfortunate if you were not satisfied with that.”
Though her voice and pleasant expression never wavered, he could see the glint of steel in her eyes. Zarine, as much as the silent wind vampire, Samson, was Arosh’s most fervent and devoted security.
Carwyn spoke up. “Zarine?”
She turned toward the friendly vampire. “Yes, Carwyn?”
“All the women here… they do come willingly, do they not?”
She smiled. “And leave when they wish to. Samson simply alters their memories depending on where they want to go. He’s very gifted in that trait. Most are placed with one of my associates in the city if they want to work. Some desire husbands and families. They all receive what they wish. If they wish to leave.”
“But many don’t.”
She shrugged. “These girls… most of them did not have good lives before they came here. Here, they are my master’s treasures. His ‘jewels.’” She turned as Samson swept silently through the room and toward the front door.
The wind vampire was an enigma. He never spoke, and the Eastern European man had wild, grey eyes. He had been sired young, but his head was covered by an alarming shock of pure silver hair. Arosh called him his child, Zarine looked at him with affection, but the vampire moved through the house like a ghost.
Samson stopped for a moment when a younger girl caught the edge of his cloak. She pulled him down and whispered in his ear. The bruises on her face were still healing and one arm was set in a brace. She had appeared in the house the week before and been enfolded by the women of Arosh’s palace. The wounded girl placed a soft kiss on the vampire’s pale cheek. Samson gave the girl a slight nod before he disappeared into the black night without a word.
Zarine turned back to her guests with a smile. “As you can see, the girls are not mistreated here. Though, I appreciate your concern.”
The earth vampire only shrugged. “I have daughters of my own.”
Giovanni broke in. “Why doesn’t he speak?”
“Samson?”
He nodded.
“I do not know. He never has in all the time I’ve been here. He has a tongue.” Her eyes danced in amusement. “Of that, I’m quite positive. But I’ve never heard him speak.”
“And what about your master?” asked Carwyn. “Should we expect to see him soon? My friend here is trying to be polite, but that’s never been an affliction of mine. I cannot complain about your hospitality, but we really do need to speak with him.”
Zarine’s eyes softened. “I understand your impatience. Truly. And I know that you have traveled a long way, but Arosh is a king.” She shrugged. “He comes and goes as he pleases and currently, he is enjoying the pleasures of his women. He may not appear for days. Or weeks.”
Giovanni’s eyes widened. “Weeks?”
He tried not to think of his own woman waiting back in Rome. He missed his wife. He missed her teasing voice and her soft touch. He missed waking with her and falling asleep wrapped in her arms. He even missed their arguments. And, he was worried. He couldn’t deny it.
A particularly sweet-smelling girl walked past and his fangs lengthened in his mouth. A low growl built at the back of his throat. Arosh carried no stored blood. Why would he? He had a walking, giggling supply running around his palace. Carwyn’s voice broke through his hungry reverie.
“Gio, I’m going to hunt tonight. I already let Samson know. There are wolves and bears in the mountains around here. Would you join me?”
Unlike Carwyn, Giovanni’s system was not accustomed to subsisting on animal blood alone. He could hunt, but he knew he wouldn’t be as strong from animal blood as he would be from just a few drinks of one of the many willing women who surrounded him.
“I…” He looked toward his friend.
Carwyn looked back with understanding before he rose and patted Giovanni on the shoulder. He leaned down and whispered in Latin, “Drink. Make yourself strong. We both need to be strong. She will understand.”
Giovanni blinked and pushed back his longing for Beatrice. He nodded to a gi
rl who had offered herself to him the day before.
“Fine. Send her to my room.”
Zarine’s lips curled into a smile. “Excellent. I hope you enjoy your time with her.”
“Just feeding, Zarine.”
She shrugged. “The girl will be disappointed, but it is your choice, of course.”
He returned to his room, pushing back the flames that danced at his collar. Giovanni wanted to leave this place. He had been battling aggression from the moment he stepped through the door. Arosh’s distinctive smell was everywhere, and the scent of burning almond wood filled the rooms. He had never been under the roof of another fire vampire. The only males he had ever met, he had killed or avoided as much as possible. Being around another male triggered the worst of his natural aggression and territorial instincts. He had to constantly fight back the fire that wanted to erupt. Perhaps, as much as he disliked it, feeding would help.
The girl tapped at the door and he clenched his fists to control his hunger.
“Enter.”
It was two days later when Arosh finally appeared. He stretched out on a low couch and drew Zarine to his chest, stroking her hair and feeding her an orange he had peeled.
“How has your stay been, my friends?”
Carwyn said, “Clearly not as pleasant as yours.”
Arosh threw his head back and laughed. “You amuse me, holy man! I understand your own odd beliefs, but why has the son of Andreas not taken his pleasure with the beauties of my home? I’m sure Zarine has pointed out those who are acceptable.”
Giovanni forced back the instinctive curl of his lip and banished the memory of the disappointed girl he had fed from. “I am mated, Arosh.”
“And you are faithful?” Arosh’s eyes lit in amusement. “How odd.”
“Not odd. No woman is appealing when compared to my wife.”
Arosh’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he smiled. It was the most sincere smile he had seen from the ancient. “Kato would approve of you. He took a number of mates over the centuries and was always very faithful to them when he did.”
“Where is my grand-sire?”
Arosh ignored the question. “Your sire, however, did not hold others in such esteem. He had little regard for family. He had little regard for anyone but himself.”
“I am aware of this.”
“You would be. Tell me, why did you kill him?”
“Wouldn’t you have? He had plans for me. I’m sure you can imagine.”
“And you wouldn’t have defied him.”
Giovanni cocked his head. “I’d like to think I would have, but probably not. Could you have ignored your sire?”
Arosh shrugged. “I do not know. My earliest memory is of a fire-scarred cave. There was no one.”
Carwyn frowned. “What? No one at all?”
“If there was, the fire burned them.” Arosh slipped another piece of orange between Zarine’s lips and ran a finger along her cheek. “That is too long ago to matter. All of my children have been sired to wind, so that must have been my own origin. Perhaps he left me. Perhaps he had no interest in my future. Unlike your sire, Giovanni Vecchio. Am I correct?”
“Yes.” Giovanni did not let his eyes wander from Arosh’s keen gaze. “My father was very… involved.”
“I can imagine he was.” He sat up and pulled Zarine with him, whispering in her ear that she should leave them. She nodded silently and backed out of the room, closing the doors behind her. Arosh watched her leave, then turned back to them.
“I knew your sire, Giovanni. I did not like him. His own sire didn’t like him. Ironically, you seem like the type of child that Kato would have wanted. He valued loyalty above all, but had the wisdom to appreciate others and respect them. Kato felt a deep responsibility toward those under his aegis. He was not only feared, but loved. A true ruler must have both.”
“I do not want to rule anything. I want only to live my life in peace and protect those who are mine.”
“Ah!” Arosh grinned. “You are a wise child. You have learned early what it took Kato and me thousands of years to learn. Peace is a treasure beyond earthly price.”
Giovanni took a deep breath. “Where is my grand-sire, Arosh?”
Arosh pulled the letter from his cloak, fingering the broken seal and staring into the fire. “Do you know, Giovanni, I asked your sire for a favor once?”
He and Carwyn exchanged glances, and he threw a careful mask over his face to hide the shock. To most, Arosh’s admission would be nothing remarkable, but for a king of legend to admit that he had once asked another immortal for a favor was shocking.
“No, I did not know this. You honored him by ask—”
“He refused.”
Giovanni almost choked. To be asked for a favor from a legend like Arosh was awe-inspiring enough. To refuse? Unthinkable. Arosh would have owed Andros a favor of his own. A favor from the ancient king was not something to be dismissed. Or refused. Ever.
“I offer my apologies, Arosh. My sire’s audacity—”
“Is not your fault!” Arosh only looked amused. “And you have killed him for me, so that is very pleasing.” He held up the letter that Ziri had written. “But it appears that you did not kill him on your own. You sired a child. And now you have a problem, Giovanni Vecchio.”
He nodded carefully. Now was the time for bargaining. “Yes, we have a problem.”
“And Ziri asks me to expose myself and my dearest friend to this annoying vampire in Rome.”
“Not for her. To keep the world safe from the—”
“Yes, the elixir.” Arosh curled his lip. “I had hoped to never hear about that dreaded concoction again. What a mess.”
Carwyn, ever fearless, piped up. “What were you thinking?”
Giovanni was tempted to muzzle the priest, but Arosh only laughed. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, holy man.”
“Ah well.” Carwyn sat up straighter and looked at the ancient fire vampire with suddenly keen eyes. “I’d very much like to kill the bastard that murdered my son. Or watch someone kill him, I’m not picky. So, if we could get on with it, please?”
“Yes, holy man, let us ‘get on with it’ as you say.” Arosh cocked his head and looked at Giovanni. “I have read Ziri’s letter. I know what my friend asks of me, but what about you, Giovanni, son of Andreas?”
The ancient fire vampire wanted something. And though Ziri had already asked for the favor, he wanted Giovanni to ask it as well. That way, a favor would be owed. He had no choice.
“Arosh, I would ask a favor of you.”
The dark eyes of the old king lit up. “And I may grant it. We shall see.”
Arosh led them down into the mountain and through a twisted maze of passageways that Giovanni couldn’t help but think Beatrice would enjoy.
“Kato always liked mazes,” Arosh called as he led them forward. “And this one keeps the more curious girls away. I only let a few attend to him, though he’s not dangerous to human women.”
To human women? Giovanni couldn’t help but notice that he and Carwyn didn’t fall under that particular category.
They finally exited the maze and were led toward a chamber that reminded Giovanni of an old tomb. The large, stone doors were intricately carved and painted, and a channel of water fell from a hidden stream.
“The cisterns feed the waterfall and the fountains. He can’t reside near the sea, but I can keep enough water here to keep him content.”
What the hell were they walking into? Arosh pushed the doors open and the three vampires stepped into a large open chamber. The tiled ceiling was held up by richly painted columns and fountains flowed through the room. The walls were bare stone. Cold, but painted with rich murals depicting beautiful scenes of the ocean and sea life. They walked along a bridge that led them toward the sound of soft voices. As they crossed over a long pool, Giovanni spied his father’s sire and gasped.
Andros had been right. Ancient peoples had seen this immortal and the
legends of Poseidon were born. Kato sat submerged to his chest in a large, Roman-style bath. He stared straight ahead and quiet women circled around him, pouring water over his thickly muscled chest, curling hair, and long beard. His eyes were a deep, sea blue. His hair was the color of bronze. The immortal didn’t appear sickly or ill. Kato, the ancient water vampire, looked like a god.
Giovanni heard Arosh shift behind him a moment before Kato moved. It was infinitesimal, a twitch. But suddenly, he was looking into the eyes of his grand-sire and he realized that something was very, very wrong.
The brilliant blue eyes held nothing; they were vacant and wild.
Kato’s mouth opened. Long, thick fangs speared behind his lips and in a blink, he had flown out of the water and toward the intruders. Arosh stepped back again, taking Carwyn’s arm and pulling him behind his body. A snarl ripped from Kato’s throat, and Giovanni could scarcely draw a breath before he was overtaken. Kato grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air.
“Gio!”
“Stay back, holy man.”
At Kato’s touch, the water was drawn from Giovanni’s body. He could feel it wicking away as the water vampire drew it out of him. No shield or energy could stop it as Giovanni’s skin dried. His lips cracked. It was as if he was a sponge being wrung out by the hands of the old king.
And he was choking. Kato held him up and Giovanni knew that with one squeeze, the hands of this vampire could end him. He had no fire in this watery tomb. The air was too thick with moisture. His dry hands reached up to the iron grip of his grand-sire, but did nothing. It was like pawing at solid rock.
However, just as quickly as Kato had lifted him, the water vampire froze, took a deep breath, and lowered Giovanni to the ground. A soft look stole over the immortal’s face, and he pulled Giovanni closer. The iron hand tilted his chin up, and Kato leaned over, placed his face at Giovanni’s throat, and inhaled. Then he smiled and lowered his chin. He placed soft hands on his grandchild’s shoulders and kissed his forehead.