Zeno knocked them down. “Don’t make me beat you.”
The surly immortal had worked for his uncle over a year now, but he still held his connections with the church. Zeno had been a priest, and he was relatively young for an immortal, though he had been middle-aged when he’d been turned. He was just over one hundred years or something like that. Ben knew better than to ask.
“Grumpy old man,” Ben muttered. “And after I brought you presents too.”
Zeno waved a dismissive hand. “The journal will get at least one of our more… persistent clients off my back. He showed up at the library unannounced last week and surprised Fina. She wasn’t pleased.”
“I’m surprised he’s still alive.”
“Yes.” Zeno drew out the word. “I think he is too.”
The grumpy vampire had married the human librarian who ran Giovanni’s library in Perugia, and he was rabidly possessive of both the woman and her young son.
“Fina and Enzo coming to Rome?”
“And swelter in this heat?” Zeno asked. “It’s cooler at home. And Enzo’s still finishing his school term. I think we’ll take a holiday to the mountains if the weather doesn’t let up. She’s been asking for one, and the Naples theft…” Zeno shook his head and muttered under his breath. “It’s been driving both of us crazy.”
“Was it that bad?” Ben had a hard time understanding his family’s obsession with books.
It wasn’t that Ben didn’t love books. He’d been a voracious reader since before he’d met Giovanni. Books were one of the few cheap and available escapes he’d had as a child. Alcohol made his mother cry. Drugs were expensive and dangerous.
But stories…
He’d split any time he could get away from his mother between the public library and the Metropolitan museum. But he couldn’t understand the overriding desire to preserve medieval tax records or Renaissance-era farming manuals like they were made of precious metal.
“We don’t know how big the Naples theft was,” Zeno said. “That’s part of the problem. And it wasn’t just books.”
“What does that mean?”
Zeno raised an eyebrow. “Valuables, my friend. Artifacts.”
Okay, now his interest was piqued. Ben leaned forward. “I didn’t hear Gio mention any artifacts. What’s missing?”
“We don’t know unless a client tells us. And your uncle doesn’t deal in antiquities. Only books.”
Ben’s excitement fled. Bummer. Artifacts would have been interesting.
“A large portion of the library was uncatalogued,” Zeno continued, paging through Giovanni’s notes. “Partly because it’s so old, and partly because many immortals used it like their own personal storage unit.”
“That seems… unusual.”
Zeno shrugged. “It’s Naples. They’re crazy down there.”
Ben laughed.
“I can say that,” Zeno said, “because I was born there. It’s the truth.” He tapped his temple. “Everyone from Naples… We’re a little off, yes? We like it that way. Keeps life interesting.”
“Makes me think I should be hanging out in Naples more.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Zeno said, shutting him down. “Maybe in another hundred years when there’s a different vampire in power.”
Ben pursed his lips. “So… when I’m dead.”
Zeno frowned. “Why?”
“What?”
“I always assumed Giovanni would sire you. Why wouldn’t he? You’re his son.”
“I’m his nephew.”
“So?”
“And I don’t want to be a vampire.”
Zeno shook his head. “You’re a fool.”
“No,” he said. “I’m just not a romantic.”
Zeno threw his head back and laughed. “And what is romantic about this life? Drinking blood? Hiding from the sun?” Then his amusement fell. “Watching old friends die?”
“Exactly. Do you wonder why I don’t want it?”
“Yes.” The old vampire narrowed his eyes. “Because I see the same thing in you that I could see in myself at your age. You’re greedy.”
It pricked Ben a little. Made him feel like he was asking for more than his share. He sat a little straighter. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting—”
“Don’t be offended. I understand it,” Zeno said. “I wanted many things at your age. Money. Good music. Cheerful friends.” Zeno grinned. “Many, many women.”
Ben shrugged carelessly.
“I see much of myself in you, Ben. The same… ambition that drove me. The same greed.”
“I don’t see ambition as greed.”
“I’m not talking about money,” Zeno said. “Not talking about anything that… unimportant. I scraped coins growing up. I know just how good it feels to accumulate wealth. But that’s not the kind of greed I’m thinking of. You’re greedy for time, Ben Vecchio.”
Ben stayed silent.
“Time,” Zeno said, “is the true treasure of this life. And who is more greedy for time than those of us clinging to the dark?”
“You told me once you didn’t want to become a vampire,” Ben said quietly.
“I didn’t!” Zeno said, sorting papers into a pile that he carefully placed in a grey document box. “I didn’t want to be a vampire. But that didn’t mean my sire was an idiot.” Zeno winced. “Unfortunate that I killed him before I knew that wasn’t strictly allowed. But he knew I’d come to terms with it.”
“Why?”
“Because I was a thief!” Zeno said with a grin. “And a gambler. And because in the end, my sire helped me pull off the greatest heist of my life. I stole time.”
❂
BEN was helping Zeno sort letters two hours later when a timid priest knocked at the door and peeked in.
“Brother Zeno?”
“Why do you bother me?” Zeno roared. “Can you not see that I am working?”
The priest flinched. “There is a… person here to see you and your guest.”
“Who?” Zeno frowned. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
“She was most insistent.”
“Is it my wife?”
“No,” the priest said quickly. “Though I have not met the signora, I am sure—”
The young man broke off when surprised shouts echoed down the hallway. Tenzin flew over the young priest’s head, shoving him down and landing in front of Zeno with a smile.
“Oh,” Zeno said. “It’s you. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Nobody expects me!” she said.
“Or the Spanish Inquisition,” Ben muttered.
“What?”
Ben cleared his throat. “Nothing, Tiny. Why are you here?”
She flew over and sat in the center of the worktable as the young priest abandoned the room with relief.
“I was bored. And I wanted to talk to Zeno about Naples.”
Ben leaned against the table. “Oh, are we being forthcoming this time?”
She shrugged. “There’s not so much mystery. There is a vampire there who wants me to find some old coins for him. I want you to help.”
Zeno’s eyes shot up. “Who?”
“Who what?”
“Who wants you to find the coins?”
“Alfonso.” Tenzin scooted over and swung her leg over the edge of the table, shoving Ben’s carefully organized papers to the side. “Who else?”
Zeno’s eyes darted between Tenzin and Ben. “And you intend to take Giovanni’s son with you?”
“Yes,” Tenzin said.
“I’m not Gio’s son. And you haven’t actually asked me to go with you,” Ben said, crossing his arms. “I’m not going unless you tell me the details. And that includes any cross-Atlantic steamer trips I might be unknowingly booked on.”
Zeno started laughing.
Tenzin flew behind Ben and perched on his back, hanging her arms over his shoulders. “Don’t be mad. Didn’t you get an excellent grade in Conversational Mandarin the next semester?”
/> “Not the point.”
Zeno was still laughing. “I want to hear that story.”
“It’s really not that funny.”
Tenzin said, “It really is.”
“Tiny, if you want me—”
“I’ll give you all the details. I already told you about the Sicilian coins, didn’t I?”
“Mentioning a type of coin isn’t a story. That’s a detail. Is this another one of your caches? Is this someone who hired you? What will I be doing? Will any weapons be involved?”
“Such a pacifist.” She sighed. “So boring.”
How did she piss him off so quickly?
He untangled her arms from around his neck and shoved her away. “Fine. If I’m so boring, then you can—”
“Ask me your questions,” Zeno barked. “Then take your lovers’ quarrel somewhere else. I don’t want to listen to it.”
“He’s not my lover,” Tenzin said. “He’s my… life coach.”
Ben and Zeno both stared at her.
“What?” she said. “You don’t like it when I call you my human, so I’ve been thinking of other things I can call you instead of that.”
Ben could feel the headache starting in his temples. “Do you even know what a life coach is?”
She threw up her arms. “Does anyone really know what a life coach is? I’m living in Los Angeles. They’ll just think I’ve gone crazy.”
“—er,” Ben said. “Crazier. And don’t call me your life coach.”
Zeno asked, “So what are you?”
“I’m…” Ben sighed. “I don’t know. Impatient to hear the rest of this.”
“Fine.” Tenzin hopped off his back and onto the table. “I wanted to ask Zeno some questions anyway.”
“Ask me what?”
“About Alfonso,” she said. “He’s the one who wants me to find his lost Sicilian tarì.”
“Tarì,” Zeno said. “Medieval tarì?”
Tenzin nodded. “These were minted during the twelfth century by Roger the Second.”
“I don’t think of Roger as a very Italian name,” Ben said.
“He wasn’t. He was Norman.” Zeno stepped forward. “Truly? Twelfth-century tarì?”
“Alfonso had a very large chest of them. Rare, but I think they have sentimental value of some kind.”
Zeno asked, “Was this chest in the library in Naples?”
“The big heist?” Tenzin grinned. “No, I don’t think so, but I don’t know the details. I just know Alfonso used to have them, and now he doesn’t. And he wants me to find them.”
Ben was suspicious. “Why you?”
“Because I’m good at finding things.” She paused. “And I might have let it slip in some circles that I’d heard rumors about a hoard of medieval gold coins.”
Ben’s suspicions grew. “And had you? Heard rumors?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Not… precisely.”
“It figures,” Ben said, gathering up his messenger bag. “Zeno, do you have any weapons I can use? I have a feeling this is going to be one of those vacations.”
“I didn’t invite you on vacation!” she yelled. “I told you this was a working holiday.”
“Yes,” Zeno interrupted. “Working in Naples. Does Giovanni know?”
“No,” she said. “Does he need to?”
“Well yes, because Alfonso is crazy,” Zeno said. “And you’re taking his son there.”
“Not his son!”
“Alfonso hired me,” Tenzin said. “And I’ve met him before… I think. I hardly think he’s going to hurt Ben or me unless we try to double-cross him.”
“Well yes,” Zeno said. “It’s entirely possible that you will get there and he will decide you have offended him in some inexplicable way and he’ll kill you. Because he’s mad. They call him the Mad Spaniard.”
Ben turned to Zeno. “Like… regularly? That’s his regular nickname? The Mad Spaniard?”
Why, why, why did she think this was a good idea?
“Not all the time,” Zeno said.
Tenzin added, “Sometimes they call him the Mad Duke.”
“So much better!” Ben threw up his hands and started pacing.
“But I don’t know if he was really a duke or not.” Tenzin shrugged. “It might just be one of those rumors. And Zeno, Alfonso could certainly try to hurt Ben or me,” Tenzin said through a wicked smile. “That might be entertaining.”
“Not from my perspective,” Ben said.
“What do you want to know?” Zeno asked.
“What is his political situation right now?”
“Tenuous,” Zeno answered. “But it is always so. His longest-serving advisor is a vampire named Filomena. She’s powerful but doesn’t seem to want the spotlight. Known to be vicious. You’d like her, I think.”
“Because she’s vicious?” Ben asked.
Zeno smiled. “Because she’s straightforward. Filomena is probably the only reason Alfonso has stayed in power this long. She tempers him. The napoletana court is small, paranoid, and insular. Many of them came to Naples before Bonaparte. They don’t truly consider themselves Italian, and they don’t recognize Rome.”
Ben asked, “And Emil Conti lets them get away with that?”
Zeno shrugged. “Naples is not his concern at present, though it would be better if the library theft had not happened. Now people are paying attention to it. Now some of his own people have lost possessions, which is why he’s been putting pressure on Giovanni and Beatrice to take on Roman clients. Mostly Conti would like to pretend that Naples does not exist. Alfonso does pretend that Rome does not exist. As long as the status quo is maintained, everyone is happy.”
Tenzin’s head fell back. “The status quo is boring.”
“And safe.” Ben patted her head. “Remember that part.”
“Fine,” she said. “So we avoid pissing Alfonso off, keep Filomena in sight if things look like they’re going… sideways, find his gold, and get out of there.”
“Alfonso is known to be greedy,” Zeno said. “If he wants you to find his gold, make sure you don’t keep any souvenirs.”
Tenzin’s eyes went big and round. “Would I do that?”
“Yes,” Ben said. Then to Zeno, “Yes, she would. Which is usually why Gio doesn’t mind if I tag along on these kinds of things. I’ll keep her out of trouble.”
Tenzin’s impish smile spread.
“Oh yes,” Zeno said. “Obviously.”
❂
THE train to Naples was only an hour. He dozed in the sun, then grabbed another taxi from the station to Piazza Bellini, just south of the Archeological Museum. It was late afternoon, and the black stone streets of Naples were sweltering. He ducked in from the piazza and entered the quiet, flower-filled courtyard with a fountain at one end. The building was old. The furnishings were modern.
“Buongiorno,” the hostess at the front desk said when he opened the door.
Ahhhhh.
A rush of cool air. He stood for a moment, eyes closed, reveling in the air-conditioning.
“Signore?”
“Hey,” he finally said in English. “I have a reservation under Benjamin Rios.”
She smiled and answered in English. “Your passport, please?”
He pulled out a passport and handed it to her. Ben wasn’t sure why he was using the fake passport Gavin had helped him procure last year in New York. He hated using his father’s last name, but it made the most sense. He’d answered to Benjamin Rios for nearly twelve years, after all. Now the name only existed as a useful shadow.
The girl checked him in and handed him the key and a map directing him to his room. It was a small hotel, but it was perfectly located and had terrace rooms, which was necessary when he was traveling with Tenzin.
The hallway was sweltering, but the room was cool. Ben unlocked the french doors leading out to the terrace, closed the drapes, and decided to take a nap.
And woke to Tenzin on the bed beside him.
&nb
sp; “This is starting to become a habit when we travel, Tiny.”
“You’re not naked this time. I checked.”
He kept his eyes closed and shook his head. She’d checked. Of course she had.
“This bed isn’t as comfortable as your bed in Rome,” she complained.
“Yeah…” He yawned and rolled toward her. “I didn’t pick it because of the beds. I picked it because it has a private terrace. That way you can come and go as you please. This place seems to be pretty quiet, so I think you’ll be okay.”
“Awww.” She patted his cheek. “You’re such a thoughtful life coach.”
“Please don’t call me your life coach. That would make me feel responsible for any bodies you leave in your wake.”
She laughed.
“Are we meeting Alfonso tonight?” he asked.
“Yes. Despite my somewhat flippant attitude with Zeno, I don’t want to linger in the city too long. I want to meet Alfonso, make the deal, and fly out of here. We have three weeks, and that should be just enough time if we’re smart.”
“Want to fill me in?” he asked. “Now that Zeno’s not here to tattle to Gio?”
“I will.” She frowned. “But not yet. I want to get your impressions of Alfonso’s court without any background information. Is that fair to you?”
He shifted on the bed. “I get it. His chief advisor—”
“Filomena.”
“Yeah, Filomena. Are we meeting her tonight too?”
Tenzin nodded. “She’s the one meeting us at Piazza del Gesù Nuovo at ten o’clock tonight.”
“Do we have time to get dinner?”
“Always hungry. Always, always hungry.”
❂
SHE watched him as he chatted with an artist and munched on the hot sciurilli he’d picked up from a street vendor. She’d sampled a few of the delicately fried zucchini blossoms before she handed them over to Benjamin to demolish.
A group of rowdy street children ran into the square, shouting and laughing. Tenzin watched them spot Ben, his fashionable new clothes and Roman accent making him what the boys thought would be an easy target.
She watched the children slyly kick the ball closer and closer until the artist was yelling at one boy for disturbing his display and one of the others bumped into Ben, the child laughing and apologizing as he dipped into Ben’s pocket…