“She already is.”
“But now she grieves doubly for Stephen De Novo. It would have been better if I had been her father in this life.”
Tenzin’s words echoed in his mind. “She is exactly who she will need to be.”
“I think,” Giovanni began, “things had to happen exactly as they did, Alvarez. Some things happen for a reason. Even if we cannot see the purpose of it.”
Ernesto looked amused. “You have been spending time with the holy men, di Spada. That is not the rational man that I have come to know.”
Perhaps not. But Giovanni only shrugged.
“Or.” Ernesto smirked. “Has marriage softened you?”
“If it has, I’d better toughen up. Your granddaughter is not a woman, or a vampire, to be underestimated.”
The old man burst into laughter. Giovanni only smiled as the immortal took another sip of wine.
“My son”—Ernesto curled his lip briefly—“says that her fighting skills are quite advanced.”
“They are. And she says Baojia is an excellent instructor.”
Ernesto’s shoulders straightened. “Baojia failed in his mission. He will be dealt with.”
Giovanni frowned. “He was a fierce ally in our battle. I would gladly fight at his side again.”
“My son had one job. To protect my granddaughter from harm. It was not to rescue some humans or retrieve a book. One task was required of him, and he failed. He will be dealt with.”
Giovanni’s instinctive reaction was to defend the water vampire, but he closed his mouth. Beatrice may have been under her own aegis, but Baojia was not. He still answered to his sire, and Giovanni knew he must respect that.
So he nodded and rose to his feet. “I hope you understand, but I must leave you. I have much to do to prepare for our journey.”
Ernesto rose and shook his hand. “Of course. I’ll call Kirby and go by the hanger to see my granddaughter tonight.”
“Of course.” Giovanni turned to go, but halted when he heard Ernesto’s voice.
“You will take care of her, di Spada. You may be her husband, but I am her kinsman. If any harm should come to her—”
Ernesto halted when Giovanni turned. The waft of smoke that drifted across the room matched the low growl of his voice when he finally spoke. “It would be wise of you not to finish that sentence, Don Ernesto Alvarez.”
The two vampires stood, measuring each other from a distance. Finally, it was Ernesto that let a smile touch his lips. “Welcome to the family.”
Giovanni turned and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. He had only taken a few steps when Baojia appeared out of a dark hallway.
“Di Spada.”
“Baojia.”
They stood in silence. When Baojia finally met his eyes, Giovanni saw the flash of quick grief the water vampire carefully smothered. Then, as before, his dark gaze revealed nothing.
“You will give my regards to your wife.”
“I’m sure she would return the sentiment.”
The shorter man offered a rueful smile and looked over Giovanni’s shoulder, down the dark hallway were he had emerged. “I’ll be going to San Diego for some time. I may not see you when you return.”
“San Diego?”
“As you may imagine, my father is displeased with me at the moment. I go where he chooses to send me.”
Another silence filled the hall until Giovanni finally spoke. “She does not blame you.”
Baojia only hummed a little and nodded. “She should.” He walked past Giovanni, toward the study where Ernesto waited. “She should blame me.”
Cochamó Valley, Chile
December 2010
“When will I be able to see her?”
“Probably not for some time. Around a year. But I put a radio at our house, so you’ll be able to call from the lodge.”
Ben sat silently for a few minutes, playing with a torn seam on Isabel and Gustavo’s couch.
Giovanni cleared his throat and knit his hands together. “How is your room here?”
The boy shrugged. “Good, I guess.”
“You realize that I’m only a few minutes away if you need me.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Gio, I’m not a little kid. Isabel and Gus are cool. And the Revertes are cool, too. I’ll be fine.”
“We’ll continue to study as we used to, and we’ll take a trip into Santiago after the New Year. I’ll show you some of the city.”
“Yeah,” Ben nodded. “Sounds fun.”
“And you can teach the Reverte boys how to play basketball.”
Ben snorted. “Really, I’m fine.”
Giovanni still felt guilty pulling the boy away from the friends he had made in his semester at school. Ben was a social child, and Dez said he had thrived at the private school he had been attending.
“It’s only for a year; it will be a good experience. Your Spanish will get much better. You can learn how to ride a horse, go mountain climbing. I’ll teach you to shoot, and we’ll start training soon, as well.”
“Gio,” Ben squirmed. “I really don’t think I have to learn all the sword stuff, you know? I mean, we’re not living in the dark ages, I—”
“It’s not an option, Benjamin.” He crossed his arms. “I will not have you unable to protect yourself.”
“It’s just, swords are kind of old, you know? I mean, the martial arts stuff is cool, and I’m excited about jujitsu with Gus. But swords…”
“Are very practical in our world. You need to learn how to used one, and you are fourteen now. By the time I was fourteen, I could already handle a blade. You’re more than capable. You’re strong now, and you’ll get stronger. It is important to train your muscles young.”
“I just mean, I’m already pretty good with a rifle, and if you teach me how to shoot better—”
“Do you think that any gun will kill a vampire?”
Ben reddened at Giovanni’s harsh tone. “No, I just—”
“It is not an option. We are taking this year to regroup, but that is all. You are old enough to know now. You are old enough to defend yourself and others.” Giovanni tried to soften his voice. “Do you know what it would do to her… to both of us if anything were to happen to you, Benjamin?”
The boy blushed a deep red from either anger or embarrassment. “Okay.”
“We will start after Christmas.”
“I said okay.”
Giovanni let the hint of defiance pass unmentioned.
“What does she do up there all by herself? Is she bored? She can’t use her computer anymore, can she?”
He looked up at Ben, noting the look of concern on the boy’s face. “She reads. And runs at night. Or swims. She likes both.”
Benjamin smiled. “I bet she’s super fast now, huh?”
“Very super fast,” he said.
“Is Carwyn really coming for a visit?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. She’ll be happy to see him.”
Giovanni nodded. His wife had been quiet, speaking more with Isabel than with anyone else. He hoped that Carwyn’s visit would help to heal her wounds. He knew from his own experience that most healing only came with time.
“Hey, G?”
He looked up at Benjamin’s plaintive tone. “Yes, Benjamin?”
“She’s going to be all right, though. Right?”
He stared at the boy for a long moment, wishing he could will the months away.
“She’ll be fine.”
He entered the house quietly, careful not to disturb her as she sat near the fire, reading.
“How is he?”
Giovanni slid behind Beatrice on the couch, picking her up so she sat on his lap. “He’s fine. He likes Isabel and Gustavo. He’ll get to know the Revertes soon enough.”
“Does he know they have a very cute daughter his age?”
“I have a feeling that information will brighten his outlook considerably.”
She nestled back into his chest,
and his skin hummed happily wherever she touched.
“You’re going to start training him soon, right? You and Gus?”
It had been Beatrice, even more than Giovanni, who had been adamant about Ben receiving self-defense, shooting, and weapons training. He had been reluctant to force the discipline on the boy, but she had insisted to the point of tears. Giovanni knew it was a good precaution, so he had pushed the memories of his own forced training from his mind and focused on what was best for Ben.
“We will start after the holidays, Tesoro. Don’t be anxious. Give him some time to get adjusted.”
“Okay.” She fell silent again, and he looked down to what she was reading. It was a collection of C.S. Lewis essays he had seen her paging through more than once. He pulled the book from her fingers, making sure to mark the page she had been reading.
“Carwyn is coming in a few weeks.”
“That’s good. It’ll be nice to see him.”
“I thought so.”
She was silent for a few minutes more, staring into the fire as he stroked her hair.
“You should see whether Gus and Isabel can get a wrestling match on their satellite dish.”
He chuckled, pleased to hear the spark of humor that lit her voice. “I should.”
There was another silence, and the only sound was the pop of the logs crackling in the fireplace. Even in the middle of summer, Beatrice asked for a fire if he was leaving the house. She seemed to be almost constantly chilled.
“I’m fine, you know. I’m going to be fine.”
He nodded and tucked her head into his shoulder. “I know.”
“So don’t hover.”
Giovanni grinned and picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom. “Wanting my wife’s attention is hovering?”
“Oh… I just realized.” Her head fell against his shoulder. “We’re going to hear it from Carwyn about the wedding thing, aren’t we?”
“I’m sure needling us about that is on the agenda right after wrestling.”
She kissed his jaw and leaned up to whisper, “Can we un-invite him at this point?”
“No.” He kicked the bedroom door closed. “But you can feign irrationally losing your temper as much as you like. He’ll be expecting that from a young vampire.”
She put her hand on his cheek, turning it so she could look into his eyes. For the first time in weeks, Giovanni saw a glimpse of the warm joy that usually marked her gaze.
She smiled. “Excellent. It’s good to have a plan.”
He tossed her in the middle of the bed with a mischievous smile. “Yes, it is.”
London, England
March 2011
The Swan with Two Necks had lost none of its grimy Docklands charm in the year since Giovanni’s last visit. As he sat in the booth, waiting for Tywyll, he looked at the printout of the e-mail Carwyn had sent through Benjamin.
Giovanni,
We’re having far more fun without you here. No lessons are being completed. Ben and I drinking, smoking, and chasing women in Santiago next weekend. Please stay in the cold weather as long as you like, it’s nice and warm here. Also, I’ve bought my nephew an off-road motorbike. I am now his favorite uncle.
Your wife is fine. I’m only calling her your wife now because I was able to properly marry you two. Thank the heavens you’re no longer living in sin. Sadly for you, she has finally decided that I am more fun to be with, so we will promptly be tempting God’s wrath to run away together to Hawaii. Also, we went hunting last week. She likes pigs as much as you do.
Carwyn
P.S. She’s well. But take care of things and come home. You are missed.
He felt Tywyll enter the pub and looked up. The old water vampire motioned to the man behind the bar before he sat across from Giovanni, taking out a brown-wrapped parcel from under his arm and setting it on the table.
“This is for yer wife. Some journals that Stephen left with me.”
“What kind of journals?”
“Did ye ever buy that boat you were talkin’ about?”
“Why did I need to come all the way to London for these?”
“Did ye go with a powered vessel, or a sailing one? I always recommend sails, less mechanics to go wrong fer our sort. Of course, with the Mariposa being as she is, any further form of propulsion is somewhat redundant, isn’t it?”
He placed his hand on the package, sliding it across the scarred table and looking into Tywyll’s eyes.
“Why,” he asked again, “did I need to come here for these? You could have sent them with Gemma’s father. Why did I need to leave my wife to come fetch these like an errand boy?”
Tywyll paused, a look of sadness flickering over his rough face. “How is she?”
He paused for a moment. “She’s coping. She’s adapting very well to this life. She is extremely strong.”
“Did I hear correctly that your old partner had a hand in that?”
He paused before deciding to confide in Tywyll. In reality, the old vampire seemed genuine. And if Stephen had trusted him…
Giovanni had received a letter from him the previous month, volunteering the information that Beatrice’s father had left things with Tywyll in the event of his death that Stephen intended for Beatrice. Tywyll, much to Giovanni’s annoyance, had insisted he collect the items in person.
“She did. Tenzin and Stephen were mated, so yes, Beatrice is partly of her blood, which is… very strong.”
“Oh,” Tywyll grinned. “Clever Stephen. Well done, lad. And well done, Tenzin.”
As always, Giovanni wondered how extensive the immortal’s connections were. He seemed to know a little bit about everyone and everything, though Giovanni had never heard of the old man traveling farther than up and down the river.
“She’ll be a day-walker, as well. As Stephen became.”
A smile lifted the corner of Tywyll’s mouth. “Excellent. You’ll give her my regards and my condolences.”
Giovanni nodded. “My condolences to you, as well. I know you considered him a friend.”
Tywyll paused as the barman set down two pints on the old table. “I did. I do. I don’t happen to believe that significant things like souls just disappear. That’s energy, isn’t it? That’s our element. And if there’s one thing we know, the elements always remain.”
“Nothing remains, save us and the elements.”
The old memory from his father startled him. Giovanni blinked and took a sip of his beer, enjoying the sharp bite of the hops on his tongue.
“Tywyll?”
“Aye, lad?”
He paused before he took a chance. “Do you consider me a friend?”
The old man cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not yet.”
“Do you consider my wife a friend?”
“I consider her a responsibility. But a pleasant one.”
“I know you told Stephen you would care for her if he died.”
“Ye’ve known that for over a year.” He took another drink. “What do ye want, fire-starter?”
Giovanni paused, weighing the odds before he spoke. Someone had found Stephen. In the years he had hidden from the immortal world, one vampire had always found him. Whatever Tywyll may have said, if the old vampire had taught Stephen how to hide, then he could teach someone else how to find him.
“Who was Stephen’s contact in Rome?”
A minute flicker in Tywyll’s eye let Giovanni know that he’d hit his mark.
“Who says I know what yer talking about?”
“I do. There was a contact. An information source. One who knew exactly what Stephen had and whom he was hiding from. One who knew how to find him and get in contact with him when he wanted to.”
Tywyll didn’t look at him; he quietly sipped his pint as his eyes scanned the pub.
“And what if he did? What business is that of yers? You don’t have Stephen’s book now, do you?”
“No.” He leaned forward. “I don’t, but my son does. And I don’t know exactly
what was in it. I don’t know the formula that Geber wrote, but I know what Stephen claimed it contained. And I know that Zhang Guo’s most brilliant student told me that there was something that my son wouldn’t understand, even if he got his hands on the formula.”
Tywyll narrowed his eyes. “I’m not interested in formulas or elixirs, fire-starter. I have no use for them. What is it that you want? Speak plain or leave me to my beer.”
“I want the name of Stephen’s contact. And I think you know who it is, because I think you told him how to find Stephen.”
Giovanni sat back in his seat, watching Tywyll deliberate in silence. Stephen’s contact had pointed him in the right direction too many times for his involvement to be coincidental.
“And if I do know of this contact’s name, why would I give it to you? You’ve no need to stay one step ahead of Lorenzo.”
“On the contrary, I have even more reason to stay one step ahead of him. My son has this book. If it does what Stephen thought it did, he has a purpose for it, and it won’t be a good one. Anyone who has truly studied it is dead or missing. Anyone who had any sort of understanding of it is gone… except for four vampires that I can think of.”
A strange gleam came to Tywyll’s eyes. “Four, eh?”
Giovanni nodded slowly. “Four immortals, who are hopefully still living. Balanced. One water, one wind, one earth, and one fire. Whomever Geber used in his research knew about the formula, possibly better than Geber himself. If Geber’s manuscript is out of reach, then I will make it my mission to find the immortals who helped author it, and I think Stephen’s contact was one of them.”
Tywyll took another drink. Then he smiled. The old vampire chuckled and slid the brown-wrapped parcel across the table.
“Well then, Giovanni Vecchio, I suppose ye have some reading to do.”
Epilogue
Plovdiv, Bulgaria
March 2011
Dr. Paskal Todorov shut off the light in the empty lab and shrugged on his brown overcoat to face the brisk wind outside. He sighed as he looked around the empty laboratory that had once employed so many men and women making high-end cosmetics for the European market.