Blood Apprentice: An Elemental Legacy Novel

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Ben shook his head. “I am not even touching that one.”

  “What about you, huh?” She elbowed him a little harder than she’d probably intended. Ben was likely to have a bruise in the morning. “What have you been chasing lately?”

  “Other than jobs?”

  “Boring.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re too young for all that shit. Have some fun in your life.”

  The last time he’d “had fun,” he’d ended up falling for an innocent face and playing the fool in a rival’s game. He’d learned that lesson well. “I like my work.”

  “And it lets you spend all your time with a certain vampire we won’t mention, he-ey.” Novia winked. “That’s okay. I know the score between you two.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Chemistry, Benny. It’s zinging all over the place.” She raised a hand. “I’m not asking. That way you don’t have to lie. Just know that I love your little games and I want to be Tenzin when I grow up, so you have my complete admiration.”

  “Novia, I’m telling you—”

  “Hush.” She put a hand over his mouth and closed her eyes. “Don’t deny it. What I see in my imagination is too hot to be ruined by your denial.”

  He nipped at her fingers and she let go. “Chemistry?”

  “From you. From her. Ancient vampire and hot young thing?” She threw her head back. “’Bout time my idol got some. You know that girl has some pent-up aggression.”

  Ben didn’t need to hear this. Nobody needed to hear this. “Do not say anything about this. To anyone.”

  Novia batted her eyelashes. “About what?”

  “Exactly.” Ben finished his drink and scooted to the edge of the booth. “I have to go.”

  “Why?”

  He stopped and smiled slowly. “I have work to do.”

  “Boy, you’re just trying to kill me now.”

  Ben let himself into the loft and paused at the door, listening for the telltale signs of Tenzin. It was three hours before dawn. If she wasn’t out flying, she’d probably be reading or weaving in her room.

  He heard the quiet thud of a wooden fork against wool, so he dragged the tall ladder over from the library and climbed to Tenzin’s loft. He pulled himself up, sat cross-legged, and watched her, her fingers flying over the half-made rug. She pulled and tied. Tightened and tamped. The process was hypnotic and often her preferred way to pass time, particularly when the weather was wet.

  “Cara,” he called out, “play ‘Creation Chant.’”

  The lonely echo of a flute filled the loft as Ben watched Tenzin work. She didn’t turn or acknowledge him, though she knew he was there.

  Ben crawled over and lay on the piled rugs and furs in the corner of the loft, drifting between wakefulness and sleep as the hours passed. Something about being in this corner of the loft, away from the library, away from the training mats, even away from his own spartan bedroom, allowed him find peace.

  He drifted in and out of dreams, and the quiet thunk of Tenzin’s weaving fork turned into the rhythm of a wood pestle hitting the bottom of a bowl. The smell of garlic and fried plantain.

  She said it was called mofongo. Ben had never had anything called mofongo before, but it smelled pretty good. Like garlic and onion and something Ben didn’t recognize. Sometimes Joe ate food that smelled like that, but he never gave any to Ben.

  There were birds in the window, little green birds hopping around in a birdcage. Ben thought they were called lovebirds, because Mr. Ortega, who owned the bodega on the corner by Ben’s mom’s house, had birds like that, and he called them lovebirds. They had green bodies and orange faces instead of red, but they looked mostly the same. Ben loved watching the birds. Sometimes, Mr. Ortega let Ben feed them.

  The old woman looked over her shoulder with a tentative smile, and Ben took another drink of the milk she’d put in a plastic cup. The wooden table in her kitchen was smaller than the one in his mother’s apartment, and it was much prettier. Smooth golden wood unmarred by cigarette burns or white circles.

  “You’re staying for dinner,” she said. “You’re too thin.”

  Joe had told him the old lady was his mother. Did that make her Ben’s grandmother? He wasn’t sure about that, and he didn’t know if he should trust her. His mom told Ben that Joe came “from a bunch of lazy beggars.” But the old lady wasn’t a beggar. Her house was pretty and smelled good. She had already given Ben a cookie and a glass of milk. The cookie was too sweet, but the milk felt good going down his throat.

  His mom lied a lot about people. He probably shouldn’t believe her about Joe’s family.

  Ben rested his chin on the edge of the table. “Is Joe coming for dinner?”

  “You call your father Joe?”

  Ben shrugged and didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to do anything wrong. If he stayed longer, maybe he would get more milk.

  “That’s okay.” The old lady smiled. “You can call him Joe. Or José. That’s his name. Did you know that?”

  Ben shook his head.

  “Hablas español, mi amor?”

  “Just a little,” Ben said quietly. He didn’t want to tell her most of the Spanish he knew was bad words he heard from Mr. Ortega’s store. The men who sat around outside said a lot of bad words, but they gave Ben quarters if he threw their beer bottles in the trash.

  “That’s okay.” The lady brought the wooden bowl over to the table and began pounding the wooden stick up and down again. “You can call me abuela and I can speak Spanish with you, but I speak English too. I was the head secretary for a big factory before I retired. I spoke to all the bosses in the office every day. I even translated for them when they needed to talk to the workers. I’m very good with languages.”

  Ben watched her hit the bottom of the bowl over and over. She was mixing something. Every now and then she’d get up, throw something else in the bowl, then start pounding it again. Watching her work made Ben a little dizzy. He hadn’t eaten anything that day except the cookie and glass of milk. He drank a lot of water though. Water made you feel full.

  He crossed his arms and rested his chin on them, watching the birds hop in their cage. “Does abuela mean grandma?”

  She smiled. “You’re smart, aren’t you?”

  Ben shrugged again. His mom said he was her smartest boy. But he was her only boy, so that didn’t mean much. “Do you live here?”

  “Sometimes. This is your aunt’s house. Most of the time I live in Puerto Rico. Do you know where that is?”

  “No.”

  “It’s the most beautiful island in the world.” Her face bloomed like a flower when she smiled. “It has palm trees and beautiful forests and lots and lots of flowers. There are beaches where the water is so warm. Not like here.” She made a face. “The water is clean in Puerto Rico.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  The old woman, his abuela, looked sad. “Someone told me that Joe had a little boy. I was pretty angry with him.”

  “Because he had a little boy?” Ben felt his heart race.

  “No, no, no.” She put her hand out. “Not because he had a little boy. Because my son had a son! And for six years he didn’t tell me. I didn’t even know you existed, Benjamin.”

  His heart was still racing. He looked at the old lady’s hand. If he took it, would she grab it? Would her hand hurt? Was she happy her son had a little boy? Would she have given Ben a cookie if she was angry with him?

  “Now that I know you’re here, I can visit more.” The lady withdrew her hand and started working again. “I can be your abuela. Do you have another grandmother? Does your mom have a mom?”

  Ben shook his head. “Her whole family is dead. That’s what she says, but she lies a lot.” Ben felt sick. He shouldn’t say bad things about his mom. “I mean, she lies sometimes.”

  A strange look came over his abuela’s face. “That’s okay. We all tell little lies
sometimes. Sometimes we do it to make people feel better. I’ve done that before. Have you?”

  Ben nodded, but he didn’t say more. His mother didn’t lie to make anyone feel better. But he knew what the lady was talking about.

  Sometimes Mrs. Novak downstairs made him food. It didn’t smell great; it smelled like cabbage and he didn’t like cabbage. But he always said thank you and took it because cabbage filled you up. She asked him if it was his favorite, and Ben always said yes because it made Mrs. Novak smile and Mrs. Novak was nice.

  The lady called abuela patted Ben’s hand and stood. “You must be thirsty. Would you like more milk?”

  “Yes, please.” His mother always told him he would get more money if he used polite words. He knew lots of polite words, even in different languages. “Gracias,” he said when she refilled his milk.

  The old lady smiled, and it looked like flowers again.

  Ben woke, realizing the weaving fork wasn’t tapping anymore. The scent of garlic and onion drifted from his memory, and he blinked his eyes open. He could taste the milk on his tongue and feel the smooth, polished table under his chin.

  That had been the first time he’d eaten mofongo, but it hadn’t been the last.

  Tenzin lay next to him, reading a book. Her fingers skimmed over the pages. It was an auction catalogue. Coins were on every page. Three more auction catalogues and a numismatics text were sitting on the floor next to her along with a Spanish-language biography of Miguel Enríquez.

  She was a mad, obsessive little magpie, flying after shiny things with gleeful greed and a single-minded glint in her eye.

  Ben absolutely adored her.

  He rolled toward her and pressed his face into her shoulder. “Fine.”

  “Fine what?”

  She smelled like wool and cinnamon. He wanted to do more than sniff her shoulder.

  Not the time. Not the place. Not… possible.

  “Fine,” he said. “We’ll go to Puerto Rico.”

  3

  Chloe watched Ben stride through the loft, tossing phone chargers and batteries next to his backpack on the couch. “We’ll be in pretty remote areas at times, so use the satellite phone if my mobile doesn’t work. From what I’ve heard, nothing is reliable. Not power. Not cell signal. I’m bringing the solar chargers, so we should be fine with the satellite phone.”

  “But only for emergencies,” Chloe said. “Tell Tenzin I’m not calling her to report on the flowers blooming.”

  “I’ll let her know, but…”

  “No! Enough. She’s obsessing.”

  “That’s what she does.” Ben shrugged. “And you have to admit the garden does look really good.”

  Ben had relented and allowed Tenzin to plant a full garden on the roof, including fruit trees, a water feature, and a fire pit.

  “Just tell her she has to trust that I will not kill all her plants. She’s showed me what to do at least a dozen times. And you guys are going to Puerto Rico, not Kathmandu.”

  Ben squinted. “Do you know where Kathmandu is?”

  “Do you?”

  “Nepal.”

  Chloe threw a balled-up sock at him. “Fine. Still, it’s like four hours from New York, not the ends of the earth. I’ll survive without you two.”

  “If you need money—”

  “I have access to Tenzin’s account here.”

  Tenzin’s mind-boggling account.

  Chloe had no idea how much money Tenzin actually had, but the account Chloe used to pay bills and run Tenzin’s financial life was… intimidating. Chloe could buy a modestly priced home in Queens with a check.

  But most of the time with Ben and Tenzin, Chloe tried not to think about how much anything cost. She knew how much the remodel was—roughly—but Ben had instructed the builders to send all bills to him. Everything in New York City cost a fortune, even for someone accustomed to Los Angeles. So she gritted her teeth, let Ben pay for everything, and plotted how long it would take for her to get her own place.

  Not that she didn’t like living in the loft. She was ridiculously grateful, enjoyed working for Tenzin, and often felt like she had the entire place to herself. Tenzin had been unusually quiet the past six months, Ben was gone a lot, and Chloe was often the only one awake during daylight.

  She was slowly making friends again. Arthur and she had grown close again, though the hilarious designer was somewhat obsessed with her employers. Gavin spent a lot of time with her, but he was more comfortable in the bar or at his place.

  He’d once muttered something about “territories being a bit complicated.”

  Chloe had no idea what he meant. Chloe had no idea how a lot of stuff in the vampire world worked. She didn’t want to know too much. She had her people—and her vampires—but she did not want to get deeper into the sticky politics of immortal life. She’d seen how that had affected Ben.

  He was striding through the apartment, muttering about flight details, Jeep rentals, and contacts in San Juan. Muttering more about some place called Arecibo and various names she didn’t recognize. The two she’d been listening for never came up.

  Ana Lisa Rios.

  Liza Ochoa Rios.

  They were the only family members Ben had ever mentioned to her. Other than his vampire family, Ben didn’t use names. He sometimes referred to his father or mother, but his grandmother, Ana Lisa Rios, and his cousin Liza were the only ones he ever mentioned by name, and that had mostly been since Hurricane Maria.

  He’d been worried. He’d been frantic. Then he’d called his uncle, and a few days later everything had calmed down.

  Chloe didn’t know much because Ben was secretive. Sometimes she felt like the boy she knew was evolving into a man she didn’t recognize.

  She knew his family was still on the island. His cousin was a forest ranger in El Yunque. His grandmother had a little farm in the country. Chloe didn’t know where. She thought they were closer to the east side of the island, but Ben had specifically said he and Tenzin were going west.

  He was stressing about everything but the two people he was related to.

  Chloe sat next to his backpack and started putting things in. “Are you going to see them?”

  “See who?” Ben was staring at his laptop.

  “You know who.”

  He looked up. “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm.”

  He frowned. “You think I should see them?”

  “Yes.”

  “I haven’t seen them since I was ten years old.”

  “Then you really need to see them.” She looked up. “I know you keep track of them. They probably have no idea they have a guardian angel in New York.”

  “Of course they don’t.”

  “Who do they think sends them money every month?”

  “I set up a fake settlement from one of my grandfather’s old employers. He was injured on the job in 1953. The company no longer exists, but I was able to make it look legitimate by funneling it through a law firm.”

  “And that’s it? You’re going to send them money, but you’re not going to see them?”

  “What is there to say?” he asked. “Hey, Abuela. Sorry I’ve been gone for like fifteen years. Got adopted by a vampire. What have you been up to?”

  “Just… try.”

  He slammed the laptop shut. “Try what?”

  “Try seeing them. Can you imagine what your grandmother had to think? She lost contact with you when you were ten. She never saw you again. She’s probably worried sick.”

  “How do you know she even looked?”

  “How do you know she didn’t?” Chloe stood and walked over to him, putting her arms around his waist and leaning into a back that felt hard as stone. He wasn’t budging on this. “Just try. Stop by the house. Tell her you’re from the law firm or something. Just making sure she’s getting the money.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. It’s a direct deposit into her bank account.”

  “Then think of something! This is you. T
ry.”

  “She wouldn’t recognize me, Chloe. I was a skinny little kid when I was ten. I was short for my age. Never had enough food.”

  Every time Ben let another fact about his childhood slip out, Chloe’s heart hurt. “Maybe she won’t recognize you, and maybe she will. Either way, you could set her mind at ease. Maybe get to know your cousin.”

  He broke away and walked toward the stairs. “I’ll think about it.”

  Chloe closed her eyes and leaned into Gavin’s shoulder, letting the bubbling hot water soothe the muscles she’d worked that evening during rehearsal. “I’m worried about him.”

  “He’ll be fine.” Gavin rubbed her shoulders. “He’s traveled in far more dangerous places than Puerto Rico. From what I’ve heard, most of the power has been restored—even in more remote parts—and the infrastructure is clawing back. Ben has excellent survival skills. Puerto Rico will not be a challenge.”

  “I’m not worried about him surviving. Tenzin will be with him once he gets to San Juan. Tenzin won’t let anything happen to Ben. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “Then what?”

  Chloe struggled with how much to share with Gavin. “I’m worried about him… personally.”

  “Personally?” Gavin tilted her chin to the side so he could look at her face. “Does he have family there?”

  Chloe sighed. “I can’t say.”

  “I know he’s part Puerto Rican. He’s mentioned as much in passing. It didn’t even occur to me that he might have living family.” Gavin frowned. “I assumed Giovanni had adopted an orphan.”

  “I don’t want to break confidence. Just know that most of Ben’s childhood was awful.”

  “That much is evident.” He stroked curly wisps of hair back from her forehead and kissed her temple. “There’s a look a person comes to recognize after a hundred years or so. One can tell which humans have lived hard lives and which have not. Some vampires take advantage of that.” His hand stopped moving. “I’ve taken advantage of that, I’m sorry to say. Or at least I did in the past.”