Blood Apprentice: An Elemental Legacy Novel

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “I’m dreaming about my grandmother.”

  “Did you pretend with her?”

  “Of course. She was a normal person. If she knew what my mom and dad were really like, she would have tried taking me away from them.”

  “But you’ve said many times your parents were awful.”

  He closed his eyes. “They were.”

  “Wouldn’t you have been happier living with your grandmother?”

  “Probably? I don’t know, Tenzin. I was a kid. Kids don’t want to rock the boat.”

  “Rock the boat.” She turned a little. “Make things uncomfortable?”

  “Yeah. With my mom, I knew what the rules were. With my abuela? No idea. In retrospect, yes. I would probably have been much better cared for living with my grandmother. I didn’t think that way at ten.”

  “And Giovanni found you when you were twelve?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And he took you?”

  “Yeah.”

  She laid her head over his heart, and Ben felt the settled rightness of it down to his bones.

  Who else but her? There is no one else.

  “You didn’t tell Giovanni about your grandmother, did you?”

  Ben shook his head. “Not until last year when I needed his help getting information from the island after the hurricane.”

  “I see.”

  “He was pissed.”

  “He would be.” Tenzin shrugged. “He has very… decided ideas about family.”

  “I know. Just like I knew he wouldn’t take me if I told him the truth about my family when I was younger. So I didn’t.”

  “You were a very bright child.”

  “I wasn’t really a child anymore.”

  Tenzin turned and looked him in the eye. She brought a hand up to his cheek and scrutinized his face. Ben felt his heart rate pick up. She had to sense his reaction to her—he knew she wasn’t unaware—but he wasn’t the only one good at pretending.

  “You were a child,” she said.

  Ben tried to imagine Tenzin as a child. He couldn’t. She looked the same now as she did when he’d first met her. He’d turned from a world-weary teenager to a grown man. How had she grown?

  Was she more human? Maybe.

  Was that a good thing? He had no idea.

  Ben asked, “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve had about three times as much self-reflection as I ever want. And also we’re leaving the city in a few days. We should talk about what we need before we go.”

  “No.” Her lower lip came out. “It’s pretty here. I actually don’t hate it.”

  He smiled. “You just enjoy flying over the ocean at night.”

  “Yes.” She stretched her arms up, nearly whacking him in the face with her fist. “Also, there’s much less electricity here than most cities.”

  “That’s generally thought to be part of the problem on the island, Tiny. It’s not considered a feature. Don’t worry. You’re on an island. There’s plenty of everything here. Ocean. Mountains. Caves where pirates supposedly hid treasure.”

  She turned to him and grinned. “Paradise. Maybe Puerto Rico needs more vampire residents. The lack of electricity and Wi-Fi is delightful. I like the music, and the pirate treasure is also a definite plus.”

  Ben frowned. “Can you feel Wi-Fi signals?”

  “Yes. New York is covered in them. Very uncomfortable.”

  “Huh.”

  “It’s not as bad in our loft. But on the streets? Awful.”

  “Is that why you’ve been going out less?”

  “Have I?”

  Didn’t she realize it? Over the past three months she’d nearly become a hermit. The only time she left the loft was to go flying. She didn’t go to visit Chloe at work. She didn’t have drinks with Cormac. She’d even stopped wandering through Washington Square to enjoy the street performers in the evenings.

  “You’ve been staying home more,” he said, playing with her hair again.

  “I didn’t realize.”

  “So maybe it’s a good thing we came here.” Ben could see that. Maybe she needed to unplug, as much as a vampire who killed technology could unplug. “The house we’re staying at in the west runs on solar power. Shouldn’t be as intrusive. And no Wi-Fi.”

  Speaking of houses…

  “How did you find this place?” he asked. “I never gave you directions.”

  “I didn’t find the house. I found you.”

  “You found me?”

  “I can always find you.”

  Ben decided not to ask. If she’d planted some kind of vampire tracking device on him with amnis, he didn’t want to know. He just… didn’t.

  “Okay.”

  “No more questions?”

  “Nope.” He sat up and lifted her from his lap, then turned and set her on the chair before he walked back in the house. “Enjoy the night. I need to get some sleep. Research at the national library in the morning, and then I have an appointment with a rare-books contact of Giovanni’s in the afternoon.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Stay here,” he said. “There are two light-safe rooms for you, and the angles of this patio should make it accessible for most of the day. No direct light in the interior of the first floor.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Read. Meditate.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’ll bring some books for you from the library, and the maps I ordered should be delivered in the morning. Maybe between the two, you can narrow down the search area a bit.” Ben turned. “You do know that these are caves, right?”

  “I know.”

  “And they’re underground.”

  She shot him a look. “I know what a cave is.”

  Ben raised his hands. “I’m just warning you. I know you don’t like going underground.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ben walked into the house. He definitely wasn’t the only one who was good at pretending.

  5

  Tenzin watched him walk inside the house. She listened for the sounds she associated with Benjamin going to sleep. The faucet turning on when he washed his face and brushed his teeth. The rustle of clothing when he changed into sleeping clothes. The soft flip of book pages before a lamp clicked off. Breaths that stretched and grew longer and longer until she knew he was dreaming.

  If she closed her eyes, she could hear his heart beating. Hear the furious activity of his body at rest. The biological systems that made him human operated in a beautiful and intricate ecosystem. His digestion and circulatory systems fed his cells the energy they needed to regenerate. His brain slipped into different patterns, allowing his mind to process, filter, and renew itself. All the while, the indefinable spirit that made him Benjamin suffused the space and the air around him.

  Who said vampires were magic? Humanity was the most magical thing in all creation. Bright, brilliant flowers that lived for such a short time, yet left such a deep mark.

  He will leave a mark.

  “No.” She spoke her will into the air.

  Ben would not leave her.

  His fate was other.

  Like her, he would join the immortal race, the ones who lived in the darkness, taking their sustenance in the shadows from the bright flowers that fed on the sun.

  She had seen it, and it would be. Anything else was unacceptable.

  Tenzin didn’t examine why. Like Benjamin, she was not a creature of self-reflection. He was hers. One day he would realize it as she did.

  What that meant for both of them? They could decide that later.

  She flew up into the night and over the city, enjoying the strains of music, human laughter, and traffic that wafted into the night sky like tantalizing scents simmering from an unfamiliar pot.

  This city was intriguing. This island was beautiful. Once Ben opened his eyes, he would recognize that.

  He just needed to see what was in front of him.

&n
bsp; 6

  Ben spent the next morning avoiding the charms of San Juan and burying himself in the national archives. He was starting to see why his aunt and uncle liked the literary life. Books didn’t talk back.

  He found a good amount of information on Miguel Enríquez, but nothing that led him to believe the eighteenth-century pirate had secreted a hidden treasure somewhere on the island. There were records of his varied political influence and career as a privateer, books tracking his rise as one of the most influential people in the Caribbean to his disgrace, debt, and poverty at the end of his life.

  There was plenty of information, but nothing that set Ben’s radar off. According to all available sources, Enríquez had died a pauper after taking refuge in the Dominican convent in San Juan. The government stripped him of his wealth, and he had no heirs who claimed him.

  Ben walked out of the national archives and into the sunlight, calling for a car on Avenida de la Constitución. It was only a ten-minute drive back to Plaza de Armas, and he didn’t want to walk in the growing heat. His appointment was in a very private flat on Calle de la Cruz, just minutes from the plaza, and he didn’t want to be late. The proprietor, an old friend of his uncle’s, was opening the shop especially for him.

  If anyone knows historic gossip about Dominicans in Puerto Rico, it’s August.

  Why?

  He used to be one.

  Ben didn’t know the story and he didn’t ask. If there was anything he’d learned from his uncle, it was that everyone had stories. If they wanted to share them, they’d tell you. If they didn’t, it was none of your business anyway, so butt out. Most vampires played by those rules, but then so did a lot of people, Ben included.

  He exited the small car and stretched his legs walking around the plaza. It was nearly noon, and a steady stream of locals and tourists filled the square. Tourists fed the pigeons, and locals sat on the benches in the shade, chatting with friends and sipping cold drinks.

  Again, the familiarity pressed in on him. He’d never been to this place before, yet it felt… easy. Like a pair of perfectly fitted shoes. They weren’t quite broken in, but given a few days of wear, they would fit him like a glove.

  What would his life have been if he’d told Giovanni the truth about his grandmother? The vampire had asked him when he was a child if he had any family he loved. Any he trusted.

  Ben had lied. A bit.

  He had an affection for his abuela, but did he trust her? He hadn’t trusted anyone since he turned eight. Could he have grown to trust his abuela? Probably. But the thought had scared him too much to risk it. Giovanni had offered him a life he could only dream of. And if he was also a vampire? Well, Ben had seen worse.

  If he’d told Giovanni about his abuela, would he have grown up here in San Juan? Would he have a family? Friends? Would he have gone to university or traveled?

  His cousin was a park ranger at El Yunque National Park. She had studied biology in Florida before returning to Puerto Rico when her mother became ill. His aunt, whom he’d never met even though she lived on and off in New York, had died five years ago. As far as he knew, Joe had not returned for his sister’s funeral.

  Ben kept one eye on his watch and another on the pedestrians. San Juan was almost completely recovered from the devastation of the hurricane, but that didn’t mean the city wasn’t different.

  Though the tourists walked through the city with sunny dispositions and light hearts, there was a heaviness Ben sensed around him. It was the reason locals were so easy to spot.

  Here today, their eyes said, gone tomorrow.

  What had it been like before?

  Ben would never know.

  The door of the bookshop wasn’t marked. A lovely wrought iron 8 hung in the center of the door, but that was the only indication Ben was where he was supposed to be.

  Ben knocked and waited. After a few moments, he heard movement within the house. There was a rustling, a pause, then the rattling of multiple locks and chains. The door cracked open, and a large pair of spectacles peered out.

  Well, the spectacles were attached to an old man, but they were definitely the first thing Ben noticed.

  “Señor Camino?”

  “You must be Giovanni’s boy.” Señor Camino opened the door wider. “You look like him.”

  “Do I?” Ben slipped inside, and the old man shut the door behind him.

  Ben’s impression was that Camino knew his uncle Giovanni was a vampire. Maybe he’d been wrong.

  “How is the old man?” Camino asked. “I heard he got married a few years back. Hasn’t been to see me since I moved from New York.”

  “So you’re from the city?”

  Camino nodded and walked farther into a dark apartment stuffed with bookshelves. Front windows were covered, and the living room was entirely filled with books, as was a formal dining room that had been taken over by a library table, a desk, and glass cases. Ben could hear a dehumidifier humming somewhere in the room.

  “I was born here, moved to New York when I was a bit older than you. That’s where I met your uncle. I was working for the O’Briens then.”

  Ben let out a breath. Working for the O’Briens meant the old man definitely knew about vampires. “You’re a collector?”

  The books Ben could see ranged from yellowed paperbacks to leather-wrapped volumes. There was no apparent order, but that wasn’t uncommon from what he’d seen with his uncle. Most vampire libraries had their own system known only to the owner or keeper. It made the collection more labyrinthine for any outsider trying to find information.

  Camino shrugged as he led Ben down a narrow hallway. “I find things. Not unlike your uncle. We’ve crossed paths many times. Worked together a few. I hear you’re not in the book trade though. You have… other pursuits?”

  “Yes, my partner and I—”

  “I’ve heard about her too.” Camino turned and smiled. “That’s why I made the appointment before sundown.” The old man pushed a door open, and a beam of light hit Ben directly in the face.

  He hesitated and put a hand up to shade his eyes.

  “Come in,” Camino said. “Just me here. I keep all the windows in the front covered because of the books. But I thought we could have coffee first. I don’t get many visitors these days.”

  Ben walked slowly into a kitchen that was vivid with color. Large windows filled the back wall, and a set of doors led to a Juliet balcony with green plants hanging from the railing and a large birdcage where two whistling green birds hopped around.

  The interior windows of Camino’s home looked into a quaint courtyard filled with palm trees and flowers. Laundry lines were strung across the building, and most doors and windows were open. He could hear music coming from another apartment and a soft, ocean-scented breeze suffused the kitchen.

  Little wonder why the old man had moved back from New York City.

  “I already have the coffee boiling,” Camino said. “Do you like café con leche?” He turned. “Sit, sit. There are rolls on the table. Make yourself at home.”

  “Café con leche is great.” Ben noticed the spiraled rolls on the kitchen table. They were golden brown and dusted with sugar. “Pan de Mallorca?”

  “You know it?” Camino smiled. “My neighbor makes them.” He kissed his fingers. “So perfect.”

  “My grandmother made them too.”

  “I wondered.” Camino glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Of course, you have that look, you know? The same as your uncle.”

  “What look is that?”

  “The don’t-notice-me look. The I’m-from-here-and-there-and-nowhere look. You’re almost as good at it as he is.”

  “Give me time. I’m a little bit younger.” Ben wandered over and watched the birds on the balcony. They whistled when they saw him, their bright red faces following him as he looked out over the courtyard. “My grandmother had lovebirds.”

  “They are my sweethearts,” Camino said. “My little friends to keep me company. They love
visitors, but don’t let them take off a finger. They go mad for sunflower seeds. You can give them one. But not too many.”

  “They’re like cookies.” Ben remembered his abuela saying the same things. Like cookies, Benjamin. A few is good. Too many make you sick.

  Camino cackled. “You are right. Come sit. Don’t let the coffee get cold.” He brought over two large cups of light coffee and set them down. He added sugar to his, but Ben took his coffee plain.

  Ben sat, grabbed a roll, and tasted it. It wasn’t as sweet as he remembered. Then again, he’d been ten the last time his grandmother had fed him breakfast. “These are good.”

  “A taste of home?”

  “No.” Ben sipped his coffee. “I’m not from here. I’m from the city.”

  “Ah.” Camino nodded knowingly. “I’m sure it’s a story, how you came to be with your uncle.”

  “Yep.”

  Camino smiled. “Not a story for today. You and your partner want to know about Enríquez, eh? Not Cofresí? He’s the pirate most Puerto Ricans are familiar with. Of course, technically Enríquez was a privateer.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “He was a pirate.”

  “But a licensed one!” Camino lifted his coffee. “Licensed by the king himself. And he had good relationships with most of the governors as well. An easy truce with many in the navy. Up until the end of his life, he was very, very influential, though he was never truly accepted by the upper classes.”

  “Why? Because he was a privateer?”

  “No, because he was black.” Camino lifted a finger. “And illegitimate. Never underestimate humanity’s ability to be prejudiced. Miguel Enríquez came from nothing and made himself one of the most influential Puerto Ricans of his time. An incredible story! But he was never accepted by the social elite. His mother was a free black woman. His father was a very well-connected priest.”

  “I thought his father was unknown.”

  Camino gave him a sly smile. “And isn’t this why you come to me, young Vecchio? You need the real story. Not what is in the books.”

  Ben smiled for the first time that day. “Yeah. I need the real story.”