The Force of Wind

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “But how do you know he’s from Rome?”

  “He mentioned it once. He either lives there or visits a lot, I’m sure of it. I’m assuming it’s a man only because the handwriting looks masculine. He’s the one that told me when you went to Livia’s to negotiate for Beatrice after Lorenzo took her. He’s kept me apprised of Lorenzo’s movements so I could keep one step ahead of him. He told me you were tracking me. One of his last letters to me said that Lorenzo had been researching private pharmaceutical labs in Eastern Europe.”

  Giovanni’s mind raced. He tried to think who in Rome could be so well-connected that he would have access to all that information. Not only did this immortal know Stephen’s whereabouts, but he also seemed to have intimate knowledge of the manuscript.

  Stephen’s voice broke through his internal reverie. “Has Beatrice been to Rome?”

  Giovanni shook his head. “No. I’ll not take her until… well, it’s not time for that yet.”

  “Does Livia know about her?”

  “I’ve kept her apprised of the situation.”

  Stephen smiled. “I’m sure it’s a comfort to her to know you have found someone after so long.”

  Giovanni gave a tight smile. “Yes.”

  “I’m sure she will love Beatrice. And your father would, as well.”

  And I’m sure he wouldn’t have.

  Andros’s blanket disdain for women was something that his sire had hidden fairly well, but Giovanni only said, “There are few that meet your daughter that don’t love her.”

  “When was the last time you were in Rome?”

  Giovanni chose another book, wishing that Stephen would choose another subject. “When I went to petition for her release. It was a complicated visit.”

  “I’m sure it was. The two of you should go back after all this is over. I know it has been a joy to me to see the two of you together. We always want our children to find someone that loves them with such devotion.”

  He flashed back to a memory of his father and Livia, the blanket of manipulation lying heavy over their last visit to Rome in 1506. There had been no joy between them. Any affection Livia had ever had for Giovanni was layered in self-interest.

  “I’m sure we will go eventually.”

  “There have been many times over the years when I wished I could have met your father. His library was an inspiration to me.”

  Giovanni smothered his instinctual reaction, as he had for over five hundred years. “I’m very pleased Andros’s collection has been preserved. Even if it is not in my hands. You have no idea where it is now?”

  Stephen shook his head. “When I first discovered it, it was in Ferrara. But after Lorenzo took me, he moved everything to an old villa in Perugia. That was where I was held for the first three years after I was turned. And where I escaped from.”

  Giovanni’s eyes darted up. “Perugia?”

  Stephen smiled. “Yes, a beautiful old place. I heard it was the site of a medieval fortress of some kind that had burned down. The villa was built in the seventeenth century.”

  “Brigands, Livia. Everything was destroyed. The servants fled. If Father had not sent Lorenzo and I to Crotone on that errand, we would have been destroyed, too.”

  She had sobbed in the middle of the court. “It cannot be! My Andros, my Niccolo! How will I survive without him?”

  “I am so sorry.”

  She had embraced him in front of the throngs, his newly turned son standing behind him. “You are such a comfort to me, Giovanni. Such a comfort. To have Niccolo’s beloved son in my court is… such a comfort.” Her eyes lit with calculation. “You must stay for a time.”

  “I—of course I will stay. For a time.”

  “Yes.” She had stroked his arm. “Of course you will, my darling Giovanni.”

  Had Lorenzo rebuilt Andros’s old villa? Giovanni had given him property nearby, but had his son recreated the villa where they had murdered his sire? Giovanni shook his head and focused back on Beatrice’s father, who had been staring at him.

  “I’m sorry to bring up your father. I forget that some losses can still be painful, even after so many years.”

  Giovanni cleared his throat. “Yes, I don’t think about him much anymore.”

  “You were fortunate to have had the time with him that you did.” Stephen smiled. “Not all of us had such excellent examples of immortal life.”

  Giovanni forced a smile. “Fortunate. Yes, Stephen. I was very… fortunate.”

  Hours passed, and it was just before dawn when he heard a commotion in the courtyard. An unwelcome scent hit him, and he rose swiftly to rush out the door. His ears tuned to Baojia’s voice.

  “Get back! I have her. Just stay back and someone get the Italian, dammit!”

  He raced down the hall, flames erupting along his collar when he saw Baojia carrying Beatrice in his arms like a child. She was unconscious. Her face had a grey pallor, and she was bleeding from a cut on her forehead.

  “What the hell happened?” he shouted.

  “She got away from her guards. I found her in a creek outside the palace grounds. She was face down, but I drew the water out of her lungs. She’s stable now.”

  Baojia handed Beatrice’s limp body to him, and he forced back the flames when he heard her rasping breath and steady pulse. She was still unconscious, but the color was returning to her face. He placed his palm on her temple, but her mind felt only as if it was sleeping, and he sensed no damage, so he heated his arms to warm her cold body.

  Tenzin came down the hall with Stephen on her heels. “I will kill those guards. How a human could escape them is beyond me.”

  “Where were you?” Giovanni growled at Baojia. The water vampire glared at him.

  “I thought it best to let someone else protect her for a few minutes so we didn’t kill each other, di Spada. Trust me, she was in a foul mood. Someone would have been injured.”

  “Someone was injured, you fool!”

  Giovanni strode to their room, laying her on the bed and covering her with the thick blankets before he turned on Baojia, Tenzin, and Stephen, who had followed them.

  “All of you, go away.” He spotted Nima in the corner. “Nima, can you bring her some broth, please?”

  Tenzin only cocked her head, examining Beatrice’s limp form. “You’re lucky it was Baojia that found her. If there hadn’t been a water vampire around—”

  “I’m well aware of the consequences, Tenzin.”

  “I’m just saying you shouldn’t be so mad. She was lucky this time.”

  “Tenzin, get out.”

  His old friend didn’t leave. “You need to get over this attachment to her pulse, my boy. Her mortal life—”

  “Out!”

  Stephen grabbed Tenzin’s arm and pulled her to the door, but not before sending his daughter one longing glance over Giovanni’s shoulder. Fortunately, he didn’t try to approach the irate, territorial vampire who hovered over her. Baojia followed them, and Giovanni knelt down beside Beatrice and stroked her forehead. The cut was oozing blood, so he pierced his tongue and healed it, cleaning the wound and the blood that was smeared on her forehead. His hands framed her face, and he could feel her start to wake.

  “Gio?” Her voice was rasping.

  “You’re in bed, Beatrice. You fell. Or were pushed. You almost drowned. Do you have any memory of it?”

  He suspected she wouldn’t. The water had washed away any scent on her, but her mind bore the telltale smudge of amnis. A vampire had attacked her. His son, probably, but there would be no proof. Lorenzo had been waiting for his opportunity, and Beatrice’s stubborn and independent nature had provided it.

  “I was… taking a walk in the forest.”

  “By yourself?” He tried to tamp down his anger.

  “Yes, by myself.” She must have seen his expression and she scowled. “Do you know what it’s like to go weeks with people hovering around you? I was going crazy.”

  “So you left and palace grounds
and left yourself open to attack?”

  She winced and brought a hand up to her forehead. “Can we not argue about this right now? Can we just… I have a headache.”

  He glared at her. “We are talking about it now, because you might have been killed. How could you be so foolish?”

  She curled her lip. “How could I be so… you know what? You try having people hovering over you twenty-four hours a day and see how you do.” She sat up in bed, color rushing to her face as her temper built up steam. “You try being the one constantly protected! Having your mind open to anyone that can get their hands on you. Being constantly under the threat of manipulation from any vampire who even brushes your skin. Have you thought about that?”

  “Beatrice—”

  “Have you ever thought about the fact that one touch from anyone untrustworthy would make me their puppet? Let them discover any of the secrets I know? And I’d have no way of protecting myself or the people I love! I might not even remember telling them.”

  His stomach churned at the thought, but his mind fought against the words she threw at him.

  “I’m sick of it! I’m sick of all of this.” Giovanni knew what she was going to say before her mouth even opened. “Gio, I’m ready.”

  He sat back on his heels, as his heart began to thump. “No.”

  “What is your problem? What?” She leaned toward him. “You wanted me to have a choice? Well, this is my choice. I want to be a vampire. And I don’t want to wait. This vulnerability—”

  “Beatrice, you have no idea—”

  “I have a very good idea what I’m giving up. I’m ready.”

  He shook his head and began pacing the room. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re not ready.”

  “I am.”

  He tugged at his hair as he paced. “No!”

  “It is not your choice.”

  Giovanni knelt by the bed, placing both hands on her cheeks. He could feel her pulse pounding in her neck, and his desperate heart raced along with it. “Don’t I have a say in this? Haven’t I earned that? Why does it have to be right now?”

  She shook her head, her eyes pleading with him. “You know why,” she whispered.

  “I don’t! If you would just stay with me—”

  “I can’t do that, love.” She shook her head, tears building in her eyes. “I can’t live my life under constant protection. I want to be able to protect myself. I don’t want to be vulnerable anymore. I don’t want my mind to be someone else’s open book!”

  For a brief moment, he panicked at the thought of Beatrice being forced to give up the secrets she held. His conversation with Stephen had reminded him that if his and Lorenzo’s secret were ever discovered, their lives would both be forfeit to a very powerful immortal. Only one human knew the truth about his father’s death.

  Only Beatrice.

  And her mind was an open book.

  Her eyes pleaded with him. “Jacopo, you know I’m right. You know—”

  “There has to be another way.” She still had no idea what she would be giving up, and the tears fell down her face.

  “There isn’t!”

  They were interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. Nima came in, bearing a bowl of broth with a soft smile and a gentle pat on Beatrice’s cheek. She looked between the two of them before she slipped out the door.

  Giovanni walked over and secured the room, twisting the locks closed as he heard Beatrice go to the washroom. He heard the shower start to flow, but he stayed in the bedroom, listening to her as she washed the attack from her body.

  She thought she knew so much, but as mature as she was, he knew she didn’t truly understand how much her life would change. It was impossible.

  He was still sitting in the armchair when she came out, wrapped in a soft white towel. There wasn’t much time before dawn. Beatrice walked over and sat on his lap, curling into his chest.

  Giovanni stroked her hair. “How do you feel?”

  “Other than a sore throat, I feel fine.”

  “Baojia had to pull the water from your lungs.”

  “But he did. And I’m fine.”

  “You might not have been. This is Lorenzo, please don’t underestimate him.”

  “I know who my enemy is.” She didn’t. Not really. She only thought she did. “Don’t be angry with me,” she whispered as she kissed his neck.

  His brow furrowed in frustration. “I love you. More than you can imagine. Don’t put yourself at risk. Do you have any idea what it would do to me?”

  “I need to do this.”

  “You need to wait.”

  “I know you think that.”

  He gritted his teeth and remained silent. The full force of her attack suddenly hit him, and he clasped her to his chest.

  “I need you,” he whispered, peeling off the towel she wore. He needed the pulse of her heart against his chest. He needed the smell of her blood as it rushed through her body. He wanted to see her skin glow in the lamplight as he moved in her.

  She met his kiss with equal fervor, gripping his shoulders as she straddled his lap. They made love frantically, face-to-face in the low light of the oil lamps, and she pulled him to her neck, asking without words for Giovanni to bite her and send her over the edge.

  “You’re injured.”

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please.” With a low growl, he gave in and bit, her warm blood coursing over his tongue as they both climaxed. He held her wrapped in his arms, rocking back and forth as he sealed the tiny wounds and pressed his ear to her pounding heart. He held her and walked to the bed, tucking her into his side as he began to feel the pull of day in his limbs.

  Beatrice stroked a hand over his heart, feeling the slow thump as his body warmed with the rush of her blood. His hunger sated, Giovanni’s eyes began to droop, and she sat up, watching him as he fell into his daytime rest.

  “I love you, Jacopo.”

  He struggled to stay awake. “Ti amo. Stay. Stay with me today. Don’t leave.”

  “I will stay.” Beatrice stroked his hair, and their eyes met. He recognized the familiar look of resolve. “I’ll never leave. I’m going to be with you forever.”

  Giovanni’s lips tried to form the words of protest, but they lay silent in his mind before he blacked out, her flushed face the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mount Penglai, China

  October 2010

  Beatrice watched Giovanni for a few minutes before he ceased breathing, and she knew he would not rise until just before dusk. She left his scent on her skin as she dressed in a pair of loose pants and a T-shirt. Then she left the room, locking it behind her. She ignored the chill in the air when she walked out to the garden and sat in the sun, closing her eyes as the warm rays touched her skin for the last time.

  She let her mind drift to the night before. She had been practicing with Baojia, frustrated with her own fumbling attempts to best him.

  “Deflect, girl!” He slapped at the blade of her dao with an open palm. “Where is your mind tonight?”

  Her mind was on Lorenzo, who she had seen walking across the garden as they left earlier to practice outside. As soon as her heart began to race, Giovanni had rushed to her side, arguing with Baojia until the vampire had relented and taken their practice back to Tenzin’s rooms.

  “I’m just… my arm is really sore; can we take a break? This full-weight sword is kind of killing me.”

  He frowned. “You didn’t take this long switching from the practice jian. What’s your problem?”

  She lost her temper. “Maybe I’m not an immortal, badass vampire, Baojia! Maybe I just need a fucking break for once. Is that too much to ask?”

  He curled his lip in disgust. “You’re acting like a child. I should send you to your room until you have improved your attitude.”

  She threw the sword on the ground. “Go to hell! I am not a child, and maybe I have a bit more on my mind t
han just your dumb sword practice. The last thing I need—”

  “You will not treat your weapon in that manner,” he hissed.

  Beatrice gasped when Baojia rushed to her. He stood, glaring into her eyes as he flipped the dao up with his foot, grabbed her hand, and slapped the handle into her palm. As the sword flipped in the air, it caught a finger, and she winced as she felt the blade slice her skin.

  Baojia grabbed the sword from her hand immediately and brought her palm up to his face, his eyebrows furrowed in alarm.

  “Beatrice, I…” Immediately, he brought her finger to his mouth and licked at the blood as it trickled down her hand. She saw his tongue flick out, piercing a long fang, and he sealed the wound in a matter of seconds.

  As soon as he had, he froze. His eyes lifted to hers, and she saw his fangs grow longer in his mouth. Her breath rushed out of her body as she felt the soft caress of his amnis spread over her palm and tease the skin of her wrist.

  “Stop,” she whispered. “Let go of my hand.”

  But he didn’t, nor did he move. Baojia stood inhumanly still, and his eyes never left hers. For a brief moment, she could imagine falling into them, and she pulled away, stunned by the rush of her own pulse.

  “Stop.” She wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him or herself.

  “I’m sorry, B.”

  “Forget about it.”

  “I most certainly will not.”

  She flushed in embarrassment, furious at the idea of Giovanni or Tenzin walking in and seeing them in such proximity. “Really, forget about it. All of it.”