“You’re a fool,” Tenzin said.
He waited, because calling him a fool wasn’t saying no. And Ben knew Tenzin was partly right. This was his job, but he still needed her help.
“If you’re determined to do this,” she said, “dawn and dusk are the only times that might work.”
He was wary of her agreement. “So you’re coming with me?”
“After the sun goes down?” Tenzin sat back down, her arms crossed over her chest. “Of course I’m coming with you. You’re my partner. And I’m your only chance of not getting killed.”
✕
BEN dressed and put on his boots, grabbing the last of the sunlight while he could. He left a disapproving Tenzin at the cottage and followed the stream up the wooded path that led to the church, his metal detector bulky under his coat. He’d gotten a few odd looks over the past week, but nothing from anyone who wasn’t a passerby. None of the few residents in the area seemed to pay him any mind. And though he’d walked around the churchyard, he hadn’t once seen anyone coming from the church building.
With that expectation, he was more than a little surprised to interrupt an old woman when he climbed the top of the stone stairs leading up from the glen.
“Hello,” he said, a friendly smile plastered on his face. She didn’t look like a tourist. Her clothes were old and worn. They looked homemade. “I didn’t expect anyone out this late. How are you today?”
The old woman had a stooped back and bright blue eyes. Her hair was tucked under a scarf, but he could see flyaway grey curls escaping the edges.
“I am as I am,” she said. “But what are you?”
It was impossible to hide the metal detector from her keen eyes. He shrugged and decided to play it casual. “Just… out for a bit of fun.”
She smiled, and he saw she had a tooth missing from the front. “You’re another after the Raven King’s gold.”
“Another?” he asked. “Has someone else been by?”
“Now and then they wander by,” she said. “Those of the earth and the air.”
Was she talking of the fairy legends surrounding the den? Local legends were part of what had led him to this place, so it wasn’t a surprise that she mentioned them. Or was she talking about vampires? Those of the earth and the air? There was no way of telling without provoking more questions.
Ben maintained the casual veneer. “So, do you have any advice for the new guy?”
The old woman cackled and pointed to the well where reeds grew long. “Have you made your prayer to the old gods yet?”
His smile fell a little. “I’m not much for praying.”
“That’s too bad.” She stooped down and brought out a pair of trimmers from the pocket of her coat. “A well-placed prayer will never do you wrong.” She clipped at some of the greenery around the well. Ben didn’t know enough about herbs or botany to know what she was clipping, but she put it in a shallow basket by the edge of the water. “But then, I suppose a machine like you have is very modern.”
Something about the woman made him want to linger, but he saw the sun dropping quickly. “Well, you have a good—”
“Don’t forget”—the old woman straightened—“be back inside at sundown. No treasure is worth getting snatched and carried away, eh?”
He paused. “What do you mean?”
“Snatched by the Raven King, boy.” Her eyes lost some of the merry and bright. “Tales is tales for a reason. Seven years, they say, to be dancing in the Raven King’s court. But I’ve never seen a one return, have you?”
Snatched by the Raven King? Perhaps Brennus wasn’t in the kind of stasis Tenzin imagined. “Have people been lost?”
“Here and there,” she muttered, bending to her task again. “Seven below, seven on earth, and seven for the people of the air. Everyone knows that.”
“Right.” Ben didn’t usually dismiss folktales, but these sounded like a bastardized explanation for people going missing around Brennus’s mound. He’d have to remember to tread carefully. “Well, I’m off. Have a good night.”
She waved at him but didn’t look again. “Remember, not after the sun goes down, boy.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be careful.” He turned and walked up the path. Within seconds, the old woman was lost to his vision and nothing but fading sun and green trees surrounded him. He walked the path through the churchyard, looking for the stone he’d earlier dismissed. He caught sight of it and paused to look around before he stepped over the fence.
He circled the stone and turned on the metal detector, casting his eyes again to see if anyone watched him. He felt exposed in the graveyard, the speckled stone monuments watching like silent sentries as he swept the grass with his beeping contraption that felt so very out of place in the still and dimming evening. Just as it had been the past few days, no one interrupted him. No one disturbed him when the heavy mist turned into a drizzle and the machine gave its first beep.
Ben listened with a practiced ear.
Gold.
His heart leapt in his chest, and he itched to find a shovel. A spade. Anything to start digging immediately. But he stopped, paused, and marked the first hit with a golf tee. Then he went back to work, walking a grid around the stone.
He hit again. Another tee.
Again. Another tee.
In the space of twenty minutes, he marked the ground with twelve green tees, barely visible unless you were looking for them. Twelve green tees outlining a circle of roughly twelve feet across. And at the center was the standing stone with the pile of silver coins at the top. The markers backed up what Tenzin had told him.
Benjamin Vecchio had found Brennus the Celt.
Chapter Seven
TENZIN FLEW OVER HIM AFTER the sun had set as he walked back down the stream, over the fields, and toward their temporary home. Some nights Tenzin wondered if Ben realized he lived his life like a vampire. He only rested during the day, when immortals were confined. He did most of his work at night unless he had to visit human establishments. He thought in terms of power dynamics, threats, and allies. He was a vampire in all but biology and durability.
She watched him shut the door of the cottage, then she flew into the woods and checked the rabbit snares she’d set the night before. Seeing two animals hanging in the traps, she grabbed them, stowed the snares in the bushes, and flew back to the house. She cleaned the animals and buried the innards in a shallow hole. Some scavenger would come and dig them up if it had need of them. She eyed the skins but had no real use for them and no method of tanning available at the cottage.
Pity. So much in the modern world was wasted.
Leaving the skins hanging on a fence, she took the carcasses back to the house and thought about what Ben had in the cupboards. Carrots and potatoes would be enough to add to the rabbits. She’d seen some overgrown herbs in the garden.
She could hear him banging around in the cottage, shucking off his soiled boots and jacket, humming under his breath. His human habits were oddly comforting.
Home. They made her feel at home. It was an odd, but not unwelcome, sensation.
“Ben.” She kicked at the door until he opened it. “I found dinner.”
He glanced down at the rabbits and raised a curious eyebrow. “So you did.” He looked up. “I found Brennus.”
She sighed. “Are you sure you’re not going to change your mind on this?”
“Positive.” He ushered her inside. “What can I do for dinner?”
She’d table the discussion about Brennus’s gold until she was feeding him. “How are you at identifying herbs?”
“Uhhhhh.” He frowned. “What are herbs again?”
“Ha-ha.” She handed him the skinned rabbits.
“Thanks?” He walked them over to the sink.
“Cut those up and put them in a stewpot with some chopped potatoes and carrots,” Tenzin said. “I’ll get the herbs.” She headed for the back door and paused. “I will miss your appetite.”
He loo
ked up from the bloody rabbits. “Huh?”
“Nothing.”
✕
NOTHING.
Sure, Tenzin.
Ben ignored her sly insinuations about his mortality because it was no good arguing with her. Tenzin was determined that really, secretly, he wanted to be a vampire.
He really, honestly didn’t.
The pot was bubbling on the stove and Ben was looking over the diagram he’d drawn in his notebook when he heard the door open. “My best guess, the hoard starts at about a meter down.”
“That matches my feeling about the place too.” Tenzin walked over to the stove and fiddled with the flame before she threw some green things in. “But it will go deeper.”
“Into the sandstone?”
She nodded and stirred the pot. “I need to know if the sword will be enough.”
Ben didn’t answer too quickly. “I think… if he wasn’t living, I’d want it all. At least to recover it. Even if we handed over the majority of the treasure to Max, I’d still want to recover it. But if he’s alive, it feels more like stealing.”
“But you still want the sword.”
“I still want the sword.”
“And that’s not stealing?”
He let out a long breath. “Yes. But… I’m not keeping it. We can always tell Max to give it back if Brennus decides to return to the world, can’t we?”
“We can.”
“And as long as we get that one artifact—that one thing—people will know I found the treasure.”
Tenzin said, “They’re going to wonder where the rest of it is unless we tell them Brennus is living.”
He shook his head. “Not our secret to tell.”
She smiled and crossed her arms. “You have a very nuanced sense of honesty.”
“You probably deserve some credit for that, so don’t judge.”
“I’m not. I find it entertaining.”
He closed his notebook and rose to walk to the kitchen. “We hand the sword over to Max and let people wonder. ‘Do they have the treasure? Are they hiding it?’ If it works out the way I hope, it’ll only get people talking more. We both know how much vampires love to gossip. The more people talk, the more likely they are to hire us.”
“If for nothing else than curiosity,” Tenzin said.
Ben frowned. “That’s fine as long as they pay us too.”
“They’ll pay us,” Tenzin said. “No one cheats me. Being an assassin gave me a reputation for that.”
Ben held in a shudder. “Has anyone tried?”
“Yes.” She glanced up. “They’re dead now.”
Why was he not surprised?
✕
THEY ate. He slept. Ben wanted to be ready to search before the crack of dawn. Tenzin would be able to join him until the sun rose over the horizon, which meant they had a fair amount of light without direct sun. It would be the best time to search, though he’d be vulnerable. He didn’t know how long they’d have to dig in order to find the sword. He was only praying that Brennus hadn’t followed medieval tradition and buried himself grasping his sword.
If that was the case… Yeah, they were pretty much screwed.
He’d laid out every piece of equipment and checked it twice. Probes and shovels were about as high tech as it got when it came to actually getting gold out of the ground. He briefly debated calling a trusted earth vampire to come move ground, but knew it would just make everything more complicated in the end.
This was something he had to do. Him. Ben Vecchio.
And his mad, miniature partner.
He slept deeply. Tenzin had promised not to leave the cottage until he woke. He dreamed of lying in the sun in the barley fields by the house in Florence. The wool blanket was at his back and the heavy heads of grain bent with the wind, brushing his bare skin as a warm body stretched beside him. Stretched limbs and the scent of honey. He rolled to the side and reached out—
“Ben!”
He woke with a gasp, automatically gathering the sheets around his body. “Dammit, Tiny, I’m naked.”
“No, you’re not.” She patted his cheek. “Wake up.”
He blinked and glanced at the clock. “It’s not time.” His voice croaked, and he coughed to clear it. No sun. No barley field. He was in Scotland, and it was cold and damp and they had to go tromp around in the mud to dig up an early medieval sword.
Ben rubbed his eyes. “Why did you wake me up? My dream was way better than—”
“We have to go. Someone is at Brennus’s barrow.”
“What?”
✕
BY the time he reached the churchyard, Tenzin was already there, staring down at a pit opened in the field next to the standing stone.
“What the hell?” he muttered. He still felt half-asleep, and this was like a dream. The moon was full and low in the sky and a drifting fog covered it, making the whole graveyard glow with an unholy light. Tenzin stood in the moonlight, her hair loose around her shoulders. She hovered over the ground, examining the pit.
Ben ran up to her, barely stopping before he fell in. “Who is it? How did they find the site? Is it gone? What happened?”
Tenzin glared and held up one of the golf tees. “Did you have to put out a flag?”
“A flag?” His mouth dropped. “Those? You could barely see them in the grass.”
“No, you could barely see them, human. But you’re not an earth vampire, are you?”
Well, an earth vampire would certainly explain the giant hole in the ground. Most of them could move dirt like Ben moved furniture. The edges of the pit were smooth. The sides were steep. He resisted the urge to dig through the loose piles of dirt that cluttered the grass.
He couldn’t see down into the darkness of the mud and mist. “Who is it?”
“Merde.” A quiet, desperate curse drifted from the bottom of the pit.
Ben and Tenzin exchanged a look.
“René,” he said.
“René.”
“Stop staring,” René hissed from the bottom of the pit. “Help. Me.”
Ben put his hands on his hips. “Do you think he found Brennus?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Do you smell any blood?”
“Not yet,” Tenzin said. “There is a not-surprising amount of… restless energy, however. It’s only a matter of time.”
“So he’s not awake?”
Quiet, whispered curses in French met Ben’s ears. Apparently René didn’t appreciate their casual conversation at the edge of his grave.
“Well, that’s what you get for trying to steal my treasure,” Ben said. “Think twice next time, René.”
“You bastard human piece of aaaargh—”
Tenzin said, “I think Brennus is awake.”
A strangled, gargling sound came from the bottom of the pit. Ben backed away slowly, but Tenzin’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t run,” she said calmly. “Stay right where you are.”
“Are you nuts?”
“You can’t see him, but he’s watching you. If you run, he’ll chase you.”
Ben couldn’t pull away. She had his arm in an iron grasp. A scraping sound came from the pit. Then the earth moved beneath him, and the ground bulged like a fountain churning living soil.
Rising from the darkness was a hunched figure with dirty auburn braids falling down his back. He was lean, nearly skeletal, and his skin was marked with swirling patterns and spiral scars. He hunched over a kicking figure that was struggling to break from the iron grasp of the monster who held him.
Brennus the Celt was feeding from René. As Ben and Tenzin watched, his flesh swelled and filled in, like a dry sponge soaking in water. René kicked and twisted, but Brennus didn’t seem to notice, nor did he release the vampire from his grasp.
Ben had never seen anything more frightening.
“We should stop this,” Tenzin said.
“Why?” Ben whispered. “In the grand scheme of things, it’s him or
us and I vote for—”
“Brennus.” Tenzin’s blade was at her side.
Shit!
She called in Latin, “Ecce tuum sanguis.” Behold your blood.
The monster paused, flexed his shoulders, and turned toward Tenzin. But instead of Tenzin, his eyes locked on Ben.
Well, that was sadly predictable.
With a curled lip and a snarl, the emaciated vampire leapt from the earthen pit and attacked. Ben didn’t even feel him collide. He was standing; he was on his back.
Brennus was poised over Ben, his fangs bared. Blood dripped into the gnarled red-brown beard that fell down the ancient’s tattooed chest. But while he crouched over Ben, his head was yanked back and a bronze blade pressed against his throat. Ben blinked to clear the dirt from his eyes. He tried to take a breath, but the ancient’s weight lay on his chest, his hands planted by Ben’s shoulders. Brennus snarled and snapped his teeth but was held back by Tenzin’s grip and the sword at his neck.
Tenzin continued in Latin. “This one is not your blood.”
Brennus blinked, and Ben saw a shadow of reason return to vivid blue eyes.
“Sida,” he growled in a cracked voice.
“We don’t use that name anymore, old man.”
It was both fascinating and frightening to behold. As Ben watched, Brennus’s cheeks grew less hollow and his lips plumped red as René’s blood worked through his system. Ben began to see a shadow of the king he must have been. He wasn’t as old as he’d first appeared. Perhaps forty in human years. He was barrel-chested and shorter than Ben, though probably tall for the men of his time.
“Why have you woken me?” Brennus managed to croak out, also in Latin. At the movement of his throat, Tenzin’s blade pressed into the flesh. It sliced, but no blood dripped out. The vampire had none to spare.
“We did not wake you. A child of your blood did that.”
Brennus’s lip curled like a great hunting cat; his eyes still locked on Ben’s neck. “You are not of my blood. Why are you here?”
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