A Fall of Water (22 page)

If only they could get there.

Finally, she broke into her grandmother’s news, anxious to rest her mind on one more subject.

“Grandma, I know Matt usually keeps an eye on things if we’re not there—“

“Don’t worry about us, Beatrice. We have quite a bit of company, if you know what I mean. Baojia is usually here in the evenings and then there’s a lovely woman and a gentleman that Ernesto introduced us to that help with the driving and taking care of this and that around the house during the day. They’re quite understanding of us old people!” Isadora laughed, but the keen edge to her voice let Beatrice know she was well aware of the security that Ernesto had arranged.

“Well good. I hope you don’t give them too many problems. The two of you are troublemakers, I know.”

“But only the best kind of trouble!” Isadora laughed.

By the time she hung up the phone an hour later, Beatrice thought she could just about make it through a few more nights without killing anything.

Unless a good opportunity presented itself, of course.

She was studying some of Geber’s journals later that evening and watching Ziri and Lucien from the corner of the library. The old vampire patted Lucien’s gaunt cheek as he rose. He walked over to Beatrice.

“I will be visiting your mate later this evening with Emil Conti. It has all been arranged. I will be able to send my voice to him without anyone else hearing. Did you have a message?”

I love you. I miss you. Don’t die. You cannot leave me alone in this world. I will kill anything that harms you. I will raze a thousand castles to get you back.

“Tell him,” she said, “I will see him soon.”

Ziri smiled as if he could read her thoughts, but only nodded and walked out of the library.

“He admires you.”

She turned toward Lucien’s voice. “Oh?”

“He admires your resolve and control. It is unusual in one so young.”

Beatrice closed the journal. She hadn’t really read anything anyway. “What is he to you? Ziri? You call him ‘Uncle.’”

“He’s not an uncle, not in the human sense. But he is one of my mother’s dearest friends.”

“Your mother is the earth vampire who worked with Geber, isn’t she?”

Lucien smiled and rose. He walked toward Beatrice and settled into the chair across from her. They were sitting in the corner of the library closest to the fire. As always, Beatrice found the sound, scent, and presence of the flames soothing.

“She is. There is more to the story, but Ziri says he will fill us all in when Giovanni is back. He doesn’t like telling stories twice.”

“Okay. I suppose. Since I don’t seem to have any choice in the matter, I’ll be patient. How are you feeling?”

“As well as I have been.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Ziri keeps telling me that he will explain more soon, but he is being irritatingly close-mouthed about it. He has always been like that. Maybe that is why he and my mother get along so well. They can sit in a cave and not speak for fifty years and be totally content.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I am not sure… well, I am not sure.” He looked up and shrugged. “I suppose that sums up my life, lately. I am not sure of much.”

Her own curiosity burned, but Beatrice forced herself to remain calm and strove for the patience she knew her husband would expect. “Who’s your mother? Will you tell me about her?”

He smiled fondly. “Her name is Saba. And I may complain about her, but she is wonderful. She is a phenomenal healer and is very wise. She lives in the highlands of Ethiopia.”

“You’re pretty old. She must be ancient.”

He smiled. “She is the oldest of our kind I have known.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. I have never met her equal in power.”

“How old is she?”

He shrugged. “I doubt even she knows. She says that she simply was. She no longer remembers being human.”

It was impossible to fathom. “Does she have a big family?”

“She did at one time, but she stopped siring children many years ago. I am one of the youngest of her direct clan, and one of the last still living. But most vampires, if they looked back far enough, would hold some relation to her.”

“Interesting.” Beatrice contemplated the idea. Some of the oldest traces of human life had been found in Africa. Why would vampire life be any different? Then another thought struck, and she smiled. “She’s kind of like Eve.”

Lucien nodded and smiled. “The comparison is probably quite apt. In a way, I suppose she is our own Eve. A common mother from the times when elemental affinities were far more fluid.”

“What do you mean? I thought we always inherited the element of our sire, unless you become a fire vampire.”

“Now this is true. It is very uncommon for a vampire to sire out of their own element. It occasionally happens, but it's quite rare. But many years ago, it wasn’t as uncommon, especially if the sire was mated to one of a different element and they shared blood. Saba’s mate, when she made me, was a wind vampire. His blood is probably the reason I am not nearly as established as most earth immortals. I like to travel and do so frequently.”

“Until recently.”

“Yes,” Lucien said. “Until recently.”

“I’m not going to lie, Lucien, I’m having a hard time being patient with all this. I need to know what all of this means. If this elixir is so dangerous, why did they keep it a secret? Why didn’t they destroy the book to begin with?”

“Well…” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “We have many strengths, our kind, but the longer we live, the more weaknesses become evident, too. We’re not very good at sharing. Part of this is a survival mechanism, of course, but part of it is simply habit. We get so accustomed to hiding from the human world, we tend to hide things from each other, as well. And we’re quite greedy for information. Art, ideas, philosophy… these are the things that make immortal life interesting for those that live for centuries, because they are the only things that change. Humanity”—he grinned—“really does not change that much, you will learn. But stories, the ebb and flow of ideas, creativity, all of these things are always changing. It’s why we tend to congregate in certain places when there is an explosion of art or science. Anything new, really.”

“Like Italy? During the Renaissance when Gio was born.”

Lucien leaned forward, his eyes lit. “Exactly. Giovanni probably had no idea at the time, but Renaissance Florence was teeming with vampires. Ziri was there. Even I was there for a time, though I’m not very fond of cities.”

“That’s interesting. Any other times?”

He folded his hands and relaxed, a wistful smile crossing his face. “Hmm, Greece, for a time. Baghdad, before the libraries burned, of course. Egypt, on and off for centuries. India in the fifth century. I am quite fond of Russia, but not many are.”

“Rome?”

“Yes and no. Some, like Andros, were attracted to Rome during the Republic and later, of course, but it was not my favorite time. It was wonderful during the Renaissance. Japan in the sixteenth century. The American colonies during the Revolution.”

“What about the times of conflict? Wars? Do vampires like wars?”

He shook his head. “Not usually. We’re very self-interested, and wars are not interesting. Plus, we’ve all seen so many of them that they become repetitive, I suppose.”

She shook her head. “Lucien, you’re one interesting guy.”

He shrugged. “I am, and I am not. I like talking about the past more than most immortals. I don’t mind reminiscing. Most older vampires won’t.”

“I’ve noticed that. Both Carwyn and Tenzin don’t talk about the past. They hardly even mention it.”

“It’s survival. You’ll probably become the same way, after a time. Dwelling in the past can be very depressing. You should always be looking ahead.” He smiled. “Look forward. Where is the next great idea or invention? That is what makes immortal life interesting.”

“And family. Friends.”

He nodded. “Yes, those are the most important. It has always been so. And it will remain. Another constant.”

“Constant… right.” She bit her lip and tried not to let the overwhelming loneliness envelop her.

“You are thinking about your mate.”

“Of course.”

“He is your constant. As, I’m sure, you are for him.”

“I hope so.”

Lucien grinned. “He was always so formal and distant, your Giovanni. I never knew him very well, but he was always so…”

“What?”

He grimaced. “Polite.”

Beatrice burst out laughing. “Yes, he is.”

Lucien laughed along and shook his head. “But irritatingly so. It was like he was saying, ‘Nice to meet you’ and ‘You’re beneath my notice’ all at the same time.”

“You can’t accuse him of being a humble man, no.”

“That’s good.” Lucien nodded. “Good. That means that he’ll be fine. Even if she tortures him, he’ll be fine. He is above her.”

Beatrice fell silent. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“I have no doubt he’s dealt with worse.”

Thinking of some of the more horrible stories she’d managed to pry out of him, and some of the other things that Beatrice had inferred, she had to agree. “Yes, he has.”

Lucien only nodded. “He’ll be fine.”

Beatrice smiled when she heard Carwyn barrel into the house. He walked into the kitchen to bark at Ben about doing his homework, charm a plate of food from Angela, and then she heard him stomp up the stairs.

“Ah! There’s my favorite girl. Oh, and, Beatrice, you’re here, too.”

Lucien chuckled and flipped up a surprisingly modern hand gesture at the noisy vampire. Carwyn put a plate of food on the library table and started eating. “So, what did I miss while I was meeting with the bathrobes?”

“How did the meeting go?”

“Fine.
Great,
actually.” He grinned and took a drink from the bottle of beer he’d brought.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I’m feeling like a new vampire. Fangs are sharper. Growl is scarier. And still, just as good-looking. Watch out, Livia.”

Beatrice and Lucien exchanged amused looks.

“What’s gotten into you, Father?”

For some reason, that question made Carwyn burst into laughter. Finally, he calmed down and said, “Enough about me. What kind of mischief can we make? I feel like causing some trouble.”

“Well, Ziri and Emil went to the castle to make sure that Giovanni is healthy and being kept safe. Beatrice and I were reminiscing about history and talking about how polite her husband is. And then you interrupted us.”

Carwyn darted over to them both and smacked the backs of their heads.

“Hey!”

“What kind of evening fun is that? You two are boring.”

She stuck out a foot and tripped him before could make it back to the table. “Well, some of us are trying to be patient and not kill anything.”

“Oh ho!” Carwyn grinned from the ground. “I know what you need, B.”

“What?”

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “Other than that.”

Lucien and Carwyn both laughed. Beatrice started for the door, only to feel Carwyn tackle her from behind. He picked her up and ran down the stairs.

“What are you doing? Put me down!”

“Nope. Your husband isn’t around for you to shag. You’re being a good girl and not killing things. So…” He opened a door she hadn’t been through before and tossed her down the stairs. She bounced and tumbled until she came to a small landing.

Beatrice scowled and looked around before gasping in pleasure. “Oh!”

It was a stone basement. Damp and gloomy. Stacked with odds and ends, it looked like the catch-all room for a very large, very old house. But along with old furniture, boxes, and chairs were a rather startling number of weapons mounted on one wall and a large mat that looked like it was used for training.

“You”—Carwyn marched down the stairs and went over to the mat—“need to beat something up. So let’s go. We haven’t fought in months and your husband isn’t around to kill me if I punch you, so have at it, my dear.”

Beatrice could have cried; she was so happy. “You’re the most awesome friend in the world, Carwyn!”

“I know. Stop gushing like a little girl and hit me already.”

She pounced.

Despite his larger size, Beatrice was much faster, so they were evenly matched as they fought. They kept it to hands, fists, and elbows, for the most part, and they laughed and joked as they both tried to beat each other within an inch of their immortal lives. It was exactly what she needed.

Three hours later, she was still not tired, but the soul-crushing tension had been partly relieved. They finally stopped, neither one really winning, and Carwyn leaned against the wall while Beatrice slumped against his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Happy to help.”

“I miss him so damn much.”

“You’re just like him, you know.”

“How do you mean?”

He patted her head. “Remember when Lorenzo took you the first time? Gio had to dance this dance for almost a month while you were gone. Remember that?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d almost forgotten. That seems like so long ago.”

“I think we came down here every day while we were in Rome, and he did the exact same thing. We’d beat each other up just so he didn’t go mad. It was the only thing I could do for him.”

She blinked back tears. “You’re a damn good friend, you know that?”

“I do.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close. She wrapped her arm around his waist and let him hold her up for a little while. “He never gave me a cuddle afterward, though, so you’ve definitely got him beat in the ‘thank you’ department.”

She pinched his waist. “You need to find yourself a woman, Carwyn. If you don’t, I’ll be too tempted to run away with you.”

“I’ve been telling you for years what a catch I am.”

They laughed quietly, and Beatrice found that, for a few minutes, she could rest. They sat silent until she was distracted by a faint noise. A low rumble seemed to be coming from behind another door in the basement, and she sat up straight.

“What was that?”

“Hmm?” Carwyn sat up and looked around. “Oh, the noise. What day is it again?”

“It’s—what? What day is it? It’s Friday. Why?”