The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (91 page)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered. She was lying, she knew exactly what he was talking about, and from the look in his eyes, Tywyll did too.

“Don’t ye'?” Tywyll took another drink and turned to Giovanni. “Why did I tell yer son? I owed a very old favor to him, Giovanni Vecchio. One he was keen to collect. I do have a reputation to maintain, and I’ll not be backing out of a favor owed. However, I don’t owe him anymore. The ship he was on before I got word to him was bound for two ports—Port Said in Egypt and Shanghai, China.”

Tywyll directed his words to Beatrice. “Now, I’ve no idea where he was goin’ after that, and I don’t know his location now. Not my job. But he’s still after my friend, so I’ve got no objection to answering what ye' want to ask, if it suits my mood, and ye' ask the right questions.”

Beatrice could sense the buzzing anticipation from Giovanni. She still didn’t know what she wanted to ask, her mind was whirling from the night’s revelations, so she looked up and nodded at him. A small smile quirked Giovanni’s mouth as he began questioning Tywyll.

“What did Stephen De Novo take from my son?”

“Good question. Gold, for one. And a lot of it. Unusual stuff. Old. Some of it melted down. All unmarked, not that I minded.”

She caught the minute flicker in Giovanni’s eyes and she knew he recognized what the other vampire was talking about. “What about the books?”

“
Books
?” Tywyll cocked his head. “Not a good question.”

Beatrice whispered, “Book. What about the
book
?”

Tywyll nodded. “Better question.”

Giovanni looked confused. “Only one?”

“Only one he kept with him. Only one yer boy really wanted.”

They all seemed to lean toward each other, and her heart pounded.

“What book does my son want?”

Tywyll smirked. “If I could read ancient Persian, I’d have a much better idea. Unfortunately, Stephen didn’t teach me. Don’t know that he could read it himself—though, I’ve no doubt he can by now. When he escaped yer son, he only knew that this book was the one Lorenzo guarded most carefully.”

“He didn’t know what it was?”

“Oh—” The old vampire’s eyes twinkled. “He had an idea.”

Tywyll paused to finish off his beer as Beatrice fought the urge to reach across the table and shake him. “Well?” she finally asked.

“What do you know of alchemy, Mariposa?”

Giovanni shook his head and slumped in his seat. “Spells and magic,” he muttered. “Ridiculous. What does that tell us? Nothing.”

“Arrogance, fire-starter. It’s an old science.”

Beatrice looked between them, confused by their demeanor. “Wait, isn’t alchemy just an early form of chemistry?”

“Yes,” Tywyll said, as Giovanni muttered, “No.”

She could almost hear the “professor voice” before Giovanni opened his mouth. “Alchemy is magic, not chemistry. And most certainly not a real science. Philosopher’s stones. Gold from lead. Elixir of life. Not science. Magic.”

Tywyll cut his eyes toward her. “Oh…immortality, manipulation of the elements, the creation of life itself. I can’t imagine why a curious vampire would find those things worthy of further study.”

They all fell silent around the table while Giovanni and Tywyll exchanged looks she couldn’t quite decipher. “So—” She looked back and forth between them. “—what is it? Is it science, like amnis? Something natural we just don’t understand yet? Or is it magic?”

Tywyll chuckled while Giovanni looked chastened.

“Ye’ve nabbed yerself a smart one. You two won’t bore each other anytime soon.”

Giovanni shook his head. “We will have to consider what Lorenzo may have found.”

“Or what my father did,” she added. “If he was willing to risk himself for this book…” Beatrice felt her throat tighten up. “I have to think it’s all been worth it.”

Giovanni pulled her into his side and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. She glanced at Tywyll across the table, but the old vampire only wore a mysterious smile.

“Well,” he said as he shrugged. “I’m tired of answering questions. This is the most I’ve talked in years. I’ve a mind to get home now.”

Beatrice leaned into Giovanni’s shoulder. “Where is home, Tywyll?”

He winked. “Here and there, girl. The river, that’s my home.”

Giovanni tossed a few pounds on the table and they rose to leave. They walked out of the dark pub to see their car and driver waiting a block away and a long, wooden skiff tied up to the side of the floating pub.

She looked at the cagey vampire, who had given her more clues to her father’s whereabouts than she’d had in the five years she’d searched for him.

“Thank you, Tywyll.”

“Yer welcome, Mariposa. He gave me that name, you know. I have a feeling he thought you might come looking for me.”

“Smart man.” She heard Giovanni murmur.

“Smarter vampire,” Tywyll said.

The river surged beside them and Beatrice heard a glass fall to the floor and shatter inside.

“Why on Earth did you want to meet here?” Beatrice asked as she looked from the ramshackle bar to the old water vampire. “This bar is just…” She curled her lip as the strange man chuckled.

Tywyll stood on the dock, his hands tucked in his pockets, and she could feel the sudden energy that charged the air.
 

“Oh,” he said, “it has its features.”

Looking over his shoulder, Beatrice noticed the boats moored nearby begin to drift to the bank. There was a soft ripple, and a squawking rose as a flock of ducks took off from the center channel. In the distance, she saw a fishing boat begin to change course. Then Beatrice gasped as the The Cockleshell pub itself began to rise as the river pushed it up and toward them.
 

Beatrice could only gape as the whole of the River Thames waited at attention for the old water vampire. He rocked back and forth, and the river, and everything floating, mirrored his small movement.
 

“Wow,” she whispered.

Finally, Tywyll shrugged and the river seemed to heave a sigh before the boats drifted back downriver, and the current flowed out toward the sea. The pub settled back into its slip and the ducks landed over the rippling reflection of the moon.
 

He winked at her. “I like the beer, too.” Tywyll walked toward his skiff and stepped aboard. He untied the ropes and stood watching them as the boat began to drift away.

“Find yer father, Mariposa. He needs ye.’ And Giovanni Vecchio, don’t let your arrogance blind ye to the schemes of others.”

Giovanni frowned. “What aren’t you telling me, waterman?”

“Oh…” He smiled. “A lot.”
 

Tywyll tipped his hat toward Beatrice as she clutched Giovanni’s hand. “Ye’ know more than ye’ realize, girl. Yer father wants ye’ to find him.”

Tywyll drifted away, and the moon rippled in the quiet wake. Beatrice and Giovanni stood on the dock and she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest and inhaling his dark, smoky scent. She could feel his arms embrace her, and she tilted her face up for a kiss.

“Do we believe him?” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed as he searched the inky night. “I think we do.”

“We’ve got a lot to think about.”

“Yes, we do. But not here.”

She paused and held him tighter as the exhaustion ate at her. She could feel his arm holding her up as they began the walk back to the car.
 

“Gio?”

“Yes,
tesoro
?”

“I want to go home. Take me to Cochamó.”

Giovanni looked down and met her tired eyes. She saw a flare of excitement in his gaze and a smile teased the corner of his mouth. He nodded. “We’ll leave tonight.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Santiago, Chile

March 2010

He stared at her profile in the dim light of the theater, admiring how the lights from the stage caught bits of red in her hair and made her skin glow. Giovanni had seen the play before, but Beatrice had not, and she stared at the actors with a small smile flirting around her mouth.

She must have caught his gaze from the corner of her eye.

What
? she mouthed.

“I finally took you on a date,” he whispered.

She laughed silently, and he reached across to cup her cheek before he bent and pressed a kiss to her mouth. He felt the curl of her lips against his own as she smiled and placed her cool hand on his jaw. He pulled away so she could continue to watch the performance of the Lorca play, and she felt for his hand, laying it on her lap and knitting their fingers together.

Beatrice was stunning in a black silk dress, her neck and shoulders bare. He could see the flutter of the pulse in her neck, and a flush rose in her cheeks. He made no show of hiding his hungry stare. Her dark eyes kept glancing between his rapt face and the stage; he could hear her heartbeat quicken as his amnis reached out to her. The air was lush with her scent in their corner of the dark theater. After another twenty minutes, she silently rose from her seat and took his hand, pulling him up and out the door. As soon as they reached the dark hallway, she pressed him against the wall and lifted her mouth to his as he met her in a passionate kiss.

The blood had already begun to pulse in his veins when she whispered, “Take me back to the hotel.”

Giovanni said nothing as he wrapped an arm around her waist and escorted her down the stairs of the theater and into the starlit night.
 

They rushed through the lively streets of the Providencia district, ignoring the flow of pedestrians and the call of music from the clubs, stopping only at lights where they kissed without thought of the people around them. It was eleven o’clock, and the warm streets of Santiago were still filled with late summer crowds, but they ignored all distractions as they hurried back to the private entrance of their hotel.

Giovanni paused when they were finally alone, pulling off his jacket and taking a calming breath to cool his skin. She stood near the open terrace doors, looking out on the lights of the city. The night air was soft as he placed his hands on the bare skin of her shoulders.

“
Tesoro mio
,” he murmured. “My Beatrice.”

He bent down to kiss behind her ear and closed his eyes as he felt the heat rise between them. He brushed at her dark hair, smoothing it away as it fell loose down her back. He could feel the rush of his blood as his heart picked up pace. Giovanni struggled to control the fire that wanted to burst from his skin.

“Do you know how I love you?” she whispered.

He wrapped both his arms around her waist and held her to his chest for a few moments, breathing in her scent and listening to the rush of her pulse. His lips kissed above the single button that held the halter of her dress in place. “How do you love me?” he murmured against her skin.

Beatrice turned in his arms and placed a hand on his cheek. “I love you forever.”

He paused, staring into her eyes. They no longer held even a trace of doubt. She had said that she loved him, but for the first time, as Beatrice looked at him, Giovanni felt as if he held her heart in his gaze. There was no caution. No reservation. His breath caught in his throat and his heart raced.

“Don’t you know,” she said with dancing eyes, “how I adore you?”

Giovanni smiled to hear his own words from so many months ago repeated on her lips.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“You know I do.”

“And do you trust me?”

A slow smile bloomed on her face. “Yes.”

“
Finally
.” Giovanni’s lips swept down to meet her own, and his left hand came around her waist and pulled her away from the window. He returned to her bare shoulder, trailing his hand up to slip the button of her halter loose, then down to catch the edge of her dress.

He felt her quick intake of breath, and she gave a small cry when both his palms cupped her breasts and his mouth bent to her collarbone.

“Too long,” he groaned against her skin. The current raced over his skin. “Beatrice, I—”

“I love you, Gio,” he heard her whisper. “One life is not enough.”

His hands slipped the rest of her dress down her body. Most of her bruises had healed, and Beatrice stood before him with nothing hiding her from his eyes. She smiled and reached for his shirt, quickly undressing him as his hands trailed along her arms and the blood raced through his body.
 

Her skin was flushed, and he felt his fangs grow long in his mouth, but he had fed earlier in the evening and was not hungry for blood. He stepped toward her and lifted her in his arms before he walked them to the bed. He lay down facing her and let his hands leisurely explore the dips and curves of her body before his mouth followed, tasting and licking along her skin, letting his amnis spread where they touched until their senses were so heightened he thought the flames would burst from his fingertips.

‘Love is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.’