The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (130 page)

“Because he saw Beatrice again.”

She nodded.

“But you did not see this fate for him?”

“No, I did not see this.”

“Or you did not choose to.”

Tenzin looked at him with guarded eyes. “Perhaps, I did not choose to.”

Giovanni cleared his throat. “Will she… will she join him?”

It had weighed on his mind more than he wanted. As much as Beatrice loved him, new immortals were impulsive and irrational, and he clearly remembered his own sense of despair hundreds of years before when he had murdered his own sire. Despite Giovanni’s loathing for him, there was a gaping hollow where he felt Andros’s loss.

“Gio, you know her better than that.”

“Do I?”

Tenzin frowned. “How can you ask that?”

“She is the same to me, but more. Surely you can see it.”

His friend placed her hand on his arm, squeezing slightly. “She is… exactly who she will need to be, my boy.”

He took a deep breath. “Beatrice is as much your daughter as she was Stephen’s, Tenzin. Please, don’t disappear.”

Giovanni saw her grey eyes shutter. She slipped away and went to sit by Stephen’s body again, and in his heart, he knew she was already gone.

Two nights later, a solemn procession slipped down the steps from the monastery. Giovanni walked ahead and lit the stone lanterns on the path before four of Zhang’s men, who carried Stephen’s body. Tenzin and Beatrice followed them. Lu’s water vampires had arrived the night before and stood near the edge of the river, watching the procession in silent respect.

The four wind vampires carried the body to the edge of the river where Tenzin and Beatrice, both dressed in white robes, held out their hands and cradled Stephen between them, waiting until the water claimed its own.

He felt a flutter of wind and looked to his right to see Zhang light on the stone steps and walk to him. They nodded toward each other.

“Giovanni.”

“Zhang.”

“How is your wife?”

“Beatrice will be fine. She is very strong.”

He heard a slight hoarseness in Zhang’s voice. “And how is my daughter?”

Giovanni paused. “She will be fine.”

“The elder has been executed. Lu carried it out himself. The whole council was displeased by his actions.”

“He broke their trust.”

“And sacrificed a sacred place of learning for a human.”

Giovanni couldn’t help but think that he would have done the same if the human had been Beatrice, but he remained silent.

“Does your son have Beatrice’s book?”

“Yes. She saw him take it.”

“You will retrieve it. The book was given to Beatrice as a scribe of Penglai; it is rightfully hers. If the council of the Eight Immortals can help you, we will. We do not care to have our will averted.”

“It is the Seven Immortals now, isn’t it?”

Zhang was silent for a moment. “Surely you must know that the council is immortal. There will always be eight.”

“But—”

“Elder Zhongli is more than the vampire who wore his name.”

Giovanni nodded in understanding. So, another Elder Zhongli Quan would be chosen. Giovanni wondered how that would come about, but chose not to ask, knowing he would receive no answer. He wondered if Zhongli had been the original vampire of legend, or whether he had been a replacement himself.

“Of course, Elder Zhang. Continuity is important.”

“As is balance.”

“Yes.” Giovanni looked to his mate. She stood proud and solemn across from his oldest friend. He thought of Beatrice and Tenzin. Of Carwyn and himself. Water, wind, earth and fire.

Balance.

Four elements.

Always four.

His eyes narrowed and he glanced at Zhang, who only looked at him with a slight smile.

“Balance,” Zhang said again, “is the key, Giovanni Vecchio. The wisest of immortals have always understood this.”

A thought began to bloom at the back of his mind. A path in the darkness began to grow lighter.

Balance
.

He nodded at Zhang a little more deeply. “Of course. Thank you, Elder Zhang.”

Giovanni turned back to the river; he could feel the change in the air. Beatrice’s heart began to beat more rapidly, and he and Zhang stepped closer as the air became charged.

It was only a ripple at first. The solid shroud of Stephen’s earthly form seemed to shudder in the current. Then, little by little, it grew thinner. The strips of cloth that had bound his feet came loose, curling in the water as the river teased them. Then, as if by silent command, the white cloth slipped away from the women’s grasp, unfurling like a silken cocoon as the pure white linen was washed away in the stream. He watched it spread, a silver web scattering in the curls and eddies of the Nine-Bend River, washing down the mountain and into the sea.

He watched Stephen’s shroud until the turn of the river took it out of sight, then his eyes sought his mate. She was standing in the shallow water, watching with dark eyes. He could see the longing in them, and he knew that she felt the call to follow him, to lose herself within the soft embrace of her element. He sent a silent plea to her, willing her eyes to turn toward his.

She was poised on the riverbank. One foot on the muddy ground and the other sunk in the water. Finally, her head turned, she looked at him, and he felt her return. Beatrice climbed from the edge, and he caught her in a tight embrace.

“I want to go home,” she whispered. “There is nothing here. Take me home.”

“We will leave tonight.”

Beatrice pressed her face into his chest as Giovanni watched Tenzin walk toward them. His friend stopped and spoke a few words to her father in the old language, then walked to them. Beatrice turned, and Tenzin put one hand on her cheek, wiping the tears that stained it as she pulled Beatrice toward her, laying a soft kiss on her forehead and whispering in her ear before she stepped back.

Tenzin met Giovanni’s eye, nodded once, and took to the air, silently disappearing into the black shroud of night.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Los Angeles, California

November 2010

“Where is she?”

“A small airport outside of Chino. It smells more like cows than people there.”

“And she’s alone?”

Giovanni paused, looking at Beatrice’s grandfather. Ernesto’s measuring gaze bored into him. “She prefers the solitude. She asked that I lock her in while we had our visit.”

Ernesto waved a dismissive hand at him. “I will be by to visit later tonight. She will see me.”

Giovanni cocked his head. “You are welcome to try. Kirby is guarding the hangar. Call him for directions.”

“And the boy?”

“I’ve already sent him south. He’s being looked after.”

Ernesto nodded, quietly tapping the arm of the leather chair in his study where he met with Giovanni. They were sipping red wine in Ernesto’s mansion in Newport Harbor. Quiet servants scuttled about in the background, but no one disturbed their quiet conversation.

Beatrice and Giovanni had arrived in Southern California the night before to return Baojia to his sire. Giovanni was meeting with family and associates for the next two nights; then he and Beatrice would leave for Chile.

“You’ll be in South America for a year?”

“Yes.”

“And where can I reach my granddaughter if I want to contact her? I need an address of some kind.”

Giovanni smiled and avoided the question. “You may reach us through Kirby, of course. And we’ll also be making sure that Isadora is kept informed of Beatrice’s progress.”

Ernesto narrowed his eyes, but Giovanni suspected the old vampire knew he would not get more, no matter who he was related to.

“You may be sure that I’ll be keeping a close eye on Isadora while you are away.”

Threat or promise?
Giovanni suspected that for Ernesto Alvarez, it was a promise. “I’m sure Beatrice will appreciate it. As do I.”

“I’m not doing it for you, di Spada.” It had not escaped Giovanni’s notice that Beatrice’s grandfather was using his more notorious name. “Beatrice may be under your aegis—”

“She is under no one’s aegis but her own.”

“—but she is still my granddaughter. It is my responsibility that Stephen was lost, and I will not risk her. I only let her go with you now because you are her mate, and I know your reputation.”

Giovanni forced down the instinctive surge of fire that flowed under his skin and narrowed his eyes at the old man. “Let me be clear, Alvarez, no one will be allowed to interfere with my family. Particularly with my wife. She is no one’s pawn, no matter how they may care for her. Be very careful in your presumptions.”

The old man’s eyes gleamed for a moment before a smile curved his mouth. “Excellent. She has chosen a good mate in you.” Ernesto sighed and leaned back into his chair, showing his age more in the slump of his shoulders than the lines that marked his face. It was the least guarded Giovanni had ever seen him.

“How is she, really?”

Giovanni took a deep breath and tried to release the tension. “She is grieving. Her father and her sire.”

“It would have been better if I had sired her.” Ernesto waved a hand as Giovanni opened his mouth to protest. “I know you think I have my own designs on her future, and I will not deny it. She was an extraordinary human, and she will be an even more extraordinary immortal, even the Elders of Penglai recognized it.”

“She already is.”

“But now she grieves doubly for Stephen De Novo. It would have been better if I had been her father in this life.”

Tenzin’s words echoed in his mind.
“She is exactly who she will need to be.”

“I think,” Giovanni began, “things had to happen exactly as they did, Alvarez. Some things happen for a reason. Even if we cannot see the purpose of it.”

Ernesto looked amused. “You have been spending time with the holy men, di Spada. That is not the rational man that I have come to know.”

Perhaps not.
But Giovanni only shrugged.

“Or.” Ernesto smirked. “Has marriage softened you?”

“If it has, I’d better toughen up. Your granddaughter is not a woman, or a vampire, to be underestimated.”

The old man burst into laughter. Giovanni only smiled as the immortal took another sip of wine.

“My son”—Ernesto curled his lip briefly—“says that her fighting skills are quite advanced.”

“They are. And she says Baojia is an excellent instructor.”

Ernesto’s shoulders straightened. “Baojia failed in his mission. He will be dealt with.”

Giovanni frowned. “He was a fierce ally in our battle. I would gladly fight at his side again.”

“My son had one job. To protect my granddaughter from harm. It was not to rescue some humans or retrieve a book. One task was required of him, and he failed. He will be dealt with.”

Giovanni’s instinctive reaction was to defend the water vampire, but he closed his mouth. Beatrice may have been under her own aegis, but Baojia was not. He still answered to his sire, and Giovanni knew he must respect that.

So he nodded and rose to his feet. “I hope you understand, but I must leave you. I have much to do to prepare for our journey.”

Ernesto rose and shook his hand. “Of course. I’ll call Kirby and go by the hanger to see my granddaughter tonight.”

“Of course.” Giovanni turned to go, but halted when he heard Ernesto’s voice.

“You will take care of her, di Spada. You may be her husband, but I am her kinsman. If any harm should come to her—”

Ernesto halted when Giovanni turned. The waft of smoke that drifted across the room matched the low growl of his voice when he finally spoke. “It would be wise of you not to finish that sentence, Don Ernesto Alvarez.”

The two vampires stood, measuring each other from a distance. Finally, it was Ernesto that let a smile touch his lips. “Welcome to the family.”

Giovanni turned and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. He had only taken a few steps when Baojia appeared out of a dark hallway.

“Di Spada.”

“Baojia.”

They stood in silence. When Baojia finally met his eyes, Giovanni saw the flash of quick grief the water vampire carefully smothered. Then, as before, his dark gaze revealed nothing.

“You will give my regards to your wife.”

“I’m sure she would return the sentiment.”

The shorter man offered a rueful smile and looked over Giovanni’s shoulder, down the dark hallway were he had emerged. “I’ll be going to San Diego for some time. I may not see you when you return.”

“San Diego?”

“As you may imagine, my father is displeased with me at the moment. I go where he chooses to send me.”

Another silence filled the hall until Giovanni finally spoke. “She does not blame you.”

Baojia only hummed a little and nodded. “She should.” He walked past Giovanni, toward the study where Ernesto waited. “She
should
blame me.”