The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (142 page)

“Like a prince.”

He cocked his head at her as if she was crazy. “What?”

Beatrice took a deep, unnecessary breath. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

They left the car and walked along the pebbled pathway leading to the iron gate. They crossed under the arch and found themselves at the beginning of a long path that led over a lush green park dotted with olive trees and classical statuary. The paths were lined by immaculately cut boxwoods and the gravel paths were raked. The house itself lay spread across the back of the park, pure white, with red, terra cotta tile roofs. The arches and pillars of the facade welcomed them, but the dark hills that rose behind the castle cast an ominous shadow over the grand home.

The party was already in full swing, and tables and chairs were gathered in small groups in front of the house. The trees were lit by tiny lights that provided more than enough illumination for the vampire guests, though she doubted the humans could see very well. Small torches also lined the paths. She saw Giovanni glance at them with interest.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” he murmured as he put an arm around her, nodding to the odd passerby. All the humans or vampires they passed seemed to glance at her husband with wide eyes. She saw their lips moving, heard the soft whispers, and knew that they were the subject of speculation.

“I think you may have downplayed how big a deal this was,” she whispered.

“I think that Livia has gone to more trouble than I would have liked to ‘welcome’ us. I do apologize, but we seem to be the main attraction for the evening.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Just then, the glittering crowds seemed to part, and an immortal appeared at the end of a long pathway. She was stunning. Her dark curls were piled high on her head, and Beatrice saw diamonds glittering in the waves. She wore a vivid amethyst-colored goddess dress, one shoulder was bare, and her pale, luminous skin glowed in the moonlight and the flaming torches. Her almond shaped eyes were lined with kohl, and her lips were full and smiling.

“Oh... wow,” Beatrice murmured.

“Livia,” Giovanni called, tugging on her waist. She was rooted in place for only a second before she forced her feet to move toward the regal woman who lifted a hand in greeting.

“
Mio caro Giovanni,
” Livia said with a smile, approaching Giovanni. She reached up and kissed him in greeting, murmuring endearments and pinching his chin. Beatrice raised an eyebrow. Either Livia was a
very
affectionate maternal-type person, or there were some Greek myth dynamics going on in her mind. Giovanni, for his part, seemed to be barely putting up with her affections, and he never let go of Beatrice’s hand.

“Livia, let me introduce you to my wife.”

She threw up her hands in apparent delight. “Of course, the beautiful Beatrice!” Livia turned to her, the picture of welcome. “Let me greet you, my daughter.” She kissed her cheeks, embraced her, and Beatrice felt the cool stroke of amnis gently run down her arms. Livia stepped back and looked into her eyes. “So, you are the woman who has finally captured my Giovanni’s heart. I thought it would never happen, but I see the love between you. The devotion. And it fills my own heart with joy. Welcome to
Castello Furio
, Beatrice De Novo. Let my home be yours. You are most welcome here.”

If Beatrice’s breath could have been stolen, it would have been. Livia was vibrant. Magnetic. Beatrice had the almost uncontrollable urge to hug her, just to get closer to the warm hum that seemed to emanate from the beautiful woman.

“Thank you.” She breathed out. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

Somehow, Livia appeared to blush. “You flatter me, my dear. It is my honor to meet you. And I simply adore your dress. Come, let me introduce you to my people.” She pulled her away from Giovanni and linked their arms as she guided Beatrice through the clutches of eager vampires and humans at the party. Beatrice panicked for a moment until she felt Giovanni’s fingers reach out and his amnis caressed her arm, holding her even as they were separated.

Beatrice felt like a celebrity. Everyone wanted to meet her. Everyone complimented her dress. Everyone hung on her every word. It was strange. It was terrifying. Giovanni fared no better. Though he hung behind them, he had his fingers twined with hers while they greeted more people than Beatrice could ever remember, even with her improved memory.

“And you are sired from water, too. As all in our family are. What more could I ask from a daughter?” The group around them seemed to titter at Livia’s quip. Beatrice glanced over her shoulder to see Giovanni roll his eyes slightly. She hadn’t thought about it before, but unlike the hum of energy at Penglai, Livia’s party had a very low energy signature except for a few bright spots. As they moved through the party, Beatrice began to take note of the strongest signatures, noting whom they belonged to and who was gathered around them.

There was a tall woman with strong Germanic features that held court with a group of tall vampires around her. She was stronger than most, but not as vibrant as Livia.

A regal man with ebony skin and a booming laugh caught her attention from one corner. His signature was very strong, but he didn’t feel very old. He also had an entourage gathered around him.

Another, quieter immortal drifted around the edges of the party. He stopped to talk to others every now and then before quickly moving on. He looked North African, his features a fascinating blend of Arab and African. His face was scarred, and he didn’t seem to attract much attention, but his energy swirled and drifted in a fascinating way. The vampire felt old. Very old. She noticed Giovanni hadn’t acknowledged him before her attention was drawn to a familiar voice.

“Signora De Novo, how did you like the restaurant?”

“Signor Conti,” Beatrice smiled. “It was lovely. How nice to see you again.” Beatrice could tell her familiarity with Livia’s rival came as a surprise to her hostess, but Livia’s eyes flickered for only a second before the happy mask descended again.

“You are acquainted, then? How lovely. Signor Conti is from one of the oldest families in Rome. Our people have known each other for centuries.”

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Beatrice.” Emil bowed again, this time kissing the back of her hand, a gesture common among the immortal men she had met. Every time it happened, she stifled a snicker as Giovanni’s amnis tightened around her waist as if he was a second away from pulling her back into his arms.

They continued to circulate for hours, and it was growing late when Giovanni finally pulled Beatrice from Livia’s company. He promptly gathered her under his arm and found a quiet corner.

“Are you ready to go? Please say yes.”

“I think we better if we’re going to make it back to the house before dawn.”

He nodded. “Stay here. She’ll draw you into another round of socializing until we’re forced to stay here at the castle. She keeps rooms for me here, but I don’t want to stay unless you do.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I want to go home.”

“Excellent. I’ll be right back.”

Beatrice watched him cross the party to speak to Livia, and the conversation of gestures began. She watched for only a moment before her eyes scanned the crowd again. She was hiding in the shadows, trying to avoid notice, but one set of eyes caught hers. It was the North African vampire with the pockmarked face. He gave her a deep, respectful nod before he seemed to disappear into the shadows on the other side. She searched for him, but did not see him again.

“All right. We’re free.” Giovanni pulled her under his arm, shuffling them along the edges of the party-goers and out the grand iron gate toward the car.

“So, when do we have to come back?”

He grimaced. “Wednesday. She’s hosting a concert here, and I somehow agreed that we would come.”

Beatrice chuckled. Something about Livia definitely bothered her, but at the same time, it was kind of funny to see Giovanni put at a disadvantage. Usually, he was unbending.

“I see you laughing at me, Tesoro. Watch out”— he pinched her thigh—“or I’ll be forced to assert my ‘bad-assedness.’”

She winked as he opened the door for her. “Promise?”

Beatrice heard him tap on the driver’s window. The window rolled down and Giovanni threw two hundred Euro notes at the man. “Drive fast.”

Chapter Six

Rome, Italy

May 2012

Giovanni almost missed telling the driver the last turn to the house, he was so distracted by his wife’s attentions. They had both discovered the benefits of having a lover with shared blood. As long as they maintained skin contact, they could send their energy over each other to tease their mate’s senses. It had become a kind of game for Beatrice, and she enjoyed trying to break his concentration in public. The car was almost as fun.

He was ready to tear her beautiful new dress by the time they got back to the house, and he almost snarled when they exited the car and heard the telltale skid of the football in the courtyard along with the low laugh of his old friend.

Beatrice blinked, as lust-hazed as he was. “Wha—who’s that?”

“Carwyn’s here.” He glanced at her red, swollen lips, knowing they’d have to pretend to be polite for at least a few minutes.

Damn priest.

Beatrice sighed and pushed the courtyard door open, only to immediately dodge the football that came in her direction.

“B, kick it back!”

She glared at Ben. “In these shoes? I don’t think so.”

“So fancy, you two.” Carwyn stepped from the shadows with a grin. “You didn’t really need to get so dressed up for me.” He walked over and embraced Beatrice. “You look lovely, though. I appreciate the effort. Oh, and you smell nice, too.” He only grinned when Giovanni growled at him. “You ready to run away with me yet?”

Giovanni picked up the football and tossed it at his friend’s head. “No, she’s not.”

Carwyn only batted it away, not letting Beatrice out of his embrace. “And
you
definitely didn’t need to get fancied up, Gio. I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not interested.”

“Haha. Why are you playing football with my nephew at four in the morning?”

He saw Ben begin to speak, but Giovanni only raised a finger to silence him. The boy was smarter than the priest.

“Well...” Carwyn placed a kiss on Beatrice’s forehead before he ran after the ball and kicked it toward Ben again. “I’m playing football with
my
nephew because I just got here, and I am the cool uncle. You are the boring one.”

He heard Beatrice and Ben both snicker, but Beatrice said, “Honestly, Ben, how long have you been up?”

“Just an hour or so.” He kicked the ball back to Carwyn. “We were talking.”

“Well, it’s time for you to sleep.”

“No.” The boy whined. “You’re going to talk about interesting things, and I’ll miss it all.”

Beatrice grabbed him around the collar and shoved him toward the door. “Say goodnight. I promise we won’t plot murder and mayhem without you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. And you…” she turned back to Giovanni. “Don’t be too long. I’m going to bed.”

Ben made gagging noises as Carwyn let out a wolf-whistle. Giovanni grinned and gave her a wink. “Goodnight, Benjamin,” he said, then whispered something suggestive in Italian that made Beatrice bite her lip and Carwyn roar with laughter.

“What?” He heard Ben say as they walked up the stairs. “Oh, I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Nope.”

Giovanni’s ears tracked for a few more minutes until he heard the door to Ben’s room shut. He turned to Carwyn, who kicked him the football. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What’s going on with you?”

Carwyn shrugged. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about. And my trip here was nicely boring, thanks. I caught one of Jean’s boats to Genoa and came from there. That Frenchman’s not half bad, after all. Fantastic food—”

“Why were you so eager to come here?”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

The two old friends kicked the ball back and forth in the low light of the courtyard, the skidding and bouncing the only sound in the still morning air. Giovanni could smell the scent of bread baking at the
paneterria
on the corner.

“Of course I am. And you know how happy Beatrice is to see you. I just wonder—”

“She looks amazing, by the way.”

“I know. That dress does suit her.”

Carwyn shook his head. “I’m not talking about her damn dress. You probably don’t notice because you see her every day, but she looks extraordinary. She’s very comfortable in her skin. Doesn’t have that awkward, hungry look the new ones usually do.”

“Ah. Yes, she’s doing extremely well.”

“If I didn’t know her, I’d think she was twenty years immortal, at least.”

“That old?”

Carwyn nodded, still kicking the ball back and forth, dribbling around the courtyard to amuse himself. He was dressed in black. Black pants, black T-shirt, black leather jacket, but no collar, which he often wore when in Rome.

“So, the meeting with the empress went well?”

“Yes.” Giovanni said. “Livia’s fine. We’re going back on Wednesday for a concert. It’s supposed to be good. Care to come along? I know Beatrice would like some company she didn’t have to perform for.”