The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (83 page)

Tywyll took a gulp of the porter in front of him. He was a small, dark man with an enigmatic middle-aged face that indicated he could have been turned anywhere between ages twenty and fifty, depending on when he had lived his mortal life.

Giovanni had long suspected Tywyll could give Tenzin competition in the age department. He glanced at Gemma, nodding toward the old vampire.

“If you had any information about Lorenzo, Tywyll, we’d be most grateful for it.” She smiled. Gemma was perched precariously on the bench in the small booth where they had found the man, and her legs were pressed to his as she scowled at Giovanni across the table.
 

“Eh, lass, I’m sure you and yer man would be most grateful, but what of the Italian next to ye’? Is he wantin’ the goods as well?”

Tywyll stared at Giovanni with hooded eyes. He knew that Giovanni wanted the information, but what he needed to know was if the fire vampire recognized the favor that would be owed for his cooperation.

Giovanni nodded. “I would be grateful for any information you could obtain about my son’s whereabouts or activities, Tywyll.”

Understanding offered, Tywyll sat back in the booth and took another sip of his pint. He eyed Giovanni with dark delight, happy to be doing a favor for the feared immortal.

“I’ll not lie to ye’, he’s not been upriver that I’ve heard. And I’d know. I might be makin’ my way down to the mouth of the river in the next week or so. If I hear anything of value, I’ll let ye’ know.”

It was as close to a promise of investigation as they would get from the old vampire. Tywyll had a reputation as a loner, which was unusual for a water vampire, but Giovanni had long suspected that, like Tenzin, the vampire was simply too old to comfortably socialize with others more steeped in the modern world.
 

Instead, he maintained an extensive list of contacts up and down the river who owed him favors of one sort or another. If Lorenzo was in London, he was probably in a boat. If he was in a boat, then Tywyll would be able to locate him.

“Thank you ever so much, Tywyll,” Gemma started. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you. Of course—”

“We’ll be staying to finish our drinks,” Giovanni added quickly. “I’m living near the water now and I’m considering buying a boat of some kind. I’d greatly appreciate any insight you could give me.”

The old vampire grinned and glanced at Gemma from the corner of his eye, keen to play along with Gemma’s discomfort if it meant he could spend more time with her.

“Well, now…it all depends on what yer wantin’ the vessel for, doesn’t it?”

“You know, Giovanni, I used to consider you a friend. That time has passed.”

He laughed and twisted the woolen scarf around his neck as he and Gemma walked the damp streets. They had left the car and driver in one of the more recently gentrified areas of the Docklands where the old Bentley wouldn’t be as conspicuous.
 

“Whatever could you mean, my dear? He was a delightful companion for drinks. If I lived in the area, I’d surely make a habit of meeting him for a beer now and then.”

“You’re a miserable, spiteful man, Giovanni Vecchio. And if it was your knee he was not-so-subtly brushing against, you’d be humming a different tune.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t be humming at all.” He grinned as they approached the car. “Nonetheless, I’m grateful you came. I doubt he would have trusted to meet with me otherwise. I know I don’t have the best reputation here.”

“If you hadn’t have been so damn lethal during the sixteenth century, people might have forgotten by now.”

“Fair enough. I appreciate the favor.”

He opened the car door for her and she immediately raised the privacy screen Terry installed in all his vehicles. Not only did it provide complete sound insulation, it also protected the mechanics of the car more effectively from the energy that coursed through the vehicle if more than one vampire was present.

“So,” he asked. “How is Beatrice’s training going? She’s very close-mouthed about the whole business with me.”

“Probably because she knows how overprotective you are.”

“Protective, not overprotective.”

She fluttered a dismissive hand. “Beatrice is doing quite well for a human. I’m glad she’s meeting with Terry tonight for firearms training. She’s ready for it. I have a feeling she’ll be an excellent markswoman.”

He nodded with a smile on his face. Sometime after they had arrived in London and she had quit her job, Beatrice seemed to gain a new sense of resolve. As much as he disliked it initially, she had thrown herself into her training with Gemma; she had also taken an active part in the search for Lorenzo, which he did appreciate. Though Giovanni hated that she was constantly bruised, he sensed her physical confidence growing.

She was also becoming more affectionate with him, and Giovanni often rose in the evening to find her curled into his side sleeping or reading a book. He couldn’t forget the picture she had made under the water, naked and floating in the large tub with her hair drifting around her. Though he had seen her in damp clothes more than once and had a good imagination, it was the first time he had seen her completely bare and, if not for the bruises covering her body, he would have had a hard time controlling himself at the sight.

Thinking of their argument that night, he looked at the woman next to him and frowned; Gemma caught his eye and squirmed.

“Gio?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been wondering…are you angry with me for training her?” Giovanni looked at Gemma’s hands, which were twisted in her lap. “I know you’re not pleased about her fighting, but it really is her choice. I don’t want you to be angry.”

She’s always been so supremely confident with everyone but me
. Gemma’s age, her strength, and her intelligence made her a force to be reckoned with, but she had always seemed to lose her nerve around Giovanni at odd times.
 

And he suddenly realized why.

“Are you in love with me?”

She stared at him with wide blue eyes.

“What are you talking about? I’m marrying—”

“Are you in love with me, Gemma?”

Her eyes narrowed and grew colder.

“You really are a right bastard,” she said harshly, her cultured accent slipping in anger. “You have no idea, do you?”

“You
are
,” he muttered with a frown. “You are, and I had no idea. She’s right, I’m really quite obtuse at times, aren’t I?”

Gemma curled her lip. “Well, that’s something your perceptive little human and I agree on, Giovanni.” Then she shrugged and faced forward, crossing her arms across her dove-grey suit and lifting her chin.

“Why are you marrying Terry?”

“Because he’s a good man, an excellent partner, and he knows me and cares for me as I am.”

He frowned. “Do you love him?”

Giovanni saw her roll her eyes. “For a five-hundred-year old vampire, you’re remarkably sentimental at times, do you know that? Perhaps it’s because you were raised during the Renaissance.” She shook her head. “For most of human history, marriages were arranged and almost none of them were based on love. I have a huge amount of respect for my fiancé, a real affection for him, and the sex is surprisingly good. Nothing explosive like we were, but for long-term prospects, I doubt I’ll see better. I foresee Terry and I working well together for hundreds of years. Past that?” She shrugged. “Who knows? Nothing is permanent in this life. If we choose to part ways after that, then I’m sure we can reach an amicable arrangement. We’re both very pragmatic people.”

“But Deirdre and Ioan—”

“Had something very few people ever find.” She cut her eyes toward him. “Don’t tell me about my brother and sister. What they had…” She turned away, but not before he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “What they had was unique. I’ve never…even what I may feel for you is nothing like what they had. Ioan and Deirdre were special, Gio.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached across the car to take her hand in his.
 

“I know, Gemma.” He squeezed her fingers. “I know. I miss him, too.”

They sat in silence the rest of the drive to the house, and Giovanni knew they would never speak of her feelings for him again.

London, England

March 2010

Beatrice straightened his tie for him before they went upstairs for dinner.

“As long as you’ve lived,” she muttered, “and you still make it crooked.”

He smiled down at her. “How did you learn to tie a necktie,
tesoro
? Was it a rebellious fashion statement in grad school that I never caught wind of?”

“My grandfather, you goof,” she said as she continued to tie the perfect Windsor knot. If he was purposefully making them subpar so she would fix them…well, he decided she didn’t need to know. He enjoyed her fussing over him too much.

“My Grandpa Hector was a plumber, but he loved dressing up. He would take Grandma for dinner and dancing every month.” She smiled wistfully. “It was their thing. And he always dressed in a suit for church on Sunday. He was…”

“What?” She hardly ever talked about her grandfather, and he knew they had been very close.

“He was my ideal man,” she said with a soft smile.

“You loved him very much.”

She sniffed and wiped at the tear in the corner of her eye. “I adored him.”

Beatrice finished up with his tie and then went to the bathroom to change into the deep burgundy dress she had bought the day before. It was high necked and long-sleeved, which would cover the bruises that still dotted her pale skin.

Giovanni was happy to see her injuries gradually decreasing as she gained strength and speed. She had also acquired the faint smell of cordite and gun oil since learning to shoot with Terry. According to their host, she had a natural and “typically American” affinity for firearms and was becoming a very good shot.

“Speaking of grandfathers,
tesoro
, did you call Ernesto today?”

“I did,” she said through the bathroom door. “Why did you want me to talk to him again?”

“He requested that I keep him updated on our progress, and I thought he would enjoy talking to you, as well. Keep in mind, he’s a powerful vampire who has a real affection for you. That’s not something to take for granted.”

She peeked her head out the door and he caught a tantalizing glimpse of bare shoulder. “I just met him that one time. I don’t want him to think I’m looking for anything from him.” She shut the door and continued her preparations.

“You should. He would expect you to.” He came to sit on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom and picked up a long, dark hair that lay on her pillow, twining it around his finger as they talked.

“What do you mean, he expects it?”

“He considers you family, remember? He will enjoy providing connections for you. He’ll consider it a privilege.”

“That seems kind of opportunistic.”

Giovanni chuckled. “Trust me, he’ll use his connection to me now if he needs it, and I’m happy to give it to him. He won’t get anything I’m not willing to give.”

“So why—”

“He’s a powerful and wealthy man. Part of his wealth is his connections. He offers you connections and…pedigree, if you want to call it that. You offer him connection to me, to Carwyn, to Gemma and Terry now…even to the legendary Tenzin. It’s all part of how the game is played.”

The door cracked open and she stood with a hand on her hip, which was cocked ever so slightly in his direction. He pushed down the satisfied rumble that wanted to leave his chest as he stared at the luscious curve he knew would be pressed against him when he rested later.

“Gio.”

“Hmm?”

“Up here.”

His eyes moved up her body to meet her amused gaze.

“Yes,” he said with an innocent smile.

She only rolled her eyes. “So, what you’re saying is, don’t be afraid to drop names at dinner.”

“Name dropping is an art in immortal society, particularly among water vampires. So no, drop away.”

“Good to know.”

“Happy to tell you.”

She left the door open, and his eyes traced the lines of her body through the form-fitting dress. He darted over to rest his chin on her shoulder as she applied make-up in the mirror. He disliked when she put anything over her skin, but he enjoyed the brush of gold that accented her dark eyes.
 

Giovanni placed his hands on her waist and bent down to nose along the nape of her neck where she had pulled her hair up in a simple ponytail.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She winked in the mirror and reached back to tug his tie. “You look pretty good yourself.”

Jean Desmarais had controlled the ports of Le Havre and Marseilles for over two hundred years. His ruthless ascension on the French coast bore witness to both his canny political skills and his ferocity as a fighter. He was renowned for his business acumen and his negotiating skills; his wealth and connections were some of the best in France.

What Giovanni hadn’t counted on was his charm.