Authors: Elizabeth Hunter
Carwyn said, “I’ll be looking into finding more about what Ioan was researching. I have some avenues here since he had colleagues in the city that I know he corresponded with, and I’ll be looking into private pharmaceutical labs in Eastern Europe, as well.”
Dez frowned. “Why pharmaceutical labs?”
Beatrice said, “Lorenzo has the formula. He’s going to want to produce it. It may be in production already.”
“Speaking of Lorenzo,” Matt said. “What are we doing there? Have we had any word?”
Giovanni spoke quietly. “Tenzin has requested we leave locating Lorenzo to her.”
“By herself?” Ben asked.
“It is her mate that was killed, Benjamin.”
“But no one’s going to help her?”
Beatrice leaned toward the boy. “If she finds him, she won’t need help.”
Dez was sitting silently with narrowed eyes. “But would modern labs even have what you needed for a medieval alchemic formula? We’re talking about plant ingredients, mainly. Produced in Persia in the early ninth century...”
Beatrice smiled. “I always forget your thesis was on medieval science, Dez.”
“I’m just doubting that your modern chemistry labs are going to have the kind of ingredients you would need. And for the formula to work as intended, they would have to be organic...”
Giovanni began pacing the room. It was an angle he hadn’t considered. The woman was right. Modern chemistry labs wouldn’t have access to traditional plant ingredients like Geber had used in the formula. Though he didn’t know the exact preparation, Stephen remembered the majority of the ingredients were plant-based and Zhang Guo confirmed it before they left China.
“So,” Carwyn said, “who would have access to those kind of ingredients, if not a chemistry lab? What should I be looking for? Are we still talking about Eastern Europe? Stephen’s contact in Rome—”
“Botanicals!” Dez stood and looked at him with a look of triumph in her eyes. “The baskets, Gio!”
Beatrice looked up. “What?”
“Of course.” Giovanni breathed out before he strode over to Dez, placed two hands on her shoulders, and kissed her full on the mouth. “Dez, you brilliant, beautiful genius. I think you’re right.”
She grinned. “They’re organic. Plant based! The packages even say, ‘Using Traditional Botanical Ingredients,’ also...” She took a deep breath and brought a hand to her lips. “Wow, I mean, B said, but... wow.”
Giovanni smirked at her and both of them turned back to the rest of the room, all of whom were looking at the two of them in frank confusion.
Ben spoke first. “That was... weird.”
Beatrice had her head cocked to the side. “I’m missing something. What about botanicals?”
Dez was still blinking a little. Matt narrowed his eyes. “Are you swooning?”
She shot him a look. “Hey! There’s this tingly kind of... thing with the amnis that just kind of... you know, when the lips touch, just... shut up.”
Beatrice smiled as Dez moved back to sit next to Matt on the couch. “B, if you were more of a girly-girl, you would have figured it out ages ago.” Dez pulled a tube of lip balm from her pocket and tossed it to Beatrice. “Finally, my make-up addiction has been put to good use. This is the lip gloss from the basket Livia sent over. Botanical ingredients. Read the label. It’s the trendy thing right now; no one would question it. Organic plant extracts in beauty products. It’s super popular. A chemistry lab isn’t going to have a ready supply of botanical ingredients or suppliers, but—”
“A cosmetics company might.” Carwyn grinned. “I want to kiss you myself. Good thinking, Dez.”
Matt put an arm around his wife. “No, really, I got this.” He leaned over to place a long kiss on her mouth. “Way to go, honey. You’re brilliant.”
Dez was glowing. “It’s perfect. Nothing out of the ordinary. They would have labs, suppliers, packaging, even a distribution network...”
“Wait,” Beatrice raised a hand. “What are we talking about here? Or rather,
who
are we talking about? Dez, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Her eyes sought out Giovanni’s.
He shook his head. “Beatrice, I don’t know.”
Was it possible? As conflicted as his feelings toward Livia were, as complicated as their relationship had always been... would she betray him that way? Would his father’s wife even consider it a betrayal?
Beatrice turned the tube of lip gloss in her fingers, shaking her head. “There are many cosmetics manufacturers in the world. Lots of companies produce this kind of thing. There are many—”
Matt broke in. “How many of those companies are owned by vampires?”
Carwyn walked toward him. “We knew that Lorenzo was supported by someone with far more money and power than just Zhongli Quan. We guessed that it was someone in Europe because of the vampires Lorenzo brought to the monastery. You have to consider it, my friend.”
“It’s... possible.” Giovanni nodded. “It’s possible that Livia might be behind it all.”
Chapter Seven
Residenza di Spada
Rome, Italy
May 2012
“Ah… ahahaha!” Beatrice stood and danced around the library. “I did it. I did it,” she chanted, wishing Ben or Dez were there to witness her triumph.
Through a combination of plastic bags, keyboard covers, and rubber kitchen gloves, Beatrice had finally managed to type on the computer without starting a fire or shorting it out. She was dancing around the library and singing “We Are the Champions” at the top of her lungs when she heard a commotion in the hall.
“You know, you forget that I don’t sleep as soundly as your husband, and my room is right down the hall,” Carwyn muttered as he stumbled in the library and collapsed on the sofa. “Why am I awake?”
“Because I...” She continued to strut, a smile plastered on her face, as she sat down and hugged him. “Figured out how to work the computer by myself.”
“Well, aren’t you the big girl?”
“Cranky, cranky.”
Carwyn glanced at the clock on the mantle, draped his arm across the back of the sofa, and gave Beatrice a squeeze. “It’s twelve o’clock in the afternoon. Of course I’m cranky. But congratulations anyway.”
Beatrice couldn’t stop grinning, and she leaned into her friend’s shoulder as he sat at her side, blinking. As silly as it may have seemed to Carwyn, being able to use a computer again felt like a huge victory.
“I should wake your husband up, just for spite. I’ll pound on the door. Threaten to harm his piano. Flush his first-edition Gatsby. Something horrible like that.”
She snickered. “Don’t. And don’t even think about the Gatsby. He hasn’t been resting well lately.”
“Hmph,” he said and pinched her neck. “Been drinking too much daywalker.”
He took a deep breath and relaxed, drifting in a hazy state as she leaned against him. Beatrice knew that, at over a thousand years old, Carwyn would often wake during the day, but unlike Tenzin or her father, he was groggy and slow. Still, it was nice to not be alone like she usually was.
“Carwyn?”
“Hmm?”
“How did your meeting go last night?”
“With the cardinal?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“It was fine. About how I expected.”
“Were you in trouble or anything?”
He said, “Not exactly. I’m the second oldest priest in the church. They don’t really reprimand me anymore. They leave me to myself.”
“
Second
oldest?”
Carwyn simply cocked an eyebrow before he closed his eyes again.
“Are there a lot of immortal priests?”
“There are a few. It’s not unheard of. The church has known about vampires for hundreds of years. Perhaps longer.”
Beatrice really didn’t know what to think of that, except that it wasn’t as surprising as it should have been. “But everything’s okay?”
He squeezed her shoulders again and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “Everything’s fine, darling girl. Or it will be soon. Why is your man not resting well?”
“Dreams. He's been dreaming.”
“Ah.”
“He won’t talk about it, though.”
“Gio’s always been a quiet one about things like that.”
“I think he loves it and hates it here.”
Carwyn chuckled. “I think you know him very well.”
“I think I feel the same way.”
“Well, you’re both ahead of me. I just hate it.”
“So why were you so eager to come here?”
He gave her a side-eye and clammed up again.
Interesting
.
“Come with us to this crazy party she’s throwing next week.”
Carwyn groaned. “Oh, don’t use the pitiful voice on me, B.”
“Please.” She hugged his waist. “Please. Everyone is so...”
“What?”
“Fake.”
Carwyn let out a snort.
“And weird.”
“You always have been a perceptive girl.”
“And they all look at me like I’m some sort of cross between a celebrity and a sideshow freak. I don’t care. I really don’t, but it’d be nice to have someone to talk to while Gio has to play the dutiful... whatever.”
“Son? Ward? Strange and inappropriate escort for his stepmother?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Carwyn groaned again, but Beatrice knew she was wearing him down. “Please. Come with us. You can help me make sense of all the players in this crazy game.”
“I’ll tell you now. Who do you want to know about?”
“Nice subject change.”
“I thought so.” He sniffed and sat up, rubbing his eyes a little.
Beatrice searched her mind. “Emil Conti.”
“Not a bad sort for a Roman. Far better than Livia. He’s a Republican, of the ancient Roman variety, and a fairly solid businessman. He’s got diverse interests. Lots of shipping, since he’s a water vamp. Most of his business is run out of Genoa, and he has ties with Jean Demarais, but like most aristocrats, he farms out most of the day-to-day and stays here to dabble in politics.”
“Matt said he could rule Rome if he wanted.”
Carwyn frowned. “I think it would be more accurate to say that he could rule Rome if he wanted to, and Livia didn’t. He’s not as ambitious as she is and, as much as he dislikes her, he’s not willing to go to war with her over the city, though some would like him to. The Vatican likes him. Would back him in a conflict, for what it’s worth.”
“How much influence do they have?”
He shrugged. “Now? Not much. In the past? Enormous. Livia courted whoever the Holy Father happened to be when it suited her in the past, but the Vatican isn’t the political power that it once was. Thank heavens.”
“That sounds kind of funny coming from a priest.”
“Why? When I became a priest, the church wasn’t a global power. It was a church. Its purpose was to shepherd the faithful, not influence worldly governments.”
“This sounds like a much longer discussion than we want to have at twelve thirty in the afternoon.”
“Very true.” He patted her head. “What other gossip do you want? I know most of it.”
She laughed. “Okay, Livia. Honestly, is she that bad? Do you actually think she could be the one behind Lorenzo?”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “If it suited her purposes and enriched her holdings, yes. Gio is sentimental, but she is completely self-serving, and she’s very, very greedy.”
“You think—”
“I think I don’t trust her to fetch my boots. She’d most likely put a scorpion in them.”
She smiled. “So... good friend of yours, then?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “We correspond regularly. Plus, she hates me because she blames Ioan and me for Gio retreating from public life, as she sees it.”
“Oh?”
“She rather liked being the stepmother to one of the most feared vampires in Europe and Asia. Gave her a certain cache. She’s been trying to convince him to move back and be her personal enforcer for centuries.”
“‘Personal enforcer.’ Is that what they’re calling it now?”
Carwyn’s laughed cracked the still air. “Oh, B, I can tell you’ve bonded with her already.”
“I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual. She has that bitchy ‘I’m pretending to like you, but I’d actually like to stab you in the eye’ look I remember from high school.”
Carwyn shook his head. “Heaven help me.” He was silent for a few moments, drifting in the warm afternoon air. “Women are... gloriously tangled creatures, aren’t they, Beatrice?”
She looked up with a smile. “You having woman problems, Father?”
Carwyn didn’t answer, and Beatrice leaned back, studying his still face. She didn’t know whether he had drifted off, or was just avoiding her question. “Carwyn?”
He sighed and let out a string of soft Welsh, his eyes still closed.
“Carwyn, you awake?”
“Shh.” He put a heavy arm around her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. “Shh, love. Rest now, Brigid.”
Beatrice’s eyes flew open, and her mouth dropped. “Who’s Brigid?”
At the sound of the name, Carwyn’s eyes popped open. “Hmm?”
“Who’s Brigid?”
He only frowned and cleared his throat. “Sixth century Irish bishop. Patron saint of Ireland. Who else do you want to know about? Matilda? Bomeni?”
“You’re
so
not getting out of that question!”
He shifted and scooted forward, as if to go. “I should go back to sleep. Keep your celebrating down, B.”
She pulled on his arm. “No fair.”
He stood and turned back to her. “If I recall, once upon a time, you weren’t quite so forthcoming about a certain vampire and
your
feelings, so leave it be.”
“Carwyn, what—”
“Leave it be.” His voice was rough, and a light flared in his eyes.
She sat, looking up at him. He didn’t look angry, or even irritated. He looked... peaceful. And maybe a little resigned. “You’ll tell me someday?”
A smile crept across his face. “I’ll tell you when there’s something to tell.”
Beatrice couldn’t help meeting his smile with one of her own. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She rose from the couch and gave him a quick hug. “Do you really need to sleep?”
He shook his head. “I can stay awake for you, if you’ve a need for company.”
“‘Night of the Living Dead?’”