Authors: Elizabeth Hunter
“I thought you were supposed to be the patient one.”
“I hate all this shit.”
“You think I don’t?”
The two friends leaned against the stone tower and watched the crowd, conscious of the numerous eyes that followed them constantly.
Tenzin said, “How much longer are we going to have to drag this out? I’m bored.”
“Well, you’re not the one that trying to avoid…” She looked around and lowered her voice. “Further complications, so to speak.”
Tenzin switched to Mandarin, which Beatrice could speak passably well. “Would killing everyone really be that bad? I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a pain in the ass to deal with the fallout, but at least you’d have some fun in the meantime.”
“We’re not really in the mood to rule a city, Tenzin.”
“It would just be for a few hundred years.”
“Do you know how crazy that sounds to my ears?”
“You’ll get used to it, my girl.”
Beatrice sighed. “Tenzin…”
“I know. I know.”
They watched the party for a few more minutes, and Beatrice detected a strange energy building among the crowd.
“Tenzin, something—“
“I know. I feel it, too.”
They both walked closer. There were murmurs of excitement. Whispers flew around and a strange buzz of energy enervated the immortals gathered. She felt the approach of a particularly strong energy signature and turned to see Emil Conti approaching her with Donatella hanging on his arm.
“Beatrice.”
“What’s happening, Emil?”
“You young people with your slang.”
“No, really. What is
happening
?”
He blinked. “Oh. I believe our fair patroness has an announcement of some kind. I’m bubbling with excitement, can’t you tell?”
Beatrice’s eyes widened. “Not…”
Emil only cocked a lazy eyebrow, and Donatella smirked.
Livia mounted the stairs of a small stage where a string orchestra had been playing and tapped on her champagne flute to gather everyone’s attention. It was completely unnecessary; the whole party was riveted to her before she even reached the top of the stairs. She was glowing with excitement when she started to speak.
“My friends, we are joined tonight by esteemed guests. We welcome them to the Eternal City. The Immortal City. Rome has long been a center of culture and learning. Of sophistication and enlightenment. I am happy to announce tonight that another achievement has been added to her crown.”
“Pompous bitch,” Tenzin muttered.
“As most of you know, I have been a patroness of the human sciences for hundreds of years. For in the prosperity of the human world, we find our own continued success. I am happy to announce that an ancient secret, a
stunning
discovery has, this past year, been recovered from the lost library of the great immortal, Niccolo Andros. It is in his honor that I announce a mystery of the ages has been solved. Long have humans and immortals sought the elixir of life. The unique formula that would offer our human friends the longevity and health that we immortals enjoy. Now, we have accomplished this.” A buzz began to build among the crowd. “And in doing so, an even greater achievement has been made.”
“She's going to do it.” Beatrice shook her head. “She’s going to announce—”
“My scientists have discovered not only the elixir of life, but the cure to bloodlust, as well.” The buzzing stopped, and an eerie silence fell over the castle grounds as Livia continued. “And it will be available to all of you. This secret is a secret no longer. It belongs to us.” Beatrice saw Livia's eyes light up. “It belongs to the world!”
The silence lasted only as long as it took for the first burst of applause to erupt from the excited crowd. It had to have been the humans in attendance who started it, Beatrice thought. Vampires weren’t usually an enthusiastic crowd. But soon, everyone around them, including the immortals, was applauding and moving toward the stage. Livia was enveloped by vampires and humans vying for her attention.
Beatrice and Tenzin exchanged a grim look, and Emil said quietly, “Look how they gather around her now.”
“Why?” she asked. “All of these vampires are blood drinkers from what I’ve seen. Why is it so important to find a cure for bloodlust? Are they all humanitarians? They can’t all care about the good of mankind
that
much.”
Donatella was the one who answered. “They’re not being altruistic, Beatrice. And most of them enjoy blood as much as we do. But they
need
it. They don’t just choose to drink, they
have
to. It controls us. Even the oldest vampire is a slave to hunger in the end. They all clamor for Livia’s favor, but it’s not a cure they are seeking. They crave control, and she offers it. So more will come.” Donatella looked at Beatrice with a hard stare. “
Many
more will come.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Svaneti, Georgia
Caucasus Mountains
October 2012
Giovanni nodded at the old woman who refilled his wine glass and smiled at the young woman who set down the bread. The women left the room, retreating into the kitchen to whisper quietly about the foreign visitors and leaving the two vampires alone with the three humans gathered in the dark room. Giovanni’s attention was drawn to the head of the family and leader of the small village in a remote mountain valley in Northern Georgia.
The man was seated in a richly decorated chair. Giovanni guessed that it was hundreds of years old, but had been lovingly oiled and tended, a mark of pride for the small village and the man who sat upon it that night. The head of the village, a Svan in his early fifties, was dressed in the curious blend of ancient and modern typical in the mountains. His jacket sported an American logo, but his head was topped by the grey felt hat typical of all men of the region high in the Caucasus Mountains. A long dagger hung at his belt and an icon of Saint George graced the wall. The cold wind whistled around the old house, and Giovanni was grateful not to be out in the wind, at least for a little while.
Carwyn was still exchanging stories with the man, laughing over ribald jokes in Russian, since neither of them spoke Georgian or the strange, old language of the Svans. Giovanni’s Russian was passable, but not nearly as good as the priest’s, so he sat back and listened.
“This region you speak of,” the human said. “No one goes there.” He waved a dismissive hand. “You want hiking or climbing, I will have my son, Otar, show you to some of the lower trails. It is too cold in that part of the mountains anyway.”
Carwyn steered the conversation back toward the mountain pass they were now almost certain led to the forgotten fortress of Arosh that Saba had mentioned in her letters to Ziri. It had been first dark when Giovanni and Carwyn entered the village. They had taken shelter in a cave the earth vampire had carved out at dawn the day before. The tiny town was nestled at the base of several passes. They knew that Arosh’s fortress lay in the mountains, but they weren’t certain through which of the three gorges they needed to pass to get there.
Carwyn spoke. “This mountain we speak of is unique. And we will not need a guide for the hike. We ask only your permission to climb there and direction to the proper trail.”
“Your horses will not make the journey this late in the year,” the man continued to protest, as Giovanni’s eyes scanned the room. The house was not a wealthy one, but the art and icons on the walls gave testament to the man’s position of authority in the community. His son stood at the doorway, watching the two foreigners with cautious eyes.
“I appreciate your concern.” Carwyn nodded respectfully. “But we must go there. It was recommended to us by a very dear friend. A climbing partner who insisted we must see the vistas from the peak.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I do not know who you might speak of. That mountain is not a good place; I am telling you, no one travels there.”
Giovanni broke in. “Why? Why doesn’t anyone go there?”
The Svan hesitated, glancing between Giovanni and Carwyn. “Bandits. There are bandits in that part of the mountains.”
The man’s son broke into the conversation, murmuring in their own tongue, as he and his father seemed to have a low-voiced debate. Finally, the father raised his hand and his son fell quiet. “If you want to go there. I will not stop you. But I must know that no one will come looking for you and causing us trouble.”
Giovanni said, “No one will come after us. We do not wish to bring trouble to your home.”
The older man nodded and sat back in his chair. “Otar will take you as far as the base of the trail, but that is all. He will not accompany you up the mountain.”
Carwyn’s eyes darted toward Giovanni’s, and he nodded. Carwyn said, “That is more than we ask; we appreciate your hospitality.”
“Tell me again,” Giovanni said. “Why do you not want us to go there?”
Otar spoke from behind them, surprising Giovanni when he spoke in English. “That mountain is cursed. No one goes there. Or at least, no one comes back.”
“Cursed by what?”
The younger man shrugged. “The old people tell legends. And sometimes, the girls disappear if they go too close.”
“Only the girls?” Carwyn asked.
The young man was about to speak, but his father interrupted. “There are still robbers in the hills. It is better now than it was, but… we keep our children close to the village. Especially at night.”
Giovanni turned to the father. “Tell me about the legends.”
“They are nonsense.”
He smiled. “I am curious. I am a literature professor in Italy. I love stories and myths.”
The father shrugged. “The old people say that an angel appeared to Queen Tamar hundreds of years ago when she visited the mountains. He shone like fire and fell in love with our queen, so she gave him this mountain and let him build a stone tower. He stayed in the tower when she returned to the lowlands and her castle, but she returned here every summer to visit him. Many years passed in peace, but when the messengers came to the mountains, telling the people that the queen had died in her castle, the mountain she had given the angel was engulfed in flames. All the trees burned and none grew again. The angel continued to live there, but he grew angry with the Svan people. Hundreds of years passed, and the village that once thrived in the gorge beneath was deserted. Now, no one goes there. It is cursed.”
An angel of fire.
Giovanni wondered what Arosh would think of the legend. He wondered if he would even get to ask or whether these dark hours in the small village would be his last before he was killed by the legendary immortal.
“You will stay in my son’s house tonight, my friends. You may leave in the morning for your trek.”
Carwyn smiled and demurred. “No, no. We must travel at night. My friend’s skin condition makes it necessary to travel at night. And we only need your son to point us toward the trailhead. We will be happy to find our own way.”
Giovanni was glad he was so pale. The men had been suspicious of his ‘sunlight allergy,’ but had been more than happy to take the money for their hospitality without too many questions. As they made their way out of the small home and toward the horses they had ridden into the remote village, Carwyn and Giovanni were careful to shake hands with the men, ensuring their cooperation through subtle amnis and removing any suspicion from their minds.
“You are sure you want to go there?” Otar asked Giovanni as he saddled his packhorse.
“Yes, very sure.”
“I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but if it’s treasure, I don’t think you will find any in those mountains.”
“Do people come looking for treasure?”
The young man’s eyes held a playful kind of mischief. “Many things have been hidden in these mountains over the years. Often, they are found. More often, they are not.”
Giovanni’s mouth lifted at the corner, wondering what treasure hunters had been disappointed. In the old man’s house alone, he spotted several icons that any museum in Western Europe would love to have in their collection. Here, they hung on the walls, watching over humble families and simple meals.
“Truly, my friend”—Giovanni slapped the young man on the shoulder—“you must not worry about us. We are not here to look for anything that might bring harm to your family.”
“I’m not worried about my family, but I’ll be surprised if I see
you
again.”
Carwyn left the small house with a bottle of wine and a wrapped package that smelled like the flat bread they had eaten earlier. An old woman patted the vampire’s rough cheek and waved at them from the glowing door of the kitchen as they mounted their horses and followed the young man up to the trailhead.
“Leave it to you to think of your stomach, Carwyn.” Giovanni spoke in Latin, hoping the young man didn’t have any other surprises.
The vampire grinned. “If it’s my last night on earth, and I’m not in the company of a beautiful woman, then wine is the next best choice. Well, beer would be better, but wine will do.”
Giovanni chuckled and followed the soft padding of the horse in front of them. Otar led them up the western trail and into the hills. After a few miles, the young man stopped.
“This is as far as I will go with you. Keep to this trail and when you get to the dead tree line, you’ll know you’re at the right mountain. It will rise on the west side of the trail. Trust me; you won’t miss it. I have been there only once. It was during the daytime, when it is safe.”
Giovanni said, “I thought you said that no one went there.”
The young man smiled. “Only brave little boys and unhappy girls go to this mountain. The boys go during the day. The girls, at night. The boys we see again.”
Giovanni’s eyes sought Carwyn’s. What treachery was Arosh involved in? Was he feasting from the women of this small, mountain town?
Carwyn said, “Thank you, Otar.”
The young man nodded and turned his horse around. “Good luck finding whatever you’re after!”
“Thank you.”
Giovanni and Carwyn continued up the trail. It became narrower, and thick stands of forest rose on either side. Despite the peaceful surroundings, Giovanni could feel the steady thrum of energy that grew stronger the farther they traveled up the mountain.