Beatrice felt Giovanni’s hands tighten on her shoulders.
“Tesoro, this monk has offered to feed you. He will hold out his wrist—”
“No!” Beatrice had no confidence that she could eat without harming the young man. He had come closer, and the churning in her stomach increased. Her fangs were sharp in her mouth.
“You will drink from his wrist, and I will make sure you do not take too much, but it is the best thing for you.”
“I’ll hurt him.”
“No, you won’t. I’m here. I won’t let you hurt him.”
“And I am, as well.” She heard Baojia approach. The two grasped her shoulders as she turned and faced the young man. He was no more than sixteen or seventeen, and his head was shaved like the monks she remembered from Mount Penglai. He wore saffron robes and a resolute expression. She hissed instinctively, but shrank back when she saw the look of fear enter the young man’s eyes. Still, he held up his wrist to her face, and Giovanni held her hair in his iron grasp as Beatrice leaned forward and latched on to the young man’s wrist.
It was heaven. Thick, sweet blood flooded her mouth, slid down her throat, and filled her angry stomach. She could feel the boy’s pulse, and she sucked in rhythm to it, watching him with hungry eyes as she struggled against Baojia and Giovanni’s grasp. She eyed the pulsing vein in the neck, watching it like a predator as she drank. Soon, she could feel the aching in her throat lessen, but she did not release. She could see the boy pale in front of her, and a surge of satisfaction ran through her as the hint of fear permeated the air. If she could just get free of their hands…
“Enough!” Giovanni’s fingers pinched her nose and pulled her away from the vein.
“No!” she snarled, lunging at him before Baojia pulled her back. Giovanni quickly healed the boy’s wrist and spoke quietly to him in Mandarin before the young monk disappeared into the forest. Then he turned to Beatrice, and Baojia released her into his embrace.
“We must go up to the monastery. Dawn is coming and Tenzin needs you.”
She blinked as her reason returned. She walked toward the stairs, holding his hand as they climbed the old staircase together. Baojia trailed behind them.
Beatrice turned and gave one last look at the clearing where her father had died. Though his body lingered, she knew Stephen’s soul had fled. She clung to the vision of his peaceful face the moment before he was killed. Whatever her father’s last vision had been, it had brought him joy, and she sent a silent prayer that his soul had found the home he had sought for so long in life.
She turned back to Giovanni. Her husband met her gaze, then bent down and picked her up, cradling her in his warm arms as they made their way to shelter.
Wuyi Moutains
Fujian Province
China
November 2010
T
hey were ensconced in the library when dawn came. Giovanni carried Beatrice past the reek of blood by the door, guiding her to an alcove where low cushions lay scattered.
“Where are Tenzin and my father?”
“Here,” he said as he laid her among the cushions. “At the back of the library. Tenzin is with him.”
The monastery library was a long hall, dug deep into the mountain and carefully lined with shelves for the books and scrolls. Small alcoves branched off from the main hallway, most lined with low cushions and some with tables, the ideal location for quiet study and contemplation.
“I want to go to her.” Beatrice couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t just that she wanted to see Tenzin; it was as if she needed to. She felt a pull of longing past understanding, even as she fought against exhaustion.
“You need to rest.”
“Please, Gio.”
He knelt down next to her, studying her face before he nodded silently. He stood and walked down the hall. A low murmur reached her ears before a rush of air and then Tenzin was beside her. She placed her arm around Beatrice and lay next to her; the comfort was instantaneous. Giovanni silently paced the hall while Beatrice blinked back tears.
Tenzin spoke in a low voice. “It is his blood, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I will guard him today. You will help me prepare the body tomorrow night when you rise, as a daughter should.”
“Yes.”
“My father’s guards are here. They are numerous, and I have sent for more.”
Beatrice could only nod.
“Rest, my girl. Let your mate care for you.”
“You’ll be nearby?”
“Yes.”
After a few more minutes, Beatrice could feel her eyes start to droop as the sun rose in the sky. Tenzin slipped away, and she felt Giovanni come to her, lying down and gathering her in his arms as the dawn took them both.
H
e was there when she woke, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Beatrice blinked for a moment in confusion.
“Where are we?”
He paused. “The library at the monastery.”
In a harsh second, it all flooded back. Lorenzo and the four vicious guards. The current that radiated up her arms when she cut the head off one vampire. The sickening realization that Lorenzo had felt the same when he cut off her father’s head.
Her father.
She began to shake, burying her face into Giovanni’s chest; he stroked her hair until she was spent. Though her body was refreshed from sleep, her mind was still weary with grief.
“Wait here,” Giovanni said. “Zhang’s men brought blood.”
“I’m not hungry.”
His grip tightened on her shoulders.
“You must not stop eating.”
Just then, Tenzin appeared in the hallway bearing two mugs of blood. Beatrice’s fangs descended as she caught the sweet smell.
“Eat.” She handed both to Beatrice.
Beatrice nodded and drank as Tenzin turned to Giovanni.
“Go get Baojia. I want to speak to him about yesterday.”
Giovanni rose and walked down the hallway. Beatrice finished the first mug and started on the second as Tenzin sat across from her.
“You must not refuse to eat. He is worried because it is a common reaction of our kind to grief, but a dangerous one, especially for a new vampire.”
“Okay.”
They both fell silent as Beatrice drank. Though the burn in her throat lessened, she felt no satisfaction from her meal. After a few minutes, Giovanni returned with Baojia. She saw her mate inspect the cups she drank from. “I finished them both,” she murmured. He sat next to her and took her hand as Baojia sat across from them. The deep cut across his neck had healed and the only evidence was an angry red line and his grim expression.
All four were silent until Tenzin spoke.
“Explain.”
He nodded. “I was on my way back to the river when I caught the scent of vampires and human blood from another corridor. Thinking there were more humans being drained, I followed the passageway. It was similar to the one you had sent the boys down, but on the opposite side of the mountain.
“The northern route.” Tenzin said. “Continue.”
“The further I followed, the more scent I picked up. I smelled Lorenzo and the river, so I knew where he was going. I didn’t want to turn back and waste time.” His eyes narrowed. “I met six vampires at the exit.”
“That must be the route Lorenzo took back to river,” Giovanni said. “That’s why we did not detect him.” Tenzin only nodded as Baojia continued.
“I killed them… eventually. It took longer than I had hoped. These were not raw warriors. They had training and most of them, I would guess, were my age or older.”
Beatrice whispered, “You killed six on your own?”
Baojia’s eyes softened when he looked at her. “I have had many years fighting, Beatrice. You and your father did well against your opponents. Four against two. One of whom was your father’s sire? Do not blame yourself for his death. Others bear that responsibility.”
But Beatrice did. It was unavoidable. Her mind kept replaying little things she could have done differently. If she hadn’t panicked. If she had been faster. If she had better control of the bloodlust that had ambushed and distracted her.
“When I got to the river, Lorenzo was already gone. Stephen was dead. B was pinned—”
“Pinned?” Giovanni squeezed her hand.
“He pinned me to the ground with his sword. I tried to pull it out, but it was so deep. He broke off the handle so I couldn’t… And then, I’m pretty sure it cut my spine and—”
She broke off when Giovanni grabbed her and pulled her into a fierce embrace. She heard Tenzin and Baojia quickly leave them as Giovanni rocked her back and forth.
“Tesoro,” he whispered as he rocked her back and forth. “Beatrice, I should never have left you.”
“You can’t say that. You were trying to find Lorenzo. You were trying to protect the monks. I’m not the only person in the world, you know.”
He said something low in Italian before he cleared his throat.
“Do you want to rest? Do you want to help Tenzin with your father? What would you do?”
“I’ll help Tenzin. What… what will happen to his body?”
He paused. “It will linger for two more nights. On the third night, we return to our element. We will take him to the river.”
She nodded. Beatrice was glad they were near a river. Some instinctual part of her recoiled at the idea of her father’s remains dissolving into the earth. She peeled herself away from Giovanni, rose, and went to find Tenzin.
G
iovanni and Baojia were silently sorting and replacing the scrolls on the shelves while Beatrice and Tenzin sat next to Stephen’s lifeless body. Giovanni kept an eye on his wife even as he worked. He also watched in fascination as Tenzin performed the ancient mourning ritual over her mate.
She chanted a low, droning song, first washing, then covering his body in oils she had gathered from the monks’ workrooms. She had closed his eyes and bound his mouth closed with a piece of saffron cloth, before covering his face with a white fragment torn from her own tunic. Tenzin rose to her feet, leaving the library on some errand, while Beatrice remained watching over her father.
Giovanni came to sit with her.
“I wish we had a priest.”
“Rituals are for the living, not the dead.” He knew Stephen had been Catholic, and he wished that Carwyn was there to comfort Beatrice.
As if reading his mind, she spoke. “Have you called Carwyn?”
“I sent a letter out to him and one to Kirby last night. Zhang’s men will see that they are delivered.”
“And Matt will tell my grandma.”
“Yes.”
“Because I can’t.”
He hesitated. “You can’t see her right now, Beatrice. You’re too volatile.”
He heard her begin to cry again, and he put an arm around her, drawing her into his chest. He was grateful for the black robes that Zhang’s guards had brought for them, as his shirt and her own were stained with bloody tears. Tenzin came back with a large white cloth and Beatrice pulled away from him, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
Giovanni rose and let them continue. Beatrice tore the linen cloth into long strips, which Tenzin used to bind the body and head together. He watched in fascination as his friend took a dagger and cut her long hair at the shoulder, twisting it into a braid that she placed over Stephen’s chest before she crossed his arms and began wrapping him in his shroud, tucking fragrant herbs among the linen. He had no idea where Tenzin had found the white cloth with which she wrapped her mate, but he watched carefully as Beatrice helped, following Tenzin’s murmured instructions as they cared for Stephen’s earthly remains.
Giovanni wondered what ancient rite they were following. He had never seen Tenzin grieve. Giovanni doubted anyone ever had, and he wondered if any human or vampire in the last five thousand years had sung the low song she chanted in her mother tongue.
No one entered the library or disturbed their quiet sorrow. Giovanni left briefly to check with Zhang’s men, who were clearing the human remains and waiting for the company of humans and vampires that Lu Dongbin would send.
“The young monks?” he asked Zhang’s lieutenant as he stood near the gates and watched them work.
“Have been taken to Penglai. They will go to another monastery. One only Lu has knowledge of.”
“Please tell Elder Lu that we are sorting the library as best we can. It was left in shambles.”
The wind vampire said, “The elder will be most grateful. After Mistress Tenzin has mourned her mate, his people will take care of the rest.”
Giovanni nodded and slipped back into the dim hall.
Beatrice and Tenzin sat silently next to the wrapped body the rest of the night, while he and Baojia continued to put the library in as much order as was possible. Much had been destroyed in Lorenzo’s frantic search for Geber’s manuscript, but much still remained.
“I
didn’t love him, you know.”
“What?” Giovanni looked up from sorting the next night.
Tenzin was still sitting by Stephen’s body while Beatrice and Baojia swam. Like most of her kind, Beatrice was drawn to the water, taking comfort from its presence. She and Baojia had slipped away when the sun had set and they had fed. The water vampire had refused to leave Beatrice’s presence since her attack, even sitting within eye distance while she rested for the day. Giovanni had allowed it, understanding the other vampire’s burden.
“Stephen. When we started exchanging blood. I did not love him. We did not have what you and Beatrice… It was not the same.”
Looking into her grief-stricken eyes, Giovanni knew that his friend had loved Stephen, no matter what she said. He only shook his head. “You do not have to explain yourself to me.”
“I exchanged blood with him to protect him. And for Beatrice. I knew it was his fate to sire her, and he needed to be strong.”
“He was as strong as you could make him, Tenzin.”
“I was overconfident.”
“We all were.”