A Fall of Water

  He shook his head. “Not usually. We’re very self-interested, and wars are not interesting. Plus, we’ve all seen so many of them that they become repetitive, I suppose.”

  She shook her head. “Lucien, you’re one interesting guy.”

  He shrugged. “I am, and I am not. I like talking about the past more than most immortals. I don’t mind reminiscing. Most older vampires won’t.”

  “I’ve noticed that. Both Carwyn and Tenzin don’t talk about the past. They hardly even mention it.”

  “It’s survival. You’ll probably become the same way, after a time. Dwelling in the past can be very depressing. You should always be looking ahead.” He smiled. “Look forward. Where is the next great idea or invention? That is what makes immortal life interesting.”

  “And family. Friends.”

  He nodded. “Yes, those are the most important. It has always been so. And it will remain. Another constant.”

  “Constant… right.” She bit her lip and tried not to let the overwhelming loneliness envelop her.

  “You are thinking about your mate.”

  “Of course.”

  “He is your constant. As, I’m sure, you are for him.”

  “I hope so.”

  Lucien grinned. “He was always so formal and distant, your Giovanni. I never knew him very well, but he was always so…”

  “What?”

  He grimaced. “Polite.”

  Beatrice burst out laughing. “Yes, he is.”

  Lucien laughed along and shook his head. “But irritatingly so. It was like he was saying, ‘Nice to meet you’ and ‘You’re beneath my notice’ all at the same time.”

  “You can’t accuse him of being a humble man, no.”

  “That’s good.” Lucien nodded. “Good. That means that he’ll be fine. Even if she tortures him, he’ll be fine. He is above her.”

  Beatrice fell silent. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “I have no doubt he’s dealt with worse.”

  Thinking of some of the more horrible stories she’d managed to pry out of him, and some of the other things that Beatrice had inferred, she had to agree. “Yes, he has.”

  Lucien only nodded. “He’ll be fine.”

  Beatrice smiled when she heard Carwyn barrel into the house. He walked into the kitchen to bark at Ben about doing his homework, charm a plate of food from Angela, and then she heard him stomp up the stairs.

  “Ah! There’s my favorite girl. Oh, and, Beatrice, you’re here, too.”

  Lucien chuckled and flipped up a surprisingly modern hand gesture at the noisy vampire. Carwyn put a plate of food on the library table and started eating. “So, what did I miss while I was meeting with the bathrobes?”

  “How did the meeting go?”

  “Fine. Great, actually.” He grinned and took a drink from the bottle of beer he’d brought.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. I’m feeling like a new vampire. Fangs are sharper. Growl is scarier. And still, just as good-looking. Watch out, Livia.”

  Beatrice and Lucien exchanged amused looks.

  “What’s gotten into you, Father?”

  For some reason, that question made Carwyn burst into laughter. Finally, he calmed down and said, “Enough about me. What kind of mischief can we make? I feel like causing some trouble.”

  “Well, Ziri and Emil went to the castle to make sure that Giovanni is healthy and being kept safe. Beatrice and I were reminiscing about history and talking about how polite her husband is. And then you interrupted us.”

  Carwyn darted over to them both and smacked the backs of their heads.

  “Hey!”

  “What kind of evening fun is that? You two are boring.”

  She stuck out a foot and tripped him before could make it back to the table. “Well, some of us are trying to be patient and not kill anything.”

  “Oh ho!” Carwyn grinned from the ground. “I know what you need, B.”

  “What?”

  He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Other than that.”

  Lucien and Carwyn both laughed. Beatrice started for the door, only to feel Carwyn tackle her from behind. He picked her up and ran down the stairs.

  “What are you doing? Put me down!”

  “Nope. Your husband isn’t around for you to shag. You’re being a good girl and not killing things. So…” He opened a door she hadn’t been through before and tossed her down the stairs. She bounced and tumbled until she came to a small landing.

  Beatrice scowled and looked around before gasping in pleasure. “Oh!”

  It was a stone basement. Damp and gloomy. Stacked with odds and ends, it looked like the catch-all room for a very large, very old house. But along with old furniture, boxes, and chairs were a rather startling number of weapons mounted on one wall and a large mat that looked like it was used for training.

  “You”—Carwyn marched down the stairs and went over to the mat—“need to beat something up. So let’s go. We haven’t fought in months and your husband isn’t around to kill me if I punch you, so have at it, my dear.”

  Beatrice could have cried; she was so happy. “You’re the most awesome friend in the world, Carwyn!”

  “I know. Stop gushing like a little girl and hit me already.”

  She pounced.

  Despite his larger size, Beatrice was much faster, so they were evenly matched as they fought. They kept it to hands, fists, and elbows, for the most part, and they laughed and joked as they both tried to beat each other within an inch of their immortal lives. It was exactly what she needed.

  Three hours later, she was still not tired, but the soul-crushing tension had been partly relieved. They finally stopped, neither one really winning, and Carwyn leaned against the wall while Beatrice slumped against his shoulder.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Happy to help.”

  “I miss him so damn much.”

  “You’re just like him, you know.”

  “How do you mean?”

  He patted her head. “Remember when Lorenzo took you the first time? Gio had to dance this dance for almost a month while you were gone. Remember that?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’d almost forgotten. That seems like so long ago.”

  “I think we came down here every day while we were in Rome, and he did the exact same thing. We’d beat each other up just so he didn’t go mad. It was the only thing I could do for him.”

  She blinked back tears. “You’re a damn good friend, you know that?”

  “I do.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close. She wrapped her arm around his waist and let him hold her up for a little while. “He never gave me a cuddle afterward, though, so you’ve definitely got him beat in the ‘thank you’ department.”

  She pinched his waist. “You need to find yourself a woman, Carwyn. If you don’t, I’ll be too tempted to run away with you.”

  “I’ve been telling you for years what a catch I am.”

  They laughed quietly, and Beatrice found that, for a few minutes, she could rest. They sat silent until she was distracted by a faint noise. A low rumble seemed to be coming from behind another door in the basement, and she sat up straight.

  “What was that?”

  “Hmm?” Carwyn sat up and looked around. “Oh, the noise. What day is it again?”

  “It’s—what? What day is it? It’s Friday. Why?”

  “Ah! They’re a bit early. Excellent.”

  She scowled at him. “Who?”

  Just then, she heard familiar voices behind the door. They were raised in irritation and she heard a scuffling sound before the door cracked open. Beatrice couldn’t contain her grin.

  Gavin Wallace stumbled through the door. “I don’t care how you try to pretty it up, woman. It’s a strange and unnatural way to travel. The fact that we had to go underground is bad enough, but then water? Do you have any idea how—“

  “Shut up, you whining Scot. Do you think I enjoye
d having you carry me across the Channel? It’s not like you’re very practiced at the whole flying bit anyway. I’m surprised you didn’t drop me in the sea.”

  Gavin and Deirdre continued to bicker at each other as Jean Desmarais swept into the room. Beatrice rose and rushed toward them. “What are you doing here? Why—“

  “My Beatrice,” Jean grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek. “The reports do not do you justice. You are stunning, ma cherie.”

  Deirdre grabbed her shoulders and embraced her. “We’re here to help, B. You’re looking well. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m…” Stunned. Happy. Relieved. A smile broke across her face, and she turned to a very sour-looking Gavin.

  “I can’t believe the red-headed demon pulled me into this. I’m not glad to be here. I’m positive this is going to end badly for me, and I’ve never liked Gio all that much to begin with. He’s an arrogant bastard, who has horrible taste in whiskey.” A reluctant smile quirked his lips. “He does, however, have rather fantastic taste in women. You’re looking well, Beatrice.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Gav.”

  Gavin sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine. Now that we’re here, what kind of trouble are we in for?”

  Carwyn stepped forward and slapped his hands together. “The best kind, of course. And the kind that needs your area of expertise.”

  Gavin cocked an eyebrow. “Breaking and entering, then. Excellent.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Castello Furio

  June 2012

  When he woke, Beatrice was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with the ends of his hair, as she knew he loved. Giovanni blinked once.

  “I’m dreaming.”

  “Yes.”

  He reached a hand up and let it ghost down her arm. “This is much better than most of the dreams I’ve been having lately.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure it is.”

  He lay quiet, reveling in the vision of her beside him. He was afraid to move. Afraid that the dream would shatter, and he’d be back in the cold cell alone. She had no such worries and angled herself toward him, leaning over his chest to look into his face.

  “Why do you let him haunt you?”

  “Andros does not haunt me.”

  “Not Andros.”

  “Lorenzo does not haunt me.”

  “Not Lorenzo.”

  He frowned and chanced a single finger to trail along her cheek. “Who then?”

  “You. You let the memory of who you were haunt you.”

  He paused. “I did many things wrong.”

  “You look back at the actions of a child and expect the wisdom of five hundred years.”

  “It is far easier to forgive others than to forgive yourself.”

  She sighed and laid her head on his chest. “I forgive you.”

  “I am dreaming?”

  “Yes.”

  He fell silent, the protest dying on his lips as he enjoyed the weight of her body pressing against his unbeating heart.

  “I love you, Beatrice.”

  “I know.”

  “Loving you has been the finest thing I have done in five hundred years.”

  “You have done many good things.”

  “I do not tell you enough.”

  She looked up and smiled. “You tell me every night.”

  “It is not enough.” He rose and twisted her in his arms, flipping her so that she lay under him. Desperation colored his words. “It is never enough.”

  “It is enough.”

  “No.” His lips touched the swell of her cheek. They whispered down to her jaw and explored the delicate line that led to the tip of her chin. “Never enough. It should be the unceasing prayer on my lips. The echo in every breath I take.”

  “It is enough.”

  He drew back and looked into her dark eyes. “I would level empires to be with you again. It is never enough.”

  “Mine is not the only love you have.”

  “It is the only one that matters.”

  “You know that is untrue.”

  He ignored her quiet voice and kissed her again. His mouth met hers in growing hunger, his lips and teeth and tongue fighting to hold on to the vision of her. He could feel himself waking.

  “I love you, Beatrice. I love you. I thank God for bringing you into my life.”

  She grinned then, the mischievous smile Giovanni had fallen in love with when she was a lonely girl in a library, and he was frozen in time. “You don’t believe in God. Not really.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I do.”

  “You don’t.”

  He scanned her face. Her luminous skin. Her dark eyes and hair. The slight bump on the bridge of her nose. The tiny scars and imperfections that marked her as the only woman in the world. The only woman. For him.

  “I believed in God when He brought you to me.”

  “You don’t believe in coincidence.”

  He could see her fading. The fall of water in the room grew louder, and she began to melt away. Her eyes drifted around the room, but she was the only thing he saw. “Don’t leave,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

  Her eyes were filled with tears and her hand lifted to his face, holding his cheek in her soothing hand.

  “Ubi amo; ibi patria. Come home to me, Jacopo.”

  “Don’t leave me.” He blinked to suppress the tears that came to his own eyes. “Please.”

  When he opened them, she was gone, and Giovanni lay silent in his cold cell, the sound of rushing water surrounding him.

  He might have lain still for hours; he did not know. He waited to hear the unseen lock turn in the stone door, signaling Livia’s entrance. No sound came, only the falling water that dripped down the walls. His fingers played along the edge of the dagger she had left. It had been over a week and yet his keen senses had detected no weakness in the room. It was round, and the water was fed through some channel that coated the walls with a constant stream and filled the air with a swirling dampness. There was a slight opening where the water flowed, but it was far past his reach. Though he could jump, he could not suspend himself long enough to take advantage of the weakness and because it was round, it contained no corner that he might brace himself.

  Giovanni could hear the rushing of some underground stream that flowed beneath the room. The chamber was probably set on a pile foundation of some kind, as had been used to build Venice. Between the river below him, and the water flowing around, it was as if he was floating in a stone bubble. If he was an earth or water vampire, an enviable prison. For a fire vampire… a very effective one. His father always had done quality work.

  He stared at the ceiling, trying to determine what lay beyond it. It was impossible to sense past the stone. He was concentrating so intently, he almost missed the scratching sound coming from the floor. Suddenly, he felt the floor buckle beneath him and a shock of red hair pushed through. He sat up, and his heart raced when he saw his visitor.

  Muddy. Disheveled. The cloud of red hair fell into her face, but she pushed it back, and Giovanni grinned when he saw the wicked gleam in Deirdre’s eyes. She put a finger to her lips and reached down, pulling a very annoyed looking Gavin up behind her. The wind vampire looked about as happy as a drenched cat.

  “This is the most humiliating, most—”

  Deirdre slapped a hand over his mouth and pulled Gavin away from the hole that was starting to crumble along the edges. Giovanni saw another hand reach up and Jean Desmarais lifted himself gracefully out of the river. Unfortunately, as soon as Jean entered the room, the force he had been using to push the water back faltered and the room began filling with water. Rapidly.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Can this get any worse? I thought I was going to be able to dry off for a bit.”

  Deirdre curled her lip. “Thank you so much for alerting the entire castle to our presence, Gavin.”

  Giovanni could already hear shouts coming from past the door. “Whatever stealth you had was lost when
the water started leaking under the door, so whine away as long as you have some plan to get us out.”

  “Well, in that case—”

  “Yes, feel free to continue,” Jean said as he looked around the room. “Especially if you’re keen for Livia to know exactly who is breaking out her favorite prisoner.”

  That thought seemed to shut Gavin up, and he also began to look around.

  Deirdre said, “It’s exactly as he described. Gavin, I know you’re wet, but you’re going to have to fly me up there. Can you do it?”

  Gavin scoffed and lifted Deirdre in his arms. The two vampires flew to the top of the chamber as Giovanni turned to Jean. “Why can’t we go out the way you came?”

  Jean shook his head. “Very strong current and a nasty drop off somewhere just past this chamber. I have no idea where it leads. I could drag one person, but not three and none of you are strong enough to swim back upstream without my help. No, our contact said there is a large, empty chamber above this. He felt it.”

  “Who—ah, I see.” Giovanni nodded. Ziri must have been able to get a feel for the surrounding space when he visited the chamber to see him. “And so Deirdre will break through the ceiling…” His eyes looked up to see Deirdre pushing against the stone, tossing pieces away and digging her hands into the solid chamber walls.

  “If she and Gavin don’t kill each other. They’ve been bickering ever since they showed up in Le Havre.”

  Deirdre had dug about a foot and a half into the rock when she motioned for Gavin to fly her down. The water was almost up to their knees.

  “It’s very thick. I think I have another foot and a half to go. It’s dry set and mostly solid. Very few joints and very tight. There’s no soil here, so it makes it more difficult.” She was paler than normal, and Giovanni could tell tunneling into the river, then through the floor of the prison had tired her. She needed blood, but no humans were available.

  Giovanni nodded and tried to push back the impatience that wanted to grab hold of him. “Deirdre, do you need—“

  “Here.” Gavin stuck out his wrist, baring it to her face. Giovanni could see her fangs descend, and Deirdre almost skittered back. He knew without asking that she had not drunk from another immortal since her husband had died. Giovanni frowned at Gavin. For him to even offer…