This Same Earth

  “It feels like home, even without a basketball hoop,” he muttered. “That’s kind of weird, huh?”

  He smiled and mussed Ben’s hair as the boy stood. “No. I don’t think so. Home is about people.” He saw Beatrice glance at him and knew she had heard him.

  Caspar, Isadora, Beatrice, Ben, and Giovanni all drove back to the house in River Oaks where the humans quickly retired for the night. He went to the library and started a fire, content to sit on the couch and enjoy the quiet with Doyle, who was curled onto a chair. If he concentrated, he could still smell Beatrice’s scent that seemed to linger everywhere.

  The longer he concentrated, the stronger it grew until he realized he was ignoring the sound of quiet steps coming down the hall.

  Beatrice entered the room, barefaced and beautiful, looking very young as she stood in the doorway. She was wearing an old Houston University t-shirt and what he thought might have been a pair of his boxers he’d left at the house years ago. He couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face when he saw her.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she murmured before she walked over to the couch and lay down next to him, resting her head on his thigh as she stared into the fire with sleepy eyes. “I still miss you, even though I’m mad at you.”

  “I’ll wear you down eventually.”

  “You do have forever, don’t you?”

  But you don’t, he thought. “I can be patient. I told you to take as long as you need.”

  She continued to speak, unguarded in her exhaustion. “What if it takes a long time? What if I’m old and wrinkled before I love you again?”

  A soft smile crossed his face. “I sincerely hope it doesn’t take that long…” His hand lifted to stroke her hair and he could feel her begin to drift again. “But your beauty is not the reason I love you, Beatrice, even though it takes my breath away at times,” he whispered as he watched the firelight dance across her skin.

  “You don’t breathe. Not that hard to take your breath away,” she said, slowly blinking longer and longer as she stared at the fire.

  “Harder than you might think. Sleep, tesoro.”

  And she did.

  Early the next morning, he could hear Ben’s shrieks as the boy woke for his first real Christmas. He smiled in satisfaction before the day pulled him under.

  When he woke and left the small room he slept in, he could still hear Ben’s incessant chatter. He dressed in a pair of grey slacks and a red shirt he remembered Beatrice complimenting before he made his way downstairs.

  The changes to the Houston house were subtle but perfectly reflected Isadora’s tastes. She and Caspar had lived at the house since Beatrice had moved to Los Angeles, and both of them seemed exceedingly happy. Though it was late in life, Caspar finally seemed to have found the right woman for him.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said to Beatrice’s grandmother when he saw her on the second floor landing. She was arranging a vase of flowers, and she turned to smile at him.

  “Merry Christmas, Gio! We’ve missed you today. Especially Ben; he’s so excited.” She stood on her tiptoes, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked politely, though he could already hear the television in the living room. Isadora had never quite accustomed herself to his preternatural senses the way Beatrice had.

  “Oh, they’re doing their awful Christmas horror movie marathon again. Only this time, Ben is an enthusiastic participant. It’s quieter than normal without Carwyn this year.”

  He smiled at the reminder that their lives had moved forward without him. “He’s dealing with some complications at home, I believe. He apologized for not making it for the holidays.”

  “I know he has a large family. Is everything all right?”

  That was an excellent question, he thought. The priest had been uncharacteristically close-mouthed for the past couple of months, and Giovanni was beginning to worry.

  “I’ll ask him tonight. We’ve scheduled a call later.”

  He left Isadora humming as he walked downstairs and rushed into the living room at vampire speed, scooping Beatrice up and setting her on his lap before she could take a breath.

  “Oh!” she gasped before she laughed. “I’ll never get used to that.”

  Her mood was lighter; he could tell by the ease around her eyes and the quick tilt of her smile. “Merry Christmas, Beatrice.”

  “Gio,” Ben bounced up and down next to him. “Cas and Isadora got me an iPod, and B got me an electric scooter, and there’s a whole bunch more presents under the tree, too. And a lot of them are for you!”

  Ben may have been a very streetwise twelve, but this morning, Giovanni thought he looked every bit the child he should have been for so many years. Then his words registered, and he turned to Beatrice, tugging her hair as she sat on his lap.

  “An electric scooter?”

  She grinned and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “He’ll be fine, old man. I’ll teach him to ride it. Just be glad it’s not a dirt bike.”

  “A dirt bike?” Ben shouted in excitement. “I want a dirt bike!”

  “If I could get headaches, I would have one right now. Thank you. I’ll never hear the end of this.”

  “So stuffy,” she muttered, but she leaned back into his chest and let him wrap his arms around her waist. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the old movie on the screen.

  “Is this…”

  “Horror of Dracula, 1958. I thought it was appropriate. Ben hadn’t seen it.”

  “You have a sick sense of humor.”

  “But the vampires in this one have British accents. It’s practically highbrow.” She stared raptly at the screen and only wiggled in his lap when he pinched her waist. He bit back a groan before he leaned slightly closer to her neck, realizing he needed to feed if he was going to be this close to her. His fang pierced his lip, and he tried to shift in his seat.

  “Tesoro,” he said quietly. “I need to go.”

  “Why?” she asked absently.

  He cleared his throat and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he let his fangs peek out from behind his lips and felt her pulse pick up.

  “I need to feed.” He leaned close. “Unless you’re offering, in which case I’d be happy to go upstairs,” he said with a soft growl.

  She hesitated. “Do you have bagged blood here?”

  He was tempted to lie but didn’t. Instead, he nodded and tried to discern whether it was wishful thinking that he saw a hint of disappointment in her eyes. She moved off his lap, and he quickly retreated from her presence to feed himself from the bagged blood in the refrigerator.

  An hour later, and despite his meal, he was still eyeing her neck as they opened presents around the Christmas tree.

  “Sweet! Another video game!”

  True to Ben’s fantasies, the adults in the room had showered the boy with gifts. Beatrice gave him his first computer, and she assured Giovanni she would teach him to use it responsibly. Caspar supplied the boy with a wealth of comic books, video games, and movies; while Isadora gave him enough dress clothes to make Ben shudder.

  None of it seemed to fascinate Ben like the computer, and Giovanni stared in pleasure as the boy and Beatrice huddled over it while she unlocked the mysteries Giovanni couldn’t.

  “I’d say you look like you want to eat her alive, my friend, but I think it’s much more serious than that,” Caspar said quietly, his eyes following Giovanni’s as he sat next to him on the couch.

  “Look at them. Look how beautiful they are,” he murmured as he watched their dark heads lean toward each other.

  He saw Caspar smile.

  “She’s so good for you. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this happy.”

  “I’d be happier if she returned my affections.”

  Caspar snorted. “Don’t be blind. She’s unsure, not indifferent.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at his old friend. “Aren’t I being patient?”

  “Most
ly. What did you get her for Christmas? I didn’t see a present from you.”

  “None of your business, you brat.”

  Caspar chuckled and nodded toward Ben. “It’s so odd, to see you with another child. Was I anything like that?”

  Giovanni frowned. “Yes and no. Some things are the same, but he’s much more independent than you were.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “And much more canny, which is both good and bad.”

  “Yes, I can see that, as well. The two of you are much easier around each other than you were last summer. Has B helped?”

  He looked at her, and her eyes lifted to his. She offered him a small wink and a smile before she turned back to Ben.

  “Yes, Beatrice has helped.” Everything.

  After the rest of the house had gone to bed, they kept each other company in the library, waiting for Carwyn’s expected phone call.

  “I never gave you your present, tesoro. Do you want it now?”

  She smiled. “I wondered. I have one for you, too.”

  Giovanni pulled out a large box wrapped in burgundy paper from under the side table and handed it to her. She opened it and pulled out a carefully packed book box with two small volumes inside. She looked at the spine in delight.

  “Persuasion?”

  “First American edition, 1832. I found it in Paris a few years ago and thought you might enjoy it. I remember you eyeing my Austen the first time you were here.”

  She carefully pulled the first volume from its original book box and opened it carefully. “It’s wonderful, Gio. Thank you.” She smiled again. “Persuasion, huh?”

  He shrugged and smirked. “It seemed appropriate. There’s another small item in there, as well.”

  She closed the book, carefully packing it away before she looked into the box again and pulled out a small leather bag. She opened it, and a familiar brass key fell into her hand.

  She blinked. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Well, you like that house as much as I do, so there’s your key.”

  “You’re giving me the…the Cochamó house?”

  He snorted. “You still have to share it with me. That’s my favorite home, but your name is on the deed, so to speak. And Gustavo and Isabel know if anything ever happens to me—”

  “Nothing better happen to you.”

  “—the house is yours, Beatrice. It’s your house, too. You can go whenever you want to now.”

  He couldn’t read the expression on her face until she looked up and there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love both my presents, but this one especially.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. He left his arms lying across the back of the couch so he didn’t grab her and cart her off to his room.

  “So,” he asked, clearing his throat. “Where’s my present?”

  “You know, you’re not really bouncing around like Ben was.”

  He grinned and bounced in his seat just a little, making her laugh uproariously before she stood.

  “Hold on; it’s in my room. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Giovanni stared into the fire and tried to imagine her lying in their bed at Cochamó, her smooth skin lit by candlelight. He wondered when he’d be able to persuade her to go with him again. He wanted to go in the summer with her, so she could see the waterfalls running and the meadows filled with wildflowers. They were beautiful at night, though she would be able to enjoy them during the day, as well.

  “Okay,” she called from the hall. “I don’t have it wrapped, so close your eyes.”

  He smiled and closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, she would be modeling lingerie…or just skin, but he had a feeling that was wishful thinking. Instead, he heard her fumbling with something that sounded rather large.

  “Okay, open.”

  He opened his eyes to see a large framed color photograph. It was his favorite waterfall in Cochamó, the midday sun reflecting off the mist and scattering rainbows. He smiled when he recognized it and looked up to see her waiting expectantly.

  “I thought you could put it in your room here to go with your picture of Florence.” She set it down and propped it against the chair nearest to the door. “And I got you a case of your favorite scotch, too. I called Gavin last week—”

  She was cut off when he pulled her into his lap and kissed her. Beatrice tensed for a moment before she relaxed and sank into his arms. She gave a small sigh as he caressed her mouth, and she finally seemed to melt in his arms. His hands grasped her waist as she straddled him and met each surge with corresponding need. Her arms twined around his neck to pull him closer, and his hands reached up her shoulders, pressing their bodies together.

  “Thank you,” he murmured against her mouth before his lips left hers to travel down her neck, nibbling in strategic places. “I love the picture.”

  “You sure it’s not the scotch?” she asked breathlessly as she ran her hands through his hair and pulled his head into the crook of her neck.

  “Positive. It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” he said against her skin.

  “I’m so far from perfect it’s laughable.”

  “I love that you make me laugh.”

  “And I’m still kind of mad at you.”

  “I’m calling a Christmas truce. If soldiers in battle can do it, it shouldn’t be that much of a stretch for us.” His fingers lifted the back of her shirt and she shuddered as his hands caressed the skin at the small of her back.

  He felt the normal buzz of electricity grow as his blood began to move through his veins and his fangs descended. He ignored his reaction and continued to explore the soft skin around her collarbone as her hands stroked his neck.

  “Gio…”

  “Let’s not fight,” he whispered. “Just for a little while.”

  “But, Gio—”

  He cut her off with a deeper kiss. Giovanni felt her moan and move over him, and he became almost lightheaded with desire.

  She finally grasped his shoulders and pushed back.

  “Oh, tesoro,” he groaned as his head fell to her shoulder. “Why are you—”

  “The phone,” she said breathlessly, “is ringing.”

  “Why?”

  She snorted and grinned at him. “Carwyn, remember?”

  “Damn that priest,” he muttered. “I’m going to burn his Hawaiian shirts the next time I see him.”

  She grinned and stood. “Well, I’m going to answer the phone.”

  He slouched in the sofa, closing his eyes while she went to answer the phone.

  “Carwyn.” He heard her laugh. “You better lock up your Hawaiian—what? What are you—”

  She gasped as he rushed to the phone and grabbed it out of her hand.

  “—need to talk to Gio immediately. I can’t—”

  “I’m here,” he said to his friend.

  He’d heard the panic in his old friend’s voice from across the room. His heartbeat sped in anticipation of danger. Carwyn hadn’t panicked in two hundred years.

  “I need you here, Giovanni di Spada. I need you in Ireland. It’s Ioan…my son is missing.”

  Chapter Ten

  En route to Dublin, Ireland

  December 2009

  Giovanni pulled Beatrice close as the plane took off, both of them glancing out the window to see Ben waving at the plane with a frightened look on his face. Her grandmother had one hand on the boy’s shoulder and Caspar stood behind them. The three were leaving directly for the safe house in the Hill Country as soon as the plane was off the ground.

  She huddled into Giovanni’s side and buried her face in his collar. They had fought horribly about her going with him, but he finally relented when she threatened to fly to Dublin on her own if he left her behind.

  Giovanni gripped her arm as the plane took off, and she was almost afraid he would leave bruises. She was beginning to realize he h
ated flying. He never said anything, but every time they flew together, he looked distinctly uncomfortable at takeoff.

  “Tell me about Ioan,” she said to distract him. She wondered whether he would break his usually reticent behavior to tell her anything specific.

  “Ioan is…he’s Carwyn’s oldest son, and his biological great-grandson, I believe.”

  “Really?”

  “Great or great-great grandson, yes. He’s only about one hundred years younger than Carwyn. He’s very powerful and very smart. His wife, Deirdre, is Irish and they’ve lived in the Wicklow Mountains for the last two hundred years or so, though they’ve been married for much longer.”

  “And they’re both Carwyn’s children?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Ioan asked his father to change Deirdre. They met when she was human. I believe he was around five hundred years old at the time.”

  Beatrice fell into silence, contemplating a couple that seemed suddenly very familiar.

  “So, if he’s so powerful, how did he disappear?” she asked in a low voice. “Is it Lorenzo?”

  Giovanni shook his head. “I don’t know. I think it has to be, but this attack doesn’t make sense. Ioan is not political. He’s one of the most compassionate vampires I’ve ever met. He’s also a superb scientist. Some of our conversations…” His face fell, and Beatrice realized that not only had Carwyn lost a son, but Giovanni had lost a friend if they couldn’t find Ioan.

  “He has studied medicine for around three hundred years,” he finally continued. “And he will periodically go into Dublin for free clinics at night. He treats poor families, drug users, prostitutes…He has a very deep compassion for those on the fringes of society.”

  “But how does that—”

  “Carwyn said he disappeared from Dublin during one of these clinics. He’s weaker in the city. Earth vampires usually are. They draw their strength from the ground. And if he was put into a position where humans might have been hurt if he didn’t comply, Ioan would let them take him.” Giovanni sighed and closed his eyes. “He wouldn’t even hesitate.”

  She swallowed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Do you think he’s already dead?”