Beatrice glanced over her shoulder to look for Gemma and found the blond woman watching her with narrowed blue eyes. Her stance was relaxed and a small smile played on her porcelain face.
“You’ll do fine,” she said. “Now run.”
London, England
February 2010
“Ow, ow, ow,” Beatrice whined as she sank into the bathtub. She was exhausted, sore, bloody at the joints, but relieved as well. She was finally getting a little less battered every night. Beatrice and Gemma had been training together for over two weeks, and as much as Beatrice resented her, she had to admit the vampire was giving her a lot of precious time.
Beatrice had realized soon after she learned Giovanni was a vampire that, as much as their strength and speed gave them physical advantages, the fact that vampires were housebound for half of the day put severe limitations on their immortal lives. Even older immortals like Carwyn who could be awake for much of the day were groggy and weak, exhibiting barely human strength and even less speed.
For Gemma to devote as much of her limited night hours to training Beatrice as she had—no matter how much satisfaction she got from beating her up on a regular basis—was not something Beatrice could forget, and she was reluctantly grateful.
She relaxed into the heat of the bath, wishing that she could share how sore she was with Giovanni, but knowing instinctively that he would not react well. He and Carwyn had been in France for a week, trying to determine what connections Lorenzo still had and meeting with possible allies. It was a delicate balancing act, since most of the French immortals seemed to hate Terry, Gemma, and all their people simply because they were English.
“Vampire drama,” she snorted. It still reminded her a little bit of high school.
She heard the door to the bedroom open and Giovanni’s voice when he walked in. Her eyes popped open. He was back early.
“Shit,” she whispered and stuck her bloodied hands under the water.
“Beatrice? I’m back.”
“Hey, just taking a bath. I was training tonight,” she called through the door.
Shit, shit, shit.
“How are you feeling? Gemma was quite complimentary of your determination when I talked to her. She says your speed is improving as well.”
He sounded impressed, and she hoped he wasn’t breathing too deeply.
“That’s good to hear,” she said and ran the soap over her knees, trying to clean the blood from her skin even though it made her wince.
Owwwwww.
“Beatrice?”
No!
She panicked and ducked under the water, remembering all the blood that had stained her hair from her broken knuckles. She heard him snarl from the other room.
“Why do I smell so much blood?”
Too late.
She surfaced to see an irate vampire standing over her.
“I’m naked, Gio! Naked! Get out of here.”
He ignored her, his eyes raking over her bruised form and bloody joints.
“What the hell is going on?” he roared. “You look like you’ve been attacked.”
“I was. On purpose. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”
She sat up in the bathtub and crossed her arms over her bare breasts.
“What has Gemma been doing to you? She was supposed to take care of you. She was supposed to make sure—”
“We’ve been training. And I don’t want her to go easy on me, that’s not helpful. Now will you—”
“I told her not to hurt you!” he yelled. “I told her to temper herself and make sure—”
“The last person in this house that’s going to temper herself around me is Gemma! That’s the only reason—”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She finally realized he wasn’t going to leave the bathroom while they were arguing, so she swallowed her embarrassment and continued washing up.
“Do you really not know she’s in love with you, Gio?” she whispered, conscious of the sensitive ears that filled the house. She rinsed out her hair as Giovanni stood over her, glowering. “Gemma is in love with you. And you love me and she’s not going to cut me any slack in the training room. That’s the only reason I suggested training with her.”
He wore a furious expression when he finally spoke. “You’re being ridiculous and jealous, Beatrice. And this is beneath you.”
She stood up, water sloshing out of the tub as she grabbed a towel from the stand.
“I am not. Stop being a pretentious ass and get out of the bathroom right now.” She shoved his chest when she caught him glancing at her breasts. “We will argue about this when I’m dressed.”
He turned and stormed out of the room. She heard the bedroom door open.
“And do not go looking for Gemma right now!”
She heard a pause before the door slammed shut. His heavy footsteps paced the bedroom. Beatrice toweled off, grimacing at the broken skin on her knees, elbows, and fists. She ached badly but forced herself into her soft sleep pants and t-shirt without a sound. Finally, she grabbed her hairbrush and went to sit on the bed to work the tangles out of her knotted hair.
Giovanni had stopped pacing and was standing with his back against the door, the scent of smoke pouring off him.
“You better calm down. You’ll burn that shirt if you don’t.”
His jaw unclenched enough for him to speak slowly. “I am not interested in the state of my wardrobe, Beatrice.”
“Well, calm down anyway.” She started working the brush through her hair, but he darted behind her and sat with his legs on either side, running one hand down her arm to grab the brush.
“Let me,” he said in a gentle voice. “You’re hurting. Just try to relax.”
He started to pull the brush through her tangled hair, stopping to work out the knots as she tried not to wince. She was sore and beginning to get stiff in the cold room.
As if sensing her discomfort, Giovanni tossed small blue flames toward the grate, where they lit the wood that was waiting to be kindled. She sighed and tried to relax her shoulders.
He spoke softly as he worked. “Why do you say she’s in love with me? We were involved, but it was never serious.”
“Well, obviously it wasn’t for you, but from the way she looks at you, it was for her.”
“But I never felt for her what I feel for you. I have an affection for her; I consider her a friend.”
“And I’m not trying to interfere with that, Gio. I understand, I’m just—”
“Did she beat you like this because I love you?” he asked in a whisper.
Beatrice stopped his hands and turned so she could look him in the eye. She placed one hand on his cheek. “No. We were sparring, and she’s a good teacher. My sensei in L.A. would have treated me just the same. Well, if he was a vampire.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t do me any favors for her to go easy on me. I need to know how to fight.” She turned back around to face the fire, and he continued to brush her hair out.
He finally spoke again. “Is this because you don’t trust me to stay? The fighting? Is it because you think I’ll leave you again?”
Was it? It was a fair question, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that even if Giovanni didn’t leave, she would still feel like she needed to be able to defend herself.
“You can’t be with me all the time. You have to sleep during the day, and I don’t want you following me around all night, either. We’d both go nuts.”
He put the brush down and laid his hands lightly on her waist.
“Maybe I’ll lock you in with me during the day,” he said in a teasing voice, pinching her waist and putting his chin on her shoulder. “I think I could keep you occupied.”
She rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare. I would draw all over your face while you slept. I’d write, ‘I’m a pretentious ass’ on your forehead.”
Beatrice felt him chuckle and his skin was cool, so she knew he was no longer angry.
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“Where does it hurt, tesoro? Let me help.”
“Can your blood do anything? What if I drink a little?”
“Unfortunately, it only works on open wounds for humans.” He turned her and rolled her pants up to her torn knees. He bit his finger and started rubbing the blood into the cuts. She felt a tingle as it spread over her skin; then she saw the wounds start to knit together before her eyes.
“That is wicked cool.”
He smirked. “If you were a vampire, some of my blood would help heal your bruises, too. But your human metabolism would break it down before it could take effect. It will help on any open wounds, though. Give me your hands.” He held out his hands and she placed her palms into them as he bit his thumbs and spread the healing blood over the cuts there, as well.
“Thanks.”
He shrugged and finished looking over her arms, healing, then cleaning any wounds he found. Finally, he tilted her face up and she saw him pierce his tongue. He licked from her chin, mending the cut there before he traced along her bottom lip. She could feel the tingling before he caught her lips in a gentle kiss.
Giovanni sighed into her mouth and wrapped his arms around her. Even though his embrace was gentle, Beatrice winced when he touched her shoulder, and he backed away.
“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered. “I’m still pretty sore.”
He picked her up and laid her down on the bed, stretching out beside her and rolling up her shirt.
“Don’t apologize. Just tell me where it hurts.”
“What are you—”
“Heating pads for hands, remember? Tell me where it hurts.”
She slowly relaxed as he kneaded her sore body, making his hands almost painfully hot at times to treat the battered muscles. By the time he was finished, she was limp as a rag and half-asleep.
“Tell me what happened in France,” she murmured.
“Shhh. Tomorrow, Beatrice. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Okay…night.”
He wrapped his warm arms around her, and she drifted away.
Chapter Fifteen
London, England
February 2010
The Swan with Two Necks was not a pub where tourists would venture. In fact, as Giovanni looked around, he thought even the fiercest of immortals would balk at entering the dark bar in London’s Docklands, if for no other reason than to avoid tasting a human with Hepatitis, which was never a pleasant experience.
But the dark pub was the known meeting place for the canny water vampire he and Gemma were finally meeting that night. Tywyll only had one name, as far as anyone knew. And his name was the only thing most humans or vampires knew about the dark vampire whose skiff moved up and down the River Thames, trading and controlling the valuable flow of information Giovanni needed to access.
He had brought Gemma along because Terry had jokingly informed him the night before that Tywyll had a rather unexpected, and very unrequited, infatuation with his old friend. He had been avoiding spending time alone with Gemma since Beatrice’s revelation of Gemma’s feelings for him.
“So, ye’ want to know whether yer boy ha’ been on the river, do ye’?”
Tywyll took a gulp of the porter in front of him. He was a small, dark man with an enigmatic middle-aged face that indicated he could have been turned anywhere between ages twenty and fifty, depending on when he had lived his mortal life.
Giovanni had long suspected Tywyll could give Tenzin competition in the age department. He glanced at Gemma, nodding toward the old vampire.
“If you had any information about Lorenzo, Tywyll, we’d be most grateful for it.” She smiled. Gemma was perched precariously on the bench in the small booth where they had found the man, and her legs were pressed to his as she scowled at Giovanni across the table.
“Eh, lass, I’m sure you and yer man would be most grateful, but what of the Italian next to ye’? Is he wantin’ the goods as well?”
Tywyll stared at Giovanni with hooded eyes. He knew that Giovanni wanted the information, but what he needed to know was if the fire vampire recognized the favor that would be owed for his cooperation.
Giovanni nodded. “I would be grateful for any information you could obtain about my son’s whereabouts or activities, Tywyll.”
Understanding offered, Tywyll sat back in the booth and took another sip of his pint. He eyed Giovanni with dark delight, happy to be doing a favor for the feared immortal.
“I’ll not lie to ye’, he’s not been upriver that I’ve heard. And I’d know. I might be makin’ my way down to the mouth of the river in the next week or so. If I hear anything of value, I’ll let ye’ know.”
It was as close to a promise of investigation as they would get from the old vampire. Tywyll had a reputation as a loner, which was unusual for a water vampire, but Giovanni had long suspected that, like Tenzin, the vampire was simply too old to comfortably socialize with others more steeped in the modern world.
Instead, he maintained an extensive list of contacts up and down the river who owed him favors of one sort or another. If Lorenzo was in London, he was probably in a boat. If he was in a boat, then Tywyll would be able to locate him.
“Thank you ever so much, Tywyll,” Gemma started. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you. Of course—”
“We’ll be staying to finish our drinks,” Giovanni added quickly. “I’m living near the water now and I’m considering buying a boat of some kind. I’d greatly appreciate any insight you could give me.”
The old vampire grinned and glanced at Gemma from the corner of his eye, keen to play along with Gemma’s discomfort if it meant he could spend more time with her.
“Well, now…it all depends on what yer wantin’ the vessel for, doesn’t it?”
“You know, Giovanni, I used to consider you a friend. That time has passed.”
He chuckled and twisted the woolen scarf around his neck as he and Gemma walked the damp streets. They had left the car and driver in one of the more recently gentrified areas of the Docklands where the old Bentley wouldn’t be as conspicuous.
“Whatever could you mean, my dear? He was a delightful companion for drinks. If I lived in the area, I’d surely make a habit of meeting him for a beer now and then.”
“You’re a miserable, spiteful man, Giovanni Vecchio. And if it was your knee he was not-so-subtly brushing against, you’d be humming a different tune.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t be humming at all.” He grinned as they approached the car. “Nonetheless, I’m grateful you came. I doubt he would have trusted to meet with me otherwise. I know I don’t have the best reputation here.”
“If you hadn’t have been so damn lethal during the sixteenth century, people might have forgotten by now.”
“Fair enough. I appreciate the favor.”
He opened the car door for her and she immediately raised the privacy screen Terry installed in all his vehicles. Not only did it provide complete sound insulation, it also protected the mechanics of the car more effectively from the energy that coursed through the vehicle if more than one vampire was present.
“So,” he asked. “How is Beatrice’s training going? She’s very close-mouthed about the whole business with me.”
“Probably because she knows how overprotective you are.”
“Protective, not overprotective.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
She fluttered a dismissive hand. “Beatrice is doing quite well for a human. I’m glad she’s meeting with Terry tonight for firearms training. She’s ready for it. I have a feeling she’ll be an excellent markswoman.”
He nodded with a smile on his face. Sometime after they had arrived in London and she had quit her job, Beatrice seemed to gain a new sense of resolve. As much as he disliked it initially, she had thrown herself into her training with Gemma; she had also taken an active part in the search for Lorenzo, which he did appreciate. Though Giovanni hated that she was constantly bruised, he sensed her physical confidence growing.
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She was also becoming more affectionate with him, and Giovanni often rose in the evening to find her curled into his side sleeping or reading a book. He couldn’t forget the picture she had made under the water, naked and floating in the large tub with her hair drifting around her. Though he had seen her in damp clothes more than once and had a good imagination, it was the first time he had seen her completely bare and, if not for the bruises covering her body, he would have had a hard time controlling himself at the sight.
Thinking of their argument that night, he looked at the woman next to him and frowned; Gemma caught his eye and squirmed.
“Gio?”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve been wondering…are you angry with me for training her?” Giovanni looked at Gemma’s hands, which were twisted in her lap. “I know you’re not pleased about her fighting, but it really is her choice. I don’t want you to be angry.”
She’s always been so supremely confident with everyone but me. Gemma’s age, her strength, and her intelligence made her a force to be reckoned with, but she had always seemed to lose her nerve around Giovanni at odd times.
And he suddenly realized why.
“Are you in love with me?”
She stared at him with wide blue eyes.
“What are you talking about? I’m marrying—”
“Are you in love with me, Gemma?”
Her eyes narrowed and grew colder.
“You really are a right bastard,” she said harshly, her cultured accent slipping in anger. “You have no idea, do you?”
“You are,” he muttered with a frown. “You are, and I had no idea. She’s right, I’m really quite obtuse at times, aren’t I?”
Gemma curled her lip. “Well, that’s something your perceptive little human and I agree on, Giovanni.” Then she shrugged and faced forward, crossing her arms across her dove-grey suit and lifting her chin.