The Force of Wind

  “Beatrice—”

  “I’m done practicing for the night.”

  “We’re not finished here.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Yes, we are.” She reached down and grabbed her dao, then tried to walk past him, but his arm shot out and grabbed her wrist. She felt the creep of his energy again when their skin met, and she wrenched it away.

  “Don’t! Don’t touch me.”

  “B, just listen—”

  “I’m done. Got it? You…” She was still blushing, and she couldn’t forget the intimate feel of his tongue and the teasing caress of his amnis. “Just forget about it.”

  “You cannot deny that there is something—”

  “Shut up!” she shouted. “What? You getting tired of the donated blood? Need a little refreshment? I’m not a fucking appetizer.”

  He blinked in surprise, but anger quickly overtook his features. “You arrogant little—”

  “Leave me the hell alone! I’m going for a walk.” She continued toward the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll take my precious sword.”

  “Get back here, girl!”

  Beatrice turned, gave him a bitter smile, then flipped him off, noting absently that the finger he had healed was the one now raised in ire. She continued walking backward, straight out the door. She turned down the hallway and out to the gardens, ignoring Baojia as he called her name. She heard him call for Tenzin’s guards, so she ducked down a corridor she had seen the servants using.

  She followed it toward fresh air. With the lack of windows in the palace, it was hard to tell which way led outside, but she felt a gust of cool air waft across her heated face, so she followed it, eventually opening a door that led to the outer perimeter of the palace grounds.

  She saw a path leading through the forest that surrounded the compound, and a few monks were walking in the grey hours before dawn. She followed them, but soon got lost in the dark maze of the shifting bamboo. Following the sound of water, she came upon the creek that fed the streams that cut through the gardens. Heaving a sigh of relief, Beatrice began to follow it back to the palace gardens.

  “A beautiful woman carrying such a weapon. What is the world coming to?”

  She whirled, gasping when she heard his voice. She immediately raised her sword. Lorenzo only smiled and stepped into it. Lifting a hand to prop the heavy dao on his shoulder, he laughed.

  “There, now you’re quite safe. You can chop off my head if I threaten to harm a hair on yours. Feel better?”

  “What are you doing here?” She debated whether to try chopping off his head, or at least trimming the hair he seemed so fond of.

  “Do you think you could? Chop off my head?” His full mouth pouted in concentration. “I’m not sure you could. You might not realize how much strength that actually takes. There are all these pesky bones and tendons. It’s harder than it looks. I should know.”

  “Would you like to be my test subject? What do you say, you bastard?”

  “I just want to talk. Since you seem to be the most rational of your little group, I thought I’d give you a try. You see, my attempts to reason with my father have failed.”

  “Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

  Lorenzo shrugged. “I can’t either. I tried to explain that I no longer wished Stephen any harm, or you for that matter, and he just ignored me. I think he’s still blinded by his desire for our father’s books. That vampire is quite single-minded when his attention gets focused on something.” Lorenzo gave a lascivious smirk. “Of course, you probably know that by now.”

  She swallowed, struck by something Lorenzo had said. “What do you mean? You’ve said over and over that you wanted to torture and murder my father. And me. Why would I believe that you no longer want to hurt us?”

  He cocked his head. “You’re a very perceptive woman, Beatrice De Novo. Look into my eyes, and see if you believe me. I do not wish any harm to come to you. Nor do I have any interest in your father. All I want is—”

  “The book.”

  He smiled. “I knew you would understand. All my interest in you and your family will cease if I get my books back. That’s all I want. Well—” He smiled. “I’d be lying if I said that was all I wanted.” He let his gaze rake over her body.

  She snorted. “Right, like that’s going to happen.”

  “I deeply regret not tasting you… really tasting you the night I had you on my boat. That was foolish of me. Tell me, do you plan on turning, Beatrice?”

  She couldn’t help the smile that flickered across her face at the thought of being as powerful as the monster across from her.

  “Ah, I see you smile. Excellent idea, if you ask me. And refreshing. So nice to see a human that’s not attached to breathing or breeding. Very forward thinking of you.”

  “I don’t really give a shit about your opinion. I really doubt that comes as a surprise.”

  He chuckled. “Enough chatting. It’s quite addicting talking to you, you know. I do love good banter. But I’ll return to my original point, I promise to leave your father and all your relations in peace as long as I get that manuscript and the journals.”

  “And what about Ioan? What about him?”

  Lorenzo merely shrugged. “Was he your lover? Your father? Your child? Leave Ioan’s vengeance to his family; it is no concern of yours.”

  “But Gio would never—”

  “Giovanni”—he stepped closer and let the blade run along his skin, drawing a line of blood—“will do what you want. You know you could persuade him to give it to me if it meant he could go back to his quiet, uneventful life. He can bury himself in his books and research again, just like you know he wants to.”

  Beatrice would have been lying to say the idea was not tempting. On one level, she knew she could probably convince Giovanni if she really tried. But…

  “I don’t make deals with the devil, Lorenzo. Even when the devil looks me in the eye.” She stepped forward and let the blade cut deeper into his skin. His lip curled in disdain.

  “Fool.” And she gasped when his cold hand reached up and grabbed the back of her neck.

  The next thing she remembered was looking into Giovanni’s tormented green eyes.

  It was the idea of mental manipulation, even more than physical harm, that Beatrice feared the most. The period of her teenage years when she was afraid she was losing her sanity had been the most frightening of her life.

  Until she was immortal, Beatrice knew she was vulnerable.

  The morning sun poured over the garden, lighting the gleaming limestone pillars and flashing across the streams that cut through the grass. The air was lush with the sound of morning birds, and brilliant fall leaves lay scattered along the lawn as servants spread across the silent grounds, raking the paths in their orange robes.

  Beatrice sat on the damp ground under a weeping maple and watched the sun rise in the East. She sat for hours, watching it track across the garden and memorizing the way the shadows shifted and the light danced on the rippling water. She let her mind roam to the waterfalls of Cochamó and the rainbows in the mist. She let herself remember the sunset over the Pacific and the searing heat of hiking in the desert with Dez as the light painted the rocks red.

  She spent hours staring into the bright garden and never closed her eyes.

  When she felt the soft touch on her shoulder, she turned to see Nima standing with a cup of cardamom tea. Though she had hardly spoken to the woman in the weeks they had been at the palace, her quiet human company was welcome. She sat next to Beatrice on the ground, surprisingly flexible for one with such a wrinkled face. Her dark eyes looked over the sun-lit grounds.

  “I have painted many gardens for Tenzin over the years,” she said in quietly accented English, “but it’s never exactly the same.”

  “There are photographs.”

  Nima nodded her silver-grey head. “Yes.”

  “Still not the same, though.”

  “No.”

  Beatrice sniffed, swallowing t
he lump in her throat, before she gave up and let the tears fall down her cheeks.

  “Sorry,” she sniffed again.

  Nima just smiled. “I understand the grief.”

  “But I know I’m ready.”

  “Tenzin said you would be. That was one of the reasons she asked me to be here. I don’t usually like to leave the mountains.”

  Beatrice frowned, curious why Nima’s presence was important, until she looked into the old woman’s eyes and understood the quiet sadness that lived there.

  “You said no, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh,” she breathed out.

  “And I regret it every day.”

  “But why—”

  “By the time I really understood the regret, my body was old. I would not choose it now. It is not vanity, simply… not what I wish for eternity.”

  “Was she angry?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you are still together.”

  Nima smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Someday, she’ll watch you die.”

  “And that is the sadness I live with.”

  Beatrice swallowed the lump in her throat. “So I’m making the right decision?”

  Nima smiled. “I can’t tell you that, but I think you already know.”

  Beatrice looked over the sun-washed garden again and closed her eyes. “Yes, I know.”

  “It is still understandable to grieve.”

  “Thank you for being here.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Nima tucked her feet under and sat next to Beatrice as the sun rose to the apex of the sky. The two women sat silently in the sunlight, listening to the chirp of the birds and the buzzing bees. They watched the wind tease the orange, red, and purple leaves from the trees, and the clouds drifted across the sky, their slow-moving shadows falling across the earth.

  It was close to three o’clock when Beatrice rose, helped Nima to her feet, then walked inside, shutting the door to the sun for the last time. She walked down the hall to the practice room to find Tenzin sitting there with her father. She looked into the storm-grey eyes of her friend.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t.” Stephen shook his head. “I can’t drain her, Tenzin.”

  “It has to be you. That’s what needs to happen. Her fate lies with water, not air.”

  “I can give her my blood. I just can’t drain her.”

  Tenzin scowled. “You’ll be very weak if you don’t.”

  Stephen still shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

  Beatrice put a hand on her father’s arm. “Tenzin, is it that important who drains me? As long as I have Dad’s blood to turn, right?”

  “Yes, but his amnis will be drained from giving you his blood. I don’t like the idea of him being so weak.”

  “Then you can give me some of yours later. And I’ll feed after,” Stephen said, “but you cannot ask me to drain my daughter to the point of death.”

  “Fine,” Tenzin rolled her eyes. “I’ll probably need the strength when he wakes, anyway.”

  Beatrice shuddered at the thought. “He’s going to be furious. Tenzin, I’m sorry for anything Giovanni—”

  “Please,” she snorted. “It’s not like he can hurt me. This is one of those situations where it is better to ask forgiveness than permission. Besides, he knows it’s coming.”

  “That’s not going to make him any less angry.” She felt a churning in her gut as she remembered his plea before he fell asleep. She felt like she was betraying his trust, but she also felt as if she had no other choice.

  Tenzin grabbed her arm. “Are you ready? Really?”

  She nodded. “Okay, dirty details time.”

  “Fine. I’ll drain your blood, you’ll probably pass out, but your father will feed you his. It won’t be instinctive for you to drink from him at first, but don’t worry, we’ll make sure you get enough. He’ll be able to use amnis to make you swallow the blood until you latch on.”

  She bit her lip. “And I won’t remember any of it?”

  “Probably not much. I’ll use my amnis to keep you from struggling. Your body will fight the blood loss instinctively, so it’s better if I use it to keep you calm.”

  Beatrice hated the thought of that, but agreed it was probably for the best. “Okay. What happens after that?”

  Tenzin and her father exchanged a look. “Your body will go through quite a few changes at first. The first couple of hours it will expel anything from your digestive system. But you won’t be awake for that.”

  “Oh, ew.” She took Tenzin’s hand. “I want you to promise me that you will not let Giovanni be here when all that stuff is going on. One, gross. Two, he’ll freak out.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll be able to keep him away. Once it’s done, he’ll understand.”

  Beatrice thought Tenzin might have been a bit overconfident on that one, but she didn’t have much choice but to trust her. “Okay. Then what?”

  “Your body will shut down for about twenty-four hours, or until first dark. Then you’ll wake up and be a vampire.”

  “Am I going to be hungry right away?”

  “Not immediately, but definitely the first night.” Tenzin just shrugged like it was no big deal.

  She sighed a little and saw her father’s mouth quirk into a small grin.

  “And?”

  “What? We’ll find someone to feed you. It’s not a big deal. There are lots of bowing people around.”

  “Um… that’s not exactly… can I have donated blood at first? I don’t want to drain anyone.”

  Stephen was quick to reassure her. “We won’t let you kill anyone. We’ll make sure you have some fresh blood, but you will need a lot.”

  “How much?”

  Tenzin said, “About a person’s worth.”

  Her mouth fell open. “That much?”

  “Just at first. The first year or so, you’ll have to drink a few cups every night and then you’ll need much less.”

  She began to feel her heart rate pick up. “Don’t let me kill anyone. I… I can’t—”

  “You won’t.” Tenzin reassured her. “We’ll have you fully stocked with fresh blood that hasn’t been preserved. No preserved blood for a while. You need the fresh stuff to be strong. Animal will do if you must, but human is always the best.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Any other questions?”

  “What will it be like? At first?”

  Tenzin frowned. “I don’t really remember. It’s been a long time. Stephen?”

  Stephen took a deep breath. “You’ll feel very overwhelmed. All your senses will be heightened. Your hearing will be better. Your sense of smell. You’ll feel the electrical currents almost like a web around you. This place is ideal because there is so little electricity, it won’t be as overwhelming as—”

  “Oh!” Beatrice gasped.

  “What?” Stephen looked at her in panic. “B, you can change your mind at any time, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, she does!”

  He glared at Tenzin. “No, she doesn’t.”

  “She really does.”

  “Stop.” Beatrice held out a hand. “Don’t fight. I’m just… It’s silly. I just realized I won’t be able to use my computer anymore.”

  Tenzin rolled her eyes. “Is that all?”

  “Yeah,” she frowned and felt her father reach over to squeeze her arm. “That’s all.”

  For a moment, the unexpected grief welled up again. She felt childish to feel grief about something that seemed so inconsequential, but it wasn’t. Then she remembered the feeling of helplessness she’d had again when she woke the night before, weak and shivering from another attack. She thought about her conversation with Nima in the garden and about the flicker of grief she saw in Giovanni’s eyes every time he looked at Casper.

  She didn’t want to be vulnerable. She didn’t want to leave Giovanni.


  She was ready.

  “I’m ready.”

  Beatrice looked up and realized they were waiting for her. Her father stood and pulled her into a fierce embrace.

  “I love you, kiddo. It’s going to be fine.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Dad. This is the best thing. Right? I mean, you’re my dad.”

  “Yeah,” he smiled, and his eyes crinkled just like she remembered as a child, “I’m your dad.”

  She whispered, “And you always will be.”

  “Yep.”

  “Sentimental De Novos,” she heard Tenzin call. “The very angry, territorial fire-vampire will be waking up very soon. If we want this to happen, we need to do it now.”

  Beatrice nodded and went to sit on the grouping of low cushions in the corner of the room. Stephen sat across from her, and Tenzin sat to her left and pulled her hair to the side. She gave her a full, fangy grin. Beatrice cocked her head at an angle.

  “Okay, drink up.”

  “I have to say, you do smell delicious. I kind of get why he wants to keep you.”

  Beatrice frowned. “Tenzin, please don’t make me feel any more like dinner than I already do.”

  Her friend laughed long and hard. Finally, Beatrice did too. Then Tenzin reached over and stroked Beatrice’s hair back from her face, and the soft look she occasionally allowed herself peeked through.

  “It will be all right. Relax.” Beatrice could feel the amnis start to creep across her skin as she stared at Tenzin. Her father held her hand and she allowed the soft brush of her friend’s influence in her mind. She closed her eyes and listened to the hypnotic voice.

  “Meditate. Just like we practiced. Calm. Let yourself relax.”

  She drifted, focusing on a picture of Giovanni she held in her mind. It was the single-minded look he gave her sometimes. When he was angry. When he made love to her. When he killed for her. It was the look that told her she was the center of his world.

  “I am your balance in this life,” she whispered to him, even though he was not there. “In every life.”

  Her eyes flew open when she felt Tenzin’s fangs strike.