The Force of Wind

  Her sword sliced through the thick muscle and bone with a sickening, wet sound, and the head fell to the grass with a soft thunk. Beatrice stared for only a second before she fell to her knees and regurgitated what was left of the blood in her stomach over the headless corpse. She saw the other guard come toward her and rolled to the side, standing in a ready pose.

  Lorenzo must have been watching.

  “Well, that was fun.” She heard him say. “And somewhat disgusting. Must have been her first. She’s better than I would have thought for a young one. Looks like those lessons paid off, Beatrice.”

  “I try.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt.

  “I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you.”

  Stephen was still speaking calmly. “Give me the book and no one has to get hurt, Lorenzo. Zhang’s vampires are already on their way.” Stephen began circling his sire. “Zhongli’s treachery has been revealed. The council knows what you are doing.”

  “As if I care about the council!” Lorenzo scoffed, and she heard the clang of swords. She glanced over and saw Lorenzo and her father parrying. A breeze wafted the scent of blood toward her, and her throat burned. Her opponent only grinned.

  “Hungry, little one?”

  “You’re not really my flavor, thanks.”

  He chuckled and his fangs ran lower. “But I think you might be mine.”

  “Yeah?” She feinted to the right before she swept her arm back to slice his thigh. “I really don’t agree.”

  She took a second to find her father. Stephen was facing Lorenzo and one other vampire. He had his sword drawn on Lorenzo’s guard and Lorenzo was looking on in amusement. She blinked and missed the quick thrust and parry of her father and his opponent before she turned her attention back to her own fight. The blond vampire she faced had used her distraction to sweep her leg with his own, and Beatrice was thrown off balance as she stumbled back. She quickly regained her footing and returned thrusts as he grinned with bared fangs in the moonlight.

  It was all so quick. And yet everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She saw a head with short, dark hair roll near her feet and realized that her father must have killed the vampire he was fighting. She was distracted by the gaping mouth and empty eyes that stared at her, and her opponent took the opportunity to leave a deep gash in her right arm.

  “Argh!” Beatrice cried out when she felt the sharp clank of his blade against her bone. She lost her grip on the dao and rolled away from the vampire, scurrying toward the bushes as her opponent turned and joined the fight between Lorenzo and her father. Stephen was once again facing two attackers.

  “No!” She stood again, clutching her arm as she tried to dive toward her weapon, but Lorenzo saw her. He stepped back and ran toward her sword, snatching it up and tossing it into the river.

  “Look who lost her sword!” he gloated. “Didn’t Giovanni teach you better? Never lose your weapon, girl. That was beaten into my brain more times than I could count. He must be getting soft not to have trained you as well.”

  Beatrice’s eyes darted around, looking for help from any direction. She had no sword. She was ravenously hungry, and her panic was beginning to overwhelm her. She saw the victorious light in Lorenzo’s eyes, and it only made her more frantic.

  “Dad?” she called, but Stephen was still dueling with the other guard. Lorenzo was walking toward her. She looked at the river with longing, wishing she could run toward its dark depths and swim away, but she knew she couldn’t leave her father. In a last ditch effort, she ran toward Lorenzo, diving down and curling into a ball at the last minute to knock his legs out from under him. The ground felt like nothing. The only pain she registered was the sharp slice in her arm, which had been healing, but broke open again.

  “Oh,” Lorenzo said, laughing in a heap on the ground. “Are we supposed to fight hand-to-hand now because you’ve lost your weapon? Precious thing, don’t you know I don’t fight fair?”

  He popped up, grabbing his own saber where it had fallen. Beatrice was crouched on the other side of the clearing, clutching her arm and waiting for his approach. She could still see her father battling the last guard, but now, both were drawing from the water in the river, throwing waves toward each other as they tried to throw the other off balance.

  “Giovanni and Baojia are coming,” she panted.

  “But they’re not here now, are they?” Lorenzo kept walking toward her. He curled his lip and ripped at the front of his robe, tearing it from the collar and tossing the blood-soaked rag in her direction. Beatrice caught the sweet smell and turned toward it instinctively, snapping at the cloth as it covered her face. She was blind when he kicked her to the ground.

  “Did you think to challenge me?” he yelled. She tried to gather her energy. The world swam around her. She was hurt. Hungry. Her head swam from smoke and blood.

  It was too much.

  Her father grunted at the edge of the clearing opposite her.

  Her arm throbbed, itching and aching as it tried to knit together.

  The edge of a blade hooked the blood-soaked rag and pulled it from her face. Lorenzo stood over her with a grin, laughing at the tears in her eyes.

  Too much.

  Beatrice felt the tip of his sword slowly pierce her stomach, thrusting into her gut as he ran it through her body and deep into the ground below. Blood spilled out beneath her. She coughed once, and it flooded her mouth.

  “It’s all quite overwhelming, isn’t it?” he whispered, bending down to stroke a finger along her jaw. She felt his finger gather up the blood as it dripped from her mouth. He lifted it to his lips and tasted. Then he grinned and bent down, licking the drips that ran down her neck.

  “Mmm,” he growled as his cold tongue drank her in.

  “Go—” She tried to turn away, but the blade dug in deeper and she choked on her own blood.

  “So sweet, my precious girl. Just wait… just wait.” She could feel his cold hands run over her struggling body, and she cried in agony as the blade tore at her stomach.

  Lorenzo laid a single kiss at the corner of her mouth before he rose, snapped off the handle of the sword, and ran toward Stephen, grabbing a weapon from one of the dead guards.

  No! her mind screamed. She tried to grab at the blade and realized why he had snapped off the handle. Her hands quickly became slick with blood, and she could not grip the metal with enough force to pull it from the rough ground beneath her. She was pinned and weak from blood loss. It seeped out around her, and every time she struggled, it only tore her wound more.

  “Dad?” she choked out, looking for her father. “Dad!”

  Stephen had been holding his own against the guard, but once Lorenzo joined in, he was battling on two fronts with only one weapon. Their eyes met for one panicked moment.

  Too much.

  Beatrice sobbed and struggled against the sword pinning her to the ground, only to hear the quick snap when it finally cut her spine. Her legs fell still. She could no longer feel them. She closed her eyes.

  Stephen yelled, “Beatrice!”

  Too much.

  Lorenzo was going to win.

  Giovanni and Tenzin picked up Lorenzo’s scent just past the courtyard where Baojia had left them, tracking him deeper into the mountain. They struggled through the scent of human blood, meeting only a few survivors. A few monks had hidden in corners, but most had rushed out to the courtyards, only to be cut down as Lorenzo’s men found them.

  The two friends entered the dim library. Old energy filled the room, but Giovanni could sense that no vampire remained. Scrolls, books, and tablets lay tossed on the floor. Two monks lay near the door, their necks snapped. Giovanni immediately picked up a faint human heartbeat on the far side of the room.

  “Fu-han,” Tenzin whispered as she rushed across the room. She picked up the old man, cradling him as his eyes flickered open.

  “Tenzin?” he croaked. “My dear, why… what has happened? Who were those immortals? Why…
”

  “Shhh,” she soothed the old man, rocking him as she held his head in her lap. “Fu-han, the book? Did they get the book?”

  “They wanted Stephen’s book,” the old monk whispered. “I don’t know why. They won’t understand it. I finally…” He stopped and coughed up a little blood. “I finally found…” The monk’s eyes flickered closed.

  “What?” Giovanni asked. “What did you find, old man?”

  He ignored Tenzin’s sharp eyes, realizing that this must be Zhang’s old pupil, who had been interpreting Geber’s manuscript for them.

  “He won’t be able to… it’s simply not what it seems. And he does not have the humility to see.” Fu-han was looking into the distance, his eyes open, but empty, as the life drained out of him. “He is too arrogant. Too arrogant…”

  “Who is too arrogant?” Giovanni knelt next to him. He heard the old man’s heart falter, and he put his hands on his chest, sending an electric jolt through his body, which started the heart again. “What are you talking about? What did you discover?” he practically yelled.

  “Giovanni!” Tenzin pushed him away, but he only crawled back, bending toward the monk in supplication.

  Fu-han’s eyes opened and locked with Giovanni’s, momentarily lucid in the flickering light of the library.

  “Learn humility, immortal. Look for the space between. The secret of the elixir lies in what is not there.”

  “What—”

  “Do not forget the fifth element,” he whispered as his eye flickered closed and his heart stopped.

  The fifth element?

  His mind raced and his heart pounded. There was something… something that Lorenzo did not see. Even if his son had the book, the old monk said he could not understand it. If Lorenzo could not understand it, there was still hope they could keep the elixir from him.

  He felt the blow as Tenzin threw him across the room.

  “Who do you think you are?” she yelled. “Have you no respect for my father’s pupil?”

  She raged, and he knew it was as much in grief for the destruction of the monastery as it was in anger for his actions. Tenzin tossed him around the library, and he did not try to resist, letting her vent her ire as she battered him against the cold, stone walls. Papers whipped around the room, churned by the wind she summoned.

  “Tenzin—”

  “This is your fault, you arrogant boy! Did you think your suffering so much worse than others? Did you think you were unique? This is the monster that you created!”

  The whirlwind swirled around her, an outward manifestation of her anger and frustration. It was rare for Tenzin to lose her temper like this; he had only seen it once.

  “I’m sorry, Tenzin.”

  “You are sorry? You’re sorry? Your sorrow does not make this right!”

  He narrowed his eyes. She was emotional. Too emotional. He suddenly realized his own blood was churning, and a twisting fear filled his stomach. He felt a phantom pain in his back, and his blood ached as it rushed through his body.

  His blood… Beatrice’s blood. His eyes darted to Tenzin, baffled by her uncharacteristic show of emotion. Her blood. Stephen.

  “Tenzin!” He rose to his feet and rushed toward her. She batted him back with an angry wall of wind, and he fell into the alcoves that held the books as more paper whipped around him. “We must go to Beatrice and Stephen,” he roared. “We must make sure they are safe. Something is wrong!”

  The wind stopped and she cocked her head toward him. “Stephen?”

  “Stephen.” Giovanni nodded, rising to his feet. “There is something—”

  “Stephen,” she said again, blinking her eyes as if waking from a daze. She frowned at Giovanni and started toward the door. He followed her, only to halt when she suddenly stopped right before the open door of the library. Giovanni almost ran into her when he heard her gasp and buckle forward, as if something had punched her in the gut.

  “Tenzin?” He placed a hand on her shoulder and she slumped to the ground. “Tenzin!”

  He caught her and turned her in his arms. Her eyes were glazed over, hollow as the grave. The flames burst over his back when he heard her plaintive whisper.

  “Stephen…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Wuyi Moutains

  Fujian Province

  China

  November 2010

  “How shall I kill you, my Stephen?” Lorenzo slapped at his child’s face with the flat of his sword. Stephen was hanging, trapped in a wall of water from which he couldn’t break free. Lorenzo paced nearby, as his guard watched the stairs.

  “You’re so stupid. You have all this power, but no idea what to do with it. You should have spent less time with your books and more time practicing, like your daughter.”

  “Let me out of here,” Stephen grunted, “and fight me like a man.”

  “Oh,” Lorenzo laughed, “but I am not a man, you silly child. You’re such an American. Can you do a John Wayne impression, cowboy?” Lorenzo chuckled at his own joke, and the silent guard smirked.

  Beatrice was still trapped on the ground. Her hands continued to struggle with the blade that Lorenzo had run through her, but her palms slipped on the bloody sword, cutting her fingers as she struggled.

  Stephen looked resigned. “Lorenzo, you already have the book. What else do you want?”

  “To kill you, of course. I just can’t decide… quickly or slowly? I would normally take my time since you’ve been such a bother the last few years, but I have a feeling”—he looked toward the stone stairs leading up to the monastery— “that we’ll be having company soon, which makes me sad.”

  Beatrice saw Stephen’s arm break free from the water and her father flicked his hand toward the river, summoning a stream of water that knocked Lorenzo over as he stood near the riverbank. The distraction was enough to break Lorenzo’s hold on the water that had trapped him.

  “Oh, you are clever boy!” Lorenzo laughed. “I suppose you’re right, a fight is much more fun.”

  Stephen fell to the earth, reaching out and grabbing his sword before he sprang to his feet and met the silent guard who rushed him.

  “Dad!” She had to get free. She had to help him. Beatrice tried to grab at the sword again, but she did not have the strength to pull it from the ground beneath her. She continued to spit out the blood that poured into her mouth as she struggled.

  “Beatrice, hold on!”

  “Enough,” Lorenzo growled, looking toward the stone steps. Just then, there was a flurry of movement on the edge of the river as Beatrice saw her father leap up, sweeping down and beheading the guard he battled. He landed on the ground and started in her direction, only to have Lorenzo dart behind and slash the back of his thighs, cutting his hamstrings and bringing him to his knees.

  “No!” Stephen cried out as he fell to his knees. Beatrice fought back the urge to scream when Lorenzo kicked her father’s sword away from him.

  No, no, no! Beatrice struggled harder, bloody tears coursing down her cheeks as she tried to break free. She choked on the blood that continued to fill her mouth. If she could just break free… Even if her legs wouldn’t work, she could drag herself—

  “Enough of this.” She heard Lorenzo say as he bent over her father. “Enough playing, Stephen.”

  Beatrice spat out the blood. “Dad?” she choked. She could feel her wounds close around the blade in her stomach, but even that pain no longer registered as she watched Lorenzo circle her father with one hand gripping his neck.

  “Dad!”

  “Look at her, Stephen, isn’t she beautiful?” Lorenzo ran a sword through Stephen’s stomach and forced his neck around so Beatrice met her father’s eyes as he began coughing up blood. She saw his lips form her name.

  Mariposa…

  “No, no… Lorenzo! Get away from him!”

  “She’s so lovely,” Lorenzo murmured. “I have plans for her, you know? Such wonderful plans.” He pulled the blade from her father’s stomach
and the blood poured out.

  Stephen muttered through bloody lips. “Leave… leave her, Lorenzo.”

  “Take me! Leave him alone and take me if you want me!” Beatrice cried into the night. “I’ll go. I promise.”

  “You have the book. Leave my daughter.”

  Lorenzo was watching her as his blade slid around Stephen’s neck, drawing a thin collar of blood. “So touching. And I won’t kill her. I have plans for her. If I could only keep you around, you could see them.”

  “No! Daddy!” Beatrice screamed as Lorenzo drew back the sword. Her eyes locked with Stephen’s, and she saw a strange euphoria fill her father’s face. Her eyes raced to Lorenzo, who only cocked his head as he stared at her with a small smile.

  “Sadly,” Lorenzo said. “I have to travel light.”

  The blade descended, cutting off Stephen’s head in one swift stroke. It rolled toward her, coming to rest a few feet away as his lifeless brown eyes stared into the dark heaven above.

  Beatrice screamed as her father’s lips moved in one last silent prayer.

  She heard Lorenzo walking toward her, and she stopped struggling when the pain caused her head to swim. She thought she was strong, but what use was her strength in the face of this monster? Lorenzo’s black dress shoes came to stop in front of her face.

  She heard Giovanni’s voice in the back of her mind. “Survive… that is your victory…”

  Lorenzo knelt beside her. He held the manuscript in his hands; Beatrice stared at it. It wasn’t as big as she thought it would be, no larger than a typical hardback, and not even as thick. The dull, leather cover was stained with her father’s blood. A single drop trickled down the side. It smeared when Lorenzo placed the manuscript in a large plastic bag and stuffed it in his shirt, securing it to his body as he ran a bloody hand through his blond curls.

  “Oh”—he curled his lip as he saw the smeared blood on his fingers—“that’s disgusting. Good thing I’m going for a swim. Tell Papà I said hello, and I’ll see him later. I wish I could take you with me right now, but like I said, I am traveling light, so we’ll have to catch up later.”