She nodded.
Giovanni’s mind raced as he thought of the challenge of keeping a constant, iron control over his instincts. He thought about how much he still missed the sun, and of all the human friends he had seen grow old and die over the years.
He also thought about the people he had met, and the places he had been. He thought about rescuing Caspar. And of an unmarked grave in the Tuscan countryside where his life would have ended had he never met his sire. He watched the curious girl who sat next to him, sharing a piece of cake and a glass of champagne. He nodded.
“Yes, I’m happy with my life.”
“And I’m glad I met you.”
They both smiled as they sipped the sweet wine. He reached across and touched the edge of his glass to hers.
“Congratulations, Beatrice. Happy graduation.”
When Giovanni went to the library the following Wednesday, he had a smile on his face. It was Beatrice’s final week of work, so she would no longer be dividing her time between the university library and his own.
Caspar and Isadora were doing well, and had so far garnered no attention in the mountains. And when he spoke to Caspar that evening, his butler had finally heard back from one of Livia’s people in Rome.
According to her secretary, Giovanni could expect a letter from Livia sometime in the next three months. While it may have seemed slow for some, for the two thousand-year-old Roman noblewoman, three months was as good as overnight mail.
He was so cheerful, he almost skipped up to the fifth floor, only to halt in the stairwell as he caught the whisper of unfamiliar voices coming from above. He didn’t sense any danger, but there were far more voices than normal. He tensed until he heard Beatrice; she sounded worried, but not panicked in any way.
Giovanni stepped into the hallway and listened, but the voices were too jumbled to sort through from a distance. He pushed open the door to see the director of Special Collections standing in the reading room with Beatrice and the librarian, Charlotte Martin. The president of the university was also present, along with the head of security, and two Houston Police detectives.
Charlotte spotted him immediately. “Oh, Dr. Vecchio, what a mess! Thank goodness your manuscript wasn’t damaged.”
“What is the problem?” He shot a look toward Beatrice, but she was giving a statement to one of the police detectives and only gave him a small shake of her head.
“The Pico letters, Dr. Vecchio. They’re gone!”
Chapter Nineteen
Houston, Texas
June 2004
“And what time did you get here?”
Beatrice sighed. “I already told the other officer, I was running late, so I probably got here around five fifteen, or so. I didn’t look at the clock because Dr. Christiansen and Charlotte were running around and there was security everywhere.”
Detective Rose narrowed his gaze, and his tight smile failed to reach his eyes. “How long have you worked at the library?”
“A couple of years. I don’t remember exactly what month I started working. It was my sophomore year.”
“You’re a senior now?”
“I just graduated. This is supposed to me my last week working.”
“Isn’t that nice? Congratulations.”
Beatrice frowned. “Am I under suspicion or something? I would never steal anything from the library.” She could see Giovanni lingering by the door, talking to Charlotte, but she could tell he was listening to her conversation with the detective.
“How many people have the combination to the document room, Miss De Novo? Or should I call you B?”
Her chin jutted out. “You can call me Miss De Novo.” She saw Giovanni smirk over the detective’s shoulder. “I do, as well as Charlotte Martin, and Dr. Christiansen, obviously. Mrs. Ryan, on the first floor, would have it, as well as Karen Williams, who also works here sometimes. She’s in Circulation, but she fills in when we’re busy.”
“That’s a small staff.”
“Well,” she shrugged, “our hours are limited. It’s not a very busy department.”
“That makes a small suspect list.”
“I suppose, unless you’re counting anyone who knows anything about picking locks. This library doesn’t exactly have cutting-edge technology.”
“Do you know anything about picking locks?”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you joking?” He didn’t look like he was joking. “I know nothing about picking locks. I know nothing about missing letters. I wouldn’t even know what to do with them if I did steal them.”
Immediately after saying this, Beatrice realized it wasn’t exactly true. She was a fast learner, and had a feeling from talking with some of Giovanni’s contacts over the past few months that more than one of them skirted the edges of legality. If she wanted to sell some stolen letters, she could probably figure out how.
“Where were you last night?”
“I was-um, I was…”
Having cake with a five hundred-year-old vampire that I think I might be falling in love with. Oh, and drinking really expensive champagne. And talking about my dead father…who isn’t actually dead.
“She was having dinner with me,” she heard from behind the police detective’s back.
The officer turned and looked at the tall man approaching him, no doubt taking in Giovanni’s professional appearance and friendly smile. He was wearing a white oxford shirt that night, a pair of studious looking glasses, and some of his seemingly endless supply of black slacks.
“And who are you?”
Giovanni smiled and held out his hand. “Dr. Giovanni Vecchio. I deal in rare books and I’m doing research here at the library. Beatrice and I are seeing each other.”
Really? she thought. Thanks for letting me know, Gio. Is that what we’re doing? Strictly speaking, she supposed it was true. They saw each other every day.
The police officer looked at Giovanni’s extended hand for a moment before reaching his own out and shaking it. Beatrice watched to see if there was any physical evidence of the influence she knew he was using that very second-some sort of shimmer or spark-but there wasn’t.
“I think you realize that Miss De Novo had nothing to do with this theft, don’t you, Detective Rose?”
“Of course she didn’t. What a ridiculous thought,” the officer said in a warm voice, far more relaxed than he had been only a second before.
“And you were completely satisfied with her explanation.”
“I was. She’s a lovely girl.”
Giovanni nodded and cocked his head, looking into the officer’s dazed eyes. “She is. No further investigation of her will be necessary.”
The detective shook his head and turned to Beatrice. “Nope. I think we’re done here.” He folded up his notebook and saluted her with a small wave before he went to join his partner, who was talking to Dr. Christiansen.
She looked at Giovanni, whose face was grim as he watched the retreating officer.
“Not going to lie, that was more than a little creepy, Batman.”
“Whatever keeps you out of this mess.”
“Was it Lorenzo?”
He pursed his lips. “I imagine so. I have no idea how he got in, but you’re right; this place has very little security. Anyone with a bit of skill could break in.”
She hesitated, not wanting to voice the thought she’d had when she first learned of the theft, but feeling compelled, all the same time. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
Giovanni frowned when he looked at her, but she forced herself to continue, “It’s just…I know they are your letters. And I gave you my combination that time Lorenzo came here, and I would totally-”
“It wasn’t me.”
She felt horrible, as if she had betrayed him by even thinking it was a possibility. “Okay. I mean, I believe you. I don’t know why…I just know how much you want them back. And I’d understand if you took them.”