He lifted his hand and felt the singed curls float in front of his face. Pieces she had touched drifted away in the dark water.
After a few moments of self-indulgent grief, he gathered his wits and shot to the surface. He climbed out of the pool, wrapping a towel around his waist before he walked inside. Gavin was on the rotary phone in the corner, speaking in a low voice.
“He’s just walked in…no, I don’t yet, but I’ll find out. Here, talk to him. Get him calmed down, and don’t ask him that because the bastard had two of his lackeys with him, and at least two more on the grounds that I could smell. There was no way they were leaving without the De Novo girl.”
Gavin handed the phone to Giovanni, who immediately took it and put it to his ear. He heard Carwyn’s steady voice on the line.
“Hello, Sparky, you calmed down?”
He could only grunt, but the priest seemed to take it as an affirmative.
“It’s a few hours before dawn here, but as soon as I’m able, I’ll be on the next boat-”
“Don’t.”
“What?” Carwyn paused. “We’re going after her, Gio.”
“Of course we are, but we don’t know where he’s taking her yet. I’m sure Gavin can find out, but it will probably be in Europe, and you’ll be closer if you stay where you are now.”
“But-”
“I can’t attack him here, Carwyn. There are too many unknowns and he’s been planning this too far in advance. They’re probably out of the city already, or close to it. And he’ll have more people with him than just the four that were at my house.” He saw Gavin nodding vehemently as he paced by the fireplace. “I’m better off…diffusing this right now and picking my own ground. I’ll need to go to Rome and talk to Livia-probably Athens as well-and we’ll need Tenzin.”
“But Gio, Beatrice will be-”
“Terrified, I know.” He clenched his jaw. “But he won’t hurt her. Not yet. And I am no longer interested in resolving this peaceably. He ambushed me in my own home, and he took her from me. I was foolish to underestimate him.”
There was a long pause on the line before Carwyn continued in a soft voice.
“Did you trade those damn books for her like Gav said?”
He cursed in a dozen languages before he answered. “He was experimenting like the sick little bastard that he is. He was going to take her, but I’d tipped my hand before. He was trying to determine if it was Beatrice or the books I was reacting to. It’s better…” He cleared his throat before he continued. “It’s better for her if he thinks I’m not attached to her.”
He gripped the doorjamb, cracking the oak paneling and sending plaster dust crumbling to the floor.
“You’re right,” Carwyn said in a soothing voice, “he won’t hurt her. He needs her to retrieve her father. We just need to get her back before Stephen De Novo hears about this and returns to Lorenzo. If that happens, all bets are off.”
He couldn’t find the words to speak to his old friend, so he took a deep, measured breath. The scent of her fear still permeated the living room, and he clenched his eyes in frustration.
“Giovanni,” Carwyn was saying, “you realize, she might not understand. You know-”
“I know,” he muttered. “I knew the minute I let him take her she might never forgive me for it. But it’s better than her being injured or tortured to get back at me.”
He turned and, leaning against the wall, slowly sank to his haunches. He paused, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, savoring her scent, even if it was tinged by the adrenaline he hated. He felt his heart give a sporadic thump as he stared at the sofa where Lorenzo had threatened her, and Giovanni had to fight back another wave of anger. He gripped the phone to his ear, anchoring himself to the sound of his friend’s voice.
“Do you love her, Gio?”
He closed his eyes, but could only see her broken, empty stare as Lorenzo’s guard carried her away.
“What do you think?” he asked in a hollow voice.
There was another long pause before Carwyn responded.
“We’ll get her back.”
“Yes, I will.”
“And your son?”
Giovanni grit his teeth, letting his fangs pierce his lip as they descended, reveling in the taste of blood that filled his mouth and the sharp bite of pain.
“My son will burn.”
“I’ll wait for your call.”
He hung up the phone and walked upstairs without a glance. In a little over a ten minutes, he had dressed, shaved off his singed hair, and walked back downstairs. He stopped on the second floor to sit in Beatrice’s bedroom, soaking in her scent and the familiar traces of her that littered his home.
There was a stack of books on her bedside table. She left them everywhere, scattered around the house in little caches, always ready to be picked up and continued when a few moments could be stolen. Her boots stood by the closet. She hadn’t worn them to work that afternoon, and he found himself wishing she had, as if the sturdy shoes could have protected her from the monsters who took her away.
A small picture of Beatrice and Isadora sat in a frame on her bedside table. He grabbed it, extracting the picture and putting it in his pocket before he walked down to the first floor.
Gavin waited in the living room, eying him as he walked down the stairs.
“I made some calls.”
“And?”
“You know I’m only doing this because Carwyn is the closest thing I have to a friend, don’t you? And because Lorenzo is such an ass. I’m not picking sides in any damn war. I refuse.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “She’ll be fine. It makes no sense for him to hurt her. Not now, and you know how little interest he has in human women.”
“That is so very reassuring,” Giovanni snarled. “What do you know?”
Gavin measured him as he stood on the staircase. Finally, he gave a small shrug. “She did seem amusing. And clever. Carwyn said you were less of an asshole when she was with you.”
“Wallace, I would kill you without a moment’s hesitation if it would make you give me this information faster. What did you find out?”
“You didn’t hear it from me and all the usual speech, but that crazy plane he has took off from a private airfield north of Katy a half an hour ago, headed to La Guardia airport in New York. They must have driven straight there. That’s all my contact knew. They didn’t file anything else.”
“Could he be staying in New York?”
The Scotsman snorted. “Not likely. You know how the O’Brians feel about the little prick.”
Giovanni frowned, remembering the surly clan of earth vampires that had taken over the New York area around the turn of the last century. They were notoriously hostile and suspicious, and Lorenzo had made them his enemies by throwing his money behind the old guard they had wiped out when they rose to power a hundred years before.
“No, it’s most likely a stop-over on the way to Europe. Most of his allies are there,” Giovanni continued to mutter, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the peaceful life he’d cultivated for the last three hundred years was crumbling around him, returning him to the tumultuous early centuries of his life.
Just as he was about to kick Gavin out so he could go up to the library, he heard a crack at the French doors. He frowned, but stayed where he was, flicking off the lights in the living room and peering into the night. He thought he saw a magnolia branch sway, but no breeze stirred the other trees.
He heard another crack, but this time, he saw a pebble fall. He snuck out the kitchen door and around the side yard, reaching out with his senses to determine who or what was on the grounds. He scented the air, relaxing immediately when he recognized the familiar aroma of cardamom that always lingered around her. He walked to the back garden and scanned the trees.
He heard a chirp from the low hanging magnolia tree and glanced up to see the small vampire perched on a branch, her legs dangling and her feet bare. She appeared to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, and her glossy black hair fell in two sheets that framed her face. Her eyes were a clouded grey and beautifully tilted by an ancient hand, but when the girl smiled, vicious fangs curled behind her lips like the talons of some primeval bird of prey.