“You know, I feel very frontier woman right now.”
He laughed. “This is how people got food for most of history. It is good to know these things.”
Beatrice wrinkled her nose. “Well, when the coming zombie apocalypse hits and there aren’t any more grocery stores, I’ll just let you take care of the hunting and the gathering, all right?”
Giovanni laughed again and sped down the game trail they had followed. It was a clear night and the moon was full. She could see the distant lights of the town as they came down out of the hills, enjoying the stretch of her legs as she ran. As they approached the small road that led back to the house, Giovanni slowed to a human pace, so as not to attract attention. “Beatrice?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Why did you tense up when I talked about going back to Rome? Do you think she will be able to capture me again? Are you afraid?”
“No! No, I don’t—”
“She surprised me last time.” He halted on the path and narrowed his gaze. “I was not on my guard. You should not fear that I will be taken again. I do not make the same mistake twice.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m not afraid that she’ll take you again.”
“No?” He frowned and started walking, muttering under his breath. “You have lost confidence in me. You fear—“
“Gio, you can’t go back to Rome.” She halted in the middle of the trail. “I mean… at least, not yet.”
His nostrils flared in anger. “I am going back to Rome.”
“No, you don’t understand—“
“I understand that you no longer think I am strong enough to protect those under my aegis.”
Her jaw dropped. “What? That’s not—“
“But I will. Do you know what I have planned for that Roman bitch? Would you like to hear it?”
“Stop, Gio. That’s not what I’m talking about! I know you’re strong enough.”
“Obviously you don’t, if you think I’m going to hide from her.”
She clutched at her hair, frustrated and angry that the argument had devolved into her husband thinking she lacked confidence in him. “Giovanni, it’s not that we can’t go back.”
He picked up the bundle of meat he’d dropped and stalked down the trail ahead of her. “Damn right, it’s not. I may live quietly now, but there’s a reason—”
“You can’t go back.”
He halted again, slowly turning until he faced her. “What did you say?”
Her heart thundered, and she felt tears run down her cheeks. “I said, you can’t go back. I have to, but you can’t. Not yet.”
His eyes flared, and he stepped toward her. “This is… what? Some plan you’ve come up with?”
She swallowed and nodded tentatively. “Yes. Me and Ziri.”
“Ziri?”
“And Carwyn. And Tenzin, too.”
“And this plan involves you going back to Rome and me… what? Staying here safely tucked away?”
“No.” She walked toward him. “We need you to find someone. Two people, actually.”
He stepped back, and a blank mask fell over his face. “So, you will return to Rome and I—”
“Carwyn, too. He’s going to go with you.”
“But you won’t.”
Beatrice shook her head, and her heart fell in her chest when he took another careful step back.
“So, we would separate again?”
Her throat felt frozen, but she nodded with effort.
Giovanni’s eyes were glacial. “Unacceptable.” He turned and sped back to the house.
“Gio!” She called after him, but he did not turn back. She walked at a human pace, knowing that he needed time to think.
When Beatrice got back the house, he had put some of the meat away and was cooking two thick fillets over the built-in grill in Gavin’s kitchen. He must have heard her walk in, but he did not turn around. Her nose twitched at the scent of the savory meat.
“Do you know why I don’t often care to eat roasted meat, my wife?”
She had always suspected, but it wasn’t something they talked about. “Why?”
“Roasted meat has a distinctive aroma, doesn’t it? Something about that combination of flesh and fire.”
“Gio—”
“Strangely enough, the smell of human and vampire flesh is not that different. Well, not that most would notice. The essentials are the same. Flesh. Fire.”
She cleared her throat and bit her lip. “I’ll take your word on that.”
He nodded. “Good. You should take my word on that. Do you know why?”
Beatrice whispered. “Because you’ve killed many—”
“Hundreds, Beatrice.” He threw a bloody knife across the room where it lodged in a wall. “I have killed hundreds. Yet, apparently, my wife and my closest friends only think that I am capable of fetching someone for their little plan.”
“You’re the only one who can do it.”
He sneered and shut off the grill, tossing the meat onto a plate. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Carwyn or Tenzin could easily deal with finding—”
“Arosh.”
His eyes widened. “Wh—what did you say?”
“Arosh,” she whispered. “We need you to find Arosh.”
He shook his head, anger forsaken for confusion. “He is dead, Beatrice. The fire king has been dead for centuries.”