“But how do you know he’s from Rome?”
“He mentioned it once. He either lives there or visits a lot, I’m sure of it. I’m assuming it’s a man only because the handwriting looks masculine. He’s the one that told me when you went to Livia’s to negotiate for Beatrice after Lorenzo took her. He’s kept me apprised of Lorenzo’s movements so I could keep one step ahead of him. He told me you were tracking me. One of his last letters to me said that Lorenzo had been researching private pharmaceutical labs in Eastern Europe.”
Giovanni’s mind raced. He tried to think who in Rome could be so well-connected that he would have access to all that information. Not only did this immortal know Stephen’s whereabouts, but he also seemed to have intimate knowledge of the manuscript.
Stephen’s voice broke through his internal reverie. “Has Beatrice been to Rome?”
Giovanni shook his head. “No. I’ll not take her until… well, it’s not time for that yet.”
“Does Livia know about her?”
“I’ve kept her apprised of the situation.”
Stephen smiled. “I’m sure it’s a comfort to her to know you have found someone after so long.”
Giovanni gave a tight smile. “Yes.”
“I’m sure she will love Beatrice. And your father would, as well.”
And I’m sure he wouldn’t have.
Andros’s blanket disdain for women was something that his sire had hidden fairly well, but Giovanni only said, “There are few that meet your daughter that don’t love her.”
“When was the last time you were in Rome?”
Giovanni chose another book, wishing that Stephen would choose another subject. “When I went to petition for her release. It was a complicated visit.”
“I’m sure it was. The two of you should go back after all this is over. I know it has been a joy to me to see the two of you together. We always want our children to find someone that loves them with such devotion.”
He flashed back to a memory of his father and Livia, the blanket of manipulation lying heavy over their last visit to Rome in 1506. There had been no joy between them. Any affection Livia had ever had for Giovanni was layered in self-interest.
“I’m sure we will go eventually.”
“There have been many times over the years when I wished I could have met your father. His library was an inspiration to me.”
Giovanni smothered his instinctual reaction, as he had for over five hundred years. “I’m very pleased Andros’s collection has been preserved. Even if it is not in my hands. You have no idea where it is now?”
Stephen shook his head. “When I first discovered it, it was in Ferrara. But after Lorenzo took me, he moved everything to an old villa in Perugia. That was where I was held for the first three years after I was turned. And where I escaped from.”
Giovanni’s eyes darted up. “Perugia?”
Stephen smiled. “Yes, a beautiful old place. I heard it was the site of a medieval fortress of some kind that had burned down. The villa was built in the seventeenth century.”
“Brigands, Livia. Everything was destroyed. The servants fled. If Father had not sent Lorenzo and I to Crotone on that errand, we would have been destroyed, too.”
She had sobbed in the middle of the court. “It cannot be! My Andros, my Niccolo! How will I survive without him?”
“I am so sorry.”
She had embraced him in front of the throngs, his newly turned son standing behind him. “You are such a comfort to me, Giovanni. Such a comfort. To have Niccolo’s beloved son in my court is… such a comfort.” Her eyes lit with calculation. “You must stay for a time.”
“I—of course I will stay. For a time.”
“Yes.” She had stroked his arm. “Of course you will, my darling Giovanni.”
Had Lorenzo rebuilt Andros’s old villa? Giovanni had given him property nearby, but had his son recreated the villa where they had murdered his sire? Giovanni shook his head and focused back on Beatrice’s father, who had been staring at him.
“I’m sorry to bring up your father. I forget that some losses can still be painful, even after so many years.”
Giovanni cleared his throat. “Yes, I don’t think about him much anymore.”
“You were fortunate to have had the time with him that you did.” Stephen smiled. “Not all of us had such excellent examples of immortal life.”
Giovanni forced a smile. “Fortunate. Yes, Stephen. I was very… fortunate.”
Hours passed, and it was just before dawn when he heard a commotion in the courtyard. An unwelcome scent hit him, and he rose swiftly to rush out the door. His ears tuned to Baojia’s voice.
“Get back! I have her. Just stay back and someone get the Italian, dammit!”
He raced down the hall, flames erupting along his collar when he saw Baojia carrying Beatrice in his arms like a child. She was unconscious. Her face had a grey pallor, and she was bleeding from a cut on her forehead.
“What the hell happened?” he shouted.
“She got away from her guards. I found her in a creek outside the palace grounds. She was face down, but I drew the water out of her lungs. She’s stable now.”
Baojia handed Beatrice’s limp body to him, and he forced back the flames when he heard her rasping breath and steady pulse. She was still unconscious, but the color was returning to her face. He placed his palm on her temple, but her mind felt only as if it was sleeping, and he sensed no damage, so he heated his arms to warm her cold body.