He shook his head. “Deirdre would know. They’ve shared blood for over four hundred years. She would know if he was dead.”
Beatrice fell silent, suddenly aware she knew nothing of the intimacies of vampire relationships. Though she had spent months with Isabel and Gustavo, it wasn’t something they discussed, and she suddenly felt like an awkward school girl.
As if sensing her discomfort, Giovanni looked down and smiled a little. “I tried to explain once…about the biting. There are different kinds of bites, Beatrice. It’s not always just to drink.”
“Oh,” she blushed, but he just pulled her closer, refusing to let her squirm away. “Well, I know that when you bit me…I mean, it didn’t hurt. It felt…good,” she said in a small voice. It had felt more than ‘good,’ but she didn’t want to dwell on the details when she was stuck in a plane with him for the next eight hours. “I guess I always assumed that if vampires bit each other, it was just for, you know, siring someone.”
When he spoke again, his voice was oddly formal, and it made her more comfortable to hear his “professor voice” when he was discussing something so intimate. “There are two different kinds of bonds that vampires will form with each other. Siring and, to use an old term, mating. When a vampire is sired, their blood is drained and replaced—”
“Does it hurt?”
He shrugged. “Not unless the sire wishes it. Andros had the odd theory, based only on his own madness, that a child sired in anger or pain would become unstable, but I’ve never seen any reason to believe that.”
“So it didn’t hurt when you were turned?”
Giovanni smiled and stroked her cheek. “No, tesoro. I knew what was going to happen. I can’t say I was eager to drink blood, but I didn’t want to die. Andros drained me…I don’t remember much after that. I woke up the next night as an immortal. It was…an adjustment. I had to get used to my new senses and abilities, and I felt a very strong attachment to Andros.”
He drifted off, lost in his own thoughts, and Beatrice took a chance on his talkative mood to ask something that had bothered her for years. “You seem like you have such complicated feelings for Andros; when you talk about him, it’s almost like you love him.”
“I did love him.”
“But you bartered with Lorenzo to kill him.”
“Yes,” he said, and his eyes shuttered.
She rose onto her knees and straddled his lap on the couch, forcing him to look at her.
“I don’t understand.”
He began several times but paused before he could speak. Finally, he continued in a whisper, “He would have used me. He was already planning something. I don’t know exactly what. You see, he never counted on me controlling fire. Once he knew…I think the temptation to use me for his own ends was too great.”
She stroked his face and ran her fingers through his hair. He almost seemed like a large, fierce cat as he pushed into her palm and sought comfort in her touch.
“You had him killed so he wouldn’t use you.”
He nodded, but his eyes were still haunted. “I loved him, but whatever he was planning I wanted no part of. And I knew…I knew he would have been able to convince me.”
“You can’t feel guilty, Jacopo,” she said gently, using his childhood name. “He was crazy. He murdered your uncle. He held you captive for ten years.”
Giovanni nodded. “Yes, and without him doing all that, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. I would never have known Carwyn or Tenzin. No one would have been there to save Caspar. Benjamin would probably never have known a better life. So how can I hate him? His cruelty brought me to the people I love, Beatrice. What price can I put on that?”
She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, smoothing the lines he created with his frown. Beatrice pulled his face into the crook of her neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist. He held her for hours until she drifted to sleep.
Wicklow Mountains, Ireland
December 2009
They arrived by car at the small lodge tucked into the Wicklow Mountains a few hours after dusk the next night. There was a grouping of low, whitewashed houses around a central open courtyard, where small children ran and laughed. A large farmhouse spread out from the rear of the courtyard and a sheep dog sat by the doorway. She could see two human women walking across the garden, speaking and gesturing with their hands, as they corralled the children into the glowing houses.
“There are a lot of humans here,” she said quietly to Giovanni, who had grabbed their bags and began walking toward the large farmhouse.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Deirdre and Ioan are a poorly concealed secret in this area. The human population asks no questions, and the area is safe from almost all crime and poverty. The humans that live here are mostly connected to their children in some way.”
“They have a lot of kids?”
He nodded again. “They are a large clan. Probably the largest in Ireland. And very influential. Even the water vampire that controls Dublin defers to them on most matters if they desire.”
“So losing Ioan—”
“Is a very, very big deal, Beatrice.”
He did not knock but pushed open the door of the large house, only to be greeted by a familiar furry face as they walked in.
“Bran!” she cried and immediately reached out to pet the wolfhound who was nudging her hip in a persistent manner. He was older and obviously near the end of his life, but the large dog still wore a friendly smile.