A Fall of Water
Page 43
“I suppose you think you are quite safe because I was forced to take you in front of witnesses.”
He said nothing, but a small smile touched his lips.
“Your son changed my plans, but did not ruin them, you know. I will still kill you.”
Giovanni still said nothing. Livia smiled back at him and approached.
“You see, Giovanni, I will be very, very fair.” She reached up and ran a finger along his jaw. “I have spent two thousand years manipulating this city into thinking of me as its queen. I know exactly the words to use.” Her hand ran back and tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.
“There may be some objections, at first. You have plenty of your own allies and a very honorable reputation. But by the time I cut your head off and throw it in the river that flows under this castle, all will think of you as a murderer and a liar. A thief of one of the greatest collections of knowledge our world has ever seen. A greedy vampire who would keep the best interest of our kind for his own profit.”
He opened his mouth to speak and saw her pause, waiting for the words of protest to leave his lips. She was waiting for him to object or defend himself.
Giovanni asked, “How is my wife?”
The flash of fury confirmed that Beatrice was, as he suspected, quite safe from the she-demon in front of him. Giovanni’s smile grew.
“I have no interest in your common wife. She may be seen by some as extraordinary, but it is not evident to me. A human of questionable breeding with little to no grace? I’m still wondering what you see in her.”
The impassive expression blanketed his face again.
“Lorenzo has expressed an interest in using her as a plaything once our plans are complete. I’ll most likely give her to him. She won’t be any use to me.”
Still, he let no expression flicker over his face.
Livia forced his head down and whispered in his ear.
“Let this all be a misunderstanding, my darling boy. Show me your contrition and I will let you live.” He felt her fangs flick along his earlobe. Giovanni reached back to his earliest memories and emptied himself of all emotion, as he had under his father’s sword.
“I would bear you no ill will. I, of all people, understood his temperament. His particular foibles were my friends for a thousand years. Let me free you of him once and for all. Confess to me, my Giovanni.”
He closed his eyes and pulled away, opening them to meet her gaze. Finally, he spoke in a soft voice. “Livia?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know what my father called you?”
Her eyes frosted over. Livia stepped back and pulled the sword from the belt of one of her guards. She ran it into Giovanni’s gut, but he only smiled. Even as the blood spilled out, he smiled.
“He called you the Roman whore, Livia.”
She reached back and pulled the other guard’s sword from his waist. He felt it pierce higher, closer to his heart as she ran the thin blade between his ribs. As his father taught him, he did not even flinch.
“The Roman whore,” he said again, feeling the pull of the blades against his skin and muscle. “That is what your dear husband called you in the privacy of our home.”
“I will kill you, Giovanni di Spada.”
He smiled. “My name is Giovanni Vecchio, son of Niccolo Andros. Mate of Beatrice De Novo. And you will not kill me.”
“Dead man.”
“Whore.”
She raised her hand and slapped him before grabbing a blade from his body and ramming it in again. Giovanni smiled, but said nothing more. She turned on her heel and strode from the room. The silent guards walked over, drew their weapons from his body, and left behind her.
He heard the heavy clanks of metal as the unseen locks fell into place. Livia knew almost as well as his father how easily he could escape most places. As he looked around the room, Giovanni realized that she had constructed this dungeon with him in mind. He also noted it did not look new.
He reassessed his options. He would not underestimate Livia’s intelligence; he would not be able to escape on his own. Luckily, he was not alone. Carwyn was in Rome. Beatrice was stronger by the day. Tenzin would arrive soon, if she hadn’t already.
Giovanni tore off strips of cloth to stuff into the stab wounds. With no blood and no ability to manifest his fire, he knew he would heal slowly. He took a deep breath of the damp air, pictured his wife’s laughing face in his mind, and closed his eyes to wait.
Chapter Eleven
Residenza di Spada, Rome
June 2012
Beatrice was meditating to the strains of a Bach concerto when Tenzin came in her room. The wind vampire looked at Ben, stretched out at Beatrice’s feet, sleeping in the late afternoon. The boy had refused to leave his aunt, even when he needed to rest.
“Get up. Get dressed. We’re going to Livia’s castle.”
Hope flared in Beatrice’s eyes. “We’re going to get him?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. But she doesn’t know I’m here, and she needs to.”
“Why?”
The small vampire smiled. “Because I scare the shit out of Livia. I always have. She hates me.” Then the smile fell. “Plus, she has Lorenzo with her. I have a few things to say.”
Beatrice stood and looked over her wrinkled clothes. She was still wearing the loose shirt and leggings from the party. “What should I wear?”
“Whatever you want. Whatever you think she’ll hate. And bring your shuang gou. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to kill something.”
He said nothing, but a small smile touched his lips.
“Your son changed my plans, but did not ruin them, you know. I will still kill you.”
Giovanni still said nothing. Livia smiled back at him and approached.
“You see, Giovanni, I will be very, very fair.” She reached up and ran a finger along his jaw. “I have spent two thousand years manipulating this city into thinking of me as its queen. I know exactly the words to use.” Her hand ran back and tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.
“There may be some objections, at first. You have plenty of your own allies and a very honorable reputation. But by the time I cut your head off and throw it in the river that flows under this castle, all will think of you as a murderer and a liar. A thief of one of the greatest collections of knowledge our world has ever seen. A greedy vampire who would keep the best interest of our kind for his own profit.”
He opened his mouth to speak and saw her pause, waiting for the words of protest to leave his lips. She was waiting for him to object or defend himself.
Giovanni asked, “How is my wife?”
The flash of fury confirmed that Beatrice was, as he suspected, quite safe from the she-demon in front of him. Giovanni’s smile grew.
“I have no interest in your common wife. She may be seen by some as extraordinary, but it is not evident to me. A human of questionable breeding with little to no grace? I’m still wondering what you see in her.”
The impassive expression blanketed his face again.
“Lorenzo has expressed an interest in using her as a plaything once our plans are complete. I’ll most likely give her to him. She won’t be any use to me.”
Still, he let no expression flicker over his face.
Livia forced his head down and whispered in his ear.
“Let this all be a misunderstanding, my darling boy. Show me your contrition and I will let you live.” He felt her fangs flick along his earlobe. Giovanni reached back to his earliest memories and emptied himself of all emotion, as he had under his father’s sword.
“I would bear you no ill will. I, of all people, understood his temperament. His particular foibles were my friends for a thousand years. Let me free you of him once and for all. Confess to me, my Giovanni.”
He closed his eyes and pulled away, opening them to meet her gaze. Finally, he spoke in a soft voice. “Livia?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know what my father called you?”
Her eyes frosted over. Livia stepped back and pulled the sword from the belt of one of her guards. She ran it into Giovanni’s gut, but he only smiled. Even as the blood spilled out, he smiled.
“He called you the Roman whore, Livia.”
She reached back and pulled the other guard’s sword from his waist. He felt it pierce higher, closer to his heart as she ran the thin blade between his ribs. As his father taught him, he did not even flinch.
“The Roman whore,” he said again, feeling the pull of the blades against his skin and muscle. “That is what your dear husband called you in the privacy of our home.”
“I will kill you, Giovanni di Spada.”
He smiled. “My name is Giovanni Vecchio, son of Niccolo Andros. Mate of Beatrice De Novo. And you will not kill me.”
“Dead man.”
“Whore.”
She raised her hand and slapped him before grabbing a blade from his body and ramming it in again. Giovanni smiled, but said nothing more. She turned on her heel and strode from the room. The silent guards walked over, drew their weapons from his body, and left behind her.
He heard the heavy clanks of metal as the unseen locks fell into place. Livia knew almost as well as his father how easily he could escape most places. As he looked around the room, Giovanni realized that she had constructed this dungeon with him in mind. He also noted it did not look new.
He reassessed his options. He would not underestimate Livia’s intelligence; he would not be able to escape on his own. Luckily, he was not alone. Carwyn was in Rome. Beatrice was stronger by the day. Tenzin would arrive soon, if she hadn’t already.
Giovanni tore off strips of cloth to stuff into the stab wounds. With no blood and no ability to manifest his fire, he knew he would heal slowly. He took a deep breath of the damp air, pictured his wife’s laughing face in his mind, and closed his eyes to wait.
Chapter Eleven
Residenza di Spada, Rome
June 2012
Beatrice was meditating to the strains of a Bach concerto when Tenzin came in her room. The wind vampire looked at Ben, stretched out at Beatrice’s feet, sleeping in the late afternoon. The boy had refused to leave his aunt, even when he needed to rest.
“Get up. Get dressed. We’re going to Livia’s castle.”
Hope flared in Beatrice’s eyes. “We’re going to get him?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. But she doesn’t know I’m here, and she needs to.”
“Why?”
The small vampire smiled. “Because I scare the shit out of Livia. I always have. She hates me.” Then the smile fell. “Plus, she has Lorenzo with her. I have a few things to say.”
Beatrice stood and looked over her wrinkled clothes. She was still wearing the loose shirt and leggings from the party. “What should I wear?”
“Whatever you want. Whatever you think she’ll hate. And bring your shuang gou. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to kill something.”
