A Hidden Fire

Chapter Six

Houston, Texas

November 2003

Giovanni straightened when he heard the door to the kitchen open. He had stayed up to wait for Caspar’s return to the house after he delivered Beatrice to her first class of the morning.

He heard the older man moving through the house and lingering in the kitchen.

“Caspar!” he called from the shelter of the dim living room.

“Oh,” the older man called as he walked into the room. “I didn’t realize you would still be awake, I-”

“I’m exhausted. How was it?”

Caspar shrugged. “Fine, very little traffic this morning. We made it to the university with plenty of time before her first class. Parking on that campus is absolutely hideous first thing in the morning.”

“So?”

“She’s lovely, by the way. Surveillance photos never really do a woman justice. She has the most lovely skin, and that hair-”

“Caspar, you know what I’m asking, please don’t make me kill you.”

A frown settled onto Caspar’s face and he cleared his throat.

“She was a bit…discomfited. I suppose it’s understandable. She asked that I give you a message.”

Giovanni scowled. He’d thought she had taken the news better than most.

“What was the message?”

“‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you.’”

Giovanni looked down, his book suddenly forgotten. He closed it and set it carefully on the low coffee table before he stood.

“Thank you for driving her to campus. I’m retiring for the day.”

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard his friend mutter quietly, “Damn.”

He didn’t call her, but after two weeks and a curt phone call from Tenzin in China, Giovanni did go back to the reading room at the library to continue his transcription of the Tibetan book.

His eyes immediately sought her out when he entered the small, windowless room. She glanced up from the computer, paused, but then continued typing as he spread out his work materials at the table nearest her desk. He ignored her racing heart and neither one of them spoke. He saw her fill out the call slip herself and dart back to the stacks to grab the manuscript.

He jotted a quick note that he put on her desk before he sat down. He was careful not to examine her too closely when she returned, but smiled a little when he noticed she was wearing her combat boots with her slim black skirt.

“Thank you, Beatrice,” he murmured as she set down the grey box. She paused for a moment, as if she had something to say, but then he heard a small sigh.

“You’re welcome, Dr. Vecchio. Please let me know if there are any other library materials you need.”

He gritted his teeth when he heard her address him formally, but remained silent and began his careful work. He heard Beatrice sit down at her desk again and pick up the small note he had left near the keyboard. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and saw her fold the note and slip it in her bag. He hid a small smile and went back to writing.

For the next two weeks, they continued their near silent interaction, each week she brought him the document he requested, paused as if she wanted to tell him something, and then returned to her desk without speaking. Each week he worked on transcribing the ancient characters, took careful stock of her appearance and left afterward with scarcely a word exchanged with the stubborn girl.

He was trying to be patient, but he’d heard nothing about Stephen De Novo from Livia’s people in Rome and was beginning to feel as if the first lead he’d had in five years was dangling just out of his grasp.

It was a Friday night, and Giovanni was preparing to go out for the evening when he heard the buzz from the phone in the kitchen, signaling a car was at the gate. He frowned and walked quickly down the stairs just in time to hear Caspar hit the intercom.

“Yes?”

“It’s Beatrice De Novo.”

Caspar immediately buzzed her in before turning to look at Giovanni.

“It’s Friday. Will you be all right?”

Giovanni shrugged and walked upstairs to hang up his jacket. He paused to check his appearance in the mirror, wishing he wasn’t wearing black as it accentuated his pale skin, but also feeling a perverse pleasure that he had no need to hide his true nature any longer.

He’d never doubted she was trustworthy. Maybe it was her careful handling of the rare texts that contained so much elusive knowledge, or maybe it was the guarded expression in the girl’s dark eyes, but he knew Beatrice was someone who could keep secrets, including her own.

He walked downstairs to hear Caspar opening the door for her.

“Miss De Novo, what a pleasure to see you again.”

“Thanks, Caspar. How’ve you been?”

“Very well, thank you. I was able to catch that showing of Night of the Living Dead you told me about. It was wonderful.”

“Cool! Glad you saw it. I never got out to the theater. No one does zombies like Romero.”

Giovanni turned the corner and paused in the doorway of the kitchen.

She was wearing black, of course, but nothing about it made her seem inhuman. Her smooth skin practically pulsed with life, and his eyes were drawn to the graceful column of her neck. Her long hair was pulled back, and his fingers itched to release it from the band at the nape of her neck.

She saw him, and for the first time since the night in the elevator, she called him by his name.

“Hi, Gio.”

“Hello.”

Caspar interjected, “Beatrice, can I get you something to drink?”

She turned to the older man. “A Coke? Do you have…Coke?”

Giovanni chuckled. “Yes, we have Coke. Caspar’s quite fond of it.”

She blushed. “Just that, thanks.”

“And I’ll fix myself a drink in the living room, Caspar.” He looked at Beatrice. “If you’ll join me?”

She nodded and allowed him to usher her into the brightly lit living room, filled with comfortable furniture and a large flat screen television which hung on the wall.

“Oh, wow. That T.V. is huge,” Beatrice mused as she walked over to observe the large screen. “The picture’s probably really good, right?”

He chuckled. “Yes, Caspar couldn’t very well watch bad special effects from old horror movies on a small, low-resolution screen, could he?”

Beatrice glanced over her shoulder with a smile on her face. “Of course not.”

He just smiled at her, unexpectedly pleased to see her wander around his house and examine his belongings. He was tempted to show her his library but decided to wait and see why she had come to his home before he offered.

Caspar came in a few moments later as he was pouring himself a whiskey at the sideboard.

“Please let me know if there is anything else you need, Beatrice.”

“Call me B, Caspar. Only Mr. Formal over there insists on calling me Beatrice.” Giovanni grinned with his back to the room, more determined than ever to call her by her given name at every opportunity.

“Of course, B.”

“Thanks.”

Giovanni finished pouring his drink and turned back to face the room. Beatrice was sitting in one of the leather armchairs-the one he usually used-so he sat to her left on the sofa.

“Will there be anything else?”

He shook his head, and Caspar left them alone. Giovanni sat silently, sipping the whiskey Carwyn had brought him from Ireland the year before and waiting to see why she had come. He felt a small surge of triumph when she unfolded the note he’d left for her weeks ago and set it on her lap.

“So the job you mentioned, what kind of job is it?” she asked.

“A research position. Primarily computer work.”

“Why me?” she asked, her eyes still carrying a shade of suspicion as she looked at him.

So I can find out more about your father and his habits. So I have something to offer him in exchange when I do find him-which I will. Also, you smell like honeysuckle.

He blinked at the last thought but shrugged nonchalantly. “You have more than the necessary skill set. Most of the information I need to search for is online now. Obviously, you can imagine why that is problematic. Caspar can help, but he’s neither as technologically savvy as you are, nor does he have your background in information sciences.” He paused before he continued. “Though he does make an excellent cocktail, and that shouldn’t be overlooked.”

“Thank you!” he heard his friend call from the kitchen. Giovanni and Beatrice exchanged a smile before she remembered she was being suspicious. She frowned a little and asked another question.

“I’m sure there are plenty of people you could hire. Why me?”

He stared at her challenging expression before he set his drink down and leaned back into the plush couch. “Well, you seemed to have handled the whole ‘blood sucking demon of the night’ thing fairly well, so I thought I’d take a stab at not having to meddle with the brains of every assistant I use.”

Her expression was carefully blank as she absorbed his words. He leaned forward and sipped his drink, noticing her watching him carefully.

“Go ahead,” he offered quietly.

“What?”

“I can see a million questions swirling around that brain of yours. Just ask them.”

She squirmed in her seat. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

He sat back again and stretched a long arm along the back of the sofa. Though he was usually a secretive creature, he found himself curious what she would ask.

“Go ahead,” he murmured as he watched her examine him.

“You drink whiskey.”

“Yes.”

“So, do you eat? Do you need to?”

“I have to drink blood to survive. Human is the most nutritionally satisfying and tastes the best, of course-”

“Of course,” she interjected and he smirked.

“But I can also survive on animal blood if I need to, and many immortals choose to do that. They just have to feed more often.”

“How often?”

“Drinking human blood? About once a week.”

She perked up. “Oh, well that’s not so bad. Oh, unless-”

“No, I don’t have to ‘drain’ a blood donor, Beatrice. I don’t have to kill to survive.”

She paused, a small smile ghosting her lips. “Unlike us, who kill animals all the time.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to mention that if you weren’t.”

She met his eyes, a tentative warmth creeping into her expression. “So, you don’t need to, but you do eat a little.”

He leaned forward and took another sip of whiskey. “Our bodies are very…slow. Well, the processes are, anyway. My hair grows, just very slowly. My fingernails will as well. We digest normally, but again, very slowly. So I can eat and drink, but I don’t need to, though it becomes uncomfortable if I go too long without anything in my stomach.”

“So the coffee thing?”

He shrugged. “I really just like the way it smells. I think it tastes absolutely vile, though. I don’t know how you drink so much of it.”

She grinned, finally looking relaxed as she sat in his chair. “I like it. You drink blood. That smells and tastes vile, if you ask me.”

“Touché.”

“Thank you.”

She paused again before asking, “So, the wooden stake through the heart thing is apparently a myth, but you can be killed by fire. Anything else?”

“Should I be concerned that one of your first questions is how to kill me?”

Her jaw dropped. “What? No! I didn’t mean…I was just curious.”

He snorted. “Well, you can remain so.”

“What about the sun?” she asked. “Extra toasty?”

“I’m not going to burst into flames, but I avoid tanning beds.”

“Silver?”

“Some of my favorite cufflinks.”

“Garlic?”

“Please,” he sneered. “I’m Italian.”

She was wearing an almost adorable scowl as he ruined all of her movie stereotypes of his kind. He was usually bored by human reactions, but found himself enjoying hers. For his part, Giovanni hoped she would take the job as his research assistant. Besides the valuable connection she provided to her father, she was extremely bright, and he found it relaxing not to have to hide around her.

He could also monitor any other vampire who became aware of her. Houston’s immortal population was small, and most tended to mind their own business-which was why he had chosen the humid city in the south of Texas-but if he had discovered her, her father’s sire could, as well.

Beatrice was still sipping her drink and sneaking looks at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“So, if I take this job, where would you want to work? At the university?”

“No, here. I have top of the line equipment upstairs and extensive firewalls to keep my research private, along with numerous electronic editions of reference texts and a large library. I just can’t use any of the computers.”

“That has got to be frustrating.”

“Very. Because of my nature and affinity toward fire, I’m even less able to use modern technology than most vampires. It has become more and more complicated as the years go by.”

“Good thing you have Caspar.”

“Yes, it is. He’s very useful, despite the fact that he’s a horrible eavesdropper.”

“I heard that!” Caspar called from the kitchen. Giovanni cocked his eyebrow at Beatrice, who stifled a laugh.

“So, if I take this job-if I take it-what kind of hours are we talking about? And what do you actually do? Can I ask?”

He nodded and took another sip of whiskey as Caspar came into the living room to refill Beatrice’s drink and set a small plate of cheese and olives on the coffee table.

“Of course. I only work when I want to, so it would be part-time. Evenings, of course, but I’m flexible as to which ones. Fridays are not usually available. I don’t have to work, but immortality is dreadfully boring for the idle rich, so I try to keep myself occupied. I’m a hunter by nature, so I hunt rare documents and books for private clients, along with some antiquities. Collectibles, art, that sort of thing, though antiquities are not particularly interesting to me.”

“So, do you work mostly for other-other vampires?”

“Mostly yes, though not exclusively. I don’t advertise, and since clients find me through referral, I tend to take work from those who have worked with me in the past. Most of those people are immortal.”

She sat quietly, staring into her drink before she spoke again. “Wow.”

He frowned. “What? Why? Why ‘wow?’”

“You’re like a-a book detective. That’s really cool.”

He couldn’t suppress his smile. “I think so, yes.”

“And you want to pay me to help you find books and antiques?”

“That’s the idea.”

She paused for a moment, biting her lip before she asked, “Will you help me find my father?”

The blood began to rush in his veins and he smothered a low growl of satisfaction when he heard her. It was perfect. She wanted exactly the same thing he did, though probably for very different reasons.

“Yes,” he said with a smile he hoped didn’t show his extended fangs. “I’ll find him.”

Beatrice smiled. “Then I’ll take it, I don’t even care if you’re an asshole when you’re working. Besides, what you do is a book lover’s dream job.”

He shrugged. “Well, if you’re going to be pursuing a career for eternity, it might as well be something you enjoy.”

“I’ll say so.”

He tried to suppress the smile that wanted to take over his face. “So you agree to work for me? I confess, I’ve never had an assistant other than Caspar. I might very well be an asshole when I’m working.”

“You are!” Caspar shouted from the kitchen.

Beatrice laughed outright when she heard him, and Giovanni couldn’t help but join her. His mind began to race with thoughts of finding his books, and he couldn’t deny that the girl’s amusing presence was an added bonus.

He saw a grey streak dart down the stairs from the corner of his eye then Doyle was there, curling himself around Beatrice’s combat boots and looking longingly at Giovanni with copper colored eyes.

“Oh, hi. Hi, Cat.” Beatrice seemed more than a bit taken aback by the large feline investigating her. Doyle sniffed her boots for a few moments before he jumped on the couch next to Giovanni.

“You’re not getting any cheese from me, Doyle. I’m told it’s not good for you.”

“That is a very large cat.”

“He is.” Doyle chirped and shoved his head under Giovanni’s hand. Beatrice grinned at them both. “He’s very smart. But spoiled. That is Caspar’s doing, I’m afraid. He keeps trying to buy his love through extravagant meals.”

“It’s going to work one of these days,” Caspar muttered as he came in to lift Doyle from Giovanni’s lap. “Come now, Doyle. I have some lovely tuna for you in the kitchen.”

Caspar tucked the cat under his arm and walked back to the kitchen, winking at Beatrice as he left the room.

“So when can I see your library?” She was practically bouncing in her seat.

He smirked. “So forward, Beatrice. Just jump right in and ask to see a vampire’s library, why don’t you? Not even dinner first?”

Her mouth dropped open and she flushed bright red. “What? That’s not part of the job, is it?”

He could stop the laughter that burst out. “No! I was teasing you. I don’t expect-no, definitely not. That’s not part of-no. No.”

She curled her lip. “Well, now I’m almost offended. I can’t smell that bad.”

His gaze suddenly focused on her neck and the slight flush that lingered there. He felt the raw hunger in his throat, and he knew he had waited too long. He needed to feed. And soon.

“No,” he said hoarsely. The tender skin on her neck began to pulse slightly as her heart rate picked up. “You smell…”

She must have felt the energy that suddenly charged the room, because she stiffened in her chair, staring at him. He heard her heart race, and the scent of adrenaline began to perfume the air.

“Gio,” Caspar called as he walked briskly into the living room. “Do you and B need a refreshment on your drinks?” The older man came to stand between Giovanni and the girl, breaking his concentration and snapping him out of the sudden bloodlust that had taken him by surprise.

“No.” Giovanni cleared his throat. “Beatrice was just leaving.” He stood and went to offer Beatrice a hand as she rose from her chair. She eyed him cautiously, glancing between him and Caspar as she stood.

“I apologize. I do need to go out this evening. We’ll have to see the library another time,” he spoke quietly, hoping she couldn’t detect the fangs lengthening in his mouth as he approached.

From the way she stared at his lips, he suspected they were not as hidden as he hoped.

“Sure,” she said. “I need to get home, anyway. My grandmother is probably waiting up.”

“Of course.”

Caspar took Beatrice by the arm and walked her toward the kitchen door. She glanced over her shoulder, and Giovanni tried to temper his hungry stare as she walked away. From the sound of her heart, and the scent of her blood, he wasn’t very successful.

Still, she did not look away.

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring at the deliciously rich scent of her blood slowly dissipated in the air around him. He walked over to the chair where she sat, bending down to run his face along the back much as the cat had scented her legs earlier.

His eyes narrowed and his throat burned. He quickly walked upstairs to grab his coat before the hunger overtook him. Taking a deep breath as he stepped outside, feeling his skin burn as he wrestled down the instincts he had battled for five hundred years.

“Why is she here?”

“For you. My blood is gone from your system and you need sustenance.”

“I don’t want-”

“You will not drain her. That only exhibits a lack of control. Though you are young, you must never be without self-control, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Now feed.”

After he was sure his control was intact, he headed for the nightclubs which would already be packed on Friday night.

Brushing against the bouncer at the door to one of his favorite clubs, he quickly found a table only occupied by a few college boys. He held out his hand to introduce himself and, with a quick use of amnis, convinced them he was an acquaintance they had invited out for the evening. As the night progressed, college girls passed by drawn to his looks, but put off by his manner when he brushed them aside. Finally, he spotted a pair of women who appeared to be in their late twenties eyeing him from across the club.

He observed them for a few minutes, noting their provocative clothing and the body language indicating they were looking for sex. Abandoning his oblivious companions at the table, he approached the women, leaning down and trying to ignore the stale scent of fruit body wash and forget the smell of honeysuckle.

“Hi, I’m John,” he said with a flat American accent, holding out his hand to shake first one, then the other’s hand. Their minds were weak and would be easy to manipulate. And though the prospect of sex with the two women surprisingly distasteful to him that evening, he sensed both of them were in good health and would not suffer any ill effects when he took their blood. He could easily manipulate them into thinking they’d had a very enjoyable time.

The blonde batted her lashes. “You’re hot.”

He smiled and held out a hand to her before he leaned over and let his lips feather across the neck of the slightly less crass brunette. He inhaled her scent, ignoring the smell of cheap alcohol that tainted her blood.

He would drink deeply that night.