Matt broke in. “How many of those companies are owned by vampires?”
Carwyn walked toward him. “We knew that Lorenzo was supported by someone with far more money and power than just Zhongli Quan. We guessed that it was someone in Europe because of the vampires Lorenzo brought to the monastery. You have to consider it, my friend.”
“It’s... possible.” Giovanni nodded. “It’s possible that Livia might be behind it all.”
Chapter Seven
Residenza di Spada
Rome, Italy
May 2012
“Ah… ahahaha!” Beatrice stood and danced around the library. “I did it. I did it,” she chanted, wishing Ben or Dez were there to witness her triumph.
Through a combination of plastic bags, keyboard covers, and rubber kitchen gloves, Beatrice had finally managed to type on the computer without starting a fire or shorting it out. She was dancing around the library and singing “We Are the Champions” at the top of her lungs when she heard a commotion in the hall.
“You know, you forget that I don’t sleep as soundly as your husband, and my room is right down the hall,” Carwyn muttered as he stumbled in the library and collapsed on the sofa. “Why am I awake?”
“Because I...” She continued to strut, a smile plastered on her face, as she sat down and hugged him. “Figured out how to work the computer by myself.”
“Well, aren’t you the big girl?”
“Cranky, cranky.”
Carwyn glanced at the clock on the mantle, draped his arm across the back of the sofa, and gave Beatrice a squeeze. “It’s twelve o’clock in the afternoon. Of course I’m cranky. But congratulations anyway.”
Beatrice couldn’t stop grinning, and she leaned into her friend’s shoulder as he sat at her side, blinking. As silly as it may have seemed to Carwyn, being able to use a computer again felt like a huge victory.
“I should wake your husband up, just for spite. I’ll pound on the door. Threaten to harm his piano. Flush his first-edition Gatsby. Something horrible like that.”
She snickered. “Don’t. And don’t even think about the Gatsby. He hasn’t been resting well lately.”
“Hmph,” he said and pinched her neck. “Been drinking too much daywalker.”
He took a deep breath and relaxed, drifting in a hazy state as she leaned against him. Beatrice knew that, at over a thousand years old, Carwyn would often wake during the day, but unlike Tenzin or her father, he was groggy and slow. Still, it was nice to not be alone like she usually was.
“Carwyn?”
“Hmm?”
“How did your meeting go last night?”
“With the cardinal?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“It was fine. About how I expected.”
“Were you in trouble or anything?”
He said, “Not exactly. I’m the second oldest priest in the church. They don’t really reprimand me anymore. They leave me to myself.”
“Second oldest?”
Carwyn simply cocked an eyebrow before he closed his eyes again.
“Are there a lot of immortal priests?”
“There are a few. It’s not unheard of. The church has known about vampires for hundreds of years. Perhaps longer.”
Beatrice really didn’t know what to think of that, except that it wasn’t as surprising as it should have been. “But everything’s okay?”
He squeezed her shoulders again and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “Everything’s fine, darling girl. Or it will be soon. Why is your man not resting well?”
“Dreams. He's been dreaming.”
“Ah.”
“He won’t talk about it, though.”
“Gio’s always been a quiet one about things like that.”
“I think he loves it and hates it here.”
Carwyn chuckled. “I think you know him very well.”
“I think I feel the same way.”
“Well, you’re both ahead of me. I just hate it.”
“So why were you so eager to come here?”
He gave her a side-eye and clammed up again.
Interesting.
“Come with us to this crazy party she’s throwing next week.”
Carwyn groaned. “Oh, don’t use the pitiful voice on me, B.”
“Please.” She hugged his waist. “Please. Everyone is so...”
“What?”
“Fake.”
Carwyn let out a snort.
“And weird.”
“You always have been a perceptive girl.”
“And they all look at me like I’m some sort of cross between a celebrity and a sideshow freak. I don’t care. I really don’t, but it’d be nice to have someone to talk to while Gio has to play the dutiful... whatever.”
“Son? Ward? Strange and inappropriate escort for his stepmother?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Carwyn groaned again, but Beatrice knew she was wearing him down. “Please. Come with us. You can help me make sense of all the players in this crazy game.”
“I’ll tell you now. Who do you want to know about?”
“Nice subject change.”
“I thought so.” He sniffed and sat up, rubbing his eyes a little.
Beatrice searched her mind. “Emil Conti.”
“Not a bad sort for a Roman. Far better than Livia. He’s a Republican, of the ancient Roman variety, and a fairly solid businessman. He’s got diverse interests. Lots of shipping, since he’s a water vamp. Most of his business is run out of Genoa, and he has ties with Jean Demarais, but like most aristocrats, he farms out most of the day-to-day and stays here to dabble in politics.”