“Yes, she does!”
He glared at Tenzin. “No, she doesn’t.”
“She really does.”
“Stop.” Beatrice held out a hand. “Don’t fight. I’m just… It’s silly. I just realized I won’t be able to use my computer anymore.”
Tenzin rolled her eyes. “Is that all?”
“Yeah,” she frowned and felt her father reach over to squeeze her arm. “That’s all.”
For a moment, the unexpected grief welled up again. She felt childish to feel grief about something that seemed so inconsequential, but it wasn’t. Then she remembered the feeling of helplessness she’d had again when she woke the night before, weak and shivering from another attack. She thought about her conversation with Nima in the garden and about the flicker of grief she saw in Giovanni’s eyes every time he looked at Casper.
She didn’t want to be vulnerable. She didn’t want to leave Giovanni.
She was ready.
“I’m ready.”
Beatrice looked up and realized they were waiting for her. Her father stood and pulled her into a fierce embrace.
“I love you, kiddo. It’s going to be fine.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Dad. This is the best thing. Right? I mean, you’re my dad.”
“Yeah,” he smiled, and his eyes crinkled just like she remembered as a child, “I’m your dad.”
She whispered, “And you always will be.”
“Yep.”
“Sentimental De Novos,” she heard Tenzin call. “The very angry, territorial fire-vampire will be waking up very soon. If we want this to happen, we need to do it now.”
Beatrice nodded and went to sit on the grouping of low cushions in the corner of the room. Stephen sat across from her, and Tenzin sat to her left and pulled her hair to the side. She gave her a full, fangy grin. Beatrice cocked her head at an angle.
“Okay, drink up.”
“I have to say, you do smell delicious. I kind of get why he wants to keep you.”
Beatrice frowned. “Tenzin, please don’t make me feel any more like dinner than I already do.”
Her friend laughed long and hard. Finally, Beatrice did too. Then Tenzin reached over and stroked Beatrice’s hair back from her face, and the soft look she occasionally allowed herself peeked through.
“It will be all right. Relax.” Beatrice could feel the amnis start to creep across her skin as she stared at Tenzin. Her father held her hand and she allowed the soft brush of her friend’s influence in her mind. She closed her eyes and listened to the hypnotic voice.
“Meditate. Just like we practiced. Calm. Let yourself relax.”
She drifted, focusing on a picture of Giovanni she held in her mind. It was the single-minded look he gave her sometimes. When he was angry. When he made love to her. When he killed for her. It was the look that told her she was the center of his world.
“I am your balance in this life,” she whispered to him, even though he was not there. “In every life.”
Her eyes flew open when she felt Tenzin’s fangs strike.
Beatrice could feel her body jerk once at the attack before Tenzin’s influence drifted over her limbs and caused her to fall still. She could still feel her father holding her hand, and her senses were on alert, but she couldn’t speak, nor could she move.
She was paralyzed. Cut off from reaction to the fierce attack her mind fought against, but her body was powerless to stop. Tenzin’s bite wasn’t painful, but her vicious, curled fangs buried themselves in her artery and Beatrice felt her heart race at the unwelcome intrusion. It was as if her body had been forced into a whirlwind, and she knew there was no escape. The blood rushed to her head as she felt the hard draw of Tenzin’s mouth at her neck.
Drums beat in her mind. It was nothing like the soft, drugging bites that Giovanni took. It was hard. Violent, no matter how Tenzin tried to reassure her. Her mind began to scream ‘No’ as she felt the life drain out of her.
It wasn’t quick.
‘There are an average of ten pints of blood in the human body,’ she heard the echo of her high school biology teacher in her mind as her thoughts scattered.
Ten pints.
Twenty cups.
How long it would take to drink that much water?
But blood was thicker than water.
Or whiskey.
How long had he known he would sire her?
Did he know?
Who knew?
Was that why?
Her heart pounded. A ringing grew in her ears.
Her mind began to flash, and the lights danced across the room.
A sunrise.
Her grandparents slow dancing in the living room.
Her father reading her a bedtime story in a purple-painted room.
Hiding in a tree to read A Little Princess.
Sunset on Galveston Bay.
The pictures flashed like an old film reel.
Her father. Webs in the living room. Grandma’s swollen eyes. Hands twisted in rage. A knife at her leg. His pale face in the streetlamp. Grasping hands.
Books lined the walls of her mind, all falling open to different pages.
“There’s a position open at the library.”
A pair of vivid green eyes.
“What’s your real name?”
The taste of whiskey filled her mouth.
“That was for me.”
A thundering silence washed over her.
She heard nothing but his voice.
Her heart.
His voice.
“My name is Jacopo.”