This Same Earth Page 14

  Deirdre’s blue eyes were wells of sorrow, as if she was staring into a grave.

  “I have shared his blood for four hundred years. What do you think?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dublin, Ireland

  January 2010

  Giovanni rang in the New Year watching a young water vampire twist into a smoldering pile of ash.

  “He’s created all these children,” Carwyn muttered. “Almost indiscriminately. But none of them know anything.”

  They were standing in a warehouse on the edge of the River Liffey that was thick with the scent of Ioan’s blood and Giovanni’s son, but other than faint brown smudges on the concrete floor, there was no sign of the missing doctor.

  Giovanni pulled on his shirt after killing Lorenzo’s useless minion. “Did you call Deirdre tonight?”

  Carwyn nodded as he watched Patrick Murphy’s people sweep the ashes out the open door of the warehouse.

  “Gentleman,” said the solemn vampire in the three-piece suit. “We’ve come to the end of my leads. This warehouse was the last of the information my people had gleaned. We’ll still keep our ears and eyes open, of course. The loss of Ioan—”

  “Has not been confirmed in any way,” Giovanni muttered, watching Carwyn pace at the other end of the warehouse.

  Murphy tugged at the black curls on his head, obviously nervous. “If there is any further assistance I can offer to either of you while you are here...”

  “It’s fine, Murphy,” he heard Carwyn spit out across the room. “I’ll expect your cooperation in the future, but if we’ve ended our leads here, I want to go back to my daughter.”

  Giovanni tried not to sigh in relief. Though he knew Beatrice was perfectly safe in Wicklow, he still felt uncomfortable being without her.

  “Boats,” Murphy said. “My best guess would be boats. Lorenzo is a water vampire, and he would have the resources to transport him by boat. This warehouse has river access, and we are not far from the port.”

  Giovanni nodded. “We’ll keep you informed.”

  “Please do. And safe travels to you both.”

  They drove Ioan’s old car back to Wicklow, having located it near a church where he’d been running a clinic the night he disappeared. As they swerved through the hedgerows and over the bumpy roads on their way to the lodge, he could feel the weight of Carwyn’s worry as if it was another passenger in the car.

  “I think he is dead.”

  “You don’t know that, Father. And Deirdre would have sensed it.”

  “She might not. Not if he was taken far away and never touched the ground.”

  “Carwyn—”

  “What if he is in water? Or unable to touch the earth? Oh, my son,” he whispered, gripping the wheel. “My Ioan. I don’t want to contemplate this life without my boy.”

  Giovanni clenched his jaw, willing the road to smooth before them.

  He saw Beatrice in the front garden, practicing her tai chi forms in the dark. He nodded toward the silent guard Deirdre must have assigned to her; the young vampire nodded back before disappearing into the night. Giovanni crept toward her, not wanting to disturb her silent meditation, and watched her for a few moments in the moonlight.

  She was beautiful. And so much stronger than he ever could have anticipated. Though Beatrice was still weaker than him physically, it was the strength of her mind and her determination that impressed him. She was no longer afraid to stand up to him, their argument before leaving Texas a prime example. He loved her all the more for it.

  A mischievous smile crossed his lips, and he snuck up behind her. Before he could anticipate it, she stepped back, shoved her hip into his groin, and threw him off balance. Beatrice reached around, grabbing his waist and sweeping her leg through one of his as she flipped him onto his back and landed on his chest.

  He blinked, looking up at her with a shocked face before he roared in laughter.

  “Oh,” she said with a snicker. “It’s you.”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Don’t sneak up on me, vampire.”

  He was still laughing when he brushed away the lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes. “That was marvelous.”

  “I try.”

  “I’ll be expecting it next time, so you better watch out.”

  A twinkle came to her eye. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do—”

  She broke off when he reared up and jerked her neck to the side. His fangs were bared and he let them scrape lightly across the skin of her neck before he licked up to her ear.

  “Just remember, never pin a vampire face-to-face.” He rolled them over so she was lying under him, and she looked up with hungry eyes. “Unless you want this to happen.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she choked out.

  He bent his head down and brushed a kiss across her flushed lips.

  “It’s been on my mind for a while now.”

  He helped her up and they walked arm in arm back to the farmhouse. Giovanni was filling her in on what had transpired in Dublin when a blood-curdling scream rent the air.

  Giovanni halted, a feeling of dread washing over him. He picked Beatrice up and rushed back to the house, setting her near the young guard as he sped toward the back garden. He felt the force of Deirdre’s amnis slam into him as she wailed in Carwyn’s arms. Giovanni almost fell to his knees, but he felt Beatrice come behind him and grab his hand. He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair as he rocked her back and forth.

  “He’s dead,” Beatrice whispered, holding him close. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  Giovanni nodded. Nothing but the grief of losing half of yourself could tear a person in two the way that Deirdre Mac Cuille had been. Her screams were hardly that of a woman; they more closely resembled the death keen of the mythical banshee. She tore at her hair while Carwyn shouted, “Where, Deirdre? Where?” over and over again. She was unintelligible, gnashing her teeth and rocking back and forth as she dug her hands into the earth.

  Finally, she shoved her father away, tore off her clothes, and stretched herself upon the ground. Giovanni felt the sudden jolt and sigh as the earth opened up and swallowed her whole.

  Before dawn, letters were sent and calls made. Though Deirdre had not yet reappeared, some of their clan had already arrived, emerging from the valley confused and angry. Deirdre and Ioan’s children converged on their parent’s home as the scent of their father’s blood travelled through the earth from which he had drawn his power.

  Giovanni took refuge from his grief in the small stone room under the mountain. He pulled Beatrice with him, and the two retreated from the overwhelming sorrow of Ioan and Deirdre’s family. Carwyn was surrounded by his children’s children, both comforting and being comforted by his kin.

  He held Beatrice for the rest of the night, and she lay with him, quietly stroking his hair the way she knew he loved, old wounds overtaken by the ache of new loss. He fell into his day rest next to her and when he woke she remained, staring at him with her deep brown eyes.

  “There are so many vampires here.”

  He nodded. “Deirdre and Ioan sired or fostered many children over the years. They would take in anyone that needed a home unless they were dangerous. All their children had children, and so forth. Their clan numbers in the hundreds, probably.”

  Giovanni knew it had only begun. Soon, the trickle of friends and allies would become a flood as Ioan and Deirdre’s people returned to the quiet mountain their parents had called home.

  “Why did they all come? I mean, what do vampires do when…”

  “When Deirdre returns and the family is gathered, Carwyn will say a funeral mass.”

  “I can’t—” Beatrice choked and wiped at her eyes. “How will he be able to do that?”

  Giovanni took a deep breath and hugged her closer. “It’s the last thing he can do for his son.”

  He could feel her tears wet on her cheeks as she lay her head on his arm.

  “Tel
l me about him.”

  He pulled her closer. She had been handling herself extremely well, considering how recently and dramatically her world had changed. For the past week and a half, she had been surrounded by humans and vampires she didn’t know, and he had left her alone for much of the time, consumed by the need to search for his friend.

  “Ioan was kind. Intelligent. Wise, tesoro. He had a kind of wisdom about life and family I could only hope to gain.” He noticed the lines of stress that creased her brow. “Beatrice, there will be many vampires here and not all of them will be Carwyn’s people. Some of the water vampires who run Dublin will be here, as well as others from around the country. They do not have the same attitude toward humans that we do, so make sure you stay close to me. It will be...somewhat overwhelming. It could be dangerous if tempers run high.”

  “Since I don’t want to be a beverage during the vampire version of an Irish wake, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He tried to stifle a chuckle, but couldn’t.

  “Sorry.” She closed her eyes in embarrassment. “Too crass?”

  He shook his head and leaned over, brushing a soft kiss across her temple. “I was just thinking how Ioan would have laughed at that. Having married an Irishwoman, jokes about his adopted homeland were some of his favorites. No one loves a joke like a Welshman.”

  “Will she survive?” she whispered. “Deirdre? How do you recover from something like that?”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. “You learn to deal with loss the longer you live. I have lost many people I cared for.”

  “But not like him. Not even you expected Ioan could die. I could tell. You all thought you’d be able to get him back somehow.”

  He frowned, thinking about her words, and realized she was right.

  “Yes,” he finally said. “It is difficult to think that someone so powerful could be cut down.”

  “This is Lorenzo, isn’t it? He did this. Or someone he hired.”

  He pushed back the useless well of guilt. “It has to be. First he attacked someone important to you, then the child he knew would pain Carwyn the most.”

  “Is he—I don’t know the right term—herding us? We were spread out before and now Carwyn, you, and I are together. If he wanted to attack us—”

  “He won’t be that direct, I don’t think. He’s not strong enough. He’s going after the people we care about to distract us and throw me off balance.”

  “Should we warn Tenzin?”

  He snorted. “Tenzin has four beings she cares for enough that Lorenzo might target them. Three are in this house, and the other is more protected than you could imagine. Don’t worry about Tenzin. Lorenzo should be the one worried. Tenzin was...fond of Ioan.”

  He broke off, overwhelmed as grief ambushed him again. He gripped Beatrice against his chest, more afraid of loss than he had been in hundreds of years. If he could have allowed himself to weep, he would have at that moment. “I should call Caspar and check in, make sure everything is all right,” he said hoarsely.

  “I called my grandma a few hours ago,” she said. “They’re fine. In the mountains and hidden. Ben isn’t causing any problems.”

  He relaxed a little. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to do everything yourself, you know.”

  He smiled ruefully. “I’m not used to asking for help.”

  “Well...” She faltered a little before she continued in a quiet voice, “Get used to it.”

  He wanted to see her eyes in that moment, when her heart was racing and her face was flushed, but she was turned away, so he simply kissed the top of her head.

  “Beatrice—”

  Suddenly the air churned with the scent of power, and Giovanni turned toward the flurry of activity in the hall. He leapt up and opened the door. Beatrice peered out from underneath his cautious arm.

  “Deirdre, wait!” Carwyn shouted in the corridor.

  The scent of blood and dirt hit his nose as he saw Deirdre stride toward them, carrying what was left of Ioan’s body wrapped in a dusty sheet. She walked down the narrow hall, still naked and covered with earth as she headed toward the chamber she had shared with her husband for over two hundred years.

  She paused briefly and her eyes glanced over his shoulder where Beatrice stood behind him in the small stone room. The widow’s eyes searched his out, and he shuddered at the utter desolation.

  So quiet even he could barely hear her, Deirdre breathed out, “Are you sure?” Then she turned the corner, and he heard a door slam shut. Soon afterward, Carwyn walked down the hall and Giovanni could hear him enter the room. Then the low keening wail started again, and he pressed the door closed.

  Four days later, the majority of Ioan’s clan, his friends, and those who had known him had gathered on the small mountain. Carwyn and his daughter emerged the night after she brought Ioan’s body home, the priest carrying the small wooden box of earth that contained all that was left of the nine-hundred-year-old vampire he had sired.

  The mood on the mountain was cautious and confused. Ioan had been known not only as a powerful and ancient earth vampire, but as a scholar and a humanitarian. The idea of any immortal targeting him was seen by most of his friends and allies as supremely wasteful and far from shrewd, considering his alliances.

  The moon was almost full, and the night was crisp and clear when Carwyn returned the remains of his last blood relative to the earth. Giovanni stood silently, grieving as his friend spoke the ancient rite over his child, and all those gathered felt the surge of energy as the clan reached down and touched the mountain together as the earth he had loved became Ioan’s final resting place.

  The following night, the clan of Ioan ap Carywn and Deirdre Mac Cuille gathered on the hilltop to grieve, as Carwyn and Giovanni met in the library of the main house with Deirdre and Beatrice to talk about what steps they needed to take. Deirdre had found Ioan’s beheaded remains on the bank of the Liffey River, dumped by whoever had killed him.

  “Murphy still has his people looking in the city and the port, and my people are scouring the coast of Wales to make sure they didn’t escape in that direction,” Carwyn said.

  “The humans whose memories were tampered with were here,” Giovanni pointed to a location on the map of Dublin spread out before them. “But the warehouse is here. Now that warehouse backs up to the port, so it’s also likely that Murphy is right, and whoever did this is already out of our reach for right now. Beatrice?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is it possible for you to search online to see what ships were in the port the night Ioan died and where they went?”

  “Absolutely.” She nodded. “I just need an internet connection.”

  “Good, you do that and I’ll give you the number of Murphy’s day people so you can contact them if you run into any problems. He’s offered the use of any of his resources—”

  “Damn right he has,” Carwyn muttered, obviously still unhappy with the water vampire who controlled the city where his son had been killed.

  “—to catch whoever took Ioan.”

  “We know who took him,” Deirdre said with a sigh. “We know who it is, Gio. Why are you wasting time?”

  Giovanni’s shoulders tensed when he heard her hollow voice; he braced himself for her recrimination, but her empty gaze was fixated on a canvas she had painted of Ioan, which hung on the wall near the small fireplace in the corner of the library. He looked at the painting, which had captured his friend’s lively smile and the wicked humor he had inherited from his father.

  “Deirdre—”

  “I’ll not be leaving the mountain, Gio. Not right now. There is too much to do and too many defenses to shore up. Our people need me here, so I’ll depend on you and Father to kill him for me.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  “Though I’d rip his heart out of his body and feed it to the dogs,” Deirdre said in a low voice, “just to rip it out again when it grew back.”

  The intense gui
lt from his son’s actions almost threatened to overwhelm him, but Giovanni stood, stoically meeting Deirdre’s vicious gaze.

  “Kill him, Giovanni di Spada. I will not have you take his sin on your shoulders, but I do expect you to rid the world of this monster.”

  “I will,” he whispered, as he fixed her burning blue eyes in his mind.

  “I demand it of you.”

  “The right is yours, Deirdre, and I will honor it.”

  “For me, for Ioan, and for your woman as well.”

  He saw Beatrice’s lip twitch minutely when Deirdre called her “his woman” and the grieving widow must have seen it as well, because she turned to Beatrice.

  “Do I offend your modern sensibilities, Beatrice De Novo, to call you ‘his woman?’”

  An embarrassed flush rose in Beatrice’s cheeks, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Deirdre continued, scorn dripping from her words.

  “This immortal,” she said, pointing to Giovanni, “who has never claimed a human woman in five hundred years, is not worthy of calling you ‘his?’ This vampire who wields the fiercest of elements with iron control is the one you dismiss?”

  “Deirdre,” Giovanni cautioned, but she brushed him aside with a careless wave.

  “You foolish girl!” she bit out. “Why do you hesitate?”

  “I know you’re grieving,” Beatrice said as she glared at Deirdre, “but our lives are none—”

  “Do you think you have forever?” Deirdre finally choked and blood tinged tears rolled down her face. “Not even we had forever. And I only seek to live now that I may care for my people, otherwise I would join my husband in the grave.”

  “Daughter, that’s enough,” Carwyn murmured as he walked across to gather her up and hold her as she shook with silent sobs.

  Giovanni watched Beatrice from across the room, noting her pale face as she watched Deirdre’s grief. The fear in her eyes matched that which slashed at his own heart, and he fought back a wave of hot panic at the thought of being parted from her.