Night's Reckoning Page 3

“Could be he wants to know what I’m doing for Filomena.”

  “That’s also possible.”

  Ben wouldn’t tell. He was charming enough to avoid giving answers he didn’t want to give, and protecting privacy was one of his hard-and-fast rules. Unless someone gave him a reason to spill secrets, he was a vault.

  “Fabi, I’m gonna hang up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Don’t forget I need to hear your voice tonight.”

  “I won’t forget.” He ended the call and closed his eyes as the train pulled out of the station.

  A normal person might think Fabia was being overprotective, but all her requests were standard safety protocol when living in the vampire world. Call when you finish the meet. Call when you’re locked in safe for the night. Daylight was for moving. Nighttime was for caution.

  Of course, most humans never had to worry about any of that. Most humans knew nothing about the shadow governments, immortal politics, and twisted economy of the vampire world. They didn’t know that thousand-year-old immortals walked among them when the sun went down. They didn’t know that world events were often subtly shifted depending on the whim of an earth vampire in Greece or an immortal council outside Beijing.

  There was no reason they should know. The majority of vampires didn’t kill to drink blood. Killing was inconvenient and, frankly, a waste of natural resources. All but the most sociopathic of them drank from unwitting humans or cooperative ones they employed for that specific purpose.

  Vampires couldn’t exist without humans. Not for sustenance and not for business. Ben was evidence of that. He’d been adopted by a vampire when he was only twelve years old, and he’d been under Giovanni Vecchio’s protection and working for and with him ever since.

  Did Giovanni love Ben? Yes.

  Did Giovanni also expect Ben to send emails for him when he couldn’t figure out how to work the voice-controlled computer in his office? Also yes.

  Then again, most kids had to deal with parents who didn’t understand technology, so Ben couldn’t complain too much. Of course, human parents wouldn’t fry electronics if they got too close to them, but that was mostly a fire vampire problem.

  The train to Naples took nearly three hours, so Ben took a nap in the afternoon sun beaming through the window and woke a little before seven feeling refreshed. He patted his face with cool water in the bathroom and took stock of his injuries.

  It wasn’t the worst he’d ever looked, but it was close. Most of the time when he had cuts or open wounds, Tenzin would heal them with some of her blood. Humans couldn’t ingest vampire blood unless they were nearly exsanguinated and on the edge of death. But vampire blood could heal open wounds. It could hide bite marks and help bruising along.

  He dabbed a little concealer over the worst of the marks and let his dark hair fall over his swollen eye. His olive skin had grown darker since he’d been in Italy. He’d been spending as much time in the sun as he could, partly for safety and partly to remind himself he was human.

  Human. Not vampire.

  He stared in the mirror, the eyes staring back at him bloodshot from the violence they’d seen.

  Persian eyes. Tenzin had told him once that he had Persian eyes. He didn’t even know what that meant.

  Ben had dark brown eyes rimmed with thick lashes. Regular brown eyes. Olive skin. Dark curly hair. His blood was an even mix of Lebanese and Puerto Rican, which meant when he was in Italy, he blended in just fine. He blended in through most of Europe, the Middle East, and both Americas. Ben liked blending in. It made work much easier.

  He walked back to his seat and gathered his belongings just as the train came to a stop. Most of the compartment was filled with tourists from all over the world. American. African. Asian.

  A group of college-aged girls from China rushed past him, their happy chatter informing him they were excited about seeing Pompeii. Ben smiled and kept walking. He’d never seen Pompeii, but he’d met people who were alive when Vesuvius erupted. That had to count for something.

  He walked outside Napoli Centrale and looked for a cab. He had less than three hours before he met with Filomena, and he still had some research to do.

  3

  Filomena, vampire governor of Naples, met Ben at a small restaurant near the waterfront on the Bay of Naples. It was hidden down an alley near the Castel dell’Ovo and specialized in a particular kind of fried fish that Ben loved.

  Since Filomena was governor partly because of actions spurred by Ben and Tenzin several years before, Ben felt safe with her even if Fabia worried.

  She was sipping a tall glass of prosecco when Ben arrived. He bent down, kissed both her cheeks with his cracked lips, and sat across from her.

  Filomena’s eyes went wide. “How many were there?”

  “Six and a vampire.”

  She pursed her lips. “In that case, you’re looking good.”

  “Thanks.” He paused while the waiter set down a glass of prosecco and a small tray of crostini. “You’re looking gorgeous. Of course, you always look gorgeous.”

  She glanced down at her pale blue blouse and silk scarf. “Thank you.”

  It was the absolute truth without a hint of flattery. While most vampires tended to have above-average looks—immortal creatures of the night did like pretty things—Filomena was a true beauty. She’d been turned in her late thirties if Ben had to guess. She was tall for her age and had long wavy hair the color of dark caramel. Her features were dramatic, and her cheekbones looked as if they’d been carved from marble.

  She’d propositioned Ben more than once. He’d always been tempted, but he’d never given in. Sex with vampires was complicated. Sex with political vampires? Even more so.

  “So?” She waited for him.

  Ben picked up a menu. “Do you mind if I order? I skipped lunch because I had to transfer in Florence.”

  “So you were in Tuscany?”

  Ben waved over the server, who’d been hovering just out of earshot. “Have you tried the pasta with sea urchins? How is that?”

  Filomena spoke directly to the waiter. “Tell il mostro that this man is my guest and he’s hungry. He eats everything—make him something I would like.”

  The server nodded. “Very well.” Then he took the menu from Ben’s hands with a slightly apologetic smile. “Signore.”

  “Sure,” Ben said. “What she said.” He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs, and crossed his ankles. “Il mostro?”

  “The chef is a monster, but he’s a talented one. This is where I come when I want to eat human food.” She sipped her wine. “So, you were in the north?”

  “I was in Genoa.”

  “The smugglers are in Genoa. That makes sense.”

  “But his headquarters aren’t there.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Where then?”

  Ben paused. “They obviously have an office of some kind in Genoa, but the headquarters of the operation is in a little town called Finale Ligure. It’s west of Genoa in Savona, about halfway to France.”

  “I know that place.” Filomena narrowed her eyes. “Why would their headquarters be in such a place? That’s a seaside resort. It’s for tourists.”

  “Probably because he’s an earth vampire and he’s from there.” Ben opened his tablet and flipped it over so she could see the grainy picture Ben had found. “Piero Caviglia. Or at least that’s my best guess about who Piero is. I asked around with some trusted sources. He’s loosely under Emil Conti’s aegis, but only very loosely. He was more connected to Conti’s wife. After she died, he worked with Jean Desmarais for a time, but of course—”

  “Poor Piero,” Filomena said. “His benefactors seem to have a habit of dying.”

  Jean Desmarais had been killed rather famously for working with the old Athenian court, who were trying to addict vampires to an Elixir that eventually killed them. The old Athenian court had been wiped out by the resurgence of four ancient vampires on a small island called Alitea, and anyone connect
ed to Elixir was eliminated. If this Piero had survived, he must have kept his nose relatively clean.

  “He’s an opportunist,” Ben said. “Works in Liguria and the south of France. I don’t think any of his missteps in Naples have been intentionally aggressive toward you. I think he’s looking for work and he’s stepping on toes. It might be deliberate, or your ships might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you approach him right, he’d be likely to make amends and it could be beneficial to you.”

  Her eyes cut to him. “Why do I need a clumsy immortal from Savona?”

  “He’s connected loosely to Rome, and more importantly, he’s in the north.” Ben shrugged. “I’m just saying that you’re very powerful, very influential here. But your reach only extends so far.”

  Filomena’s eyes were guarded. “I have no desire to rule Italy.”

  Liar.

  “Who said anything about ruling?” Ben put on his shocked face. “I know how deeply Naples and Rome are bound together. Sister cities, if anything.”

  Filomena’s eyes danced with unspoken ambition. “Exactly.”

  “I’m only speaking of business,” Ben said. “Building a business alliance with someone from the north could be beneficial to you both.”

  “Hmmm.” She crossed her legs, drawing Ben’s eyes to one of her best features. “Do you have a report for me?”

  He handed over a folder. “Of course.”

  “I’ll look it over. You might be right.”

  “It happens occasionally.”

  “More than occasionally. I’ll make sure your fee is transferred in the morning.” She tapped the edge of her empty glass and the server was at her side, filling the glass to the brim. “Nice work, Ben.”

  “Thanks, Nena.”

  She smiled at the old nickname. “It’s been a couple of years since you called me that.”

  “Has it been?”

  She leaned forward, rested her arm on the table, and stroked a thumb over the corner of his unswollen eye. “I see it now.”

  He captured her hand and dropped a kiss on her wrist. “See what?”

  “The man you’ll be. Are you so determined to leave us, gigio?”

  He smiled. “Do you know how many times I’ve answered this question?”

  “Maybe that means you should rethink your answer.”

  “Nena—”

  “You could stay here if you wanted. Human or vampire. You’re always welcome in Naples, Benjamin. I could use a man with your skills and your confidence.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “You scaring your employees again?”

  She shrugged. “Half of them are mice. Useful mice, but still. I need people I can trust. People who will tell me I’m taking the wrong step. If you worked for me—if you were sharing my bed—I would trust you.”

  “Do you want an employee or a lover?”

  She frowned. “Why should I have to choose?”

  Ben laughed and knit her fingers with his. “The food here takes a long time.”

  “It does. I wanted you to myself for a while.” She squeezed his fingers. “Have you heard from her?”

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. “I can’t say.”

  “You won’t say.”

  He rubbed his hand over the scars on his neck. “It’s complicated.”

  “Of course it is. For you. Is it complicated for her?”

  His smile was rueful. “That’s an excellent question.”

  “I am not being harsh. I am acknowledging her years.”

  Ben knew Filomena wasn’t criticizing. She would never judge Tenzin. From what Ben could tell, Filomena wanted to be Tenzin when she grew up.

  “You mean am I really all that important to someone who’s been around for…” Tenzin’s age was a secret, and Ben wasn’t going to change that. “… for as long as Tenzin has lived? I can’t tell you that. We’re partners. We’re taking a break right now for our own reasons, and I don’t make a habit of predicting the future. Or talking out of turn.”

  “Understood.” She smiled. “But you’re not free to take other jobs?”

  “I took a job for you, didn’t I?”

  “I’d hire you on a far more permanent basis, Benjamin. Just keep that in mind as you bounce around the world.” She leaned forward. “As long as I’m the governor of Naples, you will always be welcome here.”

  “Thank you. I don’t take that lightly.”

  “And you are sure you don’t want to come work for me?” She ran the point of her shoe up the back of his leg. “I can promise a very generous benefits package.”

  Ben smiled as he looked at the curve of her leg. “I have no doubt.”

  “Don’t say no,” she said. “Say ‘Not now, Nena.’”

  “Okay.” He looked up slowly. “Not now, Nena.”

  She nodded. “Fine.”

  His food finally came, a small mountain of delicate pasta heaped with seafood of all kinds. Fish, shrimp, clams, and calamari. “Grazie.” He pushed the bowl toward the center of the table. “You’re going to help me eat this, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.” She picked up her fork and spoon. “Are you hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “Then I’ll have the chef make you a dessert as well. After all, I still owe you one.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Don’t be careless.” She met his eyes. “I don’t offer favors lightly.”

  “Good. Neither do I.”

  Ben arrived in Rome before noon the next day. He caught a taxi to the Pantheon and walked a few blocks to Residenza di Spada, his uncle’s home in the city. He turned his key in the massive door that faced the road, only to have the latch click and the door swing in, revealing Fabia behind it.

  “You didn’t call me!” She was dressed in a summer dress and sandals. It might have been fall, but it was still warm for most of the day. “I told you last night I’d pick you up.”

  He slung an arm around her shoulders. “I didn’t want to ride on the back of your scooter from Termini.”

  “I can drive, you know. There’s a car here.”

  He shrugged. “Easier to take a cab. I’m fine.”

  “You’re injured.” She turned his chin to the side. “I cannot believe you haven’t been to see the doctor.”

  “It’s better than it was.”

  “Which makes it even more horrific that you didn’t go. Dr. Mariano is coming this afternoon.”

  He groaned. “Seriously, Fabi, all I want is a nap.”

  “So take a nap. And then Dr. Mariano will check you out and I won’t be as much of a pest. Also, Chloe has been trying to call.”

  He checked his watch. “I’ll call her tonight.”

  “Also…” She ushered him into the kitchen and nudged him toward a kitchen chair. “There is more mail.”

  He cut his eyes toward the counter where she stacked the mail. “What is it?”

  “Chloe forwarded some things from New York. And…” She glanced over her shoulder. “There’s another one.”

  Another envelope from China.

  His expression hardened. “Just put it in the drawer.”

  “I’m not putting it in the drawer, Ben.” She grabbed two glasses from the cupboard. “That is formal correspondence delivered by courier. It screams ‘Dangerous Vampires Wrote This—Don’t Ignore!’ Don’t you think you ought to—”

  “I’ll open them when I feel like it,” Ben said.

  She filled both glasses with water. “It’s been six months.”

  “And she hasn’t called me once. She hasn’t sent me a message.” Ben walked over and grabbed the manila envelope with the New York return address. The thick linen envelope with a wax seal went in the drawer with the others. “This is not from her.”

  Fabia waved at the counter. “You don’t think those letters are from Tenzin?”

  “I think they’re formal communication from the Eight Immortals on Penglai Island. Which is not a letter fr
om Tenzin.”

  “Isn’t her sire one of the Eight Immortals?”

  Ben sat back at the counter and opened the envelope from Chloe. “Yes.”

  Fabia put a glass of water in front of him along with two pills. “Take these. You’re splitting hairs. She might be trying to communicate through her father.”

  “Why would she need to do that?” He threw the pills in his mouth, letting the bitterness dissolve on his tongue for a second before he swallowed the water. “Tenzin has my phone number. My email. My address here and in New York. She knows how to reach me if she wants to.”

  “Maybe…” Fabia shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “And I do. The reason she’d communicate formally through her father—whom she does not get along with, by the way—would be to create a formal obligation instead of a personal one.” He started sorting through the envelopes Chloe had forwarded. “She wants me to pay attention to her, but she doesn’t want to apologize for running away. I know how she works. I’m not falling for it.”

  Fabi watched him, gathering envelopes as he tore through his mail. It was a mix of personal and professional. A few letters from Cormac, the vampire in charge of New York. One from his uncle with updated pictures of Sadia, his new sister whom Giovanni and Beatrice had adopted the year before. He handed the picture to Fabia, who stuck it on the refrigerator next to all the other pictures of the little girl.

  “She’s getting so big,” Fabia said.

  “I know.” There were charity solicitations he’d have to sort through. A gallery opening for a friend. “I need to get to LA soon.”

  “Christmas, maybe?”

  “They’ll probably come here.”

  Ben sorted the mail from his life in New York and tried not to think about how many of the letters he wished he could ask Tenzin about. He wanted to show her the pictures of Sadia. He wanted to take her to the gallery opening. Did she want to donate to the New York Restoration Project? Probably. He had no idea.

  “What happened between you two?” Fabia asked for the hundredth time.

  “I was honest. She wasn’t,” he muttered. “I’m not apologizing for being honest, and I’m not going to come running because she summons me. If she wants to call me or write me, she knows where I am.”