Dawn Caravan: Elemental Legacy Book Four (Elemental Legacy Novels 4) Page 4

  His words only made Sadia laugh harder. And for the first time in a long time, all was right in Ben Vecchio’s world.

  4

  The De Novo-Vecchio predawn family celebration lasted until exactly dawn, when Ben abruptly fell into a deep vampire sleep. When he woke the next night, it was to a smell that was more welcome than the sweetest, freshest, most delectably pure blood in the world.

  He sat up in the dark closet and inhaled deeply.

  Dried chiles. Cumin. Corn. Sweet heaven and all the angels.

  “Mexican food.”

  Ben nearly tripped over the bedsheets he stood so quickly.

  Throwing on clothes and glancing at the clock, he realized that jet leg wasn’t really going to be a thing anymore. Young vampires woke when the sun went down and knocked out when it rose. A few quirky ones like Beatrice and Tenzin woke during the day. And his uncle woke a little bit since he and Beatrice exchanged blood.

  You exchanged blood with Tenzin.

  He shoved that inconvenient voice to the back of his brain. It had only been once. Just the one time, and it would not be happening again.

  When he left the room he’d used since he was twelve years old, he was met by the cacophony of voices that was normal in a busy family home.

  “Mama, I want juice.”

  “Is that the way you ask?”

  “Princesa, here is some juice. Zain, give the baby—”

  “Grandma, she has to ask politely. And she is not a baby. If you give in—”

  “Thank you, Zain!”

  “You are welcome, Miss Sadia.” A deep male voice echoed down the hall. “Miss Isadora, what are you wanting to drink tonight?”

  “A juice sounds good to me too.”

  Good Lord, had chatter in the house always been that loud to Giovanni and Beatrice? No wonder they’d tried to kick him outside so often. Though the voices were coming from the kitchen, Ben heard them like they were in the same room.

  He walked through the familiar halls of his childhood, taking everything in with new eyes. Had he ever noticed the stunning swirls of blue in that ceramic vase? There were so many cracks in that oil painting! It nearly ruined it. No wonder Tenzin didn’t have much use for stealing oils.

  Ben walked down the hallway and stood in the kitchen doorway, crossing his arms and waiting for someone to notice him. Beatrice’s eyes flew up to meet his, but he put a finger over his lips. Shhhh. She smiled and played along.

  Sitting at the kitchen table like a queen before her court was Isadora De Novo, Beatrice’s grandmother and Caspar’s wife. She was overseeing the construction of enchiladas in a glass pan on the table while a dark-skinned man, his locks tied back with a bandanna, moved between the kitchen and the table, a neat apron wrapped around his waist.

  “Now, no one needs to be eating any more snacks before dinner.” The man handed a glass to Isadora. “Miss Izzie, I’m looking at you.”

  Sadia spotted him. “Ben!”

  “Benjamin?” Isadora’s smile was wide and wonderful. “You’re home.” She said it with such relief Ben nearly started crying.

  “Hi, Isadora.”

  Sadia raced over and climbed into his arms. “How’s your room? Do you like your new closet?”

  “Very much.” Ben looked over at the recent addition to the household. “You must be Zain.” With Sadia in one arm, he walked over and held his hand toward the young man. “Ben Vecchio. Really nice to meet you.”

  The corner of the man’s mouth lifted as he shook Ben’s outstretched hand. “Trust me, I’ve heard all about you. Welcome home.” He moved to the stove. “Dinner should be ready in a half hour or so. I’m making chicken mole. Isadora’s recipe.”

  “That sounds amazing. I haven’t had Mexican food in like two years.”

  Zain smiled. “That’s just wrong. We’ll make fish tacos tomorrow.”

  “I like you already.” Ben looked down as Sadia patted his cheek. “What’s up, gremlin?”

  “Zain drives me to school in the morning sometimes.”

  “You told me he’s a very good driver.”

  “And when he fights with Dema, he moves superfast!” She made punching motions with her arms. “You should see him. His muscles are really big.”

  “Oh yeah?” He glanced at Zain, who was smiling and stirring the mole.

  Superfast, huh? Ben bet Dema loved that. The minute he’d clapped eyes on the man, Ben had pegged him for far more than a driver. The way he moved had the same efficiency that Dema had, the same efficiency Ben had cultivated when he’d been human.

  “Are you from LA?” Ben sidled over to the counter.

  Zain looked up. “Houston originally. I’ve been here for about six years now. My mother worked for Caspar and Gio back in the day.”

  “When I heard he’d moved to Los Angeles, I ruthlessly stole him from Ernesto.” A cultured voice spoke in a posh British accent from the door. “One of my finer negotiations, if I do say so.”

  Ben turned to see Caspar walking in from the breezeway. “Caspar.”

  “Of course, the hardest part was convincing Zain to move away from the beach.”

  Ben walked over, memories rushing like a waterfall.

  “Come here and let me look at you.” The old man was using a cane these days, and his shoulders were significantly stooped. But his voice and his eyes were strong.

  Walking behind him came Ben’s uncle, Giovanni Vecchio.

  “Baba!” Sadia wiggled down and ran to her father to be picked up, carefully swerving around Caspar as Ben walked to meet him.

  Caspar had been Giovanni’s child once. Then his ward, his driver, his day person. His security and confidant. His friend. And one of the few people in the world Ben had trusted almost immediately, not that he’d made it easy on Caspar when he’d been a punk twelve-year-old convinced everyone was out to get him.

  “I missed you.” Ben stood in front of Caspar and the old man looked up. Once, Ben had been the one looking up.

  Caspar clapped him on the shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. “It’s a fine thing.”

  Is it? Ben said nothing.

  The old man patted his cheek as if he’d been reading Ben’s mind. “A fine thing,” he said slowly. “In the end you’ll see.”

  “I really missed you.” Ben put his arm around Caspar’s shoulders and guided him toward the kitchen table.

  Beatrice rose and took the glass pan of enchiladas to the kitchen, sliding them in the oven as Giovanni moved to her and greeted her with a kiss. “Can I help?”

  “Oh, please don’t.” Beatrice smiled. “We’d like dinner to be edible for Ben’s first night home.”

  Sadia leaned on Giovanni’s shoulder. “Baba made me macaroni and cheese last night.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes,” Giovanni said pertly. “I did.”

  “Was it from a box?” Beatrice asked.

  “Yes. A blue box. And it was this big” —Sadia held out her hands— “and I ate the whole thing.”

  Ben sat next to Isadora and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

  “It’s about time you said hello to me,” she said. “Turning into an immortal better not have ruined your manners.”

  “I promise it hasn’t. But it has spoiled my appetite.”

  Isadora dearly loved cooking gigantic meals for Ben when he was growing up. He ate like a horse, and Isadora delighted in feeding him.

  “Then I will only say that it is a very good thing that Zain moved in.” Isadora clasped his hand in her fine fingers. “I’m teaching him all my recipes, and he eats like a grown man and not a vampire.”

  “Good.” Ben smiled. “What have you been painting?”

  “Tenzin sent us a lovely picture of your birds, so I’m painting a watercolor for Sadia’s room since she likes them so much.”

  Ben knew Isadora knew the whole story. He lowered his voice. “Why does everyone keep referring to them as my birds?”

  Isadora smiled slowly. “Because they are.”r />
  Hours later, with dinner dishes clean and small girls tucked into bed, Ben, Beatrice, and Giovanni sat in the family library, drinking scotch and talking about work.

  Of course, it wasn’t the main Vecchio library. That was in Perugia and contained a treasure trove of classical manuscripts and alchemical literature by humans and vampire scholars.

  And it wasn’t the Alvarez New World library that Beatrice had recently been consulting for. That would be a similar collection of historical literature and accounts from North, Central, and South America sponsored by Beatrice’s many-times-great-grandfather, Don Ernesto Alvarez.

  No, it was just their small family library that took up nearly the entire second floor of the mansion in San Marino.

  What could he say? Ben came from a family of book nerds. Giovanni Vecchio might have once been a feared assassin, a fire vampire of ancient lineage and remarkable power, and Beatrice might have been renowned for her wits and political acumen at vampire courts all over the world, but in the end?

  Giant, giant book nerds.

  Giovanni was examining the three letters from Radu, the Romanian vampire who wanted to hire Ben. “You do realize he thinks he’s getting both you and Tenzin, don’t you?”

  Ben bristled. “I realize that, but I’m hoping that with a little of your help, I can do the job myself and not need her.”

  Giovanni raised an eyebrow but didn’t lift his eyes from the letters. “I did a little research on this icon when the job first came up. I confess, it’s more interesting than most of the antiquities you and Tenzin go after.”

  He had to stop reacting to her name. It was everywhere, and he wasn’t going to stop people from using it. She was too integrated into his family. “You’re telling me Radu’s icon is more interesting than a ninth-century sword preserved perfectly in blown glass, sitting at the bottom of the ocean for a thousand years?”

  Beatrice let out a longing sigh. “I really need to see this thing.”

  Ben turned to her. “It’s incredible. Seriously. Incredible.”

  “The icon” —Giovanni tried to steer them back on course— “is a rare one. I will give Radu that. But Russian icons—normally speaking—would not fetch the kind of money he’s offering, which tells me that this job is more about sentiment than profit.”

  “Good.” Ben paged through the file Beatrice slid across the table. “He won’t quit paying until I find it.”

  “Not good,” Giovanni said. “That means he won’t be rational about it if you don’t. It’s personal. And from my initial research, there’s a reason no one has been able to find it in a couple hundred years.”

  “Look.” Beatrice nodded toward the closest library wall where a screen was slowly lowering. “I taught him to use PowerPoint presentations.”

  Ben frowned. “Did you give him a laser pointer?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then may God have mercy on us all.”

  “Do not let Radu fool you.” Giovanni continued, completely ignoring them both. “This job is far from the ordinary smash and grab you and Tenzin enjoy.”

  Ben looked at his aunt. “He’s trying to use slang again.”

  “I know,” Beatrice whispered. “Just let him. He thinks it makes him more relatable.”

  Giovanni switched on the projector with a long stylus that wouldn’t short out the machine. “The icon Radu wants is the oldest known depiction of Saint Sara-la-Kali.”

  “Not familiar with her.”

  “She’s not well known outside of a few rather insular communities. Sara’s story goes back to the legend of the Three Marys in Southern France. Sara was supposedly their servant but a saint in her own right as well. This icon Radu is looking for was a double-sided icon.” He tapped the stylus on his tablet, and a picture came up of a gold-laden icon of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. “On one side, an Eleusa-type icon of the Madonna, supposedly painted by Saint Luke the Evangelist. This isn’t the one on your icon. It’s a picture of something similar painted in the same style, also purportedly by Saint Luke.”

  “Wait, the Saint Luke? The one from the Bible?”

  “The exact one.” Giovanni tapped the stylus and another image popped up. “And on the other side—added far later, you’d have to suppose—was an icon of Saint Sara. This is a painting of the icon included in an art inventory dating back to the eighteenth century, but as you can see, the depiction is very detailed.”

  Ben leaned forward to examine the painting. The woman’s skin was a dark reddish brown, and her hair was depicted in tight black curls clipped close to her head. She was beautiful and had the large, peaceful eyes of many Orthodox icons. But there was something familiar about her features…

  “I’ve seen this before.”

  “I very much doubt that,” Giovanni said. “The last time anyone saw the icon of Saint Sara-la-Kali was in Budapest in 1835.” He flipped to the next slide, showing a picture of a gold-robed man draped in a red sash. “Before it was taken from the treasury of this man, Francis the Second, the last Holy Roman Emperor and later King of Hungary and Bohemia.”

  Ben leaned back and crossed his arms. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t seen this exact icon.”

  5

  “I think you should take the plane.” Giovanni sipped a glass of golden scotch in front of the fire. “I know you can fly now, but the plane is faster. Plus it gives you a safe haven and a quick exit should anything become complicated.”

  The idea of flying around in his uncle’s plane irked Ben, and he didn’t understand why. He’d been touchy ever since he arrived home. It didn’t make sense. Ben felt like a teenager again, overreacting to everything. Offended by the slightest suggestion he wasn’t doing things right.

  They were sitting in the library, having a drink and talking about life and work. It was a thing they had done a hundred—maybe a thousand—times before. And yet Ben couldn’t relax. He felt uneasy. Constantly on edge.

  He rubbed a hand over his beard and glanced at his uncle. “I know what you’re saying is right, but—”

  “But you don’t want to.” Giovanni smiled a little. “Because the plane is an extension of my territory.”

  Oh. Ben blinked. “Is that… Is that what’s going on?”

  Giovanni turned toward him. “I’ve tried to hide my reaction, but I’m not immune to it either.”

  Ben stood and paced in front of the fire. “So I’m going to be on edge in my childhood home from now on? That’s not okay, Gio. I don’t consider you a threat.” Ben turned to him. “At all. Ever.”

  Giovanni stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “Be calm.”

  Ben saw the flames in the fireplace whipping back and forth wildly. He took a deep breath.

  “I don’t consider you a threat. I never would. These are our instincts, Benjamin. You are not human anymore. You were turned very recently by an enormously powerful and ancient vampire. Very few vampires can even imagine the changes your body and mind are going through right now, simply because of the power in your sire’s blood. My amnis reacts because it knows you’re a dangerous predator, and you’re in proximity to my mate and my child.”

  Ben swallowed hard and had to fight back tears. Another overreaction. “Should I leave?”

  “Of course not.” Giovanni pulled him into a hug. “You’re not the first powerful vampire who’s ever been in the house. Think about Carwyn or Tenzin. It’s just the newness. Sadia and Beatrice have been around Kato, Ben. He’s far more threatening than you are.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Nothing.” Giovanni pulled away and rubbed Ben’s hair like he’d done when Ben barely came up to his shoulder. “We do nothing. Like so many things in this life, we acknowledge the feeling and we give it time. It’s going to be rough for a while, but this feeling will pass. Our amnis will recognize each other as family, and we’ll be easy with each other again.”

  Ben swallowed hard. “I am fighting the urge to punch you right now.”

  “Completely understandable.” Gi
ovanni released him. “Tenzin and I were uneasy around each other for decades. Of course, I was initially hired to kill her, so that didn’t help.”

  The sound of her name made Ben flinch.

  “Another instinctive reaction,” Giovanni said quietly. “But a very human one.”

  “She betrayed me.”

  “I know that’s how you feel.”

  Ben ignored the surreptitious response. “Do you talk to her?”

  “I do.”

  Ben’s eyes rose. “Does Beatrice?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “In all ways but blood, she is your mother, Benjamin. She is angry on your behalf.”

  “She and Tenzin were family once.” Part of him was satisfied and another part mourned. “I don’t want… I don’t know what I want.”

  Giovanni looked to the fire. “You can love someone and still be angry with them.”

  “Are you angry with her?”

  His uncle said nothing.

  Ben felt his fangs lengthen. He willed them back. “Are you?”

  Giovanni put a hand over his heart and turned toward him. His eyes were full of pain. “Did you see Caspar at dinner? Did you sense it?”

  “What does Caspar have to do—?”

  “He has everything to do with you and your anger toward her. With me and my anger. Because I am watching him die, Ben. And even though he has had a good and long life—the life he wanted—I will lose…” Giovanni cleared his throat. “I will lose a part of my soul when Caspar is gone.”

  Ben fought back his emotions. “But he made a choice and you respected that. I didn’t—”

  “No.” Giovanni shook his head. “I know you didn’t. But how can I remain angry with her, Benjamin? How can I resent her for saving my son’s life?”

  “She knew.” His fangs fell and he didn’t try to stop them. “She knew how I felt. I made her promise so many times—”

  “I couldn’t have watched you die.” The words rushed out of Giovanni’s mouth in a quiet torrent. He clutched the hand over his heart into a fist. “Is that what you want to hear? Or need to hear? God forgive me, but I couldn’t have watched you die when I knew I could save you. Would you have forgiven me?”