Night's Reckoning Page 5

  Cheng looked up, his eyes alight with enjoyment. “Currents. Storms. All sorts of reasons it could have ended up there.”

  Tenzin tried to act interested, but she was bored. Bored in China. Bored with this treasure hunt. Just… bored.

  Bored without him.

  She told the voices inside her to be quiet. “If so many people have been looking for this shipwreck for so long, why is it just now turning up?”

  “Because it’s a big ocean.” Cheng straightened and put his hands on his hips. “And even water vampires like me are not her master. If the ocean wants to keep a secret, it does.”

  He was a beautiful man. His black hair was longer than Tenzin’s now. It brushed his shoulders and fell in his eyes when he was distracted. He was dressed in what Tenzin thought of as his house clothes, loose fisherman’s pants and a tunic that fell to his hips. He looked like a pirate, which made sense because he was one. Or he had been.

  Cheng had a luxurious office building of his own in the Pudong district of Shanghai that housed the majority of his operations, but he didn’t live there. He lived on a converted barge that floated off the coast.

  While technically the council of the Eight Immortals where her sire sat ruled all of China, in Shanghai, Cheng was king. Any immortal looking to do business in the city or use its port had to get permission and pay a hefty toll to operate in Cheng’s territory.

  It was a situation the elders in Penglai had allowed to happen, even if they weren’t thrilled with Cheng’s power. He gave them lip service when they required it and they received a healthy share of his profits. In return, they left him alone. Mostly.

  Cheng was in his element, grabbing this map and that chart, extolling the modern capabilities of the university research vessel he’d secured to allow them to search for the wreck of the Qamar Jadid.

  You should care more.

  The ship they were looking for had carried the Laylat al Hisab. The Night’s Reckoning was a legendary sword. Tenzin loved swords. Finding it meant her sire would pay her an exorbitant amount of gold. This job involved gold and sharp things. She should have been thrilled to take it.

  She wasn’t.

  Cheng was excited. “The optimal search window will open in three weeks after the last threat of storms has passed. I know you’re waiting for your partner—”

  “We need him.”

  “You want him, Cricket.” Cheng crossed his arms. “We don’t need him.”

  Tenzin lay back on the chaise next to the table. There were silk pillows against her back. The lounge was covered in rich leather.

  She thought about the spare alcove in the loft apartment she shared with Ben. The two settings couldn’t be more different.

  “We need him.” She leveled her eyes at Cheng. “Don’t you trust me?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Just exactly as much as you trust me.”

  Translation: a little bit and only within reason.

  Cheng could always make her smile. They hadn’t been lovers in years, but Tenzin would always carry affection for him. Long ago, he’d helped her feel desire again, shown her the male body could be an object of pleasure, not punishment. He was well built; his musculature was defined from his human years working on the sea. He could be a brutal captain when he needed to be. He could also be a playful lover and a loyal friend.

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” she said. “But I expect you to trust me.”

  He walked to her and leaned over, bracing his arms around her shoulders. “Tell me why you wait.”

  “Because I have the time.” She put her hand on his smooth cheek. “You are so young.”

  “Far older than him.”

  “I suppose so. But you and Benjamin share the same hunger. The same ambition.”

  Cheng glanced down at her. She wasn’t wearing anything that would attract attention. Black leggings. A grey tunic. Still, when Cheng looked at her, she felt exposed.

  “I have no doubt your human and I share some hungers. The difference is, I am well practiced at sating hunger while he is a petulant child who pouts when a banquet is laid before him.”

  She shrugged. “He’ll answer the letters when he’s ready.”

  “And we’re expected to wait until he does?” Cheng eased onto the chaise next to her. “I don’t wait for humans.”

  “I wait for this human, and—if you want my help on this job—you wait for me.”

  He picked up a strand of her hair. “I do wait for you. I wait for you to consider my offer.”

  She looked away. “I have considered it.”

  “No, you haven’t. Nothing in this life is permanent, Cricket. All I am asking is for you to try it. Try us. Consider what we could be together. Try us for a century or two. If we don’t suit each other, then we part as friends, as we’ve always been.”

  Tenzin looked at the old-fashioned European wall clock mounted to the wall in Cheng’s floating palace. In many ways, they were perfectly suited to each other. He expected loyalty, but not any human folly like love. He saw Tenzin for what she was. And what she wasn’t.

  He doesn’t see all of you.

  “I can’t consider anything until this job is over.” Tenzin pushed him away and stood. “We still need two more people. Our kind, not human.”

  “I have a couple of ideas about that. I’m waiting to hear back.”

  “Good.” She walked toward the door. “I’m flying home for the night.”

  “Your room is ready here.”

  “I don’t want it.” She looked over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  He said nothing, standing with one arm braced on the library table and the other fisted at his hip.

  She nodded toward his shoulder. “You should have a parrot.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “To complete the pirate look.” She pointed her chin at his shoulder. “A parrot for your shoulder.”

  He frowned. “I don’t care for birds.”

  “Your loss.” She left him in the study, walking up the stairs and onto the deck where she took to the air without another word.

  He was crouched down in the courtyard, staring at the delicate creatures.

  “You brought home birds. In a cage?”

  “I know you don’t like—”

  “Caging birds destroys their nature, Benjamin.”

  “I understand that, but—”

  “Birds in cages cannot fly. It is in a bird’s nature to fly.”

  Tenzin flew until she reached the silent house in a water village west of Shanghai. She didn’t visit often, but when she did, her sire inevitably showed up.

  She saw Zhang sitting in the courtyard, feeding the koi that swam in the channels running through the house.

  Tenzin landed and continued walking past him, holding up a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “Give me a few moments.”

  Zhang Guo, eldest of the Eight Immortals, wind vampire of impossible power and sire of a single, deadly immortal child, shrugged his shoulders and continued feeding fish. “Fine.”

  The house was more like a compound. The front house and rooms were taken by Jinpa, the human woman who kept the house. She and her granddaughters lived in the front rooms. Tenzin walked across the courtyard and over a bridge, passing the gate that marked her private rooms. She opened the door and paused inside.

  Moonlight shone through the alabaster windows high on the walls. Finely carved screens separated the two formal rooms that never received visitors. She walked through them and into her private library. In front of her, dim light shone through the four massive doors that had been a gift from her father. They were carved with two mythical figures entwined with each other, eternal and powerful.

  The dragon and the phoenix.

  “I told you I’d hurt you if you broke into my room.”

  “If we’re comparing the situations, I’m not in your bedroom. And you’re not naked. Are you going to take the knife away from my carotid now?”

  “Your
pulse isn’t even elevated. That’s rather extraordinary for a human.”

  “What can I say? I have interesting friends.”

  Tenzin stared at the screen until she felt her temper even out. She couldn’t understand what she was feeling. For the past few months, she’d been repeatedly drawn into her memories, which annoyed her. She was a creature of action. She moved forward, not back. Memories of Benjamin were not welcome.

  Do not waste your regret on the past.

  She walked out of the house, across the courtyard, and into the kitchen. “My father and I would like tea.”

  Jinpa’s granddaughter nodded. “Of course, Tenzin. I will boil the water now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tenzin walked out of the kitchen and into the courtyard, taking a seat across from her father, who had placed a table in front of him and was setting out the wooden pieces for a very old game called they called abachee that was a little like human chess.

  She picked up a piece. “Where did you get this set?”

  “I carved it,” Zhang said. “I thought you could keep it at your house.”

  His hands were smooth and strong. He might be an ancient, but he’d been turned in his prime. He was a handsome man with a noble forehead and long black hair, a full beard and mustache. His eyes were unlined, and his skin unwrinkled.

  Tenzin hated that she looked like him, but unmistakable shared ancestry marked both their faces. Zhang had come from the same human clan Tenzin had. The girl she’d once been shared blood with the creature who had murdered her. And Tenzin’s sire was the only one left who spoke the language of her dreams.

  When she had dreamed.

  “The light pieces are pear wood.” Zhang held them up to the lamplight as Jinpa’s granddaughter set down a tray of tea on the small table her sister had set out. “I like the finish.”

  “They’re beautiful.” Tenzin set out the darker pieces he handed her, placing the soldiers and swordsmen before the archers, horsemen, and the sun and moon pieces. “And this wood?”

  “Zitan.”

  Tenzin looked up. It was the hardest and heaviest of woods. In some eras, zitan had traded for the same price as gold. “You honor me with this gift.”

  “You honor me by being my daughter,” Zhang said. “Have you made any progress on the recovery?”

  “The plans are coming along. Cheng says the best search window will be in three weeks’ time.” Tenzin glanced up.

  Zhang answered her unspoken question. “I have not received a response to any of my letters.”

  Tenzin huffed out a breath. “I’m calling Giovanni.”

  “I ask that you do not.”

  “If you don’t want me to call Giovanni, then I will write him.”

  “Or you could write to the human directly.”

  “No. Ben is being childish not answering your letters. That’s not rudeness to me, that’s rudeness to you. And the council. He should know better.”

  Zhang shrugged and made the first move on the board, as was his right as the eldest player. “He’s human. And since when do you care about rudeness to the council?”

  She ignored the question. “Ben is living in the immortal world. He knows more about protocol than most newly turned vampires.” She moved her own piece in response to his.

  “Since when do you care about protocol?”

  “Since I want to use it to my advantage.”

  Zhang smiled. “At least you’re honest.”

  It was amusing he thought she was honest. Tenzin and Zhang played in silence for three more moves, and Zhang took Tenzin’s soldier.

  “I want to meet this man,” her sire said.

  “Why?”

  “You know why. Did you play at being naive with him? Maybe that is why he’s angry with you.”

  “I am not going to talk to you about this.” Tenzin imperiled a swordsman but did not take it.

  “I respect his uncle.” Zhang’s tenth hand came, which meant that he could make two moves. He quickly stole one of Tenzin’s archers and imperiled another. “How will you answer that?”

  Tenzin stared at the board. Then she used her two moves to escape the trap he’d set and shore up the position of her most valuable piece, the sun god.

  Zhang chuckled. “You’re going to lose.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re playing defensively.” He moved a horseman, the most flexible piece on the board, and imperiled her moon god. “You can’t win in this game or this life by playing defensively.”

  “Maybe not win…” Tenzin stole a soldier from under his nose and rescued her moon god. “…but you might survive longer than your opponent.”

  “Survival is winning.” Zhang moved his horseman again, this time nearly stealing her sun god. “Winning is survival. I want to meet this Benjamin.”

  “And yet you don’t want me to write Giovanni.”

  “No, I do not.” Zhang looked up. “Not when you can write to the man directly. Do not play defensively if you want to win, daughter.”

  Tenzin moved her moon god into position, blocking his swordsman and sitting at the feet of his sun piece. In two moves, she could win the board.

  Zhang sat back, staring at the game, his eyes creasing in amusement.

  “If you survive long enough, you always win,” Tenzin said. “You taught me that.”

  6

  Rome, Italy

  Ben stared at the letters in the drawer. He started to shut the door again when Fabia interrupted him.

  “Please, for the love of God, at least get them out of my kitchen,” she said, “so I don’t feel like they’re a time bomb waiting to go off.”

  Ben lifted a letter. “There’s no bomb in here.”

  “I’m using metaphor. Didn’t your American school teach you about that?” She walked over, snatched the four letters from the drawer, and shoved them at his chest. “Take them away. Every time I walk to this side of the kitchen, they threaten me with their importance.”

  Ben took them and stuck them under his arm as he reached for an orange. “I’m sure it’s just Tenzin trying to get me to go do something or find something or clean up a mess for her again. And I’m taking a break, okay? I’m taking a break from her insanity.”

  “You’re taking a break from responsibility,” Fabia said. “Just open the damn letters and answer them. You can say no, can’t you?”

  The problem was, Ben was very afraid he wouldn’t be able to say no. He didn’t have the best track record of refusing Tenzin.

  “I’ll take them to my room,” he said. “Happy?”

  “Yes.” She grabbed her purse. “I’m going to the market, and then I’m making a salad for dinner. It’s too hot to cook.”

  “Bring me back a chicken burrito,” he muttered.

  “Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “Actually, that does sound really good.”

  Maybe it was time to go back to California.

  Speaking of California, he saw his phone buzz with an out-of-focus picture of his uncle. Ben raised the screen to his face and pressed Accept. “Hey! How’s it going?”

  Giovanni Vecchio, fire vampire, Renaissance scholar, and new father of a preschooler, appeared on the screen looking exhausted, which wasn’t typical for an immortal creature of the night, but maybe was typical for a new parent.

  “Ben, I heard something disturbing today.”

  “I have not been driving your car here, so I have no idea how it got that dent. I think it was Fabi, but I’m going to fix it anyway.”

  Giovanni frowned. “There’s a dent on the Ferrari?”

  Ben blinked. “Uh… no.”

  The Ferrari was a classic from 1968, and it lived in Tuscany. Ben couldn’t control rocks that flew up from trucks, but he was going to get it fixed. Soon.

  Giovanni narrowed his eyes. “Tabling the car discussion for now. I heard through very convoluted channels that you’re ignoring a letter from Penglai Island.”

  “That’s not exactly tru
e.” He was ignoring four letters from Penglai. “I have them, I just haven’t had time to open them yet.”

  “Them?” Giovanni’s eyes went wide. “Ben, what the hell are you doing?”

  He sat on the couch in the living room and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, I know this is just her trying to get my attention without actually talking to me, and I’m not going to play her games right now—”

  “Benjamin.” Giovanni’s voice had fallen into “scary quiet” mode. It was a tone that often preceded fiery, burning kind of situations. It was a tone that was used so rarely Ben could count the occasions.

  It was a tone that made Ben shut up immediately.

  “The Eight Immortals are the most dominant vampire council in Asia,” Giovanni said quietly. “They rule all of China, most of Korea, and much of the marine territory in the Pacific.”

  He took a breath. “I know that, but—”

  “Shut. Up.” His uncle’s eyes were burning. “Have I taught you nothing? Do you realize that your aunt—my mate—is a scribe of the court? Do you know what that means? Do you know how this reflects on us? On her? As far as they are concerned, you are her son, Benjamin. And you are ignoring them.”

  Ben felt like he was about fourteen years old. He felt a rush of embarrassment combined with anger. “Do you know how long it’s been since she—”

  “I don’t care!” Giovanni yelled before he threw the tablet down, and Ben heard shuffling and muffled voices in the background. A few seconds later, his aunt came on the screen.

  “Hey.” Beatrice’s eyes were wide. “What’s going on? Why are you angry? Why is he being all steamy?”

  Ben cleared his throat. “I’m not responsible for his moods, B.”

  “Excuse me?” Her voice was sharp. “It looks like you’re both having temper tantrums. What is going on?”

  “Someone on Penglai Island sent me a few letters. I haven’t opened them. Did Tenzin call you guys?”

  “I haven’t heard from Tenzin. Why haven’t you opened the letters?”

  “So how did he hear about—”

  “Why are you avoiding the question? He had a meeting with Ernesto earlier tonight, but I hardly think Tenzin would send a message—”