Imitation and Alchemy: An Elemental Legacy Novella (5 page)

“Awww.” She patted his cheek. “You’re such a thoughtful life coach.”

“Please don’t call me your life coach. That would make me feel responsible for any bodies you leave in your wake.”

She laughed.

“Are we meeting Alfonso tonight?” he asked.

“Yes. Despite my somewhat flippant attitude with Zeno, I don’t want to linger in the city too long. I want to meet Alfonso, make the deal, and fly out of here. We have three weeks, and that should be just enough time if we’re smart.”

“Want to fill me in?” he asked. “Now that Zeno’s not here to tattle to Gio?”

“I will.” She frowned. “But not yet. I want to get your impressions of Alfonso’s court without any background information. Is that fair to you?”

He shifted on the bed. “I get it. His chief advisor—”

“Filomena.”

“Yeah, Filomena. Are we meeting her tonight too?”

Tenzin nodded. “She’s the one meeting us at Piazza del Gesù Nuovo at ten o’clock tonight.”

“Do we have time to get dinner?”

“Always hungry. Always, always hungry.”

❂

SHE watched him as he chatted with an artist and munched on the hot
sciurilli
he’d picked up from a street vendor. She’d sampled a few of the delicately fried zucchini blossoms before she handed them over to Benjamin to demolish.

A group of rowdy street children ran into the square, shouting and laughing. Tenzin watched them spot Ben, his fashionable new clothes and Roman accent making him what the boys thought would be an easy target.

She watched the children slyly kick the ball closer and closer until the artist was yelling at one boy for disturbing his display and one of the others bumped into Ben, the child laughing and apologizing as he dipped into Ben’s pocket…

And came out squealing. Ben clapped a hand over the boy’s mouth and grabbed him by the back of the neck, dropping the fried snacks he’d been eating as the artist rushed to gather the prints that had gone flying with the soccer ball. Ben crouched down next to the boy, pinching his small hand in his own and speaking fiercely as the boy’s cheeks turned bright red.

A few seconds later, the boy was running after his compatriots, who had abandoned him, a five-Euro note clutched in his hand, while Ben helped the artist pick up the last of his prints and a stray dog finished off the
sciurilli
that had fallen.

Ben walked over to a nearby street fountain and washed his hands before he shook them off and walked back to Tenzin.

“Pizza?”

She smiled and shook her head. “What did you tell him?”

“To be more careful choosing his marks.”

“You didn’t try to warn him away from a life of crime?”

Ben looked down the side street where the boy had disappeared. “I did a lot worse when I was hungry.” He nodded toward a pizzeria on the corner. “Come on. I’ll buy you a slice. Hopefully this Filomena won’t be late.”

Chapter Three

BEN SPOTTED THE VAMPIRE ENTERING Piazza del Gesù Nuovo a few minutes before ten. She was tall, especially for an immortal. With notable exceptions like his uncle, humans turned before the last century tended to be shorter than average. Tenzin was a perfect example. She was tiny, though she protested that she’d been quite tall for her time.

This vampire was wearing high-heeled boots and leggings with a long, sleeveless tunic that showed off lightly muscled arms. Caramel-brown hair flowed down her back, and her skin was pale with a slight pink flush that told Ben she’d fed earlier in the evening. No one turned to look at her as she crossed the square, even though she was wearing sunglasses at night, which made Ben think she was a familiar sight in the neighborhood. Though she looked young, he knew she wasn’t.

She was also drop-dead gorgeous.

Ben knew the vampire had spotted Tenzin, who was perched on the graffiti-covered base of the monument in the center of the piazza, but Ben hung back, wanting to observe Alfonso’s lieutenant for a few more moments before he drew her attention.

She was confident. He couldn’t see any weapons on her, but she approached Tenzin with what could almost be called a swagger.

It was unusual in the immortal world. Though humans rarely noticed Tenzin—which she loved—something about her made most immortals pause. Beatrice had told him once that Tenzin’s amnis “smelled ancient,” whatever that meant. If he’d been able to detect it like vampires did, he might have been intimidated.

But he was human, so she was just Tenzin.

“You are Tenzin,” the vampire said when she reached the center of the square.

“Yes.”

Tenzin didn’t rise to her feet. Just looked up at the other vampire, squinting a little, her chin resting in her palm.

The street boys who’d been hanging around sank back into the crowds on the edge of the square, leaving the vampires alone, save for Ben, whom Filomena finally noticed. She looked him up and down with an appraising eye.

“I am Filomena. Who is the human?”

“This is Ben, my yoga instructor.” Tenzin didn’t bat an eye, so Ben didn’t either. He just started plotting how on earth he was going to pay her back for that one. Was yoga instructor better or worse than life coach?

To Filomena’s credit, she didn’t blink. “Will he be accompanying you?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” Filomena jerked her head. “Come. Alfonso is waiting.”

Tenzin rose and followed Filomena, who led them toward the odd stone building that dominated the square. Covered in pyramid-faced stones, the church of Gesù Nuovo was deserted, visiting hours long past. No matter. Filomena knocked at the wooden door and stood back until it swung open. She passed something to the priest at the door and ducked inside.

Tenzin and Ben followed her, neither meeting the eyes of the human in black robes who closed the door behind them. The heavy thunk echoed in the empty church. It was dark, except for a few candles lit in each chapel.

Baroque art assaulted Ben’s eyes. Paintings, statues, and intricate altar pieces. “More” seemed to be the overriding design scheme. Filomena led them down a hallway covered with brass plaques and medals shaped like various body parts. Hearts and lungs. Legs, heads, and hands. The disembodied parts plastered the walls of the narrow hallway, lending a surprisingly morbid air to the holy place.

“For healing,” Filomena said when she caught him looking. “Pilgrims come and pray here. They hang medals to ask for healing.”

Ben smiled, delighted in the excess. “Does it work?”

Filomena blinked. “Of course not. It’s superstition. Humans are very gullible.”

He saw the edge of Tenzin’s smile when he passed her.

The hallway led to a back room with a hidden door behind a tapestry. Then another hallway and another door. Ben could feel the cool damp growing the farther they traveled. At his side, he felt Tenzin’s tension increase.

“Where are you leading us?” she asked.

“Alfonso keeps court under the city,” Filomena explained. “He prefers the seclusion.”

Only Ben caught the minute falter in Tenzin’s step.

“That’s unusual, isn’t it?” Ben asked, stepping quickly into her silence. “I was told Alfonso was a water vampire.”

“He is.”

No other explanation came, nor did he expect one. Filomena pressed on, turning corner after corner until Ben was completely baffled. It was a maze, designed to confuse those not familiar with it. Plaster hallways gradually gave way to stone passages. Then Filomena stopped at a wooden door and pulled out an old iron key.

She said nothing as she unlocked the door and swung it open, the damp musk of earth blasting them as an even darker passageway gaped below. Filomena didn’t wait for them to enter. She handed Ben a flashlight from a shelf set into the wall and continued down the wooden stairs leading below the surface.

Ben watched Tenzin.
Her tension had been steadily growing the farther they traveled. Now her face was a complete mask. Dead eyes. Face devoid of expression. He’d never seen her look less human.

“Tiny?” he murmured.

“Go. I don’t need the light.”

Something was very wrong.

“Do you want me to—”

“Walk, Benjamin.”

She shoved him toward the stairs and followed him, but Ben grabbed hold of one of her cold hands and held it, disturbed beyond reason by the look in her eyes. He walked down the damp, earthen passage leading under the streets of Naples.

Tenzin wasn’t claustrophobic. The mere idea of it was ridiculous. She’d comfortably traveled across much of China in a smuggler’s hatch once. What the hell was going on?

He refused to let go of her hand, even when she tried to tug it away. Finally she seemed to give up and let Ben hold it as they walked down the stairs, following Filomena into the darkness. The vampire slowed down to allow for the clumsy human to stumble along. The passageway was smooth, but the dirt floor was uneven.

“How do you walk in those heels?” he asked Filomena.

A low laugh. “Natural grace and centuries of practice.”

Ben smiled.

He followed her for what felt like an eternity before the earthen passageway gave way to stone again, and he felt the tension begin to ease from Tenzin’s fingers. Another turn and they entered an arched chamber nearly the size of a gymnasium.

“What is this?” he asked Filomena.

“One of the catacombs,” she said. “Naples has many tunnels. Alfonso has used this system for years. The humans don’t come here.”

Ben ran his fingers along one wall. “This construction looks Roman.”

“It is.”

He couldn’t help but smile. It was like walking through a ruin, only perfectly preserved from sun and weather. Arches soared over his head along with a series of walkways leading from the second story into other tunnels. There were no electric lights, but torches lit the hall and the air was fresh, so he knew there had to be ample ventilation. He could hear water flowing somewhere. It must have been what drew Alfonso to this place.

Hidden from the sun. No electricity. Secret passages. Underground water.

“It’s brilliant,” he said under his breath.

Tenzin, seemingly fully recovered from whatever had plagued her in the earthen tunnel, nodded in agreement.

“A most comfortable court,” she said. “I am impressed, Filomena.”

“On behalf of my lord, I thank you,” Filomena said, nodding respectfully toward Tenzin. “The immortals of Naples are very proud of our city.”

“As you should be.”

❂

TENZIN hated being underground. Absolutely hated it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d frozen as she had on the stairs.

It wasn’t the close passageway. It wasn’t even the knowledge that they were going beneath the earth. It was damp air. The closed passage. The taste of the earth and rot in the air surrounding her.

The taste of earth in her mouth…

She’d heard ancient laughter in the back of her mind, and the wary creature in her emerged. The gut-deep urge for blood took root, and she concentrated on the pounding of the young one’s pulse.

Th-thunk. Th-thunk. Th-thunk.

She followed it in her mind, pacing his steps. Following his blood. But something stopped the creep of amnis before it reached his skin. Some instinct whispered to the feral creature, coaxing it to calm.

They walked into a tunnel built of rock, and the smell of earth receded. The pressing eased on her mind.

There was nothing but the taste of earth that could cause that old reaction to emerge. Tenzin found she was still holding Ben’s hand. It showed weakness, but she did not let go until they entered a larger hallway clad in dressed stone, when the rotting earth had receded and her sanity had returned.

Mostly.

Filomena led them under the Roman arches of subterranean Naples and toward her master, who was sitting on a raised dais playing king of all he surveyed.

Tenzin disliked him immediately.

He wasn’t a handsome vampire. His face was pockmarked and sagging. His skin had once been olive, but now it leaned toward sallow. A high forehead, arched nose, and haughty gaze led her to believe he was, as he claimed, Spanish royalty of some kind.

Filomena stopped at the edge of the dais and gave Alfonso a short bow.

“Alfonso,” she began in English, “I introduce Tenzin, daughter of Zhang Guolao. Sired of air. Mated to water…”

Oh, so he was one of
those
immortals. Tenzin tried not to sigh as Filomena continued.

“…Scourge of the Naiman Khanlig. Commander of the Altan Wind. Protector of Penglai Island. Patron goddess of the Holy Mountain…”

Goddess of anything holy, let it end.

“…protector and scribe of New Spain. Friend of Don Ernesto Alvarez of Los Angeles.” Filomena paused. “And… Ben, her yoga instructor.”

Ben leaned over and whispered, “You have so many more titles than I realized.”

“You have no idea.”

“I need to be called ‘The Scourge’ of something. Just put that in the back of your mind to think about later.”