Baojia chose the
dao
he had spoken of, a single-edged weapon with good reach and a subtle curve. It had greater slashing power and, since beheading was the intention, Giovanni thought the choice was a good one.
“I’m really excited to start learning this,” she whispered, wiggling on his lap.
“Of course you are.”
“Relax. I doubt I’m in any danger from my grandfather’s favorite son.”
“I’m not worried about him hurting you.”
“Then why the surly vampire act, old man?”
He bared his fangs playfully, pulling her head to the side as if going for a bite. She only laughed and reached up, pulling his head closer until his lips met her skin in a kiss. He was suddenly distracted by the steady beat of the pulse in her neck and the warm fingers entwined in his hair.
If she didn’t have to give up the sun…
“Hey, why so quiet?”
“I’m thinking about the elixir.”
“Gio—”
“I know there is more to investigate, but I am allowed to have some hope that you might not have to become a vampire to be with me.”
She paused a moment, a slight frown creasing her forehead.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ve chosen
you
, Gio. I’ve chosen this life. I knew what it meant. I haven’t changed my mind about turning.”
“But, Beatrice, if you didn’t have to—”
“If I could drink this elixir and remain human forever, then I would always be your physical inferior.”
“That’s not important to me; you know that.”
“Who said it was up to you?” she asked. “This is something
I
decided.” She turned in his arms, placing her cheek against his and whispering so they couldn’t be overheard.
“I know you have to hold back with… so much. I don’t want that forever. I want to be your partner. Your equal. I don’t want to live a life separate from you, even in the hard things.”
She pulled away and stroked his cheek as he looked at her.
In five hundred years of life, he had rarely met a human more stubborn or independent than Beatrice. It wasn’t a foolish kind of disregard; she simply took her time to make up her mind, and when she did, she was determined. And he loved her for it.
“We’ll talk about it more later.”
That didn’t mean he wasn’t just as stubborn.
He felt her small elbow in his ribs, but she turned back to the mat, watching Tenzin and Baojia as they practiced with their chosen weapons. Eventually, they bowed toward each other in the way common among older immortals, bending from the waist while never breaking eye contact, arms outstretched so that all weapons were visible.
They began circling from their bow, both eyeing the other as Baojia murmured instructions to Tenzin about the techniques he wanted to demonstrate. Tenzin held the
jian
high in a pointed stance while Baojia’s arm came out and his elbow pulled the
dao
back as if preparing to strike. They began moving in concert, demonstrating the most common strikes for each weapon as Baojia narrated to Beatrice what they were doing with each thrust or parry.
Giovanni glanced at her as she sat on his lap. She was completely enthralled. Her eyes lit up and she leaned forward, her complete focus on the two masters in front of her.
“This is so cool.”
He saw them relax into the combat, and they began moving in more natural fight patterns for immortals. Baojia would use the water as a second weapon, sweeping his arm out to spear it in Tenzin’s direction as she leapt into the air, dodging out of reach. At one point, Baojia sent a thin stream of water toward her as she flew above his head. The silver ribbon curled around her ankle, almost too thin to see, until Baojia reached a hand out and touched the stream, sending a shock of amnis through it, which brought Tenzin to the ground.
“Oh!” Giovanni cried, leaning forward and forgetting Beatrice on his lap. He had never seen a water vampire with that kind of control. “That was brilliant! Clever dragon.”
Tenzin didn’t seem to agree; as she rose up, she snarled at Baojia before launching herself into the air again. Baojia smirked, but Giovanni knew the vampire would only be able to use that trick once.
Not long after, they began to vary their routine, tossing weapons back and forth, calling out to Beatrice as they did, explaining each one as they demonstrated the proper way to use it.
Swords, pikes, axes, chains, daggers, spears, poles. Beatrice was transfixed.
“Oh,” she drew out a breath as her eyes followed Baojia, who was drawing two ancient swords from the wall. “What are
those
?”
Giovanni growled when he saw the two wickedly curved swords that Baojia wielded. They were the length of the
jian
, but each had a long hook on the end. The hilts were sharpened into daggers, and the hand guard on each was a sharp crescent moon, suitable for either blocking or slashing an opponent.
Damn, prescient vampire.
“Those are
shuang gou,
Beatrice. Hook swords.”
As Giovanni spoke, Baojia leapt toward Tenzin, whirling in dizzying circles toward her, as she parried with the
jian
and a chain, which she threw toward his neck. Baojia hooked the chain with the end of one sword, pulling it away as he slashed at the blade in her other hand. Giovanni could barely follow their movements, and Beatrice held her breath as they continued to fight for several minutes. They were a blur of movement as they spun around the room.
In one final flurry, Tenzin came to a halt,
jian
held out as Boajia pressed the
shuang gou
to her neck, the hooks curved toward her bared throat, and the blades crossed in a scissor formation.
“No way,” Beatrice whispered.
Giovanni narrowed his eyes. “It’s debatable whether she let him win, but that was still very impressive.”
“I want to learn how to use those.”
He shook his head as Baojia looked toward him and laughed. His eyes only said one thing.
Told you
.
“You let him win, didn’t you?”
Tenzin shrugged as they walked through the garden. They had left Beatrice with Baojia in the training studio. His woman scarcely gave him a second glance before she rushed toward the weaponry, peppering Baojia with question after question. Tenzin pulled him out of the palace and forced him to walk through the grounds so he didn’t hover.
“Maybe. He’s very good, and he’ll be a much better instructor than I would.”
“Why is that?”
“I revert too quickly to flying, and she won’t be a flyer.”
Giovanni halted, leaning against a wall of carved stonework.
“Oh, she won’t?”
Tenzin turned and smiled, her face a picture of innocence.
In the back of his mind, Tenzin had always been Giovanni’s first choice to sire Beatrice, though he knew Beatrice and Carwyn had discussed it, and the choice was Beatrice’s in the end. Still, there was no one he trusted more than the small woman in front of him. Tenzin was his oldest friend, and she had one other advantage that Giovanni greatly desired.
Tenzin was immeasurably powerful.
She had lived for over five thousand years, and as far as he knew, she had never sired a child. Her blood would be unspeakably potent, and any vampire child she sired would be a force to be reckoned with. If Giovanni guessed correctly, Beatrice turning from Tenzin would put her almost immediately on par with his own physical strength. She would quickly outstrip him, but she would be able to defend herself from almost any other immortal, and that was all he cared about.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you so averse to siring your own friend, bird-girl?”
“Did I say that?” She shrugged in her irritatingly vague way. “Even if she is sired from wind, the flying always takes time to develop.”
“Not for your child, it wouldn’t.”
They continued walking. He knew Tenzin wouldn’t tell him anything more, even if he pestered her, so he switched to a topic he knew would irritate her.
“I’m very curious to learn more about the elixir.”
Her string of Mongolian curses was impressive. Most of them had something to do with horses and obscene acts. Giovanni just smirked.
“You have such a foul mouth for a little girl.”
Tenzin punched his side. Then she threw him several meters away purely out of irritation.
“I knew you were going to be excited about that. If I could have destroyed that book when I learned about it, I would have been far happier, but Stephen was too attached to it.”
“Not to mention that it rightfully belongs to me. Why destroy it? Maybe it really would allow us to stop feeding off humanity like parasites.”
She shook her head. “It’s so ridiculous, this guilt you feel. And don’t pretend that it has anything to do with being a humanitarian, Giovanni.”
“What?”
“You don’t have a problem feeding from Beatrice, do you? You don’t have a problem buying blood from banks when you need to. No, you just don’t like being dependent on anyone, even a human, for your own survival. That’s why you would prefer to conquer the bloodlust.”
He frowned, unwilling to admit that part of her judgment was correct.
“It would be better for Beatrice if—”
“You didn’t try to dictate her actions again?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “If you allowed her to make her own decisions? I agree. The choice has always been hers.”
“Damn you, woman.”
“Stubborn old man.”
“That’s highly amusing, coming from you.”
She laughed the tinkling, wind-chime laugh as the breeze picked up. “Why do you fight your own fate, my boy? She is your balance in this life.”
“In every life. I know.”
“Do you?” She stopped and placed a hand on his cheek, looking up at him with the loving, almost maternal, gaze she allowed herself at times. Giovanni didn’t know much about her human life, but he knew that at one point Tenzin had mortal children of her own. He had a feeling their fate had not been pleasant.
“I know you sent me to her, Tenzin,” he whispered, sensing the approach of a servant. “I know you saw her.”
A slow smile grew on her face. “I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff?” She winked and flew up, perching on one of the scholar’s stones as she looked across the garden at the servant hurrying toward them in brown robes. She closed her eyes and turned her face into the breeze.
“Trouble is coming,” she murmured into the wind. “No…” She shook her head and looked down at him with stormy eyes. “Trouble is here.”
“Mistress Tenzin,” the servant said as he bowed low, “your father requests your presence in the great hall with Dr. Vecchio.” The man did not look up, and Giovanni had the impression he was purposely avoiding Tenzin’s gaze. She floated down from the top of the tall limestone pillar.
“Stop bowing. Has Stephen been called to the Elders?” Her eyes darted across the dark garden toward the glowing lanterns in the center of the complex.
“He is already there, Mistress.”
“I said stop bowing. Go to my chambers and inform Nima.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He started to scurry off. “Wait!” she called before she turned to Giovanni. “Have you fed tonight?”
He frowned. “No, I fed last night. I don’t need—”
“Feed.” She pulled the servant in front of him. The man immediately held up a wrist, bowing his head so as not to meet Giovanni’s eyes.
“Tenzin, I told you, I don’t need it.”
“Giovanni…” She glanced toward the glowing lanterns again. “
Feed
.”
Narrowing his eyes, he took the servant’s wrist and bit, numbing the man’s skin so it wouldn’t be painful. Despite his initial irritation, he couldn’t help but enjoy the rich flow of blood from the servant, who obviously kept to an older diet free from processed foods. The surge of strength was immediate, and he felt his amnis pulse within him as he opened his senses and sent them across the palace grounds. A faint energy signature caught him off guard, and he pulled away from the man’s wrist, quickly sealing the wounds he had made.
“What is this?” he hissed before taking off at a run. He felt Tenzin’s amnis at his back and forced himself to hold back and wait for her. He paused before entering the hall, pulling back his fury and calming the rush of fire beneath his skin. Tenzin put a hand on his arm, pulling him back so she could enter the Great Hall ahead of him.
“My boy, I cannot emphasize how important it is for you to let me speak. Whatever you hear, remain silent.”
She strode forward, the jeweled doors swinging open with a flick of her hands that made the human servants scurry. The silk curtains blew back as Giovanni followed her into the glowing hall. It was filled to capacity with curious humans and wary immortals, and he could feel the tension roiling when Tenzin spoke.
“Lorenzo!” she called out as the press of immortals parted in front of her. “Get your hands off my mate.”
Penglai Island, China
September 2010
S
tep, thrust, sweep, turn.
“Again.”
Baojia mirrored her movements, guiding her in the steps of the drill as she worked the
jian
. It already felt natural; the light balance of the old sword allowed her to move through the complicated routine with ease. It was as if some long ago muscle memory had been awakened.
Step, thrust, sweep, turn.
“Again.”
She realized about halfway through the lesson that Baojia had switched to giving commands in Chinese, but by then, his instructions were so predictable that she hadn’t even noticed. They moved in concert, both wearing the loose black pants and shirts that Tenzin had provided for them. Beatrice may not have liked most of the bland food that the palace provided, but she really liked the feeling of going through the day in what felt a lot like pajamas.
“Stop after this series and watch.”
She finished the last turn and moved to the benches to watch him. Baojia was not an ordinarily eye-catching figure. His even features were handsome, but not striking. He spoke even less than Giovanni did, but she had discovered that when he did, he had a dry humor that put her at ease.