Elizabeth Hunter - A Hidden Fire

Lorenzo got in the car next to her and shut the door. He smiled.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I’m sure you and your father will be seeing each other very soon.”

She glared at him, a bitter rage churning inside her.

“Go to hell.”

A flicker of madness crept into his eyes.

“Already there.”

Then cold hands touched her neck, and everything went black.

Houston, Texas

June 2004

Giovanni stood frozen, his fists clenched as he listened to Lorenzo’s car wind down the driveway. When he finally heard it turn the corner toward Buffalo Bayou, he let out a roar and threw the glass of eighteen year old scotch into the fireplace.

“Dammit, man! The next time I give you a not-very-subtle message to get in touch with me, do it!” Gavin shouted.

“Not now,” Giovanni snarled as he stalked past the table of books and crashed through the patio doors.

In the privacy of his garden’s high walls, he let the rage envelope him. He’d kept himself reined since he scented the spilled blood coming up the driveway. He’d tamped down his anger when he caught the sharp tang of adrenaline in the courtyard, but he’d almost lost control when his son had placed his hands on her.

Blue flames erupted over his skin, burning off his clothes and turning them to charred rags as they drifted to the ground. He silently paced the length of the garden.

“Gio? Don’t let them take me!”

The full weight of his anger unfurled, and the flames grew.

“You can’t do this to me!”

He channeled the blaze toward a copse of cedars near the pool house, letting the intense fire burn them to ash in seconds as he heard Beatrice begging him to save her.

Please, Gio! Please, don’t let him take me…”

He paced the yard, burning hands tugging his dark hair as the memory of her tears flooded his mind. His shoes turned to ash along with his clothes, and he seared the lush grass wherever his bare feet touched.

“How valuable do you think she is?”

Giovanni halted at the memory of his child’s scoffing voice. He pushed the energy away from his body into the humid night air, loosing the fire within.

Priceless.

A thousand memories battered his mind. Her smile. The soft curve of her neck. The light in her dark eyes. The feel of her hands tangled in his hair. The soft, sweet smell of her skin.

In the shadow of her loss, he could finally admit the truth.

“How valuable do you think she is?”

She was priceless.

Remembering the sound of her defeated sobs when she realized his betrayal, he fell to his knees. His rage forgotten as the wave of loss washed over him. Giovanni stumbled to the edge of the pool, falling in and letting himself sink to the deepest part of the pool. He felt the water bubble along his skin as it cooled.

His rage ebbed as he floated in the cool water. The soft currents brushed through his hair, reminding him of her small fingers when she teased him the night before.

“Your hair is so soft. I wish mine was soft like that.”

“I like your hair.”

“You do? It’s so straight. I always wished I had curls like yours.”

“No. Your hair is beautiful as it is.”

He lifted his hand and felt the singed curls float in front of his face. Pieces she had touched drifted away in the dark water.

After a few moments of self-indulgent grief, he gathered his wits and shot to the surface. He climbed out of the pool, wrapping a towel around his waist before he walked inside. Gavin was on the rotary phone in the corner, speaking in a low voice.

“He’s just walked in…no, I don’t yet, but I’ll find out. Here, talk to him. Get him calmed down, and don’t ask him that because the bastard had two of his lackeys with him, and at least two more on the grounds that I could smell. There was no way they were leaving without the De Novo girl.”

Gavin handed the phone to Giovanni, who immediately took it and put it to his ear. He heard Carwyn’s steady voice on the line.

“Hello, Sparky, you calmed down?”

He could only grunt, but the priest seemed to take it as an affirmative.

“It’s a few hours before dawn here, but as soon as I’m able, I’ll be on the next boat-”

“Don’t.”

“What?” Carwyn paused. “We’re going after her, Gio.”

“Of course we are, but we don’t know where he’s taking her yet. I’m sure Gavin can find out, but it will probably be in Europe, and you’ll be closer if you stay where you are now.”

“But-”

“I can’t attack him here, Carwyn. There are too many unknowns and he’s been planning this too far in advance. They’re probably out of the city already, or close to it. And he’ll have more people with him than just the four that were at my house.” He saw Gavin nodding vehemently as he paced by the fireplace. “I’m better off…diffusing this right now and picking my own ground. I’ll need to go to Rome and talk to Livia-probably Athens as well-and we’ll need Tenzin.”

“But Gio, Beatrice will be-”

“Terrified, I know.” He clenched his jaw. “But he won’t hurt her. Not yet. And I am no longer interested in resolving this peaceably. He ambushed me in my own home, and he took her from me. I was foolish to underestimate him.”

There was a long pause on the line before Carwyn continued in a soft voice.

“Did you trade those damn books for her like Gav said?”

He cursed in a dozen languages before he answered. “He was experimenting like the sick little bastard that he is. He was going to take her, but I’d tipped my hand before. He was trying to determine if it was Beatrice or the books I was reacting to. It’s better…” He cleared his throat before he continued. “It’s better for her if he thinks I’m not attached to her.”

He gripped the doorjamb, cracking the oak paneling and sending plaster dust crumbling to the floor.

“You’re right,” Carwyn said in a soothing voice, “he won’t hurt her. He needs her to retrieve her father. We just need to get her back before Stephen De Novo hears about this and returns to Lorenzo. If that happens, all bets are off.”

He couldn’t find the words to speak to his old friend, so he took a deep, measured breath. The scent of her fear still permeated the living room, and he clenched his eyes in frustration.

“Giovanni,” Carwyn was saying, “you realize, she might not understand. You know-”

“I know,” he muttered. “I knew the minute I let him take her she might never forgive me for it. But it’s better than her being injured or tortured to get back at me.”

He turned and, leaning against the wall, slowly sank to his haunches. He paused, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, savoring her scent, even if it was tinged by the adrenaline he hated. He felt his heart give a sporadic thump as he stared at the sofa where Lorenzo had threatened her, and Giovanni had to fight back another wave of anger. He gripped the phone to his ear, anchoring himself to the sound of his friend’s voice.

“Do you love her, Gio?”

He closed his eyes, but could only see her broken, empty stare as Lorenzo’s guard carried her away.

“What do you think?” he asked in a hollow voice.

There was another long pause before Carwyn responded.

“We’ll get her back.”

“Yes, I will.”

“And your son?”

Giovanni grit his teeth, letting his fangs pierce his lip as they descended, reveling in the taste of blood that filled his mouth and the sharp bite of pain.

“My son will burn.”

“I’ll wait for your call.”

He hung up the phone and walked upstairs without a glance. In a little over a ten minutes, he had dressed, shaved off his singed hair, and walked back downstairs. He stopped on the second floor to sit in Beatrice’s bedroom, soaking in her scent and the familiar traces of her that littered his home.