Elizabeth Hunter - A Hidden Fire

Tenzin flitted back into the courtyard and over to Gavin, sniffing him a little. “Are you a wind walker, like me?”

“Well,” Gavin smirked, “not like you.”

“You get your flying yet?”

The Scotsman looked a little embarrassed. “Uh…no, not yet.”

She shrugged and washed her hands in the fountain. “You will soon. And then, I think your life will change.”

Gavin chuckled. “Well, I hope it doesn’t change too…” He trailed off when he saw the serious look in Tenzin’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “Right then, I’ll be looking for that.”

She nodded and started back into the house.

“Tenzin?” Gavin called. “Can I-”

She turned back to him with a quick grin. “You want to see my teeth?”

He smiled a little, before he gave a quick nod.

She floated up to stare him in the face and bared her curved fangs, which resembled nothing less than small scimitars. She grinned then darted inside the house. Giovanni shook his head at her theatrics and the normally unflappable Scotsman’s shocked face.

“Now that is something.”

“Yes, she is.”

“And they’re always out?”

“Her fangs?” he snorted. “Tenzin told me once that they used to retract, but she spent so much time killing her enemies her fangs forgot how to hide.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? It’s Tenzin. She likes telling stories.”

Gavin stared off into the distance, while Giovanni stared at him.

“Well?”

“What?”

“Lorenzo?” he growled.

“Ah yes, back to the nasty business. Shipping. Water vamp. Gun running and seclusion. He’s in Greece. Apparently, he has his own island. Sadly, it’s probably going to take a while to narrow it down. There’s quite a few of them.”

He remembered her terror when they dragged her out of his house, and he felt the flames lick along his collar again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. Tenzin had said he was right to be patient with Beatrice.

He could be patient.

Because when Giovanni found him, Lorenzo would burn.

South Aegean Sea

June 2004

“Do you require another drink, Miss De Novo?”

She glanced at the small servant who stood next to her chair before staring back at the ocean that surrounded her.

“No, thanks.”

“You must ring the kitchen if there is anything you need. Or let your guard know.” Beatrice glanced at the sturdy Greek who stood near the entrance to her room. As far as she could tell, he didn’t speak a word of English. She wasn’t sure he spoke at all.

But he watched.

He watched every move she made during the day, unless she ducked into the small bathroom in the chamber where she had been kept for the past week.

“Sure. Thanks. I’ll let him know.” She looked back at the ocean, letting her thoughts drift in and out with the crashing surf.

The servant crept away, following the small trail that connected all the exterior rooms of Lorenzo’s strange house. She watched him duck into what she thought was the kitchen area of the vampire’s house, which had become her prison.

It was sprawling, built into the half-moon bay of what she had been told was Lorenzo’s own island. Cliffs speared up from the surface of the water and the house was nestled in the crook above the rocky beach.

She knew there were other rooms, built back into the cliffs where the sun could not reach. All the exterior rooms faced the water and opened to the ocean with large doors not unlike a garage. She wasn’t locked in, per se. But unless she wanted to jump fifty feet into the vast expanse of the Aegean, there wasn’t anywhere she could go.

When she had woken after being dragged from Giovanni’s house, she immediately heard the sound of large engines droning. She thought she was in the belly of a cargo plane of some sort, though it was outfitted luxuriously with plush seats, tables and beds.

She saw Lorenzo, lounging in a pair of white slacks and shirt that only emphasized his inhuman paleness.

“Where are we?”

He looked up with an indulgent smile.

“You’re awake! On my plane, of course. Headed to what will be your home for some time. Do you want any refreshment?” She glanced at his own crystal glass, filled with a thick red liquid she assumed was human blood. Lorenzo noticed her looking.

“I’m not a heathen like Giovanni. I drink human, of course, but I don’t like drinking from the tap.” He shuddered. “So disgustingly intimate, in my opinion. I only like getting that close to someone when I’m fucking them or killing them.”

He winked at her when she blanched. “No need to worry about that, my dear. I want you fresh and unharmed when your father comes begging for you.”

“Where are we going?”

Lorenzo sighed with a smile. “Somewhere far more temperate than Houston. I don’t know how you stand the weather in that horrid city.” He shivered. “Absolutely horrendous. We’re going to a little private island in the Aegean, my dear girl. A special place. Only a very few people know about it, so you should feel privileged.”

“Be still my heart,” she said dryly.

Lorenzo laughed, his sharp fangs falling down in his delight. “Oh, there you are, Miss De Novo, I knew I would like you once I got you away from my father. He’s so stifling, isn’t he? Terribly boring vampire. And I was sure you had that quick wit that so delighted me with Stephen.

“Even when I was torturing him,” a wistful expression crossed Lorenzo’s angelic face, “he would come up with the most inventive barbs. What a treat he was.”

A sick feeling churned in Beatrice’s stomach, and she thought she might throw up again, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and change the subject.

“How are you flying? I mean, doesn’t your wonky energy mess up the plane and stuff?”

He chuckled. “What an excellent question. Yes, it would if the cargo compartment had not been especially designed for me. All sorts of wonderful, insulating materials they’ve come up with in the last few decades.”

“Yeah? Well, God bless chemistry, I guess.”

He chuckled, but continued paging through the magazine he’d been perusing. It appeared to be something about boats, but she couldn’t read the language on the front cover; she thought it might be Greek.

“Just consider this trip a vacation, my dear. After all,” an evil grin spread across his face, “you’ll have an ocean view room.”

Ocean view room, my ass . She stared at the endless sea that imprisoned her. The small interior door to her room was always locked. Any traffic in or out came by way of the large ocean-facing doors she was currently sitting in front of. They could be pulled up completely, so her room was always open. In the morning, her silent, watchful guard came and unlocked her, throwing open the room to the ocean breeze.

If she hadn’t been a prisoner, it would have been beautiful.

She had no privacy except the small washroom that contained a toilet, a sink with no mirror, and a shower with no curtain. She could not lock the door, and lived in fear of someone walking into the bathroom if she lingered too long. The room had come stocked with clothing; when she arrived, two silent women undressed her and threw her clothes into a garbage bag, leaving her naked and crying on the floor of her room. She crawled to the bed, intending to cover herself with a sheet until one of them came back and wordlessly opened the small chest of drawers was filled with pure white clothes.

There were white pants and white shirts. Looking in the top drawer even netted her a wealth of white bras and panties, all in her size. There were bathing suits and sundresses, all in white, all without any other identifying feature on them. She hastily dressed herself and crawled into the corner of her room for the next two days, waiting for the other shoe to drop.