Elizabeth Hunter - This Same Earth

“Thank you ever so much, Tywyll,” Gemma started. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you. Of course-”

“We’ll be staying to finish our drinks,” Giovanni added quickly. “I’m living near the water now and I’m considering buying a boat of some kind. I’d greatly appreciate any insight you could give me.”

The old vampire grinned and glanced at Gemma from the corner of his eye, keen to play along with Gemma’s discomfort if it meant he could spend more time with her.

“Well, now…it all depends on what yer wantin’ the vessel for, doesn’t it?”

“You know, Giovanni, I used to consider you a friend. That time has passed.”

He chuckled and twisted the woolen scarf around his neck as he and Gemma walked the damp streets. They had left the car and driver in one of the more recently gentrified areas of the Docklands where the old Bentley wouldn’t be as conspicuous.

“Whatever could you mean, my dear? He was a delightful companion for drinks. If I lived in the area, I’d surely make a habit of meeting him for a beer now and then.”

“You’re a miserable, spiteful man, Giovanni Vecchio. And if it was your knee he was not-so-subtly brushing against, you’d be humming a different tune.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t be humming at all.” He grinned as they approached the car. “Nonetheless, I’m grateful you came. I doubt he would have trusted to meet with me otherwise. I know I don’t have the best reputation here.”

“If you hadn’t have been so damn lethal during the sixteenth century, people might have forgotten by now.”

“Fair enough. I appreciate the favor.”

He opened the car door for her and she immediately raised the privacy screen Terry installed in all his vehicles. Not only did it provide complete sound insulation, it also protected the mechanics of the car more effectively from the energy that coursed through the vehicle if more than one vampire was present.

“So,” he asked. “How is Beatrice’s training going? She’s very close-mouthed about the whole business with me.”

“Probably because she knows how overprotective you are.”

“Protective, not overprotective.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She fluttered a dismissive hand. “Beatrice is doing quite well for a human. I’m glad she’s meeting with Terry tonight for firearms training. She’s ready for it. I have a feeling she’ll be an excellent markswoman.”

He nodded with a smile on his face. Sometime after they had arrived in London and she had quit her job, Beatrice seemed to gain a new sense of resolve. As much as he disliked it initially, she had thrown herself into her training with Gemma; she had also taken an active part in the search for Lorenzo, which he did appreciate. Though Giovanni hated that she was constantly bruised, he sensed her physical confidence growing.

She was also becoming more affectionate with him, and Giovanni often rose in the evening to find her curled into his side sleeping or reading a book. He couldn’t forget the picture she had made under the water, naked and floating in the large tub with her hair drifting around her. Though he had seen her in damp clothes more than once and had a good imagination, it was the first time he had seen her completely bare and, if not for the bruises covering her body, he would have had a hard time controlling himself at the sight.

Thinking of their argument that night, he looked at the woman next to him and frowned; Gemma caught his eye and squirmed.

“Gio?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been wondering…are you angry with me for training her?” Giovanni looked at Gemma’s hands, which were twisted in her lap. “I know you’re not pleased about her fighting, but it really is her choice. I don’t want you to be angry.”

She’s always been so supremely confident with everyone but me . Gemma’s age, her strength, and her intelligence made her a force to be reckoned with, but she had always seemed to lose her nerve around Giovanni at odd times.

And he suddenly realized why.

“Are you in love with me?”

She stared at him with wide blue eyes.

“What are you talking about? I’m marrying-”

“Are you in love with me, Gemma?”

Her eyes narrowed and grew colder.

“You really are a right bastard,” she said harshly, her cultured accent slipping in anger. “You have no idea, do you?”

“You are ,” he muttered with a frown. “You are, and I had no idea. She’s right, I’m really quite obtuse at times, aren’t I?”

Gemma curled her lip. “Well, that’s something your perceptive little human and I agree on, Giovanni.” Then she shrugged and faced forward, crossing her arms across her dove-grey suit and lifting her chin.

“Why are you marrying Terry?”

“Because he’s a good man, an excellent partner, and he knows me and cares for me as I am.”

He frowned. “Do you love him?”

Giovanni saw her roll her eyes. “For a five-hundred-year old vampire, you’re remarkably sentimental at times, do you know that? Perhaps it’s because you were raised during the Renaissance.” She shook her head. “For most of human history, marriages were arranged and almost none of them were based on love. I have a huge amount of respect for my fiancé, a real affection for him, and the sex is surprisingly good. Nothing explosive like we were, but for long-term prospects, I doubt I’ll see better. I foresee Terry and I working well together for hundreds of years. Past that?” She shrugged. “Who knows? Nothing is permanent in this life. If we choose to part ways after that, then I’m sure we can reach an amicable arrangement. We’re both very pragmatic people.”

“But Deirdre and Ioan-”

“Had something very few people ever find.” She cut her eyes toward him. “Don’t tell me about my brother and sister. What they had…” She turned away, but not before he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “What they had was unique. I’ve never…even what I may feel for you is nothing like what they had. Ioan and Deirdre were special, Gio.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached across the car to take her hand in his.

“I know, Gemma.” He squeezed her fingers. “I know. I miss him, too.”

They sat in silence the rest of the drive to the house, and Giovanni knew they would never speak of her feelings for him again.

London, England

March 2010

Beatrice straightened his tie for him before they went upstairs for dinner.

“As long as you’ve lived,” she muttered, “and you still make it crooked.”

He smiled down at her. “How did you learn to tie a necktie, tesoro ? Was it a rebellious fashion statement in grad school that I never caught wind of?”

“My grandfather, you goof.” She smirked as she continued to tie the perfect Windsor knot. If he was purposefully making them subpar so she would fix them…well, he decided she didn’t need to know. He enjoyed her fussing over him too much.

“My Grandpa Hector was a plumber, but he loved dressing up. He would take Grandma for dinner and dancing every month.” She smiled wistfully. “It was their thing. And he always dressed in a suit for church on Sunday. He was…”

“What?” She hardly ever talked about her grandfather, and he knew they had been very close.

“He was my ideal man,” she said with a soft smile.

“You loved him very much.”

She sniffed and wiped at the tear in the corner of her eye. “I adored him.”

Beatrice finished up with his tie and then went to the bathroom to change into the deep burgundy dress she had bought the day before. It was high necked and long-sleeved, which would cover the bruises that still dotted her pale skin.