Giovanni rose and walked to the desk, passing Dr. Scalia on the way and placing his hand on the academic.  The small professor immediately rose, packed up his things, and without a word, walked out the door and down the hall.  The three of them, Beatrice, Giovanni, and the new vampire who had walked through the doors, waited until the click of the stairwell door echoed down the hall.

She could barely catch the movement as Giovanni shoved the blond vampire up against the wall, where he dangled as he was held by the throat.  Blue fire licked along Giovanni’s hands, and the cuffs of his oxford shirt began to smoke.  As the flames grew, she noticed they were almost immediately quenched as the moisture in the room was drawn to the nameless man who wore a twisted smile.

What do you know? she thought. Water quenches fire.

Giovanni stood there, completely still with his fangs bared at the intruder and a low growl emanated from his chest, as the vampires’ elements fought their silent battle.  Beatrice looked on in horror, completely unsure of what she should say or do.

As if reading her mind, Giovanni growled, “Beatrice, stay back.  Take both the letters and lock yourself in the stacks.”

“Oh, why shouldn’t she stay, Giovanni?” the blond man mocked in an eerily melodic voice.  “After all, this concerns her, too.  Plus, she smells as delicious as her father.”  The vampire’s eyes strayed to hers, and she found herself baring her own useless teeth.  He only laughed.  “I wonder if she tastes as good as he did!”

“Shut up, Lorenzo.”

“But, Papà, I do so love telling secrets!”

Chapter Fifteen

Houston, Texas

April 2004

“Papà?  As in—what the hell?”

Giovanni ignored Beatrice, keeping his eyes and his hands on his son, who was still hanging a foot off the ground and laughing at him.  Insolent boy, he thought.  Siring Lorenzo, while it had seemed the most honorable thing at the time, remained Giovanni’s biggest regret in five hundred years.

“Papà, don’t you want to introduce me to your little toy?” Lorenzo sniffed the air.  “She smells delicious when she’s afraid.  Her father was, too, you know.  Such a perceptive human he was.  Clever, clever man.  Is she clever, too?”

“Stay quiet and stay still,” Giovanni growled.  He had always been stronger than Lorenzo; even when they were human, the boy could never have bested him.  With their comparative elements and the strength of their blood now, it was still no contest.

“Hey, vampires,” he heard Beatrice say.  “Just letting you know that the library is still open.  Granted, this isn’t the most hopping place on the fifth floor, but there are people who could just walk in.”

The two vampires continued to stare at each other, and small flames burst out periodically over Giovanni’s hands and were quickly extinguished by Lorenzo as he manipulated the moisture in the air.

“She’s lovely, too.  Is she good in bed?  She’s American, I bet she is.”

Giovanni tightened his grip on the other man’s throat as he held him up, but Lorenzo only let out a rasping laugh.  “They can be so feisty.  But she’s young!  I can’t imagine she knows what she’s doing yet,” he choked out.

He snarled at the laughing man, part of him wishing he could simply tear his son’s head of and be rid of the problem.  Until he had his books, however, it wasn’t something he wanted to risk.

“Seriously,” Beatrice spoke again.  He could hear her voice shaking.  “I think I heard the elevator ding just now.  So either kill him quick, Gio, or let him down so no one calls security.”

Her words finally registered, and he lowered Lorenzo to the ground, but didn’t release him from his grip.

“By the way, ‘Dad,’ can I just say, thanks a bunch for living in this lovely humid climate?”  Lorenzo affected a flat Middle American accent.  “Makes it so much easier for me to put out the little love sparks you throw off.  Whatever you do, don’t move to the desert, it would just throw me off.”

Giovanni angled himself so he was between the delicate blond man and Beatrice and the letters.  “Why are you here?”

“Can’t I just come for a visit?  It’s been—what?  One hundred years or so?  Time just flies when you’re building a business empire.  Sorry I forgot to send Christmas cards.”

“He’s really your son?” he heard Beatrice ask.

“In a manner of speaking,” Giovanni muttered, glaring at the mocking vampire.

“That hurts, Dad.  Really, it does.”

“Shut up.”

Lorenzo peeked over Giovanni’s shoulder and winked at Beatrice.  “He can just be so cross about sharing, you know?  Hello, by the way.  I’m Lorenzo.  You must be the lovely Beatrice.  I’ve heard so much about you, my dear.”

“You killed my father, didn’t you?” Beatrice whispered.

Giovanni wondered when she had figured it out.  He was betting that Lorenzo’s words tonight had only confirmed her suspicions.  He had suspected that his son was Stephen’s sire months ago, but hadn’t wanted to say anything to her.

“Kill is such a harsh term.  And not really all that accurate; after all, I sired him as well.  He’s alive and well…I think.  Naughty boy, that Stephen, running away from me like that.”