The Force of Wind (30 page)

Stephen fell to the earth, reaching out and grabbing his sword before he sprang to his feet and met the silent guard who rushed him.

“Dad!” She had to get free. She had to help him. Beatrice tried to grab at the sword again, but she did not have the strength to pull it from the ground beneath her. She continued to spit out the blood that poured into her mouth as she struggled.

“Beatrice, hold on!”

“Enough,” Lorenzo growled, looking toward the stone steps. Just then, there was a flurry of movement on the edge of the river as Beatrice saw her father leap up, sweeping down and beheading the guard he battled. He landed on the ground and started in her direction, only to have Lorenzo dart behind and slash the back of his thighs, cutting his hamstrings and bringing him to his knees.

“No!” Stephen cried out as he fell to his knees. Beatrice fought back the urge to scream when Lorenzo kicked her father’s sword away from him.

No, no, no!
Beatrice struggled harder, bloody tears coursing down her cheeks as she tried to break free. She choked on the blood that continued to fill her mouth. If she could just break free… Even if her legs wouldn’t work, she could drag herself—

“Enough of this.” She heard Lorenzo say as he bent over her father. “Enough playing, Stephen.”

Beatrice spat out the blood. “Dad?” she choked. She could feel her wounds close around the blade in her stomach, but even that pain no longer registered as she watched Lorenzo circle her father with one hand gripping his neck.

“Dad!”

“Look at her, Stephen, isn’t she beautiful?” Lorenzo ran a sword through Stephen’s stomach and forced his neck around so Beatrice met her father’s eyes as he began coughing up blood. She saw his lips form her name.

Mariposa
…

“No, no… Lorenzo! Get away from him!”

“She’s so lovely,” Lorenzo murmured. “I have plans for her, you know? Such wonderful plans.” He pulled the blade from her father’s stomach and the blood poured out.

Stephen muttered through bloody lips. “Leave… leave her, Lorenzo.”

“Take me! Leave him alone and take me if you want me!” Beatrice cried into the night. “I’ll go. I promise.”

“You have the book. Leave my daughter.”

Lorenzo was watching her as his blade slid around Stephen’s neck, drawing a thin collar of blood. “So touching. And I won’t kill her. I have plans for her. If I could only keep you around, you could see them.”

“No! Daddy!” Beatrice screamed as Lorenzo drew back the sword. Her eyes locked with Stephen’s, and she saw a strange euphoria fill her father’s face. Her eyes raced to Lorenzo, who only cocked his head as he stared at her with a small smile.

“Sadly,” Lorenzo said. “I have to travel light.”

The blade descended, cutting off Stephen’s head in one swift stroke. It rolled toward her, coming to rest a few feet away as his lifeless brown eyes stared into the dark heaven above.

Beatrice screamed as her father’s lips moved in one last silent prayer.

She heard Lorenzo walking toward her, and she stopped struggling when the pain caused her head to swim. She thought she was strong, but what use was her strength in the face of this monster? Lorenzo’s black dress shoes came to stop in front of her face.

She heard Giovanni’s voice in the back of her mind.
“Survive… that is your victory…”

Lorenzo knelt beside her. He held the manuscript in his hands; Beatrice stared at it. It wasn’t as big as she thought it would be, no larger than a typical hardback, and not even as thick. The dull, leather cover was stained with her father’s blood. A single drop trickled down the side. It smeared when Lorenzo placed the manuscript in a large plastic bag and stuffed it in his shirt, securing it to his body as he ran a bloody hand through his blond curls.

“Oh”—he curled his lip as he saw the smeared blood on his fingers—“that’s disgusting. Good thing I’m going for a swim. Tell
Papà
I said hello, and I’ll see him later. I wish I could take you with me right now, but like I said, I am traveling light, so we’ll have to catch up later.”

“I hate you,” she spit out through bloody lips. “I hate you, I hate you. I’m going to kill you if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Do you think so?”

She couldn’t stop the sob that escaped her lips when she saw her father’s lifeless eyes. “You will die, Lorenzo, and I will make it painful. You will scream in agony.”

“So much anger,” he murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is my only purpose in this life, do you understand me?”

He leaned down and left a lingering kiss on her cheek before he whispered in her ear. “I know you think that you’ll kill me, but I’m quite sure there will come a day when you will be putty in my hands. I’m quite looking forward to it.”

“Never.”

“Oh.” He stood and wagged a finger at her. “Never is a long time in our world, precious girl.” He winked before he ran and jumped into the river, sinking out of sight beneath its black currents.

“No!” she screamed in frustration before she caught sight of her father’s head again. “No, no!” She sobbed bloody tears as she continued to struggle against the blade that pinned her to the ground. The night was silent, marked only by the soft sounds of night birds and her own cries. A few moments later, she heard a rushing sound and Baojia leaned over her.

“No,” he groaned. “No, Beatrice. Not this.” His voice as pained as she had ever heard it.

“He killed my dad.” Beatrice couldn’t tear her eyes from Stephen’s head.

“Hold still, B. You’re going to be all right, but hold still.”

“My dad’s dead, Baojia.”

She heard him choke, but her eyes were still locked on her father’s staring face.

“Damn it to hell!” he yelled as he stood. “Hold still, this is going to hurt you again. You’re healing too fast.”

“It won’t hurt. I don’t feel anything anymore.” It wasn’t strictly true; she was beginning to feel twitching in her toes as her nerves knit together around the blade in her spine.

“I’m going to pull the sword out and it’s going to break your spine again, so just hold still.”

She finally looked up at him. His eyes were red and there was a deep cut around his neck, as if someone had cut his throat from ear to ear.

“What happened to you?”

He shook his head.
Anguish
. He was anguished. “It’s not important,” he whispered. “Hold still.” He gripped at the sword in her stomach, grasped it with both hands while his blood ran down, and pulled.

Beatrice screamed as her shoulders bucked up. She fell back to the earth with a thud, feeling the blood spill out beneath her again. Baojia tossed the sword away and came to cradle her head as she lay on the ground.

“Hold still, B. Please, hold still.” There was a gaping wound in her stomach where the sword had torn her abdomen, and she couldn’t feel her legs again. He stroked her hair back. “Shhh. Don’t move. Give your body time to heal.”

“Gio,” she whispered, aching for her mate. “I need...”

“Giovanni Vecchio!” Baojia screamed into the night. “Where are you?”

No sooner had he called out than she heard quick footsteps on the stairs and felt his familiar energy rush toward her. She looked up and saw him, pale face and furious eyes, cradling Tenzin in front of him.

“Take her,” Giovanni called to Baojia before he rushed over. Baojia gathered Tenzin in his arms, but she lifted a pale hand, reaching toward Stephen’s body by the riverbank.

Beatrice began crying again as Giovanni knelt beside her.

“My dad, Gio. He killed my dad.” She clutched at his shoulders as Giovanni cradled her in his arms and lifted her from the cold ground.

“Please, Tesoro, you need to go in the water.”

“My dad.”

“I know,” he choked out. “Tenzin collapsed in the library. I came as quickly as I could. I had to carry her.”

“He took the book and jumped in the river.”

Beatrice heard the splash as Giovanni waded in. He dipped her down, submerging her in the river as the water swirled around her body, embracing her in its cool, healing depths. She looked up at Giovanni through the rippling surface of the water. For the first time, she saw his own tears fall as he watched her pain. They dropped into the water over her face, meeting her drifting tears before the river washed them away.

“Take the water in, Beatrice. As much as you can. Let it heal you.” He shook his head and blood scattered over the water.

“My dad,” she mouthed, as the water filled and covered her.

“I know.”

He lifted her head out and pressed their cheeks together, leaving her body in the water to heal. She felt tears on her cheeks, but she didn’t know who was crying.

“Lorenzo killed him.”

“I know.”

“Where was everyone? I tried. I tried so hard, but there was so much blood and there were too many of them.”

“Shh, don’t talk.” He held his wrist in front of her mouth and she bit into it, taking in his blood as her body floated in the stream. She could feel her bones knitting together. Her flesh stretched over her wounds. The prickling in her legs grew as her spine healed. Soon, her body was itching all over as her amnis joined the water to make her strong again. She continued sucking at Giovanni’s wrist, and he watched every wound, examining them as they healed.

A few minutes later, she released his wrist and reached out, leaving the safety of the water as she threw herself into her mate’s embrace. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as they trudged to the edge of the riverbank. She dropped to the ground and looked for her father.

Stephen’s body was laying on the edge of the river, and Tenzin was crouched beside him, stroking his lifeless cheek. She had laid Stephen’s head next to his body and Baojia stood over them both, watching the night sky.

“Where are Zhang’s people? They should be here by now.”

“They had to travel fifteen hundred kilometers by air in one night,” she heard Giovanni say as she sat by Tenzin and took her father’s hand. Tenzin’s eyes darted to her, and Beatrice saw her tense before her shoulders relaxed.

They all sat silent over Stephen’s remains before a low keening began from Tenzin’s small form. She rocked back and forth, one hand on Stephen’s cheek and the other braced on his chest. Beatrice heard her murmur a low chant in the old language she shared with Zhang, and she felt her tears fall again.

Giovanni knelt down behind her and tried to pull her away from her father, but she shrugged him off and reached over to embrace Tenzin. The small vampire curled her shoulders, but Beatrice kept her hands out until finally, the small woman turned to her and Beatrice could see the desolate look in Tenzin’s grey eyes.

“Tenzin?” Beatrice whispered. Tenzin reached over, pulling her into a fierce embrace. The two women rocked together until they heard a sound like a flock of birds flapping in the wind. Tenzin quickly dried her eyes.

Zhang’s men landed in a crouch, eyeing the bloody clearing and the bodies of Stephen and the three guards that lay around them. The leader approached cautiously as Tenzin rose to her feet, stoic again in the face of her father’s men.

“Mistress Tenzin.” He nodded deeply to her. “Your mate… Elder Lu’s monks?”

“The monks are dead. There is a small group of boys who escaped out the southern passageway. Follow the river down, and you should find them. Help them to find shelter in the nearest village until we hear from Lu. They should not go back to the monastery.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The leader motioned toward two of his men, who took to the air.

“Zhongli’s guards are in the forest. His ‘honored guest’ slaughtered his men before he went up to the monastery.” Beatrice watched as a flicker of confusion passed over the vampire’s face at Tenzin’s words. She could see Tenzin sag almost imperceptibly, and Giovanni’s hand reached out for her arm.

“The monastery was ransacked,” he said. “Most of the monks were killed. Master Fu-han among them.”

“And Miss De Novo’s property?” the guard asked.

“Stolen by Lorenzo,” Beatrice said as she looked down at her father’s body again. As if she cared about the book. Part of her knew it was important, but she was frozen in her grief.

“Mistress Tenzin.” Zhang’s guard bowed again and spoke softly, “may we help you with Stephen’s body?”

“No!” Tenzin bent down, then looked at the body and shook her head. “I mean… yes. Take him up to the monastery.” She turned and glanced at Beatrice before she took to the air.

Zhang’s guard split up. Some of them followed Baojia to the edge of the forest where Zhongli’s men lay; others gently lifted her father’s remains before they followed Tenzin up the mountain.

She felt Giovanni grasp her shoulders. “Beatrice, we need to find you some blood. Most of the monks were killed and you need fresh—”

“I don’t—” She broke off, overwhelmed again. “I’m not hungry. I don’t want blood. I just want my dad. I want to be with Tenzin. Can we follow—”

“Beatrice,” he broke in with a hoarse voice. “You need blood. You drank from me, but you had a terrible injury. I’ll find an animal in the forest if you want, but you need to feed.”

For some reason, the idea of killing a helpless animal seemed to break her. She slumped into Giovanni’s chest as his arms wrapped around her, and she shook with tears.

He held her close. “You survived, Beatrice. You survived. That is a victory. You and your father faced four opponents, and you
survived
. Even Baojia was gravely wounded by those men.”

“But my father didn’t survive.”

She heard him clear his throat and sniff. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “I would take this pain from you if I could.”

“I need to go to my father.”

“Beatri—” Giovanni broke off and turned toward the forest. There was a rustling sound as a monk walked through the trees. Giovanni grasped Beatrice’s shoulders, holding her still as the scent hit her nose. Though the smell wafted over her, and her fangs descended, she had no desire to pursue the human.

“You should be with Zhang’s men,” Giovanni said.

The boy answered in Mandarin, and the two had a quick, heated exchange she couldn’t understand. She stared at the guard she had killed and the blood she vomited over his corpse. She imagined that it was Lorenzo’s head the lay next to the body. The thought brought her some comfort and a hint of satisfaction.