The Force of Wind (34 page)

“Well then, Giovanni Vecchio, I suppose ye have some reading to do.”

Epilogue

Plovdiv, Bulgaria

March 2011

D
r. Paskal Todorov shut off the light in the empty lab and shrugged on his brown overcoat to face the brisk wind outside. He sighed as he looked around the empty laboratory that had once employed so many men and women making high-end cosmetics for the European market.

Though their corporate office in Rome had given them enough funding to keep the building in good repair and to employ a few of the highest-grade chemists, they had not worked on a new project in months, and the majority of the employees had sought work elsewhere in the city’s growing economy.

He was walking out of the lab and to his warm office late on Friday night to shut down the computers when the lights in the hallway flickered. He frowned and made a mental note to ask the janitor about the wiring. It had been replaced only the year before, right before they had ceased regular operations.

Todorov turned into his office and started when he saw the corporate representative who had visited them right before the shutdown sitting in the chairs and playing with one of the perfume samples that sat in a small beaker on his desk.

“Signore Andros! What a surprise. I was just closing the lab and getting ready to return home for the weekend. I hope you have not been waiting for me long. Did you call the office to tell them you would be arriving tonight? If you did, I am sorry. I was not informed.”

The blond head covered in curls turned. A smirk twisted his mouth. “This is rose oil?”

Todorov frowned. “Yes, it is. The finest Bulgarian rose oil. My country is known for it.”

Andros nodded and set the beaker back in its wooden cradle. The young man had always set him on edge, though Todorov could never say exactly why. Andros smiled, then held a hand toward the doctor’s chair, but no warmth reached his vivid blue eyes.

“I came quite at the last minute, Dr. Todorov. I hope you don’t mind. I am only glad I was able to catch you before the weekend.”

“Well.” The chemist took off his overcoat and sat behind his desk, picking up the silver letter opener his wife had given him for his birthday and fidgeting with the handle. “How can I help you, Signore? I hope that our reports have been favorable. I confess, we are eager for a new project to keep our employees busy. I hope that there has been no irregularity that has caused—”

“No irregularity, Doctor. None. Your records indicate a very well-run lab with seven chemists on staff. Your specialty was in botanical cosmetics, was it not?”

Todorov nodded. “Indeed it was. We had excellent results using the traditional botanicals produced locally and incorporating them into high-end cosmetics. Our products were very well received.”

“And were all the botanical ingredients produced organically?”

Todorov nodded again. “Yes, it is what the corporate office requested. It costs more, of course, but the results and marketing made it—”

“Cost is not an issue on this proposed project.”

The scientist brightened. “So there is a project from Rome? How excellent. The chemists will  be—”

“There will be a project.” Andros reached into his coat. “Providing you have ready access to these ingredients produced organically. And you have the quantities indicated.”

Todorov took the paper from Andros’s pale hand and looked it over. Some of the ingredients were unusual. A few, almost medieval. He frowned. “I’m afraid, Signore, that some of these are not produced commercially in Bulgaria.” He glanced up to see the pale Italian’s eyes frost over. “However,” he continued quickly, “most of them are, and the others can be quite easily obtained. In fact, I know of a farmer we have used for specialty products who works primarily for the perfume industry. He can grow almost anything if it is ordered. Indeed, that would be ideal because we could ensure all the ingredients meet your particular requirements for quality. He even has extensive greenhouses.”

Andros’s smile immediately warmed. “Excellent. And when can we expect those ingredients to be ready?”

“It is March now.” Todorov shrugged. “If money is no object, we could, perhaps, have some within a few months. I will have to talk to the grower.”

“Of course, Todorov. I’m so happy I chose you; I was told you had a… flexible mind.”

The scientist cocked his head. “Oh?”

“Indeed.” Andros rose and turned to leave the office. “We will start production on the formula next winter, if all goes according to projections.”

“May I ask, Signore?” He examined the odd formula at the bottom of the page. “What is it that we are producing? I confess, I have never seen anything like this. It is most…”

Andros cocked his blond head innocently. “Yes?”

“Unusual, Signore Andros. It is quite unlike any other formula I have worked on.”

“Oh,” Andros chuckled. “I’m quite sure of that.”

A niggling fear began to work its way into Todorov’s mind. “Signore, while none of this appears dangerous, I feel I have a responsibility to my employees and your customers to make sure that nothing we produce could ever be considered—”

Andros’s laugh cut him off. “Oh, it’s quite harmless, Todorov. It’s an old beauty formula. A ‘lost secret’ so to speak. It was recently discovered and our marketing team thought it worthy of investigation. The sales pitch alone was enough to tempt them. ‘An ancient formula for health and rejuvenation.’ Buy the wisdom of the ancients for a reasonable price!”

“Oh.” Todorov almost chuckled at his own paranoia. “So it is a beauty product?”

“Oh yes.” Signore Andros smiled again and an inadvertent shiver ran down Paskal Todorov’s spine, despite the warmth of his cozy office.

“One could almost call it… the elixir of life.”

The End

Turn the page for a sneak peek at the finale of the Elemental Mysteries.

And please visit
ElementalMysteries.com
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A Fall of Water

By Elizabeth Hunter

coming

Summer 2012

Fifteen months later…

Chapter One

Los Angeles, California

March 2012

G
iovanni woke with a start, and Beatrice looked up from across the room. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of their large bed and stared at the photograph of the Ponte Vecchio, which hung on the wall of their bedroom.

“Hey.”

He blinked before he looked over at her, and she smiled. Her husband looked as if he was still halfway dreaming.

“Good evening, did you rest at all today?” He rose and walked to her, bending down to kiss her bare shoulder. He still refused to wear any sort of clothing to bed. Since their room was blocked by a sturdy, reinforced door, multiple locks, and an electronic monitoring system that she’d had custom made for them, Beatrice just decided to enjoy the view. No one would be breaking in.

“I rested a couple of hours. You looked like you were dreaming. What was it about?”

He shrugged and walked to the small kitchen area, heating a bag of blood and leaning over to sniff the coffee pot she’d added.

“Was it about your father again?”

He was silent for a few minutes, but she didn’t try to fill the space. It was one of the things that allowed them to be as close as they were. They both appreciated quiet.

Giovanni finally turned with a frown on his face. “I don’t know why I’m having so many dreams about him.”

She cocked her head. “Because of me? Because of my dad? Because we’ve been talking about that?”

“Perhaps.”

She had finally taken Tenzin’s advice and confided in Giovanni about the gaping wound that Stephen’s loss had left. As predicted, he understood completely. Just sharing the hurt had done more to lessen the grief than any of her own efforts.

“Gio… there’s no chance that Andros could be alive, is there? I mean, you didn’t actually see him die, right? He was just ash when you woke up. Lorenzo was the one who saw—”

“Beatrice, how did you feel when your father was killed?”

Tears sprang immediately to her eyes. “Like… something was ripped from my chest. Empty. Physical pain would have been a relief.”

He only looked at her and nodded. “I felt the same. Despite how much I hated him, I loved him, too. And the pain of my father’s death woke me from my day rest, even though it was practically impossible to wake me when I was that young. I know he is dead.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“It’s a valid question. Don’t apologize.”

He turned and picked up the bag of blood he had heated in warm water, drinking it quickly before he walked across the room, picked her up, and brought her back to the bed. Though she didn’t need to sleep, his presence, the silent meditation of his touch, allowed Beatrice to rest her mind.

The sun still peeked through the edges of the windows, so they lay silently, curled together as her amnis wrapped around its mate. Though he didn’t move, she could feel Giovanni’s invisible energy stroking along her back and neck, fluttering over her skin and soothing her busy mind.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked in a drowsy whisper.

“I’m introducing one of Gustavo’s sons to Ernesto. Diego has some business in Los Angeles, and he asked for an introduction.”

“Oh, you get to play politics. Lucky you.”

He pinched her side when she snickered.

“Your grandfather asked for you to come, as well, but I made an excuse for you. I’m not going to next time.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you. You’re the best husband in the whole room.”

Beatrice squealed when he dug his fingers into her sides. Immortality had not lessened how ticklish she was. If anything, it had made it worse.

“Why? Why did I sign up for this abuse for eternity? What have I done to deserve this woman?” He chuckled as he continued to tickle her. Soon, she was gasping under him.

“Stop!” she panted. “Stop. I’ll…”

An evil grin spread across his face. “You’ll what?”

She brought an arm around and trailed her fingers down his back, teasing his spine as he shivered. Giovanni may not have been ticklish, but she knew exactly how to torment him.

“I’ll… save some hot water for you!”

She darted out from under him and into the luxurious bathroom, locking the door behind her. She laughed and started the shower, only to hear the door splinter. Giovanni tossed the broken wood to the side and strode into the room.

“We didn’t need that door.”

B
eatrice drove the grey Mustang through the busy streets, pulling up to the old warehouse where Tenzin had set up a practice studio. The ancient wind vampire was already there, and Beatrice could hear her pounding on one of training dummies.

“You’re coming later, right?” Ben grabbed his gym bag and opened the door.

“Yeah, I’m just meeting Dez for dinner, and then I’ll come back and practice with you guys for a while.”

“No rush. I think she’s meaner to me when you’re there.”

Beatrice laughed and reached across to ruffle his hair as he tried to squirm away.

At fifteen, Ben Vecchio had all the marks of a boy on the verge of manhood. He had shot up the year they had been in Chile and was far taller than she was. Beatrice guessed he would be almost as tall as Giovanni when he was full-grown. His chest was starting to fill out and lose its scrawny appearance, helped along by the intense physical training that Beatrice and Giovanni insisted on for his safety. His curling hair, deep brown eyes, and mischievous smile already attracted enough female attention to keep a grown man happy, much less a teenage boy.

Ben Vecchio was well on the way to breaking a few hearts, and Beatrice absolutely adored him.

“Tell Dez I said ‘Hi’ and let her know I’m here when she gets tired of the old fart.”

“She told the old fart she’d marry him, so I have a feeling you’re out of luck.”

He leaned down and winked. “Engaged is not married, B. There’s hope until there’s a ring on her finger.”

She shook her head. “You’re shameless.”

“Yep. But I’m cute, too. See ya!” He slapped the top of the car and walked into the warehouse, whistling.

“Shameless,” she said as she pulled away.

She turned on to El Molina Avenue and parked on the street, glad to have found a parking spot so near the café where she and Dez met on Thursday nights. She could already hear a new band warming up inside, so she grabbed a table outdoors, glad for the clear night sky. Dez arrived a few minutes later, and Beatrice shoved down the instinctive hunger that tickled the back of her throat.

Though she was used to the scents of her family, close contact with other humans still awakened her instincts at times. Her best friend, for whatever reason, smelled particularly appealing that night.

“How are you, hon?” Dez chattered as they both settled into their seats. A waiter came out and they both ordered a coffee and dessert. “How was your week? Matt and Gio are both at that thing at your grandfather’s tonight, right? What’s Ben up to?”

“Other than still plotting how to steal you from Matt?”

She giggled. “Of course.”

“He and Tenzin are practicing.”

“How’s school going?”

Beatrice nodded. “Good. He seems to have swung right back into his classes since we’ve been back. Of course, Gio’s way more demanding than his high school teachers, so that’s not really a surprise.”