30

With my ninth mind I resurrect my first and dance slow to the music of my soul made new.

—Aberjhani

 

Luke sank into the comforting warmth enveloping him. It seeped into his body, infusing him with an energy he had not felt in decades or more. Somehow he understood it protected him and he imagined he could be quite happy spending an eternity in this pleasant nowhere. He could not see anything around him, nor did he care to look. He felt good, soothed and at peace, and only that mattered.

Too soon, the coat of comfort dissipated, leaving the cold, hard reality of a cobblestone street. Suddenly, his body ached everywhere. He could not recall ever feeling this sore, not even as a human. “Christ.”

Rolling onto his back, he groaned and shivered as his skin dipped into a tire-sized puddle of water. He pushed himself into a sitting position to avoid the chilling wetness and rubbed his forehead. His head throbbed as if someone had taken a jackhammer to it. Bloody hell. When was the last time he’d had a headache? His completely nude state did not help, especially since he sat in the middle of a narrow Roman street. And he had no recollection of how he’d arrived there.

“Savannah.” Where was she? He turned, scanning his surroundings, and recognized the area. A side street of Piazza del Popolo. He had been with Savannah here, cornered by Lorenzo’s men. He swore he’d drunk from her but it blurred in his mind.

Either way, it would not do to sit naked in the middle of the street. Francesca. Her pensione was nearby and she would know what to do. He needed to find Savannah.

Scrambling to his feet, he half stumbled and half walked on wobbly legs. He stuck to shadows and used the wall to brace himself as his body grew weak. Something was wrong. Had he been exposed to some sort of sunlight? He had not felt this nauseous in over two centuries. His stomach lurched with every step.

By the time he had reached the door to Francesca’s inn, sweat had beaded on his forehead, above his lip and around his neck. If it were not so cold outside, he might have passed out. As it was, standing seemed to take an immense amount of effort. Fortunately, the door swung wide with his first knock.

“My goodness, Dante.” Francesca stepped forward and dug her small hands into his skin as she attempted to support his weight. “What happened to you?”

What had happened to him? If only he could answer that question for himself. “Pardon my state of undress. I am not sure where my clothes have disappeared to. And Savannah, she is gone. I have to find her.”

The older woman shook her head as she lowered him into a chair and brought him a blanket to place over himself. “You aren’t going anywhere in this condition.” Francesca bent low, gripped his chin and tilted his face up to hers. Her burnt toffee gaze narrowed as she searched his face. “Incredible. I never thought this would be possible. I even hesitated despite my visions, but seeing it confirmed it is something of a miracle.”

“What is possible?” He had not the slightest idea to what she referred. She looked him up and down, studying him as if he were something or someone she had never seen. “Please, Francesca. You must help me find Savannah.”

“The girl, did you turn her?”

He nodded. “I had to. Lorenzo’s men did not leave me much choice.”

Francesca pursed her lips then released a long sigh. “The most I can hope to do is prepare you. You can’t go find her without understanding the change you’ve undergone. And if she truly has gone through any kind of transformation...let’s wait and see.”

“Prepare me for what?” Luke asked, exasperated. “I have not undergone any changes. I am merely exhausted and out of options. For all I know, Broderick could be dead. Perhaps I can contact Rafe but every passing minute, my chances of finding her lessen.”

Francesca shook her head and left the room.

Luke put the heel of his hand to his forehead and massaged in a circular motion. His headache acted up again. Who knew if Lorenzo’s men would leave Savannah alone even if he had succeeded in turning her? He could only hope they would give up on the idea of her as a weapon. She would be strong as a new vampire, but not strong enough to fight off Lorenzo.

“Here.” Francesca entered the room and placed a plate of bread and a glass of milk on a table in front of him. “I baked this bread today. I think we should hold off on extra butter or jam for now.”

What the devil was she talking about? “I cannot possibly eat this. You know my diet requires something a bit more substantial.” Even as he said the words, his mouth watered at the sight of bread and milk.

“Eat it. If you are still craving something more substantial afterward, I will see what I can scrounge up.”

Luke eyed the bread. A small bit of it would not benefit him but neither would it hurt him. And for some reason the thought of biting into bread held great appeal. He snagged the slice and bit into one of the sides. Buttery softness melted onto his tongue, and he moaned. “This is amazing,” he said as he bit off a large piece of the slice. He reached for the milk and gulped it down. He lifted the glass out to her. “Have you any more?”

“Of course,” answered Francesca. “But I think it best if you slow down. This is new to you.”

“I need strength. I need to find Savannah.” He broke off another piece of the bread and shoved it into his mouth. His stomach lurched, and he dropped the small portion remaining. “Bloody hell.” He pushed up from the chair and stumbled to her lobby area, tripping over the blanket he held covering himself. After heaving several times, he’d emptied the contents of his stomach into a small trash bin. He swiped his arm across his face and groaned. “I told you I could not eat bread.”

“No, you’re wrong.” She walked over to him, hands on her hips, her face twisted into a frown. “You ate too fast.”

Francesca was off her rocker. “Need I remind you I am a vampire? We do not feed off freshly baked bread. I need blood.” Although the thought of eating anything now rolled his stomach. He leaned back against the wall. “I think I need to lie down.”

She shook her head. “You don’t need blood. Sleep? Perhaps yes. Humans need lots of sleep.”

What was she talking about? “Francesca, I have not a clue of what you mean, but at this point, it may have to wait until later. Sleep sounds good.”

“Fine,” she said and slipped her hand into her skirt pocket, pulled out a small knife. “But after I make a point because you obviously aren’t listening to me.” She sliced the knife across the skin of his shoulder.

Luke jumped, instinctively placing a hand over his cut, which stung like fire. “Why did you do that?” He pulled his hand away and frowned at the blood dripping down his upper arm. It was not healing. “What is going on? Why is this happening to me?” He raised his gaze.

Francesca smiled, eyes shining with tears.

“Do not cry, Francesca. Please do not fret. Everything will be fine.” Or so he hoped.

Francesca shook her head and laughed lightly. “Oh, Dante. I do not cry out of sadness. I am happy. Don’t you see? You are human, Dante. Welcome to purgatory.”

* * * *

In the light of dusk, Rafe sat outside Cafe San Eustachio and watched tourists thumb through their brochures and maps. Lost and absorbed in their trivial lives. Still, he loved to watch and pretend himself a part of it all, if only for a small space in time. A weakness he would never admit.

His cell phone rang and he pulled it off his belt clip, flipped it open. “Buonasera.”

“Uh, good evening, Rafe. It’s Broderick.”

“Is she awake?”

“She just left for work. Each day has been a struggle but she’s trying.”

“Good. Small steps.” He remembered vaguely what it was like to be possessed by such strong sentiments, but a couple millennia or so of masking them would cure anyone’s emotional vulnerability. “How long before you have to be on your next case?”

“I’m going to New Orleans next week. I’ve gotten word from a friend she’ll be there.”

“I’ll have my men in place before then. Don’t worry, Savannah will be safe.”

“I know.”

Rafe hesitated, feeling he should say more, but also out of his element. “You’re a good friend. Luke believed that too.”

“Thanks.” Broderick exhaled heavily. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Ciao.” Rafe ended the call. Broderick was a halfling and still young. If he lived long enough, he’d soon learn there was no room for emotions. Still, after Luke’s death a change had occurred in the halfling, and he could sense one in himself, which left him uneasy.

A familiar scent wafted past him and he lifted his head. Savannah? He scanned the crowds but didn’t spot the human. “Impossible.” She couldn’t be in Rome, anyway. According to Broderick, she’d left for work. He smoothed a hand over his stubble and sipped an espresso. A ripple of warning lifted the light dusting of hairs on his arms.

Drago was right, he needed a vacation. The last one he’d taken had been several decades ago and long forgotten. Asia? No, he went there often enough on business. A lot of their rarer blood producers came from the Orient. This time he wanted somewhere more secluded and of course, shady. Although he could withstand much more sunlight as an older vampire, he preferred not to push his luck. South America? He smiled. The rainforests would be perfect over the next few months.

“I hoped I would find you eventually, although it has taken several months.” The man speaking stood a foot from Rafe’s table. Gray slacks hugged his slim hips and trim waist. A blue, collared shirt skimmed his broad chest and arms.

“Evans?” Impossible. He’d seen the vampire disappear with his own eyes. “How?”

The man sat down across from him. “The truth is, I cannot say. I passed.” He hesitated. “I cannot explain how, but I awoke sometime later, naked and alone.”

“Your body disintegrated.” The man looked like Luke, sounded like him, dressed like him. The only difference was his scent. It was human. Rafe leaned back in his chair. “Fascinating. A Blessed’s blood doesn’t kill. It transforms. You took a risk coming to find me.” No human had ever willingly searched him out. Another first, meeting a human who’d previously existed as a vampire.

Luke shifted in his seat, nodding. “I had no choice. I need your help.” He looked up, meeting his gaze. “These past few weeks, I have been searching for Savannah. I thought she might be with Lorenzo but he seems to have disappeared completely. Considering my current state as a human, I cannot exactly come out and ask.”

Of course. “She isn’t with Lorenzo and she didn’t turn.”

“What do you mean? She drank from me and I drank from her.”

“The Blessed cannot be turned. If I had known your intentions, I would have stopped you. Broderick told me you came looking for me, only, it was too late when we found you.”

“Where is she?” Luke’s hands fisted on the table. “I must have left her to Lorenzo. I do not even know what became of Broderick. I need to—”

“You haven’t heard?” Rafe asked. “Lorenzo is dead.”

“No, I had not heard. I have lain low. Enemies abound.”

“And yet you came to me.”

Luke’s fists loosened as he relaxed back in his chair. “Yes. If you had wanted me dead, I would have been long ago. And if I am wrong on that account, it would not have mattered. Without Savannah, even a mortal life is not worth living.”

“I see,” said Rafe. And yet he wasn’t truly sure he did understand Luke. “Why now? Why not when you were first changed? A lot has happened over these few months.”

Luke took a deep breath. “A fair question, and I shall give you an honest answer. My transformation, as you called it, was not an easy one. I walked well enough but my legs gave out far too often. My stomach could not keep down food. I slept the majority of the days away.”

“You relearned to be human to some degree.”

Luke nodded. “Exactly. May I ask you a question about the night I last saw Savannah?”

“Ask away,” Rafe said.

“Did you kill Lorenzo?”

“No, I didn’t have that pleasure. Drago staked his claim long ago. I merely handed Lorenzo over after he did a number on Broderick. Broderick is alive and well.”

“I am glad to hear he is okay, and I owe you my thanks,” Luke said.

“After what you did at the blood auction, I’d say we’re even.” Rafe signaled to a waiter for his check. “Savannah is back in Boston. You needn’t worry, as Broderick checks in on her and I have sent my men to protect her. No harm will come to her.”

Luke’s chest rose and fell, and his expression was blank.

The temptation to touch his hand and read his mind was strong, but Rafe resisted. “So what will you do now? Fly to Boston? The past few months have been a struggle. You’ll want to avoid scaring her.”

“Not yet. I need to procure a property in Boston. A central location for a restaurant.”

“You’re going to make her dreams come true.”

Luke sat quietly for several moments. “I am going to try.”

Rafe frowned. What must it feel like to love someone so much you’d risk everything for them? He’d never know.

“And you?” Luke asked. “You see our love as a weakness.”

“No.” Rafe leaned forward. “I see your humanity as a weakness.”

“A pity. Weeks ago, I saw my first sunrise in centuries. It left me speechless. I have woken every day since to catch a glimpse of it.” Luke rose as the waiter came to the table with the check. “Thank you for your help.” He paused in turning. “Forgive my audacity, but wherever you were when I interrupted you, that is where you should go. You had a relaxed expression, pleasant almost.”

“Ah,” he replied. Luke was observant as a human. “I considered taking a vacation.”

“I see.” Luke shrugged. “Perhaps you should do more than consider it.”

Rafe nodded and watched as Luke strode away, disappearing into the crowd of tourists.