“I don’t understand. Did you feel guilty? Truly? After thousands of years being who you are?”

Lucien smirked. “You live in a very luxurious time, my dear. A time where there is donated blood for the newborn. A time when you can carry a reserve, if you will. You never had to conquer bloodlust while feeding from an innocent. An innocent who looked you in the eye. Talk to me after a few thousand years and let me know if feeding from humanity still holds no shame for you.”

She bowed her head, humbled by Lucien’s words. Beatrice knew she was young, though she often forgot it when she was in her friends’ company. “So, you drank from Rada?” she said. “After you’d heard?”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “I discussed it with her. She was a scientist herself, after all. She offered.” Lucien’s eyes drifted away. “I kissed her, as I had so many years ago, and then I bit. It was only a few drops. She was still recovering, and... we were not as we once were.”

The vampire fell silent. His eyes seemed to glaze over, and he stared at the flowing water in complete stillness until Tenzin leaned over and touched his shoulder. “Lucien?”

He blinked and came back. His eyes narrowed on Tenzin. “How long?”

“Just a few moments this time.”

He nodded. “I finally left the city and went to my home in the mountains earlier this year. Just after Christmas. It was then that I began noticing odd things happening.”

Carwyn leaned forward. “What things?” Beatrice noticed that Ziri had come closer, as well.

“I needed to sleep. Much more than just a few hours in the afternoon as had been my custom. I thought, perhaps, it was the consequence of the lack of bloodlust. Truly, I felt none. I still feel none, though I try to drink. I never feel the burn in my throat, nor the ache in my belly from the lack of it. I have no hunger.”

“None?” Beatrice asked.

“None. So I decided, for lack of bloodlust, more rest is surely not so great a sacrifice. If I need no food but a bit of bread, now and again, I am willing to pay that price.”

Beatrice had a suspicion that more rest was not the only problem. “What else? It was more than just the bloodlust, wasn’t it?”

Lucien nodded. “I began losing time. I would wake in a room that I had no memory of entering. I woke once, thinking it was the next evening, to find that I had no memory of three days past.”

Carwyn gaped. “Three days?”

He nodded. “Three days had passed. I don’t know if I sleepwalked. If I simply slept? I have no memory of it at all.”

Beatrice asked, “And you live alone?”

“I had. I can no longer. I have a fear that I would simply wander out of the house and lose time, meeting the dawn without any knowledge of it. I have lived the past five months in fear, my friends.” Lucien ran a hand through his shaggy hair, pushing it off his forehead in a frustrated gesture. “I have no idea what has happened to me. I must assume that it is the result of drinking Rada’s blood, but I have no idea why. I force myself to drink now, but it is difficult. I have no taste for it, and I’m not sure my body is drawing any strength from the blood I ingest, no matter how fresh it is.”

“And it’s getting worse?” Beatrice whispered.

Lucien paused, looking around the courtyard. “Yes. And I have no idea how much worse my condition will grow. I tried to find Lorenzo when I started noticing symptoms, but I heard he was in Rome. He did not answer my letters. In truth, I did not expect him to.”

“What about Saba?” Carwyn asked. “Have you written to her?”

“I have sent a messenger to my mother, but, as you know, she is difficult to find. I do have hope that some of my sire’s own blood might heal me. But even if the messenger finds her in the mountains, it would be some time. I have no idea how fast this illness might take me. And the distance from Ethiopia to Rome—”

“Ethiopia?” Beatrice sat up straight. “Did you say—”

“It might not matter.” Ziri’s quiet voice came from the edge of the courtyard. He drifted over and stood next to Lucien, running a hand along the man’s cheek in a tender gesture. “Even if you found my old friend, dear Lucien, I don’t know if your mother’s blood would heal you.”

“Uncle...” Lucien took a deep breath. “You have knowledge of this, I think. But not knowledge that will comfort me.”

Ziri nodded. “I have knowledge about the elixir, yes. We were foolish to keep it a secret. We truly thought it had been lost, that our children were safe from our folly. We should have known better.”

Beatrice murmured, “No secret stays hidden forever.”

Ziri nodded. “You speak truth, Beatrice De Novo.”

Lucien gripped Ziri’s fingers. “Uncle, am I dying?”

“I don’t know.” Ziri’s eyes furrowed in pain. “But I know that something is wrong. Something that can even hurt the most ancient among us. Something that I and my closest friends are responsible for creating.”

Chapter Thirteen

Crotone

1507

Jacopo was crouched in the corner, his throat aching and his eyes glued to the small, lit candle. He reached a finger out, and the flickering flame reached toward him. For a moment, he held it, then it began to spread as if by its own will, up his finger, quickly engulfing his hand. The sharp bite of pain caused him to wince, and he quickly reached for the basin of water Andros had left for him.