After a few moments, she was fully enveloped in the ecstasy of the river, moving with a single thought just under its dark surface as she tracked Baojia. She barely registered her father trailing behind her or the bends and creases of the river as it wound up and through the deep river valleys of the Wuyi Mountains. She could feel the energy signatures of the fish and small animals that darted away from her, but their blood did not distract her as human blood did. She felt the water shallow out before it grew deeper again.
They sped upriver for miles, and Beatrice had little sense of time. She knew only the water, her amnis, and Baojia’s faint shadow in front of her as she followed him. After what could have been hours or minutes, she felt him slow, and she moved silently behind him along the edge of the river. Her eyes broke the surface as they approached the bank where a long bamboo raft was pulled up.
Baojia held a hand out for silence as they walked to the edge of the riverbank. Beatrice could feel the mud between her toes and fought the instinct to remain in the safety of the water. She felt Stephen pick up her hand and tug her along when she hesitated.
None of them said a word as they walked along the muddy bank, finally stepping onto the soft grass that lined the clearing on the edge of the forest.
Baojia smelled it first, and his gaze lifted toward the rise of ancient stone stairs and the scent of blood and smoke. Both hit Beatrice’s nose at the same moment, and her eyes darted around, looking for danger. The smell of blood and fire surrounded her.
“The monastery is in flames,” Stephen whispered. He looked over her shoulder to a set of stairs buried in the hill. They led up into the dark forest and Stephen started for them before he was pulled back by Baojia.
“We need to find the source of the blood. Di Spada and Tenzin are already up there, I’m sure of it.”
Stephen shook his head. “Of course.”
Beatrice’s nostrils flared. “It’s not human.”
“No.”
They walked cautiously toward where the scent was strongest. As they breached the laurel trees on the edge of the riverbank, she saw them. A mass of twisted bodies and rolling heads, Zhongli’s guards were piled into a low depression just beyond a clearing. Their blood sprayed across the dead leaves and detritus that layered the forest floor, and Beatrice gagged at the tangled bodies of the dead vampires.
“Lorenzo must have had men following them,” Baojia said.
“But how?” Stephen looked up in confusion. “They flew.”
“I don’t have any idea, but we’ll talk about it later. Take Beatrice back to the river, and I’ll go up to the monastery.”
“I don’t want to wait by the river!”
His eyes cut toward hers. “Too bad. You’re not going up there unless there’s no avoiding it. It’s already a bloodbath from the smell of it, and I’ll not have you distracting di Spada with your presence and endangering lives. You’re not ready yet. Stay here and keep your head down, little girl.”
Baojia turned to Stephen. “And you stay here, too. Keep her away and out of trouble.”
“The monks—”
“Are probably already dead. By the smell of them, these bodies have been dead at least an hour. Stay here and keep her out of it. That’s the most you can do.”
“Baojia,” Beatrice still protested. “I’m not going to stay down here when—”
He tackled her and bared his fangs as he gripped her around the neck. “Stay here! I do not have time to argue with you. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have let you come here. So don’t make me regret it. Stay here and keep your head down, or you’ll get someone killed. Probably yourself.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he bared his fangs again and she shut up. No matter how much she wanted to help, she knew much of what he was saying was true. She had little experience in actual battle and would probably only hurt herself.
“There will always be war. It is your job to survive it. That is your victory…”
She nodded tightly and Baojia leapt off, racing up the stone stairway and toward the growing cloud of smoke. Stephen gripped her hand and pulled her up. He drew Beatrice away from the bodies of Zhongli’s guards and toward the riverbank where they crouched in the shadows to wait.
“Do you worry about Tenzin?” she asked.
Stephen paused before he answered. “Yes. I know I probably shouldn’t. She’s lived for five thousand years, right?”
“Yep.”
“Right.”
“I still worry about Gio,” she confessed in a whisper. “Even though he’s survived more than I could even imagine.”
“You’re very lucky, Beatrice.” Stephen looked at her in the dim light of the crescent moon. “You’re lucky to have found each other. You know that love that I was talking about in my journals? The kind Grandma and Grandpa had? That’s the way he looks at you. Like you’re the most important thing in the world to him.”
She blinked back tears. “He’s everything to me.”
Stephen gave her a soft smile. “You’re very lucky.”
They waited in silence as the smell of smoke only grew stronger. Every now and then, Beatrice thought she could hear a shout from the top of the stairs, but nothing was clear. Stephen explained that the majority of the old stone temple was hewn into the side of the mountain, and the hallways were like a puzzle.
“Even if Lorenzo gets there, there are many false corridors and passageways. It was designed as a defensive fortress, so there are escape routes and dead ends; the monks know all of them. It would take him hours to find his way to the library alone.” She wasn’t sure whether he was convincing her or himself.