Though his tone was teasing, Giovanni recognized the cold light in Lorenzo’s eyes that had only grown stronger in the last hundred years.

“I want to know why you’re in Houston.  I’m assuming you sent the letters, didn’t you?”

“Oh,” Lorenzo’s eyes lit up, “are we telling old stories?  Does she know all about us?  Did you tell her our little secret?  Does she know about old Nic?”  He grinned slowly when he saw the slow burn in Giovanni’s eyes.  “Oh, I just bet she doesn’t, does she?”

“Why are you here?” he roared in Italian.  Blue flames flared on his arms, and he felt the scraps of his sleeves turn to ash and drift to the ground.  “Is this some sick game to you?  Tell me your purpose, boy, and leave!”

Lorenzo looked as if he had won a prize.  “Oh, she’s wonderful…or is it your books?  What has finally caused Niccolo’s perfect boy to lose his temper?  It’s too beautiful for words.”  A sick, dulcet laugh burbled from his throat.

“Gio?”

He tensed when he heard the tremor in Beatrice’s voice.  He could tell she was terrified and trying to hide it.  He wished he could reach out and calm the race of her pulse.  Its frantic beat was starting to distract even him, and he knew that if he could feel the delicious burn in his throat, then Lorenzo must have been aching to feed from her.

He took an unnecessary breath, hoping the habitual action would calm him, and slowly the blue flames were absorbed by his skin.  Lorenzo also took a deep breath, and his nostrils flared as he scented the air.  A slow smile grew on his son’s face, and his eyes closed in satisfaction.

“She does smell like her father,” he purred.  “You would have loved his taste, Giovanni.  So pure—like a cool drink of water on a hot day.  Do you remember that?  So refreshing.  But again, I spend too much time reminiscing.”

Lorenzo opened his eyes and attempted to straighten his charred jacket.  “I do believe I have an appointment at seven o’clock.  If you could allow Beatrice to get my document for me, there’s no need for you to linger.”

“Go to hell,” Giovanni said in a calm voice.  “Why are you here?  I obviously know you have my books, you lying bastard.  So what else do you want?”

“The girl, of course.  I need her to get her father; he’s become quite the problem child.”  Lorenzo clucked his tongue and shook his head.  “So typical for adolescents, I’m afraid.  You were lucky with me, Giovanni.  I waited almost fifty years before I began to give you headaches.”

Lorenzo looked over his shoulder again and winked at the terrified girl.  “It’s just a phase, my dear.  No need to worry about your father.  I’ll have him back into the fold in no time.”

Giovanni stepped away from Lorenzo and went to position himself closer to Beatrice, who stood guarding the letters on the table like a mother hen.  “The girl is mine.  Leave.”

“Is she?”  Lorenzo cocked his head.  “Is she really, Giovanni?  That would be something, wouldn’t it?  Quite out of character for you, keeping a human.  Whatever could be the attraction?”  The vampire eyed Beatrice with new interest, and another feral growl issued from Giovanni’s throat.

Lorenzo looked at him hopefully.  “I’ll pay you, of course.  Especially if she’s that much fun.  I’m not expecting something for nothing.  I’d even be willing to trade.”

Giovanni’s eyes narrowed.  “Not expecting something for nothing?  Now that’s out of character for you, Lorenzo.”

The blond vampire rolled his eyes.  “Now, really, you act as if you got nothing out of the deal, Papà.  And we both know that’s not true.  What are a few old books and letters between father and son, hmm?”  Then he slipped closer to them, twisting his neck around to peer at Beatrice before he looked up at Giovanni again.  “Then again, maybe they’re worth more than I thought.”

Lorenzo brushed the blond curls from his forehead and flicked a bit of ash from his sleeve.  Giovanni could see the outline of the burns his hands left on his throat already healing, but he wouldn’t be able to wear his jacket again.  He stood in front of his son, fuming silently.

“Well, Giovanni, talkative as ever, I see.”  Lorenzo sighed.  “I suppose I’ll just have to make an appointment for another time.  Maybe one of my associates can come take a look during the day when it’s more convenient.”

He winked at Beatrice.  “Either way, I’ll see my letters again.  It was really more of a loan to pique your curiosity.”

“Get out,” Giovanni said.

“I can see that it worked even better than I’d hoped,” he sang as he turned and left the room.  “I’ll be seeing you!  Both of you.  Soon.”  He sailed out of the reading room with a flourish, and in a second he was down the hallway.  They heard the door to the stairwell click behind him.

Giovanni took a deep breath and finally turned to Beatrice.  He had been able to smell the waves of adrenaline rolling off her during Lorenzo’s visit and he could hear her heartbeat pounding, but he was not prepared for the tears that poured down her face.