A Hidden Fire
Page 43

Where were you born?
Gwynedd.  Northern part of Wales.
And you’re still there?
For the most part, I always have been.  I’m quite the homebody, unlike our Gio.
She narrowed her eyes and wrote, Are you really a priest?
He chuckled quietly.  Yes, you don’t have to be an old man, you know.  And my father was a priest.  And my grandfather.  And one of my sons became abbott of our community after I was gone.
She frowned.  Kinda lax on that whole celibacy thing, huh?
Carwyn grinned.  Not uncommon in the Welsh church.  And it was before Gregory.  (Look it up.) Many Welsh priests married.  Rome had a hard time conquering Wales.  Militarily and ecclesiastically.  He winked as he finished the sentence.
So you were married?
He just nodded and smiled.  “Efa,” he whispered.
She paused for a moment.  What happened to your wife?  Your children?
Carwyn offered a wistful smile.  My wife went to our God before I was turned.  She died quite young from a fever.  Our children were taken in by our community when I disappeared.  I went back years later.  Those that survived had good lives.
She looked at him, and for a moment, she could see the hundreds of years in his eyes, but they quickly lit again in joy.
There is a time for sorrow and a time for joy, he wrote.  I have a new family now.
Beatrice raised her eyebrows in question and he continued writing with a smile.
You’ll come to Wales someday and meet them.  I have eleven children.  Most of them have stayed fairly close to home.  We keep the British deer population under control.
She mouthed ‘wow,’ but only wrote, So none of you bite people?
He grinned.  Not usually.  Just if they smell really good, like you.  Joking.
She rolled her eyes.  Never married again?  Do vampires even get married?  That seems kind of normal for the mystical undead creatures of the night.
Some do.  He smiled.  It’s not uncommon.  One of my sons has been married for four hundred years now.  I haven’t ever wanted to again.
Her eyes bugged out.  How do you stay married to someone for 400 years?
He frowned seriously before he wrote back.  Separate vacations.
She couldn’t contain the small snort that escaped her.  She glanced up, and Dr. Scalia was still raptly studying the Pico letters, but Giovanni was glaring at her and Carwyn in annoyance.  She rolled her eyes and mouthed, ‘Get back to work.’
Giovanni smiled and shook his head a little.
She caught Carwyn watching them out of the corner of his eye.  He began to scribble on the notebook again.
He’s never married.
She paused for a moment and Carwyn continued writing.  He handed the notebook to her.
Don’t pretend you weren’t curious.
She glared at him.  I can’t even imagine Professor Frosty dating, she wrote quickly and tossed the notebook at him.
Then it was Carwyn who couldn’t hold in the snort.  He wrote something in bold letters and underlined it twice.
Opposite.  Of.  Frosty.
She shook her head but couldn’t think of anything to write back, so she busied herself checking her e-mail as Carwyn scribbled.  After a while, she leaned back in her chair and he handed her the book again, a mischievous grin on his face.
Do you like Gio?  Check yes or no.  He had sketched two small boxes underneath the question with a large arrow pointing to the “yes” box.
She rolled her eyes and wrote back.  How can you be this childish after a thousand years?
He raised his eyebrows and jotted down.  That’s not a yes or no.
Screwing her mouth up in annoyance, she wrote back.  Once upon a time, B made some very bad choices about boys.  Then she went to college and continued making bad choices about men.  Then B got smart and decided to take a break.  The End.
Carwyn smiled and winked at her before writing on the notebook.  Well, obviously, you need to be dating a vampire.
At that statement, Beatrice grabbed the notebook and snapped it closed, handed Carwyn a romance novel Charlotte had stashed in the bottom drawer of the desk, and opened her own book to read.
“Don’t be a coward, B,” he said in a sing-song voice as he opened the book that looked like it had a shirtless pirate on the front.  “Ooh,” he whispered.  “The thrilling tale of Don Fernando and the beautiful Sophie.  Been meaning to read this one.”
And with that, Carwyn wiggled his eyebrows and began reading.  Beatrice tried to pay attention to her book, but her gaze continued to drift up to the dark-haired man seated at the table in front of her.  All of a sudden, she had a memory of him rising out of the water the night before—the most perfect man she had ever seen—without a stitch of clothing on, and she couldn’t help the flush that rose to her cheeks.  She had gotten more than an eyeful before she forced herself to look away.
“Hmm, I’ve never had that reaction to Cormac McCarthy, myself, but then, everyone’s different,” Carwyn whispered as a smirk teased the corner of his mouth.
She saw Giovanni raise his head, no doubt hearing his friend’s comment and possibly wondering why Beatrice’s heartbeat had picked up so suddenly.
“Stupid vampires with their stupid preternatural senses,” she muttered, but she knew Carwyn could hear her because he his shoulders began shaking with silent laughter.