A Hidden Fire
Page 62
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“Of course!” He stepped back and dabbed at her eyes with the edge of his flowered shirt. “There now. And you’ll be back to Houston for Christmas, will you not?”
She nodded and sniffed. “Yep, and let’s face it, the weather in L.A.’s got to be better than this, right? And your shirts will totally fit in. You have to come visit me.”
He winked and chucked Beatrice under her chin as she composed herself. “And see all the California girls? Count on it.”
Gathering her things, she gave one last look to the smiling man in front of her then glanced toward Giovanni. “I’ll see you on Wednesday?”
He nodded and winked. “Count on it.”
The next Wednesday, Giovanni and Beatrice chatted quietly about her end-of-term projects and finals, taking advantage of the empty reading room before Dr. Scalia arrived for his seven-thirty appointment. There was also a new professor coming at eight o’clock to see the Pico letters.
“When do you think you’ll move?”
“I want to be there by the middle of August. That should give me enough time to find my way around before classes start.”
She knew they weren’t mentioning it, but the prospect of the Lorenzo problem continuing unresolved into the fall was something that hung heavy over her plans for the future.
“That’s a good idea. I want you to know,” he paused and looked around the empty room. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to worry about your grandmother. Whatever happens. Please don’t let that trouble you. I will make sure…nothing will happen to her.”
She nodded, touched by his concern for her grandmother, which was no doubt partly the result of Caspar’s growing affection, but also—she hoped—at least partially out of concern for her, as well.
“Thanks. That does—” She broke off when the small Italian professor stepped through the door of the reading room.
“Ah!” he said. “How are you young people today? Dr. Vecchio, a pleasure as always. How goes your transcription?”
Giovanni glanced at the open scroll which sat lonely on his table near the desk and smirked at the twinkling eyes of the cheerful academic.
“Slow, at the moment, since I am pestering Miss De Novo with questions. I’d better get back to work and let her get your letter.”
“Oh, don’t mind me…well, actually do! I’m very excited to get a look at this new document.”
Beatrice chuckled at both of them, filled out the call slip and went back to the stacks to grab Dr. Scalia’s letter, and the letter the professor with the eight o’clock appointment requested to save her a trip back. Walking out the door, she tripped a little, and one of the document boxes slid out of her grasp.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, but before it could hit the ground, Giovanni darted over and caught it with almost inhuman speed. He glanced over his shoulder at Dr. Scalia, who already had his back to them getting out his notebooks.
Beatrice shook her head a little, and mouthed, “Close one.”
He shook his head and whispered, “I forget myself around you, Beatrice.”
Suddenly, his proximity caused her to blush, and she quickly spun and set the document box on the counter, trying to distract herself and wishing he couldn’t hear the sudden rush of her pulse.
“Beatrice,” she heard him whisper. She took a deep breath and turned around, meeting his eyes. They burned with the strange intensity she often noticed when the energy crackled around him. She didn’t know what mechanism of his immortality caused his eyes to change the way they did, but at that moment, they were an almost swirling blue-green, the color she’d seen in pictures of the sun-washed Mediterranean Sea.
His fingers brushed hers when he handed her the box containing the precious new letter, but she pulled away from his gaze and walked over to take the document to Dr. Scalia’s table. She saw Giovanni walk back to his own table and begin work, so she sat down at the reference desk, pulling out her own translation of the Pico letter.
He was in prison again. This time, it was Paris and his friends didn’t have as much influence.
We are working to see to your speedy release, and I hope you will retain good spirits in the meantime. I have been most disheartened to hear of your poor treatment, and I hope, by this time, you have been given better access to your books and to Jacopo, though your man assured me he was being well taken care of.
She had finished reading the letter for the third time, taking notes in her quickly expanding notebook when she heard the door push open. Beatrice looked up, immediately aware of the hiss of energy that filled the room. She glanced toward the door to see an attractive man in his mid-thirties approach the reference desk with a smirk on his face.
Something about him gave her pause and as he approached the desk, she knew what it was.
This was definitely another vampire.
A distinct tremor ran down her spine. He was more than handsome, with his pale curling hair, soft blue eyes, and almost feminine features. He reminded Beatrice of a Botticelli painting she had seen during her recent research on the Italian Renaissance. However, the light behind his smiling eyes was cold, and she looked at Giovanni to reassure herself.
Unfortunately, Giovanni’s expression was anything but reassuring. His nostrils were flared, and he looked as inhumanly fierce as she had ever seen him. She immediately glanced at Dr. Scalia to see if he had noticed anything. Luckily the cheerful academic was happily immersed in his research and took no notice of anything else.
She nodded and sniffed. “Yep, and let’s face it, the weather in L.A.’s got to be better than this, right? And your shirts will totally fit in. You have to come visit me.”
He winked and chucked Beatrice under her chin as she composed herself. “And see all the California girls? Count on it.”
Gathering her things, she gave one last look to the smiling man in front of her then glanced toward Giovanni. “I’ll see you on Wednesday?”
He nodded and winked. “Count on it.”
The next Wednesday, Giovanni and Beatrice chatted quietly about her end-of-term projects and finals, taking advantage of the empty reading room before Dr. Scalia arrived for his seven-thirty appointment. There was also a new professor coming at eight o’clock to see the Pico letters.
“When do you think you’ll move?”
“I want to be there by the middle of August. That should give me enough time to find my way around before classes start.”
She knew they weren’t mentioning it, but the prospect of the Lorenzo problem continuing unresolved into the fall was something that hung heavy over her plans for the future.
“That’s a good idea. I want you to know,” he paused and looked around the empty room. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to worry about your grandmother. Whatever happens. Please don’t let that trouble you. I will make sure…nothing will happen to her.”
She nodded, touched by his concern for her grandmother, which was no doubt partly the result of Caspar’s growing affection, but also—she hoped—at least partially out of concern for her, as well.
“Thanks. That does—” She broke off when the small Italian professor stepped through the door of the reading room.
“Ah!” he said. “How are you young people today? Dr. Vecchio, a pleasure as always. How goes your transcription?”
Giovanni glanced at the open scroll which sat lonely on his table near the desk and smirked at the twinkling eyes of the cheerful academic.
“Slow, at the moment, since I am pestering Miss De Novo with questions. I’d better get back to work and let her get your letter.”
“Oh, don’t mind me…well, actually do! I’m very excited to get a look at this new document.”
Beatrice chuckled at both of them, filled out the call slip and went back to the stacks to grab Dr. Scalia’s letter, and the letter the professor with the eight o’clock appointment requested to save her a trip back. Walking out the door, she tripped a little, and one of the document boxes slid out of her grasp.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, but before it could hit the ground, Giovanni darted over and caught it with almost inhuman speed. He glanced over his shoulder at Dr. Scalia, who already had his back to them getting out his notebooks.
Beatrice shook her head a little, and mouthed, “Close one.”
He shook his head and whispered, “I forget myself around you, Beatrice.”
Suddenly, his proximity caused her to blush, and she quickly spun and set the document box on the counter, trying to distract herself and wishing he couldn’t hear the sudden rush of her pulse.
“Beatrice,” she heard him whisper. She took a deep breath and turned around, meeting his eyes. They burned with the strange intensity she often noticed when the energy crackled around him. She didn’t know what mechanism of his immortality caused his eyes to change the way they did, but at that moment, they were an almost swirling blue-green, the color she’d seen in pictures of the sun-washed Mediterranean Sea.
His fingers brushed hers when he handed her the box containing the precious new letter, but she pulled away from his gaze and walked over to take the document to Dr. Scalia’s table. She saw Giovanni walk back to his own table and begin work, so she sat down at the reference desk, pulling out her own translation of the Pico letter.
He was in prison again. This time, it was Paris and his friends didn’t have as much influence.
We are working to see to your speedy release, and I hope you will retain good spirits in the meantime. I have been most disheartened to hear of your poor treatment, and I hope, by this time, you have been given better access to your books and to Jacopo, though your man assured me he was being well taken care of.
She had finished reading the letter for the third time, taking notes in her quickly expanding notebook when she heard the door push open. Beatrice looked up, immediately aware of the hiss of energy that filled the room. She glanced toward the door to see an attractive man in his mid-thirties approach the reference desk with a smirk on his face.
Something about him gave her pause and as he approached the desk, she knew what it was.
This was definitely another vampire.
A distinct tremor ran down her spine. He was more than handsome, with his pale curling hair, soft blue eyes, and almost feminine features. He reminded Beatrice of a Botticelli painting she had seen during her recent research on the Italian Renaissance. However, the light behind his smiling eyes was cold, and she looked at Giovanni to reassure herself.
Unfortunately, Giovanni’s expression was anything but reassuring. His nostrils were flared, and he looked as inhumanly fierce as she had ever seen him. She immediately glanced at Dr. Scalia to see if he had noticed anything. Luckily the cheerful academic was happily immersed in his research and took no notice of anything else.
