Page 40 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
Elise played the confused damsel. “The what? What’s he talking about?”
A vampire stumbled from the other side of the van with a bleeding temple and a baffled expression. He spotted Giovanni immediately, and his vision cleared. He glanced at the fire, then back to Giovanni.
“My name is Giovanni di Spada,” he said quietly. “I think you’ve heard of me.”
The vampire bared his fangs, turned, and fled into the night. A few seconds later, another human kicked out the back of the van and ran after the vampire.
Giovanni turned to Elise.You should be running too.
The crying woman let out a sob and ran toward Terry’s driver, the only other human left. “Oh my God, can you help me? He took me and made me drive—I don’t know what happened! I’m so confused and I don’t remember—”
“Miss, calm down now.” Terry’s driver frowned. “Sir, what do you want to do? I think she was a hostage.”
Beatrice was still panicking, and Giovanni knew that whatever had happened that night, a human was likely hurt, possibly dead. “Call a doctor. Someone from Graves Court. Have them sent to Audley immediately.”
“T-to Audley?” Elise sniffed, but her eyes turned calculating. “Where is Graves Court? Is that where you’re going? Can you take me? I want to speak to the police.”
No doubt to spin a very fine tale, maybe one worthy of Shakespeare’s pen.
The driver looked at Giovanni.
He smiled. “Yes, take Miss Lambert to Graves Court, but search her for weapons first. That vampire had a bullet wound.”
All semblance of fear fell from Elise’s eyes, and she bolted.
Not before Giovanni could catch her.
“Let me go!”
He grabbed one wrist, then the other, holding her without damaging her despite what his instincts would have preferred. “I knew who you were before we even arrived, Miss Lambert. I’ll use that name since it appears you’ve done quite a good job building that identity.”
Elise stopped struggling and looked up. “Who are you?”
“You just heard me refer to myself as Giovanni di Spada, but that’s a name I don’t go by very often anymore. These days I go by Giovanni Vecchio.”
The blood drained from her face.
“Sound familiar? You might know me as Ben Vecchio’s uncle… Emilie.”
Thirteen
Beatrice was searching the back of the door with no success. “There has to be a latch. No one designs a vault that can’t be opened from the inside in case of emergency.”
“It’s been five minutes.” René was holding his throat, but the blood loss had already stopped and his voice was clear again. “How hard can an old library door be?”
She stepped back to look at the door thorough the eyes of a safe designer. There were three points where she would have hidden a safety latch, and none of them held anything but stone. “Maybe along the base?” She crouched down and felt along the wooden door. “This door must be two inches thick of solid oak.”
“Keep in mind” —René was holding a wad of torn cotton from his shirt to the bullet wound in Barnes’s gut— “we’re not talking about master thieves here. They probably didn’t foresee a con artist in league with vampires maneuvering her way into the heart of the Mortimer heir, then robbing them blind and shooting their butler. Merde! How hard is it to open a door?”
“I’m a water vampire and a librarian!” She lost her patience and turned to him. “Do you see any water? Do you see a code or a puzzle to solve? You’re the earth vampire here! We’re surrounded by stone.Youdo something, Du Pont.”
“Hold this!” He waited for Beatrice to come over and keep pressure on Barnes’s wound. “His heartbeat is slow but stable.”
“I’ve been listening.” She carefully placed pressure on the wound while trying not to hurt the old man.
René’s color was back to normal, and he looked as hearty as he had before the shooting. Beatrice more than half wondered if he’d taken a sip from the unconscious earl when her back was turned.
“Barnes is older, but he’s healthy.”
