A Hidden Fire

thought about killing him when she’d been in his company for weeks and he’d never so much as said a rude word.

“What if I don’t believe you? What if I run screaming to the security guard when we get out of here and tell him you’re a vampire?”

He chuckled a little, and then he stretched his feet across the elevator and crossed his ankles. “Feel free. After all, who would believe a crazy story like that, Beatrice?”

“Right,” she frowned. “Right. No one would believe me because vampires aren’t real.”

He chuckled in amusement. “Everyone knows that.”

She swallowed audibly and nodded. “Of course they do.”

“Besides.” There was a blur in the elevator, and she gasped as he seemed to materialize sitting beside her.

“How-how did you-”

“Shhhh.”

Beatrice could feel his whisper like a caress along her skin and her entire body reacted to him. Her heart raced. Her skin prickled. As she sucked in a breath, she realized even the air around her felt charged. He leaned in and his hand reached up to trace her cheek. It felt as if an electrical current ran along her skin when his fingertip touched it, and she shivered.

“All it would take is a few moments,” he murmured, “and you wouldn’t remember a thing about me.”

She felt a tingle at the nape of her neck, and she realized it felt like something was vibrating under her skin. She gasped again and scrambled a foot away from him, shoving his hand away.

“What was that?”

“Amnis,” his accent was strong as the word curled from his lips.

“Uh…” Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Is that Latin? It’s been a while, I don’t remember-”

“Current. I call it ‘amnis.’ Some immortals who believe in magic call it ‘glamour’ or ‘thrall,’ but it’s not magic. It’s simply energy manipulated by the current that runs under our skin.”

His logical voice spurred her natural curiosity. “Really? That’s…weird, and kind of fascinating. So really? You can just make me forget all this? Because I can tell you, that’s not sounding real likely at the moment.”

Giovanni smiled. “Yes, I can tap into your cerebral cortex and manipulate your memories, your senses, even the words that come out of your mouth.”

For some reason, the thought of him messing with her brain suddenly scared her far more than the idea of him getting hungry.

“Have you done that to me before?” she whispered. “Did you make me trust you?” A thought occurred to her and her temper flared. “Did you use that on my grandma?”

“No, Beatrice,” he spoke calmly. “Trust is an emotion, and I can’t manipulate emotion. Those are centered in the limbic system, and amnis doesn’t seem to affect that. That’s also why some long-term memories are harder to erase or change.”

She stared at him as he sat next to her with the same academic expression he wore when transcribing documents. “You’re talking about all this like it’s some kind of science experiment.”

“I’m not a scientist. Though, I suppose it is a kind of science experiment,” he mused quietly. “One I’ve been working on for many years.”

He shrugged as he settled into the corner next to her, and that familiar gesture did more than anything else to set her at ease. Her logical brain told her he probably wouldn’t bother explaining any of this if he was planning to kill her and drink her blood. Besides that, she couldn’t really imagine Dr. Giovanni Vecchio doing anything quite that rude.

The blue flame continued to swirl above them without any apparent effort on his part, though she knew from its inception he must be manipulating it. It was the same way he had shorted out the elevator, killed her phone, and made the hair on her body stand at attention when he got too close. He controlled this electric current, this…“amnis.”

“So you don’t think it’s magic? It seems like magic.” She cocked her head. “And I always thought of vampires as magic.” She suddenly sat up in excitement. “Are there other creatures? Werewolves? Demons? Fairies?”

He snorted at her and looked down his nose a little. “Fairies?”

She was a little pissed off he seemed so dismissive. “Hey, you’re the one with the glowing blue fire and suddenly pointy teeth, mister. Don’t give me that look. Doesn’t seem that far-fetched to me.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “My teeth are stimulated by a certain set of physical triggers related to blood flow, Beatrice. It’s perfectly natural.”

“Natural for you,” she muttered.

“Yes. Besides,” he picked up her phone where it had fallen on the floor of the elevator and tossed it to her. She fumbled a little but picked it up. “What do you think humanity would have called this two or three hundred years ago? You don’t think they would have thought mobile phones were magic? What about laser surgery? Basic medicines?” He shook his head and said something in Latin.

“How old are you?”

He cocked his head but remained silent.

“I’m sorry, is that a rude question? My grandmother would probably say it was.”

His face softened into a smile. “It’s not something we talk about. We guard our origins carefully.” He paused before he continued. “I’m over five hundred years old.”

“Renaissance? Wow…I was almost wondering if you were born during the late middle ages because of the Dante interest.”

He shifted and cleared his throat. “No, Dante wasn’t fashionable in my day. Too coarse. Too medieval. My father was all about the classics.”

“So why all the questions about my dad? I gotta tell you, that was kinda…”

The smile dropped from her face. She put her head between her knees as a thought nudged the back of her mind.

“Why were you asking about my father, Gio?” Beatrice asked quietly.

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at him, no longer afraid and wanting answers from the pale man whose face haunted her dreams.

Just like another face she’d tried so hard to forget.

“Why were you asking about my father? Did you…know him? Before he died?” A sudden thought struck her. “Do you know who killed him? Was he killed by a-a vampire?”

He didn’t say anything, but continued to stare at her as her heart rate rose.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” She gulped and tears came to her eyes. “Did you…you didn’t…I mean-”

“I didn’t kill your father, Beatrice. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then why were you…”

As she trailed off, she closed her eyes and it was as if puzzle pieces began to fall in the darkness. A quiet gasp left her throat.

Giovanni’s pale face in her dreams.

A familiar tingle along her spine.

A throbbing began to take root at the base of her skull, but she pushed through it and a quiet and familiar voice whispered in her mind.

“Just forget, Mariposa. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m sorry…”

She swallowed the lump in her throat as the tears trailed down her cheeks. “Oh… oh,” she whispered. “My father’s like you, isn’t he? My father’s a vampire.”

Giovanni remained still and silent as the rest of the puzzle took shape.

Her confusing dreams the summer she turned fifteen. Followed by an inexplicable depression that seemed to drag her under despite the loving support of her grandparents. Her withdrawal. The strange and inexplicable moods.

She heard Giovanni murmur from across the compartment, “You are an extraordinarily perceptive girl, Beatrice