“Care to join me?” A smile twitched the corner of his mouth.
She nodded. “Yeah, stairs sound good.”
He opened to the door to the stairwell and held up a hand as he appeared to listen for a moment. Seemingly satisfied, he motioned her toward the open door.
Her mind started to compile a list of reasons she should
“I’m doing pretty well with the not-freaking-out-thing, right?”
“Very well.” He nodded. “Quite impressive.”
They walked in silence the rest of the way, both of them sneaking measuring glances at each other as they descended. When they reached the first floor, he held the door open for her again. She hesitated, knowing somehow when she walked through the doors, she would be different-fundamentally changed by the knowledge she now possessed.
She took a deep breath and walked through the door. Giovanni put a hand on the small of her back in a gesture she normally would have found too personal but, considering the circumstances, she didn’t mind. They walked quickly out the front doors and into the dark night together.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said.
“That’s really not necessary.”
He rolled his eyes. “Beatrice, I’ve just told you that mythological creatures exist, and that your father-who you thought was killed-is probably one of them. Please, allow me to drive you home so I don’t have to worry about you crashing your car into a guardrail.”
She paused, but couldn’t think of a comeback.
“Good point.”
“Thank you.”
“You’d worry?”
His eyes darted to the side, but he continued walking. “I’ll have Caspar pick you up in the morning in time for your first class. I promise you won’t be late.”
She realized she would rather have time to think on the drive home anyway. Plus, she decided she might have one or two questions for Batman’s butler.
“Fine, you can drive me home.”
“That’s my car over there.” Giovanni nodded toward the grey Mustang near the rear of the parking lot.
“Nice.”
A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I like it.”
“I do, too.” Her eyes raked over the sleek lines of the vintage car. “How can you drive this if you can’t even ride in an elevator?”
“Good question.” He shrugged. “Older cars don’t seem to be bothered by me, though I always wear gloves when I drive. New cars, however…” He shook his head. “Far too many electronics. I can hardly ride in one without breaking it. Caspar makes me sit in the back seat of his car now.”
“That’s got to be really inconvenient.”
“Let’s just say, sometimes, I really miss horses.”
Beatrice smirked as she sat back in the burnished leather seat of the Mustang, and she examined his face in the sporadic light of the street lamps as he started the car and backed out. His car smelled like leather and smoke, and she realized the odd scent she often caught from him was the same as the air after an electrical storm, which suddenly made much more sense.
“Gio?” she asked after they had merged on the highway.
“Hmm?” He had returned to his more taciturn demeanor since entering the car.
“Do all vampires do the fire thing?”
He glanced at her before turning his face back to the road. “No, we all have some sort of affinity for one of the elements, though. No one seems to know why.”
“Elements? Not like chemistry, though, right?”
He shook his head. “The classical elements: fire, earth, wind, and water.”
“And you can make fire?”
“Not precisely. I can
She responded dryly. “So you can make fire.”
He shrugged. “Basically, yes.”
“That seems kind of dangerous.”
He nodded as he took the exit off the freeway headed to her grandmother’s small house. “It is. It’s quite hard to control. Not many fire immortals grow to be as old as me.”
“Why not?”
He sighed as if explaining something to a small child. “Well, when you are young and clumsy, it’s rather easy to set yourself on fire.”
A quick laugh escaped her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth before she looked at him, embarrassed by her amusement. Giovanni did not look amused.
She cleared her throat. “Sorry. It’s not funny. I mean, it kind of is, but not really.”
“It’s really not.”
“Of course not,” she replied seriously.
“Fire is one of the few ways we can die.”
“Sorry.”
They drove silently for a few more minutes.
“So I guess that would make you kind of a bad-ass.”
He smirked a little and nodded. “Yes, that would be another reason not many of us grow as old as me. We tend to be targeted by those who feel threatened.”
“Have you been targeted?”
He looked at her as the car was stopped at a red light. “Not in a long time.”
She stared at him for a few more minutes before she faced forward again.
“Good.”
They continued driving down Greenbriar Street, and she realized she hadn’t given him a single direction.
“Gio?”
“Yes?”
“You know exactly where my grandmother lives, don’t you?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”
She chewed on her lip a little, trying to calmly absorb this new knowledge.
“You know when my birthday is, too, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
They continued down the dark streets.
“Childhood pet?”
He cleared his throat in what she guessed was a purely habitual gesture.
“I’ve never understood the appeal of Chihuahuas, to be honest.”
She nodded, trying to brush aside the flutter of panic that started to well up. “Well, it was a long-haired one. They’re kind of cute. And Frito was really more my grandma’s dog anyway.”
The awkward silence stretched on as she continued to wonder just how extensively he had pried into her background. She felt like, if she asked, he might just know the contents of her refrigerator.
“I have a cat,” he blurted out. “A chartreux. They chirp instead of meow. His name is Doyle.”
“Oh.” She was strangely relieved by his odd, personal confession. “I don’t know anything about cats. Is that a breed?”
“Yes, technically the cat is Caspar’s, but Doyle likes me best,” he said this proudly, as if it was a personal distinction.
“Well…cool.”
