attract more than his share of female attention when he and Giovanni had visited the library together.
He was as boisterous as Giovanni was taciturn, yet the friendly affection between them was obvious and she had started to see a slightly softer side to the aloof vampire.
“No, Carwyn’s not a book dealer; he’s a priest of some sort. He’s Welsh, I think. I guess he usually comes out this time of year. I think they’re working on a project together.”
“Well, that sounds lovely. It’s so nice to have friends with the same interests.”
She grabbed her purse and helped Isadora to the car. Her grandmother immediately began texting her friends that they were on their way and Beatrice took advantage of the silence to think about the past week.
The two vampires had been working on something they didn’t want anyone to know about; she was sure of it. Carwyn had come to the library with Giovanni the previous Wednesday, but they spent more time speaking in furtive whispers than they had transcribing characters for the mysterious Tenzin. When she went to the house on Thursday the odd mood had continued.
Even Caspar seemed out of the loop, and she had no idea what they would hide from someone they seemed to trust so much. Giovanni had been secretive before, and Carwyn’s appearance seemed to have done nothing but intensified his mood.
Their veiled references to their friend in China also caught her attention. She knew Tenzin was another immortal that had been friends with them for presumably hundreds of years, but anytime her name was mentioned an odd sense of foreboding fell over the two men.
“Oh, Beatrice, there it is!”
She brushed her concerns away when she spotted the small restaurant where her grandmother’s three closest friends were waiting outside. As she pulled into the parking lot, her grandmother waved like a school girl and Beatrice smiled, wondering for the thousandth time why she couldn’t be more like her grandmother when it came to making friends.
Beatrice hadn’t always been antisocial. When she was younger, she’d had lots of friends. Even after her father died, she’d been a happy child, wrapped in the comfort of her grandparents’ home. It wasn’t until the summer she had seen her father again that her social life began to collapse. It had never really recovered.
She tried to shove back the bitterness that reared its head when she thought about the cause of her depression. The self-destructive choices she’d made still haunted her at times. During that dark period, she mostly found solace in books. Never an avid reader before, she pulled herself out of depression by escaping into the other worlds books offered.
She realized it probably wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, but between the library and her grandfather, she had managed to make it through high school. After that, she had buried herself in her college studies, and it wasn’t until she’d begun working at the university library that she felt like she found her niche.
“B, honey, you just look more gorgeous every time I see you!” she heard her grandmother’s friend, Sally Devereaux, call across the parking lot. Sally was the epitome of a Texas matriarch, complete with the requisite giant hair, heavy twang, and big personality. The others in the group, Marta Voorhies and Laura Gambetti, were quieter.
“How is your wonderful new job, B?” Marta asked.
“Yes, Isadora says you’re working for an Italian gentleman,” Laura added with wink. “Italian men are, of course, the most handsome on the planet.”
Beatrice laughed at the women’s curiosity. She had a feeling that knowing her employer was a five hundred- year-old vampire would do nothing to put them off. They would probably just ask to see his fangs.
“Hey, everyone. Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I’ll tell you all about it during dinner, okay?”
“If we don’t get in there, we aren’t going to be dining, girls!” Sally boomed. “Let’s go inside, we’ll talk while we eat.”
“Yes,” Isadora added, “and you can try to persuade her to get a picture of him.”
“Grandma-”
“Oh, B, you must!”
“Is he really that handsome?”
“More importantly, is he single?”
“I’d like to hear more about his work; it sounds fascinating!”
Beatrice sighed deeply, enveloped in their familiar chatter and followed the four women inside.
Hours later, after she had tentatively agreed to take a picture of her boss and set her grandmother up on a blind date with Caspar at Sally’s insistence, she drove back to their small house.
“Beatrice, did you remember to pick up those art books for me from the library?” Isadora asked. “I need them to teach my class tomorrow.”
“Oh shoot. I got them, and then left them at Gio’s last night when I was working. I’m sorry.”
“It’s no problem, dear. I did want them soon so I could show the young man in my class about the brush technique I was trying to explain. When do you go back?”
She frowned. “You know, I’ll run by and get them. Otherwise I won’t be back until Thursday night.”
“Oh, it’s too late. I don’t want to wake anyone for some silly books.”
Beatrice smirked. “Trust me, they’ll be awake.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Beatrice reasoned that even if Giovanni was out with Carwyn, Caspar was likely to be home. Plus, the vampire’s house in River Oaks wasn’t all that far from her grandmother’s place.
She dropped Isadora off and made the short drive to Giovanni’s home. As she pulled up to the gate, she could just see Carwyn’s huge Irish wolfhound peek his head over the low wall.
She pushed the button to call the house.
“Yes?”
“It’s B, Caspar. I forgot some books here last night. Do you mind if I come in quick and grab them?”
She heard the gate buzz and the butler’s amused voice could be heard as she pulled forward. “Of course not, and-may I add-what wonderful timing you have, my dear!”
Narrowing her eyes at the odd statement, she pulled through the gate, keeping her window down as Bran, Carwyn’s grey dog, trotted alongside her car.
“How’s it going tonight, Bran?” The huge dog huffed as he escorted her up the driveway.
“Dig up any more roses?” Beatrice grinned, remembering the amusing rant Giovanni had gone on last Thursday after a particularly muddy set of footprints found their way into the living room. “Manage to find Doyle yet?”
At the mention of the cat’s name, the wolfhound abruptly halted, looked across the yard as if remembering something and let out a bellow before he shot across the lawn.
Laughing at the amusing and very friendly dog, Beatrice finally pulled behind the garage where she usually parked her small car. She walked to the kitchen door and knocked, pleased to see Caspar’s smiling face through the glass panels.
“Ah! B, I’m so glad you’re here. No one ever believes me, but now you’ll know the truth.”
She frowned in confusion. “Uh…Cas, what are you talking about, and does it involve bodily injury? Because I kind of like this blouse, and I’m not wearing my boots.”
Caspar snorted. “No, but he always comes across as so dignified, doesn’t he? Now, my dear,” the grey-haired butler winked, “you’ll know the real Giovanni.”
And with that mysterious statement, he practically pulled her into the kitchen. She looked around in confusion for a moment before she heard the loud yells coming from the living room.
“Bloody bastard, I did not see that coming!”
“Use the folding chair! It’s sitting in the corner for a reason!”
Beatrice’s eyes widened when she heard the two men yelling. The sound of applause filled the living room and the surround sound poured into the kitchen.
“That’s not-” Beatrice started.
“Oh yes.” Caspar nodded. “It’s exactly what you think.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she muttered. “Cas, you have made my year.”
Beatrice walked silently into the living room, suddenly happy to be wearing her soft ballet flats. She approached
