This Same Earth

His restless eyes continued to scan the dark, almost empty, pub. She sat next to him and left a hand on his knee, needing the connection. Giovanni had been eager to escape the city, wanting to whisk her away somewhere safe and away from prying eyes and ears as soon as they had returned. But after they received the note, Beatrice and Carwyn had insisted it was important to meet the mysterious water vampire-even if he was the source of the betrayal-and Giovanni had reluctantly agreed.

She heard the door open and an electric current radiated up her arm. She could feel Giovanni’s skin heat against hers.

“Tywyll,” he said in a low voice.

“This is Stephen’s girl then.” She looked up. “Ay, ye’ are. Look at the eyes. Just like yer father.”

She stared at the unassuming man wearing dirty work clothes. To anyone else, he would have fit right in, a hardworking middle-aged man out for a pint at the pub after work. Beatrice, however, took note of his inhuman paleness, the energy that seemed to vibrate off him, and the fangs that peeked from the corners of his mouth.

“How do you know my father?”

“Can I sit without fear for meself, fire-starter? Do I have yer word?”

She could tell it was a struggle for him, but she saw Giovanni give a slight nod out of the corner of her eye.

“For now, yes.”

“Fer now’ll do fine.” He sat across from them and raised three fingers toward the bar. “I reckon we’ll stay out of each other’s way after that, eh?”

“It depends very much on what you say, waterman.”

“How do you know my father?” Beatrice asked again.

The old vampire turned his eyes toward her.

“Yer father is a fine one, miss. I don’t like many, but I liked him. Met him at this very pub.”

A shiver crossed her neck and she felt Giovanni’s hand squeeze hers under the table. “My father was here?”

Tywyll paused as an old man came to set three dark pints on the table in front of them. Tywyll took his and drank before he answered.

“He was. Ten years ago. He’d just come from the North and he was makin’ his way out of the country. Needed a bit of help. Someone gave him my name. Had gold and he didn’t talk too much. I like that in a vampire.”

Giovanni leaned forward and passed one of the pints to Beatrice as he set the other in front of himself. The glasses were surprisingly clean.

“I heard rumors about him ten years ago,” Giovanni said. “About the books he had. He was referred to me for a job, but no one seemed to be able to find him.”

Tywyll’s eyes almost twinkled. “Well now, that might ha’ been my doin’. He was awful young then, and he didn’t know much. I may ha’ kept him out of the way for a bit from those lookin’ for him.”

“Why?” Beatrice asked. “You protected him? Why? And if you protected my father, why would you sell us out to Lorenzo?”

“Did I sell you out?” Tywyll’s head cocked to the side and she could feel the heat start to radiate from Giovanni. She squeezed his knee and felt the energy in the air dissipate slightly. “You were taken, but it looks like yer here and safe to me, girl.”

Giovanni’s voice was taut. “Do you deny informing my son we were coming after Beatrice?”

Tywyll squinted as he took another drink. “I may have…repaid a favor, fire-starter. I always repay my favors. But I wouldn’t be bringing harm to Stephen’s dear girl.” Tywyll’s eyes darkened and Beatrice saw the cold-blooded killer beneath the unassuming demeanor of the small man. “Now, my debt is repaid, so I’ll ask you: were you hurt, Mariposa?”

Giovanni spit something out in a language she didn’t recognize, and Tywyll glared at him before responding in kind. She didn’t recognize the language, and she was beginning to get frustrated with their quick, heated exchange. She saw tension lift from Tywyll’s shoulders before his eyes shuttered closed. He fell silent and took a long drink of his beer.

“Interesting,” Tywyll muttered.

“What?” She turned to Giovanni, irritated and confused. “What was that?”

“I’ll tell you later. Tywyll knew your father. He hid him from Lorenzo for a time. He has an…interest in you. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Do you know where my dad is?” She turned to Tywyll, reaching across the table to grab his cold hand. She saw Giovanni start, but Tywyll only squeezed her slight fingers. “Please, do you know-”

“No, girl, I don’t. I taught him well. You’ll not find Stephen unless he wants to be found. That was my gift to him. In my many years, I’ve not considered many friends, but yer father was one.”

Giovanni put a hand on her shoulder and drew her back. “Why did you tell Lorenzo we were coming for Beatrice?”

“Did the mariposa figure it out?” Tywyll asked with a small smile. “I’ll bet she did. She’s got the look of her father; I’ll bet she has his mind, too. Ye' are the butterfly, aren’t ye?” Tywyll cocked his head. “I’ll be keen to see what happens with ye.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered. She was lying, she knew exactly what he was talking about, and from the look in his eyes, Tywyll did too.

“Don’t ye'?” Tywyll took another drink and turned to Giovanni. “Why did I tell yer son? I owed a very old favor to him, Giovanni Vecchio. One he was keen to collect. I do have a reputation to maintain, and I’ll not be backing out of a favor owed. However, I don’t owe him anymore. The ship he was on before I got word to him was bound for two ports-Port Said in Egypt and Shanghai, China.”

Tywyll directed his words to Beatrice. “Now, I’ve no idea where he was goin’ after that, and I don’t know his location now. Not my job. But he’s still after my friend, so I’ve got no objection to answering what ye' want to ask, if it suits my mood, and ye' ask the right questions.”

Beatrice could sense the buzzing anticipation from Giovanni. She still didn’t know what she wanted to ask, her mind was whirling from the night’s revelations, so she looked up and nodded at him. A small smile quirked Giovanni’s mouth as he began questioning Tywyll.

“What did Stephen De Novo take from my son?”

“Good question. Gold, for one. And a lot of it. Unusual stuff. Old. Some of it melted down. All unmarked, not that I minded.”

She caught the minute flicker in Giovanni’s eyes and she knew he recognized what the other vampire was talking about. “What about the books?”

“Books?” Tywyll cocked his head. “Not a good question.”

Beatrice whispered, “Book. What about the book?”

Tywyll nodded. “Better question.”

Giovanni looked confused. “Only one?”

“Only one he kept with him. Only one yer boy really wanted.”

They all seemed to lean toward each other, and her heart pounded.

“What book does my son want?”

Tywyll smirked. “If I could read ancient Persian, I’d have a much better idea. Unfortunately, Stephen didn’t teach me. Don’t know that he could read it himself-though, I’ve no doubt he can by now. When he escaped yer son, he only knew that this book was the one Lorenzo guarded most carefully.”

“He didn’t know what it was?”

“Oh-” The old vampire’s eyes twinkled. “He had an idea.”

Tywyll paused to finish off his beer as Beatrice fought the urge to reach across the table and shake him. “Well?” she finally asked.

“What do you know of alchemy, Mariposa?”

Giovanni snorted and slumped in his seat. “Spells and magic,” he muttered. “Ridiculous. What does that tell us? Nothing.”

“Arrogance, fire-starter. It’s an old science.”

Beatrice looked between them, confused by their demeanor. “Wait, isn’t alchemy just an early form of chemistry?”