“It’s not really that kind of arrest, Grandma.”

She heard Caspar soothing her grandmother in the background.

“Beatrice.” His calm voice soothed her, as well. “I know Tenzin and Carwyn are there. Are there any other vampires who have publicly voiced support for Giovanni?”

“Not publicly. At least not right now. She’s really powerful, Cas. These Roman vampires are like sheep or something. There are a few who seem to stand up to her, but for the most part, they all just follow along.”

“She’s still being careful. Gio has enough of a reputation for her to be very cautious about all of this. I expect she’s quite angry about having to arrest him as she did. It doesn’t sound as if that was her plan. Please be patient, my dear.”

Beatrice knew all of it. She had heard the arguments for patience and prudence. She had listened and followed the instructions of those far older and more experienced than she, vampires she knew loved Giovanni, too. Still, she could feel the tears well up in her eyes, and she cleared her throat. Caspar trailed off.

“How are you holding up, dear girl?”

Her voice caught. “Um… can I… can I just talk to my grandma for a little bit, Caspar?”

“Of course.” She heard him put the phone down, followed by  a few murmurs in the background and a closing door before Isadora came back on the line.

“Beatrice?”

At the sound of her name, silent tears began to stream down her face. Soon, she was choking on her cries as Isadora made soothing noises in the background.

“Oh, my girl. If I could only be there for you now.”

“I can’t do this, Grandma. I can’t be who I’m supposed to be without him here.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No! Everything’s wrong. I can’t think straight. I don’t feel like myself. I have to force myself to eat, and I know it’s not good for me. I can usually sleep a little bit when he’s here, but now, it’s just… nothing. And everything is wrong, and I can’t do this.”

“Beatrice, you can. And according to what everyone says, this is upsetting, but—”

“It’s not upsetting! It’s infuriating!” She stood and tried pacing the room, but the rotary phone wouldn’t let her get far. She gripped the back of the chair so hard that the wood splintered. “I’m so angry, I want to kill something, Grandma. I want to kill her. I want to tear her heart out. I want to rip Lorenzo’s head off his body and toss it to a pack of dogs. I want to round up all the spineless weaklings that follow her orders and tear every last one of them apart. I want to burn this damn city to the ground and spit in its ashes. And there is nothing—nothing—I can do except sit here and wait for ridiculous protocol and negotiations!”

By the time she had vented her anger, her grandmother was speechless.

“Well...”

“Grandma?”

“Beatrice, this is one of those times when I am reminded that you are a vampire now.”

A harsh laugh broke from her throat, but it quickly turned to tears again. She brushed at her tears. “I’m pretty sure I’d feel this way if I was still human, too.”

“Possibly, but the potential to carry out the bloodshed would not be as likely.”

She grabbed another of Giovanni’s handkerchiefs and cleaned her blood-streaked face.

“Beatrice, you must be strong. For him. For yourself. For Ben. Control your anger. Nothing good can come from losing control. I’m sure they’re probably expecting you to be foolish and out of your mind with your Gio in prison, so prove them wrong.”

“I know you’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m your grandmother.”

She couldn’t help the smile. “Thanks, Grandma.” There was silence over the phone as both women seemed to catch their breath.

“Hey, Grandma?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Distract me, okay? Tell me what trouble you and Caspar have been up to lately.”

Isadora’s tinkling laugh did more to soothe her weary heart than all the kind words from her friends.

“Well, I went to a wonderful painting workshop at the Huntington the other day. Did you know that Caspar has started volunteering in the gardens there? All those little old women just adore him. I’d be jealous, but it’s too adorable how he preens for them. It’s rose season now, and you know how he loves his roses. Oh! And I should tell you about the art opening that Ernesto took us to the other night. It was wonderful, the girl who was featured…”

As Isadora chattered about roses and art galleries, Beatrice closed her eyes. The familiar voice of her grandmother and the everyday news she spoke of was its own kind of meditation. A reminder that, past the blood and the intrigue, beyond the danger and the heartache, another kind of life waited for her and Giovanni. A life filled with family and love. With their own pursuits and challenges.

If only they could get there.

Finally, she broke into her grandmother’s news, anxious to rest her mind on one more subject.

“Grandma, I know Matt usually keeps an eye on things if we’re not there—“

“Don’t worry about us, Beatrice. We have quite a bit of company, if you know what I mean. Baojia is usually here in the evenings and then there’s a lovely woman and a gentleman that Ernesto introduced us to that help with the driving and taking care of this and that around the house during the day. They’re quite understanding of us old people!” Isadora laughed, but the keen edge to her voice let Beatrice know she was well aware of the security that Ernesto had arranged.