“It’s good! I’m not saying it isn’t. It’s nice to meet someone who’s not completely self-interested. But the thing is, this formula is not safe. And she knows it.” Actually, Beatrice had no idea whether Livia knew the effects of the elixir on amnis, but that didn’t matter. Getting Livia out of power was more important. “We think it’s a poison, Emil.”

He looked skeptical. “Why would she want to poison her own people? I know she’s not benevolent, but it’s hardly in her best interests to kill all of them.”

“We’re not sure, but we’re trying to find out what, exactly, it does.”

He sighed. “Beatrice, I like you. I think Livia is a bad leader. And I believe your claims against Lorenzo. In fact, after Tenzin’s speech, I’m fairly sure all of Rome knows that he murdered your father, but the fact remains that Livia has many allies. Allies here and abroad. She has done many favors for many people in her two thousand years. Unless those people decide to cut her off…”

“Well,” Beatrice said quietly. “I guess we’ll just have to make them realize that it’s time for a change.”

Emil crossed his legs and leaned back in the seat. He tapped his fingers restlessly on one knee as he glanced between Beatrice and the lights of the Eternal City that flashed past the car. He was silent until they pulled up to the Pantheon. Beatrice heard the driver get out and walk around to open her door. It opened, but Emil grabbed her hand as she was climbing out.

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re right. Change is good. Change is… necessary.”

She smiled and nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

Beatrice whistled as she walked up the street and watched Emil’s car turn the corner. She had just made her most important ally.

Chapter Twenty

Plovdiv, Bulgaria

July 2012

Giovanni stepped out of the telegraph office tucked into a corner of the Kapana district and strolled up the cobbled streets. Summer nights were warm in Plovdiv, and pedestrians crowded the walkways of the neighborhood on their way to the clubs and restaurants of the graceful old town. Bulgaria’s second largest city, and one of the oldest in Europe, had enjoyed a surge of prosperity since the last time Giovanni had visited. Like much of Eastern Europe, the city had always maintained a fairly high immortal population, with Lucien Thrax being one of its oldest inhabitants.

He and Carwyn had received a polite, if muted, reception from the vampire who ran the city after a letter of introduction from the old Thracian had paved the way. Their business in town was not questioned, which was all Giovanni wanted. If everything went as planned, they wouldn’t be in Bulgaria long.

He caught the red of Carwyn’s hair against the dark green wall of an outdoor cafe. The former priest was drinking a glass of plum rakia and writing a letter at a small table. A smile flirted at the corner of his mouth. Giovanni sat down next to him and Carwyn tucked the letter under the edge of his book.

“Who were you writing, Father?”

Carwyn smiled. “I told you—“

“I’ve been calling you that for three hundred years, Carwyn. I’m not going to just stop, you know.”

“Fine, but I may stop answering.”

Giovanni chuckled. “So?”

“What?”

“Who were you writing?”

“None of your business.”

“You are quite the mystery lately.”

The vampire shrugged and sipped the fruit wine. “What’s so mysterious? I decided that a thousand years of service to the church was enough. After all, when I took my vows, I was only expecting to live forty or fifty.”

“I’m not questioning your decision, my friend.” Giovanni cocked an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Carwyn smiled and looked over at the fountain that trickled in the small square and the flow of young people that passed by. “No. I’m not going to deny it feels a bit odd, but I’m at peace about it. I’m… excited. It’s a new chapter in life. There are going to be some changes for me.”

Giovanni nodded. “So, is this the immortal version of a mid-life crisis?”

Carwyn snorted and waved over a young man to order two more glasses, then he turned back to Giovanni. “I blame the girls, you know.”

“Why?”

“I’m warning you, never make daughters. You raise them. Give them hundreds of years of guidance and love, and then they think they know everything. Try to tell you what to do. Very irritating.”

“What? All of them?”

“Not Carla, thank God, but then, she never speaks to anyone but me and Gus. No, it’s the rest of them, Gio. They plot against me.”

Giovanni smiled, thinking of the most likely culprits. Deirdre, Isabel, and Gemma may have been scattered around the globe, but he had no doubt the three sisters could gang up on their father if they put their minds to it.

“I’ll keep that in mind. No daughters. Have you told anyone else yet?”

“Other than the cardinals? No.”

“How did they take it?”

“How do you think? Officially, they weren’t pleased. But they can’t say anything when, officially, I’ve never existed in the first place. Besides, I’ve always been an oddity. Most immortal priests were turned from the Roman church and have far more respect for the Vatican.”

Giovanni slapped his friend’s shoulder and thanked the waiter, who set down the wine. “You’ll be fine. This is good. You’re right; it’s a new life. I’m excited for you. So, who were you writing a letter to that you needed to hide it?”