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 manipulate fire. I use my amnis to make a spark from static electricity, and then I can make that spark grow into whatever shape or type of fire I want.”
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.”
They were turning onto her grandmother’s street, and she began to wonder how this strange, but illuminating, night would end.
“Gio?”
“Yes?” He pulled up in front of the house, and waited with the engine idling.
“We’re still kind of friends, right?”
She saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. “I’d like to think so. I hope so.”
“You’re not going to break into my room and mess with my memories tonight, are you?”
He paused before answering softly, “No, Beatrice. I won’t do that.”
She hesitated. “Will you ever?”
He wore an unreadable expression when he answered.
“I don’t know.”
She felt a catch in her throat. “I don’t understand this, not really. Part of me is still wondering whether I’m going to wake up and realize it was all a weird nightmare.”
He frowned for a moment before leaning toward her, and she felt the strange buzz of energy again. He lifted a hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
“We’ll talk tomorrow night.”
Beatrice felt a sudden, overwhelming swell of panic, but she nodded before she slipped from the car. As she stood on the path, the dark night seemed to close around her and formerly familiar shadows grew ominous. She almost ran toward the front door, locking it behind her as she heard the Mustang pull away.
Chapter Six
Houston, Texas
November 2003
Giovanni straightened when he heard the door to the kitchen open. He had stayed up to wait for Caspar’s return to the house after he delivered Beatrice to her first class of the morning.
He heard the older man moving through the house and lingering in the kitchen.