“Good to know.” Carwyn paused, then took a long drink of the wine the old woman had given him before passing it to Giovanni. “Drink up.”

Giovanni grabbed the bottle and took a drink. It didn’t taste a fraction as sweet as his wife’s mouth, but he tried not to think about that. He tried not to think about Beatrice at all. Otherwise, he’d be too tempted to turn himself around and abandon the whole crazy plan. The farther they traveled, the heavier the air seemed to grow. If he was human, he doubted he could have stood under the pressure. The air was thick with amnis when they spotted the first charred trees.

Otar had been right; there was no mistaking this mountain. Unlike the surrounding hills, the slope that rose up from the gorge was a vast, wasted ruin. Rocks tumbled down and sharp spires of blackened conifer trunks dotted the landscape that glowed grey under the full moon.

“Think this is it?”

Giovanni took his foot off the trail and stepped up. As soon as he touched the base of the mountain he caught a whiff of almond smoke. The unmistakable scent of another male fire vampire filled his nostrils, and a certain dread fell over him. “This is it.”

They went slowly, not wanting to surprise whatever presence dwelled at the top of the mountain. Even Carwyn, who was usually at home in remote hills, seemed grim. Giovanni heard him praying under his breath as they climbed.

“Father?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?”

Giovanni turned to him and held out a hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

He saw Carwyn’s eyes glow bright in the moonlight, and his voice was hoarse when he grasped Giovanni’s hand. “Don’t be so morbid, Sparky.”

Just then, a rushing sound filled the air. The wind whipped by as if churned by some great flying beast. They turned, but nothing showed itself in the night. Giovanni took a deep breath and continued their silent climb.

They had just climbed over a scarred knoll when they heard the rushing wind again. This time, it was closer. Then, he felt a great rush of wind, as if the air around him was being sucked up toward the summit of the mountain. His heart faltered for a moment.

“Carwyn, duck.”

They both dropped to the rocks before the wave of scarlet fire swept down the mountain. Carwyn’s amnis pushed up, and a wall of rock rose before them. They pressed against it as the flames rolled down the slope. Giovanni could even feel the rock they sheltered behind begin to heat, and he struggled to rein in his own instinctive reaction. The fire bloomed on his skin and burned away his shirt and coat. His fangs ran out, but he bit his lip tried to control himself.

“Carwyn?”

“Yes?”

“I know you’re not, strictly speaking, a priest anymore—”

“Trust me when I say I’m rethinking that decision just now!”

“Pray anyway.”

The flames halted for a minute and Giovanni stepped out from behind their earthen shield, the blue flames swirling along his skin, but contained for the moment.

“Arosh!” he called.

He felt the slow suck of air again, and he darted back behind the rock as the flames swept down the mountain again. They were slower this time, creeping and testing, and Carwyn rolled the rocks and earth up around them to smother the flames before they reached their feet.

A whispering Persian voice came on the wind. “Who seeks Arosh?”

Giovanni took a deep breath and answered. “I am Giovanni, son of Nikolaos Andreas, sired by Kato of Minos.”

The flames were no longer testing. They came in furious waves. Carwyn roared as one curled up his leg. He sank his foot in the rock to kill the burning tendril.

“I don’t think that helped much, Sparky!”

“Apparently, I’m not the only one who hated my father.”

The flames halted again, so Giovanni tried another name.

“We have been sent by Ziri, the Numidian. We come as friends!”

The deep voice came again, closer this time. “I have no quarrel with the holy man. Tell Saba’s son to depart from this place. I have no wish to anger her or the immortal’s god. But the son of Andreas is mine.”

Carwyn looked confused. “Saba’s son?”

“He must mean because you’re an earth vampire. If you want to go, go.”

Carwyn reached into his coat and pulled out the wine bottle, uncorking it and taking a long drink. “Tempting, but no.”

Giovanni’s heart was racing and he could no longer contain his own flames. He could feel them rushing over his body, and his heavy canvas pants were burning at the cuffs. “He’s going to kill us.”

Carwyn nodded. “That seems to be more likely by the moment, yes. I wonder if it would help if he knew you killed your sire.”

Giovanni swallowed the growl that wanted to leap from his throat when he felt the heavy amnis press around them. He quelled the flames as much as he could before he stepped out from behind their rocky shelter, but the blue fire swirled as he held his arms out. He threw out a burst of flame when he saw the spear of fire heading toward him.

The battling flames met and burst high into the night sky, flooding the rocky slope with red light. Then they stopped, and a great roar erupted from the top of the mountain, as Giovanni’s fire leapt forward. He fought the instinct telling him to strike back and called on every ounce of self-control as he forced himself to pull back. Then he stood bare and smoking on the rugged cliffs as he cried out:

“I am Giovanni Vecchio, murderer of my sire, Nikolaos Andreas! I am sent from Ziri, seeking his friends Arosh and Kato. I ask for an audience with the great kings. I mean no harm upon this mountain or the immortals here!”