“Och, Bran,” she heard a voice call. “Who is it now?” A stout, brown-haired woman with milky-white skin walked down the hallway. The roses in her cheeks marked her as human, and she wore a flour-dusted apron over her soft blue dress.

“Gio,” she said with a smile. “It’s been too long.”

“Sinéad,” he said softly, bending down to kiss her cheek. “This is—”

“You must be B.” The woman held out her hand to shake. “Carwyn said to expect you both. Gio, your usual room is ready and, B, there’s one upstairs for you. Give me a second to clean up and I’ll show you. Such a dreadful, sad way to see old friends. Such a sorrow. The Father is on the warpath, though. If anyone can find Ioan, it’ll be him.”

“They contacted Dublin?”

Sinéad nodded. “Days ago. They’ve both been to the city, but the reports are unclear and they’ve not wanted to leave the valley unprotected.”

Giovanni sighed and reached for her hand. She held it tightly and stood in silence, wishing there was something useful she could do. Sinéad was looking back and forth between them with a sad smile, but Giovanni didn’t seem to notice.

“B, I’ll take you up to your room. Gio, make yourself at home, of course.”

He nodded and let go of her hand so she could follow Sinéad up to the second floor. Beatrice was led to a cheerful yellow room at the top of the stairs with a full bed, a small desk, and a set of drawers where she set her duffel bag. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window. The stars had come out, and the clock read close to nine o’clock. She wasn’t tired, but she felt lost in the unfamiliar room until she caught the whiff of smoke.

She turned and saw him standing in the doorway. He looked at her with grim eyes, and she held out her hand. He crossed the room, took it, and pulled her next to him, stretching out on the small bed as he enfolded her in his arms. They lay silently, watching the stars for a few minutes before he spoke.

“I’m glad you’re here, but I wish you hadn’t come.”

“Not an option,” she murmured as she stroked his forearm.

“Beatrice—”

“If you’re so worried, train me.”

“I’ve never studied judo.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He snorted and she looked over her shoulder. “What?”

“Train you? To fight vampires?”

She shrugged. “I know I’ll never be as strong or as fast—”

“Or have keen senses, or control an element.” She leaned down and bit his arm. “Ow!” He laughed. “Do it again.”

She scowled. “Hush. I just mean, something is better than nothing. And it’ll give you something to do until Carwyn comes back.”

“What? You want to do it now?”

“What did you have in mind to pass the time?”

He raised a speculative eyebrow. “Well…”

“Yeah,” she snorted. “Right. I have a feeling the house mom wouldn’t be too keen on that idea.” She nodded toward the door where she had no doubt Sinéad’s ears were tuned toward them. “Otherwise, she’d probably have put us in the same room.”

“True. I still—”

He sat up so quickly she almost fell off the bed.

“Carwyn’s here,” he said before he flew down the stairs.

Beatrice sat up and looked out the window, where she could just see the red hair of the priest as Giovanni embraced him at the edge of the road. She saw a blur streak by them both and the front door slammed shut. In the next heartbeat, a tall warrior of a woman stood in front of her, examining her with burning, blue eyes.

“Are you Giovanni’s woman?”

Well, Beatrice almost said, it’s kind of complicated. She thought better of it when she saw the fierce expression on the woman’s face.

“I’m Beatrice.”

“Your scent is unfamiliar.”

“I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Deirdre seemed to take a step back. “I am Deirdre Mac Cuille. You are welcome in this house as long as you mean no harm to my own. You’ll forgive me if I’m not a proper host to you.”

Though she knew Ioan was Carwyn’s blood relative, Deirdre looked like his daughter in every way. She shared the flaming auburn hair of the priest and stood at an impressive height. The planes of her pale face were regal as she stared down her nose.

Beatrice shook her head. “No, of course you wouldn’t be. I’m so sorry about your husband.”

Deirdre cocked her head. “He is not dead. Save your condolences, girl.”

Just then, she heard a rushing on the stairs, and Giovanni appeared next to Deirdre in the doorway. They nodded toward each other, and Deirdre departed, leaving Beatrice staring in her wake.

“She’s kind of scary.”

He nodded. “Yes, she is. You would be too, if…well, if it was someone you cared about,” he said quietly.

She looked at him standing in the door, and the wave of emotion almost overwhelmed her. She stood and walked to him. “If it were you,” she whispered, knowing he could hear. “I’d be that way if it were you, Giovanni.”

He said nothing as she slipped down the stairs.

Carwyn was far from the cheerful vampire she remembered from his last visit in May. She sat with him in the large farm kitchen as he ate the steak Sinéad had cooked for him. He tore into the bloody meat, not waiting for anyone to join him and barely speaking to her. Various members of the family, human and vampire, milled around him, but no one spoke.