Ben scratched out his notes and corrected them. “Kind of confusing.”
“It’s complicated by design,” Gavin said. “They don’t talk about themselves with outsiders. They want to be misunderstood.”
“Why?” Ben was fascinated.
“Human societies are not kind to those who don’t conform to mainstream values,” Gavin said. “The Poshani have a very strict code of conduct, but it wouldn’t make sense to those outside the group.”
Ben glanced at Gavin. “Reminds me of a vampire or two I know of.”
“Our interests have overlapped at times, and I respect them,” Gavin said, “even if I don’t understand them. Their hospitality laws are sacrosanct, much like mine. The caravan, for example.”
“The caravan?”
Beatrice showed him another picture on her tablet, a round wooden wagon painted with elaborate floral patterns, with no windows and only one small door. “The proper name is the kamvasa.”
Ben reached for the tablet, but the picture started to waver. “Dammit.”
“Gloves.” Chloe threw some silk gloves at him. “The Dawn Caravan is the Poshani tradition of sheltering any vampire who meets their rules and pays their price.”
Ben looked at the picture. “In one of those?” The wagon looked like a relic.
Gavin said, “Those are old-fashioned vardos. They have been updated and modernized of course, but the idea remains the same. The Poshani run a moving safe house called the Dawn Caravan.”
Ben frowned. “How have I never heard of this?”
“It’s intended to be something of an urban legend,” Giovanni said. “Until Gavin confirmed it for me, I didn’t really believe it existed.”
Ben turned to Gavin. “And how do you know it’s real?”
“Because I was a guest for a short time,” Gavin said. “And that is all I will say.”
Come on, really? Ben looked at Gavin.
Gavin shook his head slowly and decisively.
“From what I’ve been able to gather,” Beatrice said, “if you want to disappear—and I mean disappear off the face of the earth…”
“Poof,” Chloe said. “You don’t exist anymore.”
“…you come to an agreement with one of the terrin—the ruling vampires of the Poshani—and they name a price. There is no negotiation. There is no appeal. You tell them how long you want to hide—”
“Up to six months,” Gavin said quietly. “But not any longer.”
“—and they tell you the price. They have complete discretion and there is no set price. They can accept anyone or no one. There are no guarantees.”
Gavin said, “Except—”
“Except,” Giovanni said, “that if they take you in as part of the caravan, they will guard you during the day and keep you safe at night. They are brutal in their protection and have never lost a guest.”
Ben’s eyebrows went up. “Ever?”
“Ever.” Gavin’s tone was firm. “The agreement is nonnegotiable for both parties. Once you join, you do not leave unless they kick you out for violating their terms. You are there for the agreed-on contract. No more. No less.”
“What’s to stop someone from leaving?”
“You walk away, they keep their money and you can never seek their protection again,” Gavin said. “And you forget they exist because you no longer exist to them.”
Ben looked between Gavin and Giovanni. “Vampires abide by this?”
“How much is a sanctuary worth?” Giovanni asked. “The Poshani provide one, and our kind are willing to pay.”
“And no one knows where you are?”
“Guests don’t even know where they are,” Beatrice said. “They pick you up and transport you to the caravan during the day. If you don’t know where you are, you can’t give yourself away.”
Ben scrolled through the pictures on Beatrice’s tablet, starting with the scanned letters from Radu, the pictures of the icon, and the pictures and sketches gathered about the Poshani. “Okay,” he said. “What does the Dawn Caravan have to do with the icon?”
Gavin and Giovanni exchanged looks.
“When was the first time Radu contacted you?” Gavin asked.
“I’m honestly not sure,” Ben said.
“Fall,” Giovanni said. “And every time he sent a reminder or a courier, it was in the fall.”
Gavin said, “Radu isn’t predictable, but he does have some habits. And one of them is that you don’t see him in the spring.”
“Because the Dawn Caravan starts in the spring,” Beatrice said.
Gavin said, “But now he’s sending you reminders a few weeks before spring begins in Eastern Europe about an icon he’s been missing for years.”
“You don’t think this is about a missing icon,” Ben said.
“No, Radu isn’t a liar. And he is missing this icon,” Gavin said. “But let’s say I don’t think this is only about an icon.”
“Can I ask something?” Ben looked at Giovanni and Beatrice. “Why did you both say Radu was such a pain in the ass? I kind of wrote him off as a nuisance. So did… everyone. Now you’re telling me he’s a lot more than that.”
“Oh no,” Gavin said. “Radu is a complete pain in the ass. But he’s not stupid and you can’t underestimate him. He’s very clever. He comes across as something of a jovial fool because that’s the persona he’s created to set immortals at ease.”
Ben noticed something in Gavin’s posture. “You don’t want me to take this job.”
Gavin shrugged. “If you take it and you succeed, Radu will owe you a favor, and so will the Poshani. That’s no small way to start off immortal life.”
“And if I don’t succeed?”
“Not really an option,” Giovanni said quietly. “I told you the amount he’s paying?” He shook his head. “Once you take this job, Radu won’t accept a refund.”
Ben mulled over the choices, and for the first time in years, he actually felt excited about a job. He wanted this. He wanted the challenge. Wanted the intrigue. And maybe, just maybe, he was spoiling for a fight.
“You can send the gold back,” Gavin said. “Tell him things have changed. At this point, he’d have to accept that. Especially with you being newly turned.”
“And if I want to take it?”
The Scot leaned forward. “Then I’m telling you—for yer own fucking health—to get over yer attitude and call yer damn partner.”
8
Ben sat against a wall in an old warehouse in South Pasadena. He allowed his weight to rest on the ground, enjoying the memory of his human body in this place. How heavy it was. How it moved. How it ached after a long workout. How it thrilled with every duel.
Mirrors lined one wall, and empty weapon racks stood opposite. The training mats remained, a relic of an earlier and simpler time.
“I almost died once,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to. It was in Kentii, when I was learning how to fight in the air. Tai and I finished, but I stayed in the mountains. There was a storm. It was one of those early-spring storms that happen when you go high in the mountains. Ice and rain mixed together. The sky was so black, and I was so hungry. I hadn’t eaten for three days. Stupid, I know.”