“I have no interest in taking my revenge against a mother and child.” His eyes sparked with anger. “My issue is with Emerson.”
“Don’t you understand, William?” Raven lowered her voice intentionally. “If you kill him, you destroy his family. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father. Things happened to us after he died, terrible things. Please don’t do that to Julia and Clare.”
William started. “You know their names?”
“I met them, yes. And I liked them. Julia is kind and gentle and Clare is a beautiful baby. Would you condemn that beauty to a lifetime of sadness?”
William regarded her, his expression blank.
He glanced at the gold bracelet, but didn’t take it.
His gray eyes moved to hers. “Good-bye, Jane. Be well.”
“Wait.” She struggled to her feet as he strode through the door.
Hurriedly, she grabbed her cane and made her way to the hall. “William, wait. I can’t walk that fast.”
By the time she reached the kitchen, he was gone. Mysteriously, the door was still locked from the inside.
Raven pulled out a kitchen chair and sat, on the verge of tears.
She hadn’t expected his visit that evening, or the way her heart leapt when she saw him. She hadn’t expected to feel so warm and desirable in his embrace, or to feel her spirits rise when he kissed her.
She hadn’t expected him to say good-bye.
She looked at the bracelet, still in her hand, and felt loss.
William wasn’t a friend and he wasn’t a lover. He was something else—something for which there was no name.
He’s Zephyr, hovering in the shadows. He took pity on Psyche and helped her and then he disappeared.
She felt unshed tears burn in her eyes.
You’re selfish. Her conscience spoke. You’re crying over someone who isn’t even a friend, while a whole family is at risk.
Her conscience’s reminder was enough to stop the tears. The Emersons were in danger.
She doubted he’d go after them tonight, when there were hunters in his city. He had more pressing concerns.
You need to warn them.
But how? She knew there was no point in writing a letter to Julia, pointing out that she and her husband had angered the vampyre prince of Florence. They’d think she was mad and probably persuade Dottor Vitali to dismiss her from the gallery and have her put in the hospital.
She had to do something.
If she couldn’t warn the Emersons, her only alternative was to change William’s mind. Based on his parting words, she doubted she’d be successful.
She wouldn’t offer herself this time. She’d have to come up with some other way to persuade him.
Raven poured herself a large glass of wine and sipped it, trying to come up with a plan.
He wouldn’t come to her again. He was through with her.
She would have to go to him.
Chapter Thirty-five
Two hours later, Ispettor Batelli stood on the other side of the piazza, watching the lights go out in Raven Wood’s apartment.
He was not alone in his observations. At a nearby café, a man sat and smoked, keeping careful eye on both the apartment and the inspector.
Unbeknownst to both of them, a vampyre stood on the roof above, noting with interest the comings and goings of the apartment building opposite.
When the lights in Raven’s apartment went out, the vampyre leapt across the rooftops in the direction of the Duomo, a group of hunters tracking him from the ground.
The vampyre saw movement below him and doubled back, moving in the opposite direction.
The hunters regrouped, some of them on motorcycles, speeding along behind him.
With one tremendous leap, the vampyre sprang into the air, his body hurtling over an alley toward the roof on the other side.
At that moment, a hunter who had been lying in wait aimed his crossbow toward the sky. When the vampyre came into view, the bow snapped and shot the arrow at its target.
There was the sound of something sharp piercing flesh and an agonized cry.
The vampyre was hit midair and fell like Icarus from the sky, crashing to the ground below.
Before he could rise, other hunters encircled him, quickly pouring a perimeter of salt around his body. Now he was trapped.
Black blood poured from the wound in his chest, the arrow piercing his heart. He lifted a hand to break the shaft, but one of the hunters threw holy water on him.
He screamed as the water ate into his flesh like acid.
Two hunters approached from behind, looping a closed garrote around his neck. They flipped a switch and stood back. A loud clicking sound echoed across the alley.
The vampyre lifted his hands to tear the metal cord from his neck, but it was too late. The garrote’s mechanism clicked and tightened until, with one terrible, grotesque sound, the vampyre’s head was severed from his body.
With lightning speed, the hunters moved the head some distance away, then set to work. In less than thirty minutes, the body was drained of blood and the corpse was left to decay.
A cursory observation of the vampyre’s body, along with a quick test of his blood, indicated that he was no youngling.
The hunters cheered.
With one last triumphant cry, they retrieved the head and left the scene, bolstered by their success and eager to fell their next target.
Chapter Thirty-Six
William was angry.
He left Raven’s apartment after she’d ended things and immediately flew to Teatro.
He’d had her in his arms. She’d thanked him for coming to her rescue, again. This time, he felt the beginning of trust in her embrace.
They’d even talked about sex. Her ardor fanned the flames of his hope, cautious as it was.
Now she was willing to throw everything away, and for what? For a proud, arrogant thief.
He conceded the need to spare the lives of Emerson’s wife and child. He’d already made that determination when he left their hotel room.
That was not enough for Raven. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d saved the world.
He leapt into the air, landing lightly on the roof of the building next to Teatro.
The surrounding rooftops were empty. Vampyres young and old were either in the club or pursuing pleasure elsewhere.
He was glad of it. How could he explain to his brethren that he needed to feed at Teatro when he had a perfectly good pet at home? A pet with long, silken hair and soft, fragrant skin that smelled of roses.
A pet who guarded her body as if it were clad in a chastity belt.
He growled, rubbing his face.
Raven was not a pet and he wasn’t angry simply because she’d tried to save Emerson. He was angry because she’d sent him away, as if their connection were tenuous and easily broken.
He’d allowed himself to hope, knowing that hope was vain. Just as quickly, his hope had been extinguished. And there would be no Raven to reignite it.
He leapt to the ground, standing in the alley outside Teatro’s side entrance.
A burly security guard moved menacingly in his direction but stopped when he scented the Prince. The guard bowed.
“May I be of service, my lord?”
“Not at this time.” William dismissed him.
A taxi drove up, stopping at the entrance to the alley.
As if on cue, the door to the club opened, and a young woman exited. She was slight of height and build, her eyes large and almost black, her hair dark. Her skin was a coppery brown and she spoke to the security guard in Spanish.
She was thinner than William preferred but he inhaled her scent eagerly; the spicy tang of her blood almost a taste on his tongue.
“Good evening.” He addressed her in Italian.
She peered around the bodyguard with a frown. When she caught sight of William, she smiled.
“Good evening,” she replied, in Spanish.
She t
urned as if to go to her taxi.
Suddenly William stood in front of her. “May I see you home?”
“I have a taxi.”
“I’ll walk you.” He stared deeply into her eyes.
This was the test, of course. Would she look away or return his stare?
She returned his stare and smiled.
William allowed the hunger in his belly to grow. He instructed the security guard to dismiss the taxi.
Offering the young woman his elbow, he escorted her from the alley to a side street.
“Your name?” he asked.
“Ana.”
“Ana.” He repeated her name, as if trying its feel in his mouth.
She didn’t ask his name. Or perhaps she intended to but wasn’t given the opportunity.
He quickly pulled her into another alley and pressed her back against the wall.
He didn’t kiss her mouth, as he usually did in such moments. In fact, he closed his eyes and went for her neck, immediately.
She gasped as his tongue tasted her skin, her hands lifting to grip his biceps.
She rubbed herself against him, her breasts pert and high on her chest.
He placed his hand to her waist, leaning into her, before swiping his thumb across her nipple.
When she moaned and lifted her leg to place her thigh against his hip, he sank his teeth into her throat.
She cried out as he drank furiously, carefully counting the number of times he swallowed. Too much and she’d faint.
He drank quickly, but savored every mouthful. Her blood was light and sweet, like her body, with a delicate spice that hinted of recklessness.
When he reached the maximum volume he could drink from her, he carefully licked her wound. She gripped his arms tightly and orgasmed.
He waited until she stopped shaking, then carefully disentangled himself from her.
She murmured at him and tried to kiss him, but he kept her at arm’s length, escorting her back to the security guard.
He’d given the young woman pleasure and fed from her, but he felt no joy. In fact, he felt even hungrier—hungry for blood, hungry for sex, hungry for hope.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to blot Raven’s image out of his mind. His inability to take pleasure in the simple act of feeding did not bode well.
He instructed the guard to send the girl home in a taxi, then he melted into the shadows, feeling empty and conflicted.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Raven’s head arched back, exposing her neck, as William’s lips closed on her breast. His body, including his mouth, was cooler than hers. The feel of his tongue in intimate places was particularly arousing.
They were naked.
He was sitting up, his back against the wall at the head of her bed. She was straddling him, his arm encircling her waist as he thrust inside her.
At the sight of her neck, he growled, his mouth moving from her breast to her throat.
She moved up and down, riding him. She was close, a familiar tightening beginning below her stomach.
He kissed her throat, nipping and sucking the skin. His lips and tongue stroked across her flesh, her breasts brushing across his smooth chest.
“Cassita.” He tugged her earlobe with his teeth. “I won’t let such beauty die.”
One more swivel of her hips and she climaxed, the words that tumbled from her lips incoherent.
With a snarl, he sank his teeth into her neck, piercing skin and artery until the blood flowed into his mouth. He sucked and sucked as her orgasm peaked, thrusting between her legs faster and faster.
With the blood flow to her brain diminished by half, she grew light-headed. But the sensation only compounded her climax, causing it to continue, like a wave that would not crash.
She was suspended in time, in the throes of absolute ecstasy as he drank, the blood flowing warm and liquid down his throat.
She grew more and more light-headed, the pleasure in her body still present, but she began to disconnect with it, as if she were losing the ability to feel.
She raised a weak hand to his shoulder, trying to push him away.
He shoved her arm aside.
Her eyes shot open and she began to cry out, begging him to stop, her limbs immobile.
Pain shot through her body, overtaking the pleasure. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she felt weightless, the pain as well as the pleasure gone.
When she collapsed in his arms, he laid her on the bed, lifting his bloodied mouth to kiss her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn’t help myself.”
Raven lacked the strength to respond. She felt the darkness close in around her as her heart stuttered and finally stopped.
Chapter Thirty-eight
To say that Raven was unsettled by the nightmare would be an understatement. She slept fitfully the rest of the night, finally giving up on sleep at around four o’clock in the morning.
She wrote short e-mails to Cara and to Father Kavanaugh, telling them she’d be glad to see them in the summer. She lied to her sister, saying that Bruno had canceled their date. She hoped Cara wouldn’t pursue the matter further.
At six o’clock, it was still too early to get ready for work, so Raven spread her drawing paper and charcoals across the kitchen table and began sketching the lost Michelangelo painting that hung in William’s villa.
It was difficult to draw from memory, even though Raven’s memory (when not recovering from a life-threatening head injury) was very good. Still, it was worth a try, since it seemed unlikely she’d ever see it again.
An hour and a half later, she’d outlined the naked bodies of Adam and Eve. They were a fair approximation of the figures painted by Michelangelo.
Disturbingly, however, she’d drawn the faces of William and herself without realizing it.
Frustrated, she tossed the paper and charcoals into her knapsack and went to the bathroom to wash her hands. The drawing was ruined. And it certainly hadn’t helped her put thoughts of William aside.
He was handsome, it was true. But he was dangerous.
He kissed like an angel. Or rather, what Raven thought an angel would kiss like if there were such things.
But he was cruel.
Her subconscious had placed interesting words into his mouth.
I won’t let such beauty die.
But William would let beauty die. Moreover, he’d bring about its death directly, by killing Professor Emerson.
She chose a pair of black pants and a green blouse to wear to work, dressing listlessly. She pinned her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and retrieved her glasses from the nightstand, where they sat next to William’s bracelet.
He hadn’t taken it.
As she looked at the gold, at the fleur-de-lis in the center, it occurred to her that returning it would give her an excuse to visit him. Then she could speak to him about the Emersons.
It was a flimsy excuse but all she had.
She placed the bracelet on her wrist, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and exited the apartment. After locking her door, she saw a woman on the landing, preparing to enter Lidia’s apartment.
The woman bore a striking resemblance to Bruno, with the same dark hair and eyes.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Raven.”
The woman’s face flashed with recognition.
“I’m Graziella, Bruno’s mother.”
“Um, I heard Bruno was in the hospital. Is he okay?”
Graziella appeared upset.
“He was attacked the other night. But he’s doing much better. We think he will be able to come home tomorrow.”
Raven exhaled her relief. “That’s good news. How is Lidia?”
“Not so good. But a specialist from Rome is coming to examine her.” She nodded toward the apartment. “She was refusing treatment until she heard her case had come to the attention of a distinguished oncologist. She decided she’d see him.”
Raven found herself heartened by the news. ??
?I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t know she was sick. I’m so sorry I didn’t try to help earlier.”
“Would you like to come inside? Say hello?”
“Of course.”
Raven glanced at her old Swatch discreetly. She had plenty of time to get to work.
When they entered the apartment, Dolcezza, the cat, darted toward the door.
Raven hung back, not knowing how the cat would react to her. It had hissed at her only a week previous.
But the cat seemed to have forgotten her previous bad temper and began threading itself through her legs.
Raven leaned over to pet the cat, hearing its throaty purr.
“Mamma, you have a visitor,” Graziella announced.
Lidia was over seventy and small and rounded, with curly gray hair and dark, wise eyes. She was sitting on her couch in the living room, watching television. As soon as she saw Raven, she smiled.
“Hello, my dear.” She waved her over and Raven crossed the room.
Lidia patted the couch next to her.
Raven sat down, placing her knapsack on the floor. “I’m so sorry to hear that you’re sick.”
“I’m fine, just old. How did your date with my grandson go?”
“Oh.” Raven shifted awkwardly. “Well, something came up and he couldn’t meet me.”
“Really?” Lidia frowned. “That isn’t like him. He told me he was looking forward to it. I’ll have to speak to him. But you know he had an accident.”
“Yes, I heard that. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s getting better. Now, what do you want for breakfast?” Lidia moved as if to stand, but Raven stopped her.
“I should be making you breakfast.”
“I can still fix breakfast. I’m not dead.”
Raven shot a worried look at Graziella, who rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“I’m just on my way to work at the Uffizi. Maybe we could have breakfast another time.”
“Anytime. Just knock on the door. But not tomorrow; tomorrow the doctor from Rome is coming.”
Raven smiled and squeezed her neighbor’s hand. “Good. I’ll see you soon. If you need anything, please let me know. I’m just next door.”
Raven hugged Lidia and took leave of Graziella, wishing with all her might that the specialist might find a way to help her neighbor.