The Raven

  It was with great surprise that Raven saw Luka standing in the hallway of her building after she left Lidia’s apartment. She’d thought that William would withdraw his protection after what had happened the night before.

  She didn’t bother asking him questions about William, for she knew Luka wouldn’t answer. His lordship had trained his servants well and they always obeyed orders.

  Luka was human. As far as Raven knew, all William’s servants were human. Although at first she couldn’t tell the difference between a human and a vampyre, now she found it easy. Vampyres were paler of skin, stronger, and more imposing physically than human beings.

  An air of danger and threat clung to them, as well.

  As she exited her building with Luka, she didn’t see Ispettor Batelli watching her from across the piazza. Nor did she see him following the Mercedes from a distance.

  She spent a quiet but constructive day in the restoration lab, working on the Birth of Venus. Patrick and Gina stopped by to invite her to lunch and the trio walked to a nearby osteria, on the other side of Piazza Signoria.

  Luka drove Raven home after work, where she prepared a simple dinner, packing up half of it to deliver to Lidia. Lidia was grateful for the gift and prevailed on Raven to stay and enjoy a glass of wine.

  Just as the sun was setting, Raven took leave of her neighbor and descended the staircase to the street. She put on her helmet, climbed on her Vespa, and drove to the Piazzale Michelangelo.

  The Emersons’ time was decidedly short. She didn’t know how long the hunters were going to remain in the city. She didn’t know when William would decide to go after the professor.

  She was determined to see him and try once more to change his mind.

  When she approached the gate to his villa, she heard a voice from the security speaker. She hadn’t even announced her arrival.

  “State your business.”

  “Um, it’s Raven. Raven Wood. I’m here to see his lordship.”

  “His lordship is not at home.”

  Raven recognized Ambrogio’s voice. She also recognized that he was being cool with her.

  “Could I come inside and wait? I really need to see him.”

  There was a long pause.

  When Ambrogio didn’t reply, she decided to change tactics.

  She lifted her wrist, displaying the gold bracelet to the security camera.

  “His lordship ordered me to return this,” she lied. “And his lordship’s orders are always obeyed.”

  Raven bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face. It was too ridiculous.

  “One moment.”

  Raven waited and the high iron gate opened, allowing her to pass through. She was shocked her strategy had worked.

  She drove to the triple garage and parked in front of it, storing her helmet inside the Vespa’s seat. She picked up her cane and walked through the garden to the door.

  Ambrogio greeted her, directing her to Lucia, in the kitchen.

  “Ah, Miss Wood. Sit down.” Lucia gestured to the kitchen table, on which she’d already set a bottle of wine and a plate of fruit and cheese. She gestured to an empty glass. “Shall I?”

  “Please.” Raven tried not to drum her fingers on top of the table as she watched Lucia pour her a glass of red wine.

  “His lordship is not here.” Lucia corked the bottle and set it aside before placing the full glass in front of her guest. “In fact, he is not expected home this evening.”

  “Why not?”

  “He has another residence that he sometimes uses. He stayed there last night and will probably stay there again tonight.” Lucia’s expression was carefully controlled.

  Raven derived the impression that there was much, much more that Lucia was not telling her; none of it good.

  “Can I wait for him?”

  “I would not recommend that. As I said, he is not expected home.” Lucia glanced significantly at Raven’s wrist.

  She removed the bracelet. “If you could return this to his lordship, I’d be very grateful.”

  “Of course.” Lucia took the item.

  “Can I still see his version of Primavera? He ordered me to give him my report for the restoration, but there’s one part of the painting I need to see again.”

  Lucia smiled. “Please enjoy your wine, and when you are ready I will escort you upstairs. Will you need to have the painting removed from the wall?”

  Raven shook her head.

  Lucia gestured to a small bell that stood in front of Raven’s plate. “Ring when you are ready.”

  With a nod, Lucia disappeared, leaving Raven to finish her wine alone.

  While she sipped her wine and nibbled nervously on the fruit and cheese, Raven came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with Ambrogio, Lucia, and Luka.

  They seemed to lack something, in addition to a sense of humor. And the way they mindlessly followed William’s instructions . . .

  William had mentioned something about mind control when he took her to meet his coven. Perhaps his household staff were under mind control, which was why they’d blindly let her in when she referred to his orders.

  Having come to this momentous conclusion and having finished her remarkable glass of wine, Raven rang the bell. Lucia escorted her upstairs to the master bedroom.

  As usual, the space was immaculate. The bed looked as if it hadn’t been slept in.

  Lucia instructed her to ring if she needed anything and closed the door behind her.

  Raven examined the room carefully, searching for anything that would give her a clue as to William’s whereabouts. But she found nothing.

  It was possible, she reasoned, that he was at Palazzo Riccardi. Given what had happened the last time she went looking for him, Raven decided not to go there.

  Surely he would have to return to the villa sometime. Unfortunately, Raven didn’t have days to wait. She needed to be at the Uffizi early tomorrow morning for work.

  What a mess.

  In order to keep up the lie she’d told to Lucia, she decided to examine the painting.

  She took a few photos of it with her phone, especially of the figures of Mercury, Chloris, and Zephyr. Then she sat, analyzing it.

  Seeing William as Zephyr was jarring, especially since she now knewthe story behind his depiction.

  She examined the features of Chloris. It was difficult to make them out, since her head was turned. If what William had said was correct, the woman who’d fallen in love with him was the model for Chloris and for the second of the three Graces.

  It was at this moment that Raven saw the painting in a new light.

  Under the benevolent hand of Venus, Cupid pointed his arrow at the second Grace, who was already gazing with longing at Mercury. Mercury was busy stirring the clouds, his back to the Graces.

  On the right side of the painting, Zephyr hovered in an orange grove, having captured Chloris. She was producing flowers from her mouth, marking the result of his fertile breath.

  Without the figure of Flora, which appeared in the other version of Primavera, Botticelli’s work was a dark morality tale.

  Reading the painting from left to right and substituting the Renaissance persons for their classical counterparts, Botticelli told the story of Allegra, who fell in love with the handsome but indifferent William York. Subsequently, he was revealed as a monster. He captured her and had sex with her, but she fled from him.

  Eventually, she killed herself.

  Raven stared wide-eyed at the painting. It no longer seemed beautiful and serene to her. No, it was a portrait of horror and despair.

  And he’s had this painting for over five hundred years.

  No doubt he’d stared at it daily, perhaps feeling guilt over the woman who’d loved him as one being, but killed herself when she realized what he truly was.

  No wonder he’d never had a pet. Perhaps he feared the same outcome. If he was capable of feeling remorse.

  Raven was fairly sure that William felt remorse
and guilt, as evidenced by his reaction to her shaming him. Without guilt or remorse, shame was an empty emotion. Indeed, shame would not be shame.

  Raven gazed with sadness at the second Grace.

  What a tragic end.

  She contemplated what William’s overnight guests thought of the painting—if he’d ever told anyone its dark history.

  Raven wrinkled her nose.

  She tried not to guess the number of overnight guests he’d entertained over the centuries. The idea sickened her.

  She threw back the curtains and opened the balcony doors, letting the night air into the room. She breathed deeply, staring up at the stars and the winking moon. With night blanketing the city, William and his coven would be free to walk the streets.

  The hunters would come out in search of their prey.

  She hoped William would be safe.

  Raven returned to the painting and opened her knapsack, withdrawing some clean paper and her set of charcoals, which she spread across the hardwood floor.

  Moving to lie on her stomach, because it was more comfortable than

  hunching over the paper, she began to sketch the second Grace.

  Soon she was lost in the interplay of light and shadow, black and gray, her fingers ever moving over the page. She drew, she shaded, she blended with her fingers until her skin grew black. And finally, a few hours later, she had a large sketch she was proud of.

  She signed her name at the bottom, as was her custom, and walked to the bathroom to wash her hands.

  When she checked her watch, it was after midnight. William had not returned.

  Maybe he’ll return soon.

  She could wait one more hour, especially to help the Emersons.

  Raven sat on the bed, stretching her back and neck.

  The bed was comfortable and her body was beginning to complain about having lain on the floor.

  A few minutes later, she reclined, clutching a pillow.

  Then she fell asleep.

  Raven felt a breeze on her face.

  She opened her eyes and was momentarily confused. She was in William’s bed, his room swathed in darkness.

  A light breeze wafted in through the balcony doors, causing the curtains on either side to lift and sway.

  Raven turned on her side to face them and saw a figure standing in the doorway.

  A light from somewhere in the gardens shone behind him. He was leaning against the doorpost, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at her.

  “She awakes,” he murmured.

  Raven sat up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “What are you doing here, besides sketching my paintings?” His tone was abrupt.

  “I came to see you. Where were you?”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile.

  “‘I have gone round about the earth, and walked through it.’”

  Raven rubbed her eyes. “I’ll never understand how it is that a vampyre can quote scripture.”

  “Perhaps because he was taught scripture before he became a vampyre.”

  William pushed off the doorpost and approached the bed, his steps quick and purposeful.

  “What are you doing in my bed? You made it quite clear whatever was starting between us ended.”

  “I was worried about the Emersons.”

  “Of course,” he scoffed. “Raven is savior to the world. I believe someone else lays claim to that accomplishment.

  “Go back to sleep. You can leave after breakfast.”

  He moved toward the door and Raven’s heart sank.

  “Aren’t you tired?” she called.

  He paused but didn’t turn around. “We aren’t capable of sleep.”

  “It must be exhausting not to have an escape from the worries of the day.”

  “It’s necessary to rest the mind, if one doesn’t want to go mad. We have various ways of doing that.” He turned to face her, his tone somewhat ominous.

  “And you?”

  “I meditate.”

  Raven looked around the room. “Where do you do that?”

  His chin jerked toward where she was lying. “There.”

  “Oh.”

  Raven pulled back the duvet and sheets to her right, where there was a pillow and an empty space. “Come here, then.”

  He eyed the bed with narrowed eyes. “Are you tempting me?”

  “No, I’m apologizing for putting you out. We can share.”

  William walked to the empty side of the bed, his eyes fixed on hers.

  He placed a hand on the mattress, giving her a challenging look.

  When she didn’t retreat, he sat on the edge of the bed. He removed his shoes and reclined, lying on his back next to her.

  She reached down to remove her shoes as well, before lying on her side facing him.

  “Lucia presented me with your gift.” He sounded unfriendly.

  “William,” she murmured. “Don’t be angry.”

  “You’re the most frustrating being—human or vampyre—that I’ve dealt with in centuries. And that’s saying something, since I know Aoibhe.”

  Raven bristled at the female vampyre’s name, but she tried to hide it.

  “You said you felt shame when I offered myself in exchange for Bruno’s life. Please don’t be angry with me for trying to save a family and give a home to a little girl who needs one.”

  William sniffed but didn’t respond.

  She shifted closer to him on the bed.

  “Did you capture the hunters?”

  “No. They took down one of my brethren last night. The hunters have

  new weapons we weren’t aware of.”

  “I’m sorry. Was the vampyre a friend of yours?”

  “I don’t have friends. It isn’t in my nature.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. She reached out a hesitant hand across the mattress and placed it on his shoulder.

  He didn’t flinch but he didn’t move into her touch, either.

  “William, what happened to Angelo’s body?”

  “Angelo?” He turned his head toward her.

  “The homeless man who died the night I was attacked.”

  William returned to looking at the canopy above the bed.

  “His body was taken outside of the city and burned. That’s what we do with corpses.”

  Raven’s heart twisted. “Is there a grave? A place I could bring flowers?”

  “You don’t want to visit that place. It reeks of death.”

  “I suppose I could put flowers by the bridge, where he used to sit.”

  William exhaled loudly, as if her remark displeased him.

  Raven touched his shoulder again. “Where did you find me? The night I was attacked?”

  “There’s an alley near the Ponte Santa Trinita. The animals dragged you into it. Why do you ask?”

  “I still can’t remember that evening. It’s hazy.”

  “Be thankful for small mercies.

  “Until the hunters are removed, I will do nothing about Emerson. But I make no promise for the future.” He shifted to face her. “You have a day or so to manipulate one out of me.”

  “I’m not manipulating you. I’m appealing to your better nature.”

  “My better nature.” He sounded bitter. “There is no better nature. Don’t you understand?”

  “You had compassion on me when those men would have raped and killed me. Who has the better nature between you and them?”

  “You’re comparing monster to monster—comparisons don’t imply positives.”

  She shook her head. “Monsters aren’t heroic.”

  William gave her a searching look, as if her remark truly surprised him. He soon recovered, however.

  “Why are you so adamant about saving a man you don’t even know? Emerson is arrogant and proud. I’ve seen him in public, parading his illustrations as if he were Dante himself, resurrected from the dead.”

  Raven frowned. “You don’t like Dante?”

  ?
??The man was a mercurial egoist who panted after a married woman, neglecting his wife and family.”

  Raven’s mouth dropped open. “Did you know him or is this merely your opinion?”

  “I knew him. I knew Beatrice, too. She was lovely. And far too intelligent to leave her husband for such a fiend.”

  “I didn’t think he was trying to persuade her to leave her husband. In La Vita Nuova, he talks about her as a kind of Muse.”

  “If she’d returned his attentions, he’d have committed adultery with her in the middle of the Ponte Santa Trinita. Don’t fool yourself.” He shifted on the bed so he could see her better. “My question remains. Why are you so intent on helping Emerson?”

  Raven avoided his eyes. “I gave you the reason. It’s unjust to kill him when he bought the illustrations in good faith not knowing they were stolen. And I’m worried about what will happen to his wife and child if you murder him.”

  William’s gaze traveled the length of her body to where her legs rested under the covers.

  “You said something happened to you after your father died. What was it?”

  Raven rolled away from him, facing the balcony doors. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  William reflected on her answer and realized he truly wanted to know Raven’s history.

  (He didn’t take time to ask himself why he was interested in her past. No doubt he would have been surprised by the answer.)

  “That is my price. You tell me about your family, and I’ll spare Emerson.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I give you my word. I’ll spare the Emersons entirely if you answer my question.”

  “Just like that?” Raven was incredulous.

  “Not just like that. A confrontation between Emerson and me is coming. I will have my satisfaction. But I won’t kill him.

  “I may predate psychology, but I can divine that whatever happened to you marked you. I’d like to understand why you’re so hell-bent on protecting anyone and everyone.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Cassita.” He approached her cautiously, moving his body to spoon behind hers. “You’re a protector. The question I’m asking is, why?”

  She didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away, either. He placed his arm over hers across her stomach.