Gabriel pressed his back against the bedroom door, signaling to the vampyre that he would have to go through Gabriel and the door in order to attack his family. He was willing to give his life to protect the wife and child who remained blissfully unaware just inside.
The Prince thought of another human being who was a protector; a woman who’d almost given her life to intervene in the beating death of a homeless man.
He didn’t like being reminded.
“Your wife is ill,” he announced abruptly, adjusting his shirtsleeves.
Gabriel’s features shifted. “What?”
“You’re an intelligent man, or so they say. By now I’m sure you realize I have certain—abilities. One of them is sensing human illness. I can’t identify the problem, but there is something wrong with your wife, something causing her blood to lack iron.
“When I first met her at the Uffizi two years ago, I scented the illness. Whatever it is, it still threatens her.”
The professor appeared noticeably shaken by the revelation and turned his head to gaze at Julianne through the window.
“You acquired illustrations that were stolen,” the Prince continued. “Since I’m the original owner, I’ve taken them back. I should have destroyed you, but instead, I’ve gifted you with vital information about your wife’s health. I think you’ll agree I’ve been more than generous.”
Gabriel turned his attention back to the Prince. It was clear he was struggling with what to believe, but his desire to protect his family won out.
“I’ll drop the investigation and speak to Interpol personally.” Gabriel spoke through clenched teeth. “I shouldn’t be held accountable for the actions of others. If the Italians choose to pursue you, that’s their misfortune.”
“If your involvement ceases, we have no quarrel.” The Prince gave him a sustained glare, then approached the edge of the balcony and turned.
Gabriel was still standing in a defensive posture outside the bedroom. He’d clapped a hand over his mouth, as if restraining himself from raising the alarm.
The Prince fixed him with a stony gaze.
“Be sure to live long enough to ensure your daughter has a good life. Things happen to children when they lose their father.”
He vaulted over the railing and flew to the ground, before disappearing into the darkness.
Chapter Two
July 6, 2013
Florence, Italy
They stood for what seemed like an age, the young woman and the centuries-old vampyre, holding one another desperately on a rooftop of a loggia, overlooking the Uffizi.
They were the most improbable of lovers. Yet it was manifest to both they were a perfect match.
Raven’s heart was full, her mind relaxed, her body sated.
William extricated himself from between her legs, placing her on unsteady feet. He righted his trousers and withdrew a handkerchief from the pocket. Supporting her with an arm around her waist, he lifted her skirt to press the linen gently between her legs.
When he was finished, he tossed the handkerchief aside and carefully lowered her skirt.
“Now that you’ve given me your gift, I must give you mine.” William stroked her cheek, his eyes alight.
Raven flattened her hand against his chest, over his heart. She felt the strange rhythm under her palm and the almost frightening silence.
“This is my gift,” she said quietly. “The way you touch me, I can tell that you love me.”
He lifted her fingers and kissed them, one by one. “But you’ll want the other gift I’m about to give you.”
“This is the only gift I want, but I’m happy to have the words.”
“I love you,” he whispered. “Defensa.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “I’m no longer wounded; I’m a protector.”
“You’ve always been a protector.” He kissed her forehead, before tracing the faded scar that marred it. “You told me once no one ever defended you. Tonight, I will.”
“What?” She pulled back, confused.
“I promised to give you justice. I keep my promises.”
A wave of anxiety passed over her. “William, what have you done?”
He smiled at her slowly. “It’s what I am going to do. Come.”
He pulled her tightly against him and they climbed to the roof, their bodies disappearing into the night like a wisp of smoke.
Raven paused expectantly at the foot of the grand staircase in William’s lavish villa.
“This way.” He gestured to the hall.
She looked up at the second floor with longing. “I thought we were going upstairs.”
His gray eyes danced. “We are going to the library.”
Raven had expected him to lead (or carry) her to his bedroom, where they’d spend the rest of the hours before sunset making love. She frowned. “Why?”
“Come and see.” He took her hand, escorting her down the hall.
The library was a beautiful room, featuring floor-to-ceiling bookcases, an immense wall of windows, and a high, domed ceiling formed entirely of glass. Pale light shone from outside, but Raven nearly stumbled in the semidarkness.
William lit a candle for her benefit. Vampyres had perfect vision in the dark.
“This isn’t our destination,” he explained. “It’s merely the vestibule.”
He turned to one of the bookcases and pressed on the spine of a large volume penned by Virgil. With a groan, the bookcase swung inward, revealing a dark passageway.
Raven peered into the narrow space. She hadn’t enjoyed their last journey into the underworld, when he’d introduced her to some of his fellow vampyres. She had no wish to repeat the experience.
“I was looking forward to spending the night with you in your bed.”
William gazed at her hungrily. “I’m looking forward to that, as well. But I haven’t given you your gift yet.”
She eyed the passageway. “I don’t like surprises.”
“This is a surprise you will enjoy, I assure you.” He led her down a spiral staircase, carefully supporting her weight since she was without her cane.
The space beneath the villa was damp. Raven felt her skin begin to crawl and she tugged at William, stopping him.
“Can’t you give me the gift upstairs? In your room?”
“Patience, Cassita.” He released her to smooth her long black hair. “All will be revealed.”
They continued down a long corridor that was punctuated by a series of heavy wooden doors. Raven could swear she heard rats scratching and scurrying behind them.
She clung to William until, finally, they stopped in front of a large, primitive-looking door. It was barred from the outside. With practiced ease, he lifted the bar and pulled the door open. The hallway echoed with the groans of rusted metal hinges.
He entered the room before her, using the candle to light torches that were suspended on the walls. Soon the cold, dank space was bathed in warm, flickering light.
Raven hesitated at the threshold. At first she thought the room was a wine cellar. But a glance at the interior revealed nothing like wine bottles or casks.
There was an old wooden table and a chair that sat to one side. There were iron sconces on the walls that held the now-lit torches and a pair of rusty iron manacles affixed with long, heavy chains. It was only the absence of weapons and other instruments that kept her from believing she stood outside a torture chamber. Then she saw the cell.
On the far side of the room was a small jail cell made of stout iron bars that ran from the floor to the low ceiling.
The cell wasn’t empty.
She entered the room, her shoes crunching on a few small rocks that were scattered over the stone floor. Dampness seemed to lift from it, seeping through her soles and up her bare legs. She shivered.
Inside the cell was a man, lying on the ground. His garments were dirty and torn and his hair was matted. In the dim light that shone through the iron bars, she could almost make out his face,
but not quite.
Raven wrinkled her nose at the stench that emanated from his direction—as if he hadn’t washed in days. As if he’d used the ground of his cell for a toilet. Curious, she approached him.
The prisoner chose that moment to move, revealing his face. Raven’s eyes widened.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, ceasing her forward movement.
William materialized at her side, bringing his lips to her ear. “Happy birthday.”
With a curse, Raven stumbled toward the door. She only managed three steps before the contents of her stomach splattered on the floor.
William wrapped his arm around her waist. “That is not the reaction I was expecting. Are you all right?”
She pushed him away, heaving a second time. When she’d finished, he tried to pull her in the direction of the chair.
“No.” She shoved his hands aside.
He looked puzzled. “What about your gift?”
“What gift?” Shakily, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I promised you justice.” He waved a hand in the direction of the prisoner. “This is justice.”
Raven’s eyes met William’s. “How?”
William smiled, his teeth white and gleaming in the torchlight.
“I brought him here so you can kill him.”
Chapter Three
Raven’s world ground to a halt.
“Of course, I can kill him, if you’d prefer.” William’s eyes twinkled. “You don’t need to decide now. Take some time to reflect on the details. I took the liberty of exacting a measured amount of justice already, but nothing approaching what ought to be done.”
He stretched his hand toward her face, wearing an intense expression. “Happy birthday, Cassita.”
Raven avoided his touch, her heart thumping in her chest. She gazed around the room, feeling as if the walls were closing in. She had to escape.
Skirting the sick that had pooled on the floor, she limped toward the exit. Her right leg complained as she pitched forward, pain shooting from ankle to hip.
“Cassita?” William sounded confused.
She ignored him, continuing toward the door.
“Help me.” The whispered plea came from the cell. The prisoner made a series of noises, as if he were trying to lift himself up, a groan escaping his mouth as he crashed back to the floor.
Raven placed her foot on the threshold.
“Don’t leave me with him!” the prisoner rasped. “He wants to kill me. He pushed me down the stairs. I think my leg is broken.”
Shock prevented Raven from reacting to the prisoner’s cries—shock and the creeping realization of what William had done.
The prisoner rattled the iron bars. “He’s an animal. Help me!”
Raven turned. “You think he’s an animal because he pushed you down the stairs?” Her sudden, inexplicable anger was entirely lost on the captive.
“He kidnapped me. He says he’s going to kill me!”
“Cut the shit, David,” she snapped. “I know it’s you.”
The man blinked in her direction, several beats too long, before shaking his head. “My name is Greg. You have to help me.”
Raven hobbled toward him with as much speed as she could muster. “It’s Jane, you asshole.” She gestured to her body. “Maybe you didn’t recognize me with my injured leg.”
The prisoner gripped the bars with both hands, his frantic eyes meeting hers. “My name is Greg. I’m from Sacramento, California. I’ve never seen you before, I swear to God.”
“Bullshit,” Raven spat out. “You think I wouldn’t recognize you? You think I’d forget what you sound like, you fucking monster?”
She stood for a moment, seething with rage.
“You molested my sister.” Raven bent to the ground and picked up a rock, hurling it at him. The rock glanced off one of the iron bars; the man ducked just before impact.
“She was only five. She was a baby!” Raven scrambled to pick up more rocks, throwing them at him. A few made it through the bars, striking him in the chest.
The man fell back, lifting his hands to protect himself. “My name is Greg. I have a wife and two kids. I’ve never seen you before.”
“Liar!” Raven roared. “I stayed awake every night, trying to protect her. But you got to her anyway. I screamed for my mother and you pushed me down the stairs to shut me up. You aren’t shutting me up now, you worthless piece of shit.
“You say you broke your leg?” She bent down to his eye level. “Does it hurt? Are you afraid you’ll never walk right?”
The man stared at her as if she were mad.
“Who the fuck cares about your leg? I’m crippled! I’ll never run again.” She spat at him through the bars. “I hate you!”
With a strangled cry, she reached through the iron bars, trying to strike him with her fists. The man dragged his injured leg behind him as he crawled to the back of the cell, evading her blows.
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” he whimpered. “I swear to God, my name is Greg. I never hurt anyone. You have to believe me.”
Raven spat again, gripping the iron bars tightly. “I hope you burn in hell. I hope you never walk again!”
William appeared to her right and touched her clenched fingers. Their eyes met. Without warning, she burst into tears.
“I’m innocent.” The prisoner’s voice grew more desperate. “I swear to God, you’ve got the wrong guy.”
William bared his teeth and snarled. Wetness seeped through the prisoner’s trousers and spread out beneath him. He covered his head with his arms, curling into a ball.
“One more word and I’ll rip out your tongue.” William gently pried Raven’s fingers from the iron bars. “You don’t speak to her.”
The prisoner trembled in his corner, as he, too, began to sob.
With one final growl, William swept Raven into his arms. He doused the torches and carried her from the room, barring the door behind them.
Chapter Four
To say that William was concerned by Raven’s reaction would be an understatement. The sound of her sobbing—a keening, soul-rending noise—tortured him.
He’d hurt her when all he wanted was to please her. Indeed, there was a part of him that wished to make the man who’d hurt her suffer. But he recognized that revenge was hers, not his. He had the power to give it to her and he did. He hadn’t expected her anger to turn to sorrow.
Clearly, he didn’t understand human beings.
Guilt—a very human emotion—bathed his insides. The sight of Raven’s suffering also made him feel helpless, which was not a typical feeling for an old one such as himself.
A flash of memory overtook him, like a bolt of lightning across a dark sky. He was holding Alicia in his arms, watching as the very breath ebbed out of her. And there was not a damned thing he could do about it.
He’d failed Alicia. But he was a different being now, with different powers. He’d be damned if he failed Raven.
He sat next to her on the bed, placing his hand at the small of her back. “Cassita.” She continued to cry, curled like a fetus on her side, as if she hadn’t heard.
He rubbed at her back awkwardly, wondering if he should ring for Lucia. She’d likely suggest they administer a sedative. William wasn’t sure he had a sedative on hand. Most of the medical supplies had been used in May, when he’d brought Raven back from the brink of death.
He recalled the night he’d brought a dying Raven into his home. He’d injected her with one of the oldest vintages in his collection. As the vampyre blood began to swim through her veins, she’d stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. He hadn’t known how to comfort her and had lapsed into Latin and Anglo-Norman, almost without realizing it. His whispered words had little effect. At one point, he’d had to sedate her, if only to keep her from pulling the transfusion tubes out of her arm.
Watching her cry was far more disturbing now, because he loved her.
“Cassita.” He spoke fir
mly. “Cassita, listen to me.”
“My sister,” she managed between sobs. “My f-fault.”
“No.” William’s tone was fierce. She didn’t respond.
“It wasn’t your fault.” He grasped her biceps, pressing down for emphasis. “You protected her. You got her away from him.”
Raven continued to cry. He waited, hoping she would cry herself dry, and she did. But what came next proved far more disquieting. She lay on her side, facing the wall, eyes open and unblinking.
When he spoke to her, she was unresponsive. When he tried to move her, he found that her body maintained the same posture, as if her muscles had stiffened. Even more alarming, her heart rate was uneven and her breathing was shallow. Sweat beaded on her forehead, even though the room was cool.
The physical changes in Raven frightened him. He worried he’d damaged her mind in some way, causing irreparable harm.
Minutes passed and his anxiety grew. Throwing caution aside, he placed his hands on either side of her face and looked into her eyes. “Raven, focus on the sound of my voice.”
She didn’t appear to see or hear him.
“You will relax your body and go to sleep. You will rest peacefully until morning, without worry or care.” A moment passed without reaction, and then another, and William repeated his instructions.
His anxiety increased. He was far from confident that mind control would work; he was adept at using it, but Raven was strong-minded. And if somehow the sight of her stepfather had broken her mind . . .
Raven blinked and her large green eyes focused on his.
“Listen to my voice,” he repeated. “Breathe deeply and relax your body.”
All at once, Raven’s eyes grew unfocused. In short order, her breathing deepened and her muscles relaxed.
“That’s a good girl.” He exhaled his relief. “Close your eyes.”
She obeyed and he released her, pulling the covers over her dress and tucking them against her body. “Rest well, my love.” He kissed her forehead, listening to her heart rate and breathing even out.
For several minutes, he watched her sleep. His sudden relief gave way to uneasiness. She was now under his control and he’d never been a more unwilling master.
The Shadow Page 2