The Shadow

by Sylvain Reynard

  “Thank you, Professor.” She shook his hand.

  After that exchange, Raven’s smile returned, even though it was somewhat smaller than before.

  The black Mercedes waited behind the Uffizi, alongside a few other luxury vehicles. Raven was just exiting the gallery with Gina and Patrick when she saw the car. She stopped short.

  “What is it?” Patrick eyed her reaction with concern.

  “My boyfriend is here.” She gave her friends an apologetic smile. “I haven’t seen him all week. Go ahead without me. I might meet you later.”

  “We can wait,” Patrick offered, his eyes narrowing at the Mercedes.

  “Give Raven time with her boyfriend.” Gina tugged on his hand. “Raven, we can meet you there.”

  “Thanks.” She gave Gina an appreciative look.

  “Bring him with you,” Patrick called over his shoulder.

  As her friends walked in the direction of the bar, Raven made her way over to the car. She opened the door and climbed in, closing the door carefully behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  “I’m surprised to see you. I haven’t spoken to you since Monday night.” Raven clutched her knapsack, making no move toward him.

  William turned to address the driver. “To the villa, Luka.”

  “Wait.” Raven fidgeted with her knapsack. “My friends are going for drinks to celebrate the completion of the restoration project. I’m going with them.”

  William blinked. “Very well.”

  “That’s it?” She frowned. “That’s all you have to say?”

  William adjusted his cuff links, avoiding her censorious look. “You wish to be with your friends. I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “But you won’t see me,” she protested. “Tomorrow night is the gala celebrating the restoration. I have to go.”

  William’s eyes met hers. “Then I’ll see you afterward. Ring Ambrogio and let him know when to send the car. I’ll meet you at the villa.”

  Raven turned to look out the darkly tinted window.

  “I’m luggage,” she muttered.

  “What’s that?” William’s tone was sharp.

  “I’m something to be picked up and dropped off.” She lifted her knapsack to her shoulder and placed her hand on the door. “I haven’t seen you all week, after—after . . .” She faltered, suddenly fighting tears.

  “Luka, get out of the car.” William’s tone was low and commanding.

  The large man exited the vehicle and closed his door, affording the couple some privacy.

  Without a word, William picked Raven up and placed her sideways on his lap, tossing her knapsack to the floor. He ran his thumbs under her eyes, gathering the moisture.

  “What am I to do with you?” he whispered.

  “Nothing, because I’m leaving.” She tried to move off his lap, but he placed an arm around her waist.

  “Luka will drive you to meet your friends, after you explain the tears.” He dried her eyes again.

  “If I have to explain it, then we have more trouble than I thought.”

  William winced.

  When it became clear he was waiting for her to speak, she huffed. “I swear, you are the most infuriating male I’ve ever encountered. Why are you avoiding me?”

  William passed his hand over her hair. “Affairs of state have taken more than their share of my attention. I know I promised to see to it you had access to a swimming pool for your leg, but I haven’t had time. I shall have Ambrogio arrange it.”

  “I don’t care about swimming! What I care about is you and how you’re treating me.”

  William appeared confused. “How I am treating you?”

  “When we spoke Monday night, you were cold to me.”

  “I am cold.” He pressed his palm to her cheek.

  “William.” Her tone was anguished. “When we’re apart, I miss you. I want to be with you. I want to talk to you. And when you’re cold, it hurts.”

  Realization seemed to dawn on his expression. He pulled her against his chest, enveloping her in his arms. “My enemies will pay for every one of those tears.”

  “I don’t want revenge. I just want you.”

  His lips found her forehead and he held them there. “I love you a great deal. I’m sure it’s cruel of me to love you at all since we can’t have a normal life. Yet, I can’t bring myself to stop.”

  “I know you worry about the city. But I worry about you. Please, don’t shut me out.”

  “There are things in motion that I should tell you about. But not tonight.” His nose brushed the side of hers. “Dry your tears, Cassita. I regret every one.”

  She wiped at her face and kissed him, looping her arms around his neck.

  “We’ll take you to your friends. Tomorrow night, we shall be together.”

  She smiled and the change was reflected on William’s face as his expression eased.

  “I am not an easy being to love, Cassita. But I swear my sins of omission are in reality sins of love. I’m trying to protect you and the city. I’m failing.”

  “I’m sorry about the city. I don’t understand what it would be like to be responsible for so many people.” She touched his face, tracing his knitted eyebrows and proud mouth. “I just wish we had more time together.”

  He kissed the side of her hand. “However did I come to be the slave of so magnanimous a lady?”

  Without giving the opportunity for Raven to reply, William knocked on the ceiling of the car. Luka opened the door and slipped into the driver’s seat. Soon the Mercedes was wending its way from the gallery and down the street.

  Chapter Forty

  William carried in his pocket the means to save his city. The procedure was simple enough—deliver Raven to the Curia and Florence would be spared.

  He’d spent centuries protecting his principality. He’d devoted his entire vampyric existence to it, constantly striving to ensure his citizens enjoyed an easy, comfortable life, secure in the knowledge the Curia would never march through their streets the way they’d done in Prague and Paris and Budapest.

  He’d never allowed anyone to come between him and the city he loved, which was why he’d always been alone.

  Then a wounded lark had flown across his sky and changed it. Forever.

  As the first rays of sunrise illuminated the city streets, William exited one of the secret doors that led to the underground near Santa Maria Novella Station. He was disguised as a tourist, in sunglasses and a Panama hat, a cloth doused in an old vampyre’s blood pinned to his shirt. If anyone were to track him, he hoped they’d be confused.

  He ignored the headache and discomfort he felt the moment he stepped on holy ground, entering the church of Santa Maria Novella and moving swiftly and almost invisibly to the Spanish Chapel. He approached the famous fresco and bowed his respect.

  “Hail, Brother.” He greeted the image of his teacher in Latin, as had been their custom when he was alive. As ever, the saint stared at him impassively.

  “It has been some time since I’ve visited. You’re looking well.” William tore his eyes from the painted wall and began to pace. “I find myself in some difficulty, which is why I have returned.

  “Your Church has taken an interest in my city. There are rumors of war. I find it difficult to believe such conflicts fail to disturb your rest, since you clearly taught the clergy should be pacifists.”

  William paused. “Yes, I know. They battle against principalities and powers, and the forces of darkness. I’ve resigned myself to the darkness. But there’s someone close to me who has not.

  “There’s a woman.” William watched his teacher closely, fancying that, just perhaps, the visage had changed. “A young woman, very lovely. Brave and generous and fierce. The stuff of poetry and dreams.

  “You’ll laugh at this, old friend. The woman loves me.”

  The image’s eyes seemed to burn into his. The Prince continued his pacing. “She was the protégée of one of the Curia’s
priests. He’s demanded I deliver her to him in exchange for peace.”

  William straightened and crossed to the fresco, facing it.

  “If I accede to his demand, I save my city but I lose her. I’ll break her heart and the Curia will break her spirit. If I keep her, the Curia will come. They’ll kill as many of us as they can, including me. So you see, old friend, no matter what I choose, I will lose her.

  “What would be worse, to lose her voluntarily but know she will be protected by my enemy? Or to keep her, knowing the war will eventually separate us?”

  William rubbed his eyes with both hands, blotting out the holy imagery that confronted him.

  “It’s exactly the kind of dilemma our colleagues would have posed to you in Paris. So what say you, magister? What is the virtuous decision?”

  The Prince stared at his famous teacher.

  “Yes, of course it’s a false dilemma. I could send the woman—my woman—away. But that would only hasten the Curia’s arrival. They’d assume I’d killed her.

  “I could kill the priest. It would be difficult to do since he lives on holy ground, but assassinations have been carried out in the past.” The Prince ran his fingers through his hair. “Yes, I know what happened as a result. The Curia marched on Budapest and massacred the covens there. The principality has never been the same.”

  He paced, back and forth and back and forth, fists shoved into his pockets. “I could attempt to negotiate with the Curia. But why should they negotiate a treaty with me, when one of their own wants his protégée safe from my control?

  “No. There are myriad possibilities, all equally vicious.”

  The Prince cast a baleful look at the personifications of virtues that surrounded his teacher. The Virtues, of course, remained silent.

  “You and I spoke many times of the beauty of goodness. This young, extraordinary woman is so beautiful, so noble in her character, you would have been entranced. She’s read your works. I told her of you and she thinks you’d have compassion on me, despite . . .” He cleared this throat.

  “I don’t hope for compassion. I made my choice; I accept my fate. But for her, for her beautiful, brave soul, I shall hope.” William lifted his face. “I love her. And because I love her, I come to you now to ask for your help.

  “I know better than to try to bargain with you. Either you will come to my aid or you will refuse. I have nothing to offer in exchange, no way to expiate my sin, no virtue to recommend me.

  “But I ask you, teacher, whatever compassion and love you had for me, for the boy I once was, that you would extend the same to her. Whatever grace has been given unto you, I ask you to pray that same grace will rest on her.”

  William extended his arms, his figure like a cross, and bowed very low. “Once again, I am sorry for disturbing your rest. I ask one favor in memory of our friendship—only remember my woman, that her beauty and goodness may not die.”

  Without a backward glance, the Prince left the chapter house, his body tight, his heart beating an uncertain tattoo in his chest.

  Chapter Forty-one

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Birth of Venus.”

  With a flourish, Dottor Vitali removed the large tarp covering the newly restored painting. The crowd gathered in the Botticelli room at the Uffizi burst into loud and enthusiastic applause.

  Vitali introduced Professor Urbano, who offered a few prepared remarks on the restoration process. He introduced Raven and the other members of his team to thunderous applause.

  While he was thanking the donors and organizations who had funded the restoration, including Professor and Mrs. Emerson, who were not in attendance, Raven stood to one side, appraising the work.

  An excellent restoration job allows a painting to present its best self. In her careful estimation, this was precisely what Professor Urbano’s team had done. The colors of the painting were brighter and more vibrant. The details of the figures and the other elements were much easier to see. Indeed, the skill of Sandro Botticelli was more visible now that the layers of darkened, discolored varnish had been removed. The Birth of Venus would now enjoy a second life.

  Raven was proud.

  She stood with her friends Patrick and Gina, leaning against her cane. The full skirt of her new blue silk dress swished whenever she moved. She’d spent a great deal of time on her appearance, even going to a hairstylist to have her long black hair done in an elaborate, elegant twist. She’d covered the bite mark still visible on the side of her neck with makeup, its presence hardly noticeable except upon very close scrutiny.

  The Botticelli room was full. There were patrons and politicians, journalists and professors, and the staff of the Uffizi, all standing in appreciation of the beautiful painting.

  And Ispettor Batelli, watching the proceedings from a spot a few feet in front of Primavera.

  Raven ignored him.

  “I can’t believe that asshole is here.” Patrick jerked his head in the direction of the policeman.

  “It makes sense, no?” Gina shrugged. “Perhaps the thieves are here. Perhaps they will try to take the Birth of Venus.”

  Raven glanced furtively in Batelli’s direction and found him staring at her. She turned her back on him to address her friends. “They’d need ten men to do it and possibly a crane. We had a terrible time moving the painting from the lab.”

  “It’s a masterpiece.” Gina smiled at her as they applauded the conclusion of Professor Urbano’s speech.

  Dottor Vitali ended the formal part of the evening by inviting everyone to enjoy the Botticelli room. The crowd moved forward, eager to have a closer look at the restoration, and Raven and her friends discreetly moved aside to allow the guests a better view.

  Patrick gave a low whistle. “I saw the photographs from before the restoration. You guys did a fantastic job.”

  “Thank you.” Raven bowed.

  “I think this calls for wine. Ladies?” Patrick lifted his eyebrows. Raven and Gina nodded and he excused himself in order to find a waiter.

  Raven’s gaze followed him as he moved to the far side of the room. For no reason in particular, her eyes flickered to the doorway that led to the corridor.

  Standing in the hall, partially shadowed, was a young, handsome man dressed all in black.

  His eyes locked with hers.

  Raven fumbled an excuse to Gina and began to weave through the crowd. But there were a lot of people and she was not swift of movement. By the time she reached the door, he was gone.

  Frustrated, she continued down the empty corridor, looking for him. The rest of the second floor of the Uffizi was cordoned off. She paused next to the velvet rope and sign that instructed guests to stay out.

  Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her in between a pair of statues.

  Before she could scream, she looked up into a familiar face. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “You have to stop doing that!” She shook off his grasp. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  William smirked. “I can hear your heart. It’s perfectly sound.”

  “I think vampyres are capable of recognizing a figure of speech.” She fanned a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

  William grew solemn. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “You are beautiful.”

  Raven’s face flamed. “Thank you.”

  “The painting is lovely, but its beauty pales in comparison with yours.”

  “Could you see it from the hall?”

  He caressed the side of her face. “I slipped in earlier and peeked under the tarp. Your work is exceptional.”

  Raven fidgeted with her purse. “I was part of a team. Why are you here?”

  “I came to see you.” His eyes grew shuttered. “Am I not welcome?”

  “Of course you’re welcome.” She moved so she could see past the statues toward the Botticelli room. “But there are cameras everywhere. And Ispettor Batelli is here.”

&nb
sp; “I know. I saw him.” William’s mouth moved to her ear and he kissed its shell. “Let’s move to a place that is more private.”

  He took her hand and led her to the octagonal Sala Tribuna, which was only three doors down from the Botticelli room. He led her inside the space, which was lined with paintings and sculptures. “There are no cameras in here.”

  The room was dark, lit only by a series of small, high windows that filtered the starlight from outside. The sculptures seemed like ghosts to Raven’s eyes. William, on the other hand, navigated the space as if it were bathed in sunlight.

  They stopped in the center of the room, before an octagonal table. Without a word, he tossed her purse and cane aside and lifted her by the waist, seating her on the edge.

  “This isn’t a good idea. I don’t want to break it.” She gazed at the table doubtfully, wondering if it would hold her weight.

  William placed his palm on the table and pressed, as if testing its sturdiness. “I wouldn’t worry.”

  “I don’t want to damage anything.” She moved as if to stand.

  “We won’t.”

  He placed his hands on her knees, subtly lifting the skirt of her dress. His cool fingers slid under the silk to part her legs, then he was standing in between them, bringing his hips in contact with hers.

  “William, I—” Raven was interrupted by William’s lips, which touched hers reverently.

  As if a flame had been ignited he began to kiss her deeply, urgently, his hands cupping the back of her head.

  “What have they done to you?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the twist in her hair.

  She spoke against his mouth. “I thought it would look nice.”

  “You’re lovely, but lovelier, I think, naked and with your hair streaming down.” He kissed her again, this time exploring her cheek, and jaw, and neck. When he began nibbling at her throat, she placed a palm to his chest. “Stop.”

  “Why?” He continued his ministrations, his hand sliding between her legs to trace the edge of her panties.