The young woman blinked, her blue eyes suddenly focusing on his face. “What? What are you doing?”
“Cara.” Raven pulled her away from William. “We’re here to see Father Kavanaugh.”
“Good.” Cara rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I can’t believe we got here so quickly. I must have fallen asleep.”
The sound of boots striking cobblestones pounded in the distance.
A century of soldiers dressed in black uniforms entered the piazza from the left side of the basilica. The soldiers wore crucifixes around their necks and carried swords.
“Black robes,” the Prince spat.
Cara snorted. “What’s with the army? I thought the Church was pacifist.”
“Perhaps you should ask your priest about that.” The Prince’s voice was cold.
“Whatever.” Cara rolled her eyes.
The soldiers marched toward the border and spread themselves out, one hundred meters inside the line. A lone figure emerged, walking in the direction of the Florentines.
Cara tugged on her sister’s hand. “There’s Father. Let’s go.”
“Approach slowly,” the Prince commanded.
Raven limped with Cara toward the border, while the Prince hovered behind them. A few feet from the line, Raven stopped. “I’m going back to Florence with William. You go ahead.”
“What?” Cara’s voice grew shrill. “You have to come with me. We have to find Dan!”
“Father will help you. I can’t leave William.” She pulled her sister into a hug and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”
“You have to come with me,” Cara wailed. “I need you.”
Raven looked toward the priest, who stood fifty meters from the line. “Father will help you.”
“You can’t leave me.” Cara grabbed Raven’s arm and pulled her closer to the border.
William clung to Raven’s side, his hand ghosting over her elbow.
Just before they crossed the line, Raven planted her feet. “This is as far as I go.”
“Don’t you care about Dan? Don’t you care about me? I came all the way from Florida. You can’t ditch me for your boyfriend.” Cara stepped nimbly across the line formed by a band of white between the cobblestones. “Come on.”
Father Kavanaugh strode to Cara’s side and embraced her as six Curia soldiers closed ranks behind them.
Behind Raven and the Prince, the Florentines closed ranks as well.
Father moved to the border and extended his hand. “Come, Raven.”
“No.” Raven glared. “I explained on the phone what was going to happen. I need you to look after Cara, but I’m not coming.”
Next to her, the Prince growled. “She is my pet. I will not surrender her. The Roman supports this decision.”
Ever so carefully, the Prince turned his head to look at the Roman guard.
The priest followed his gaze.
At that moment, a fine mist appeared, lifting as if from beneath the city streets. The mist rolled down the road that led to Vatican City and began to approach the border.
“Is this your doing?” The priest addressed the Prince, pointing to the fog.
The Prince remained impassive.
“Raven.” Father turned his attention back to her. “Come here, my child.”
She grasped William’s elbow, leaning on him as she took the weight off her injured leg. She switched to Italian. “Maximilian killed Dan. I saw it happen. Cara doesn’t believe me, and when she realizes what’s happened, she’ll be devastated.”
“Maximilian has been dealt with,” the Prince interjected, also in Italian.
Father glanced at Cara, who stood at his side, watching. He spoke to Raven in Italian. “We have the body. He will be prepared for burial once the autopsy is complete. Come with me now before something else happens.”
“No,” Raven repeated.
The mist had grown thick, standing as tall as William and cutting the Florentines off from the Roman guard that stood nearby. But it also shielded them from the Curia snipers.
Surprisingly, the fog traveled as far as William and Raven’s backs, but did not venture to the border of Vatican City.
The priest withdrew a glass vial from his pocket and held it aloft. He fixed his eyes on the Prince’s even as the fog swirled behind him. “You have no power here. I command you to release her.”
The Prince snarled and bared his teeth, but did not retreat.
“Raven? What’s happening?” Cara took a few steps in her sister’s direction.
Father Kavanaugh gestured to two of the black robes, and they marched forward. They took hold of Cara’s arms and began to escort her toward the basilica.
“Let me go!” Cara’s voice lifted into a panicked cry. “Raven, help me.”
“What are you doing?” Raven’s anguish was directed at the priest. “Stop them! Don’t let them hurt her.”
“Come now.” Father leaned across the line.
William’s arm snaked around Raven’s waist, his mouth finding her ear. “It’s a trap.”
“Raven! Help!” Cara shouted.
William tightened his grasp and continued to whisper, “If you follow her, I shall follow you. And they’ll kill me.”
“Then do something,” she pleaded.
The Prince’s gray eyes swung to the white-haired man who stood in front of them. “We came to you in peace. We surrendered the human at your request. This is how the Curia treats their charges?”
“Give me Raven, and we will have peace.” Father leaned farther across the line, his hand mere inches from hers. “And send your cursed fog away.”
“It isn’t mine,” the Prince remarked grimly, looking the priest squarely in the eye.
Raven watched as the soldiers continued to drag her sister toward the basilica. She saw Cara struggle, her shouts and screams echoing across the piazza.
“I trusted you!” She pushed Father Kavanaugh’s chest. “Let her go. Right now!”
The priest grabbed her arm and began to pull.
William had her by the waist. He planted his feet.
A tug of war ensued, with Raven’s body forming the rope.
The priest began reciting words in Latin, waving the relic he held in his other hand.
Both Curia and Florentine soldiers approached, keeping a healthy distance but wielding their weapons. The fog continued to swirl around the Florentines.
“Let go,” Raven whispered, her eyes moving to the priest’s. “I’m not coming with you. If anything happens to Cara, you’ll regret it.”
Father Kavanaugh ignored her, his gaze focused on the Prince and the relic’s obvious lack of effect.
It was at that moment, quite by chance, that the priest lowered his eyes and saw William’s foot resting over the line.
Chapter Twenty-Four
IN A MOVE SO QUICK it could not be detected by human eyes, the Prince drew his foot back into the surrounding fog.
He pried Raven’s arm from the priest’s grasp, his body a blur, and shuffled her behind him.
Father Kavanaugh froze.
“You asked for the lives of two humans.” The Prince glanced behind the priest to see Cara being taken up the stairs that led to the massive doors of the basilica. “I delivered one of them to you, unharmed and unspoiled. The other belongs to me.”
“Impossible,” the priest whispered, fear causing his face to pale beneath his white beard.
“The Roman supports me, the Prince of Florence, and the assertion of my right to keep the pet of my choice. You have our answer.” The Prince lifted Raven into his arms and disappeared into the fog, the Florentines following hard on his heels.
Father Kavanaugh seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. “Raven! Raven!”
The Prince and his soldiers flew in the direction of the
Tiber, the fog accompanying them. Once they reached the river’s edge, the fog lifted. They turned north and raced out of the city.
Chapter Twenty-Five
FATHER JACK KAVANAUGH paced the hallway outside the Superior General’s office in the Vatican, praying nervously.
As soon as he’d left the piazza, the head of the Curia had summoned him. He’d barely had time to issue instructions to the soldiers guarding Cara. She’d been transferred to the infirmary, where medical officers would examine her for signs of trauma.
Jack was fearful of what they’d find.
He should have been grateful that the General had afforded him a face-to-face meeting. The General kept a punishing schedule that was filled with intelligence briefings and assemblies from dawn until well into the evening. He rarely, if ever, met with anyone individually, other than those in the highest positions inside the Vatican. Jack was not one of them.
However, nothing like gratitude lifted from his heart, only whispered supplications. He was worried about Raven and already formulating a rescue plan. He simply needed the General’s permission.
The door to the General’s office swung inward.
“Ave.” The General’s secretary, a high-ranking Curia member, called out in Latin.
“Maria,” Jack responded, accepting the invitation to enter.
The room was simple and unadorned, save for a large medieval crucifix hung on a side wall. Beneath it was a bench on which the General could kneel and pray, eyes lifted to the savior.
The secretary ushered Jack inside and toward an empty chair in front of the General’s massive desk.
The General, dressed in black robes, was seated behind the desk, which was piled high with paperwork and files. He was a Spaniard, a priest in his sixties who had worked in intelligence for most of his career before being elevated to the position of Superior General three years before.
He peered at his secretary over the rims of his spectacles.
The secretary bowed and exited through a side door.
“Father Kavanaugh,” the General addressed him, his Spanish accent thickening on the English words.
“Your eminence.”
The General extended his hand, and Jack took it. “You came to us from America. I trust you are finding your way.”
Jack shifted in his chair. “I am, thank you.”
“Good.” The General sat back. “Describe what happened in the piazza.”
Jack switched to Italian, the language of the Vatican. “Two young women, who I have known since childhood, have fallen under the influence of the Prince of Florence.
“The younger woman traveled to Florence with her fiancé in order to persuade her sister to come to me here. The sister is the Prince’s current pet. Tragically, the fiancé was murdered by one of the Prince’s council members. For some reason, the Prince himself brought the women to Rome yesterday.”
“Not for some reason,” the General interjected.
“Pardon?” Jack’s eyebrows shot up.
“The Prince brought the women in response to your letter.” The General looked pointedly at a closed file in front of him.
Jack tapped his foot in agitation. “Yes.”
“I know the Director of Intelligence has already spoken to you, my son. I must stress that your action has placed a number of our operations at risk.”
Jack was stricken. “Forgive me. I didn’t know.”
The General’s dark eyes met his. “You are forgiven, but forgiveness is not license.”
“Yes, your eminence.”
The General’s expression grew less severe. “My intelligence officers report that the Prince visited the Roman and sought his counsel before appearing here. The Prince surrendered the younger sister to you but refused to turn over his pet, despite your insistence.”
“That’s true. He claimed to have the Roman’s support.”
“Do you believe him?” The General’s tone was relaxed. Perhaps too relaxed.
“The Roman’s standard bearer and a small group of soldiers stood in plain view, watching. Their presence seems to indicate an alliance.”
“We are skeptical of the Prince’s claim. There’s been no direct communication from the Roman. The presence of soldiers and a standard indicate nothing. They could be Florentines masquerading as Romans.”
Jack wiped his palms on his trousers, for he was beginning to sweat. “A strange fog appeared, but did not cross the border. The Prince declared it was not of his doing. Who else but the Roman could have done such a thing?”
“There are multiple forces of darkness.” The General seemed unaffected by Jack’s insinuation. “What of the woman surrendered to you?”
“She is being examined by the medical officers.”
“Yes, I know. How did she appear?”
“She appeared healthy. She didn’t know her fiancé was dead, which means she’s probably been under mind control.”
“Once she’s healed of any injuries, her memories will be adjusted. You are to escort her and the body of her fiancé to America. The intelligence office is ensuring that an approved report is released to the media by the police.”
“Yes, your eminence.” Jack’s hand went to his Roman collar, which seemed to be suffocating him. “What about the other sister?”
“She and the Prince have left Rome. We are tracking their movements.”
“She’s in danger.” Jack rummaged in his pocket and closed on a glass vial. “I have in my possession a relic of St. Teresa of Avila. I carried it with me into the piazza, but it seemed to have no effect on the Prince.” He paused, as if fumbling for words. “The Prince laid his hand on my arm in order to free his pet. He also set foot on holy ground.”
The General scowled. “Impossible.”
Jack withdrew the relic and placed it on the General’s desk. “With respect, your eminence, I saw with my own eyes. The Prince’s foot crossed the border.”
The General sat back in his chair. “This ground is holy. Vampyres and other demons cannot pass.”
“I know what I saw.” Jack pointed to the relic. “He should not have been able to touch me; not with the blood of St. Teresa in his face.”
The General’s eyes focused on the relic. “Intelligence officers monitor the piazza constantly. No one saw the Prince set foot in Vatican City.”
“The fog,” Jack sputtered. “How could they have seen anything?”
“I viewed the video myself.”
“Then you must believe what I say.” Jack stood, placing his hands on top of the desk, next to the relic.
The General’s gaze shifted to the crucifix and then back to the Jesuit. “Be seated, Father.”
Jack replaced the relic in his pocket and returned to his chair.
The General removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. In that moment, he looked aged and worn and very, very tired. “In science, as in life, there are anomalies. Sometimes an anomaly is merely an illusion, a fault with the observer.
“Sometimes an anomaly recurs. It’s the recurrence that challenges a scientist to re-examine his theory.
“The Roman appears to be an anomaly. He continues to outlive his thousand-year lifespan. And we have no idea why.”
Jack stared in shock. “How is that possible?”
The General pursed his lips. “We battle not against flesh and blood.
“God enabled our forefathers to restrict the lifespan of vampyres. Through earnest prayers and through grace, judgment was passed on our enemies, and they ceased being everlasting. From that moment on, every vampyre has slowly gone mad as he or she approaches the thousandth year, and then they eventually expire. The Roman is an exception.
“According to the records, he was turned in the second century. By the time of the judgment, he was already a thousand years old.”
“Is that why
he escaped death?”
The General replaced his spectacles on his face. “An interesting hypothesis. But legions of vampyres his age or older were struck down immediately.
“For centuries we have waited, convinced he would succumb to madness. He has taken little interest in affairs of state, choosing to delegate much to his lieutenant. We interpreted that as a positive sign. If what the Florentine says is true, the Roman’s renewed interest in his principality is cause for concern. More troubling is the possibility that the Roman’s anomaly has recurred in the Prince.”
“But General, my understanding is that the Prince is well within his thousand years.”
“Yes, but if—as you say—he was resistant to your relic and able to tread on holy ground, we have another powerful anomaly to worry about. An anomaly that is much more worrisome given the fact that the Roman is his maker.”
Jack closed his eyes momentarily. “I was not aware of that.”
“Neither were we. The connection between the two was concealed from us. But we know it now. Should the Roman and the Florentine join together and generate a new race of anomalies…” The General closed his mouth.
“They would destroy us.”
The General shook his head vigorously. “We have God on our side. I cannot believe he would have protected and preserved us this long only to hand us over to our enemies. But we must discover precisely what the anomalies are, who possesses them, and how we can defend ourselves against them before we engage in armed conflict.”
“Forgive me.” Jack looked down at the floor. “When I wrote to the Prince, I did not foresee the consequences.”
“For now, we must watch Florence carefully. We must discover more about the nature and scope of the Roman’s support. We must pray they don’t form an army.” The General foisted a severe look in the Jesuit’s direction. “You must abandon your pursuit of the second woman. The Prince has her. You must accept that.”
Father Jack leaned forward. “Is there no way to save her?”
“She made her choice when she gave herself to him. Perhaps he will tire of her. For now, you must leave her to her choice.”
The General lifted his hand and made the sign of the cross, murmuring in Latin.
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