The Shadow by Sylvain Reynard
“I’m sorry.” The words were barely above a whisper.
“What’s that?”
“I’m sorry.” Her mother coughed. “I—I heard about David. It made the news. I—I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late for that.” Raven’s tone was harsh. “Why weren’t you sorry when he touched Cara?”
There was silence for a moment.
“What happened with Cara was a misunderstanding. But of course I’m sorry about how he treated you. I’d like to see you.”
“A misunderstanding?” Raven counted to five in order to control her anger. “It’s pretty difficult to misunderstand an adult male with a little girl who’s naked from the waist down.”
The sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line whistled through the air.
“I don’t need this shit, Mom. Forget I called.”
“Don’t hang up!” Her mother sounded frantic. “Please. Just give me a minute. We haven’t spoken in years. I’ve missed you.”
Raven tapped her thumb and her middle finger together, trying very hard not to yell.
Her mother continued. “You don’t have to call me. I can call you. Just give me a chance, when you’re ready.”
“I make no promises.”
Her mother sighed. “Okay. At least we’re talking now.”
“I have to go.” Raven’s eyes met William’s. He was gazing over at her, looking protective but confused.
“Okay. Good-bye, Raven. I love you.”
“Good-bye.” Raven ended the call and curled into a ball on top of her chair.
William plucked the phone out of her hand and put it aside. He lifted her and sat in her chair, pulling her onto his lap. When he’d wrapped her in his arms as tightly as possible, he spoke. “I take it that was your mother.”
Raven resisted the urge to say something flippant. “Yes.”
“Human beings are the strangest creatures. I can never anticipate what they’ll do next.”
“Does she expect me to talk to her? When she still won’t admit what happened?”
“If she does, she’s mad.”
“Why did she say she was sorry if she denies the truth?”
“She’s a human and a woman. Such mysteries are beyond me.”
Raven gave him a half smile. “You sell yourself short.”
“I doubt it. Is it possible your sister is in Rome?”
“Yes, unless she fabricated the itinerary and lied to my mother. I can’t see her doing that.”
William hummed. Raven leaned against him. “I can’t deal with my mother right now. I spent years in therapy trying to get her out of my head.”
“I can send a message to her, if you wish.” William’s tone had an edge to it.
Raven shifted so she could see his eyes.
“What? Like a parcel of dead fish?”
William’s gray eyes twinkled. “Since viewing the film you showed me, I’ve been wanting to send a Sicilian message. Although in this case, it would be a Tuscan message, which means we’d need to send pieces of a wild boar.”
“Please, no.” She rubbed her eyes. “It was a mistake showing you The Godfather. Promise me—no dead boars on their way to my mother’s house in Miami.”
“As you wish.” He pressed his lips together.
“What should I do about my sister?”
“Nothing. She contacted you; you answered. Let’s wait and see what she does next. It will give us an indication of the Curia’s next move.”
“I don’t like the idea of waiting. It makes me nervous.”
“I’m afraid our decision to stay in Florence requires us to wait. But I wanted to mention something.”
“What?”
“If anything happens to me, or if for some reason you decide you want to leave the city, go to Via San Zanobi, number thirty-three, and ask for Sarah.”
“Who’s Sarah?”
“My mother.” He gave her a tight smile. “Don’t worry. It isn’t my mother you’ll be seeing; it’s simply a password. Go there and they will see that you get out of the city safely.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“They’ve been well paid,” he evaded. “Only go to them in the direst of circumstances.”
“William, I told you I don’t want to leave.”
“We have no idea what will happen. This is my peace of mind that you will be safe.”
“Okay. I don’t promise to use it, but I’ll remember it. Thirty-three Via San Zanobi.”
“Good.” William’s body relaxed. “With that matter taken care of, we should probably make arrangements to retrieve your things from your apartment and bring them here.”
“Yes.” She hugged him close.
“We’ll celebrate tonight, once you’re comfortably ensconced here in your new home.”
“I like the sound of that, even though the circumstances are not ideal.”
“Welcome home,” he whispered, covering her mouth with his.
Chapter Forty-three
By the time the sun set, Raven had successfully packed her worldly goods in boxes and was sitting at her desk in her bedroom.
William had offered his assistance and he’d also offered the assistance of Lucia and Ambrogio, but Raven didn’t want other people handling her things.
It was strange to think that after knowing William for so short a time she would be living with him. Given the uncertainty of their lives, she was throwing caution to the wind. She didn’t want to be separated from William for a single evening, so it made sense to share his home as well as his bed. As he pointed out, the villa was one of the safest places in the city.
Raven surveyed the blank walls and the part of her old cane that was still embedded in one of them. She had no idea how she would explain it to the landlord. No doubt she’d have to borrow money from William to pay for the damages. He’d been the one to throw the cane so hard it had lodged inextricably in the wall.
She’d taken down and carefully packed all her artwork and her sketches. She was looking forward to painting in William’s garden. She was looking forward to having him pose for her. The thought made her skin flush.
Her phone chimed with an incoming text.
The text was from Cara.
At the train station in Florence. What’s your address?
Raven was so surprised, she nearly dropped the phone. She quickly typed the address and added, Is Father Kavanaugh with you?
Within seconds, she received the reply, No, he didn’t want us to leave. Fuck that. We snuck out.
Raven snorted and placed her cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She was relieved her sister had decided to come to her, but she was also nervous. She didn’t know how their conversation would go. And she didn’t know how she was going to account for the now-strained relationship between herself and Father Kavanaugh.
She wondered how long it was going to take for him to realize that Cara and Dan had left. She wondered if he’d send the Curia after them. She was about to telephone Ambrogio in order to let William know of Cara’s plans, when a knock sounded at the door.
She grabbed her cane and limped through the kitchen. William was being overly formal. She unlocked the door and opened it, swinging it wide.
But it wasn’t William who stood in the hall.
The man standing before her looked young, barely twenty. And he had long, curly brown hair that swept his shoulders. His eyes, which were also brown, were narrowed and peering. He was dressed in Renaissance clothes.
He smiled and bowed. “Signorina,” he said, addressing her. “The Prince has sent me to retrieve you.”
“Oh. Where is he?” Raven looked past him into the hallway.
“He is waiting at Palazzo Riccardi.”
Raven’s brow furrowed. She’d never been inside Palazzo Riccardi with William. And it wasn’t like him to send someone in his stead, unless he was busy.
“Where’s Luka?”
The man hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. “He is
She looked at the man carefully. He was obviously a vampyre, with pale, perfect skin and an almost ethereal perfection of face and form. She didn’t recognize him as one of William’s servants, but his voice, and his old-fashioned Italian, was familiar. She must have heard it somewhere before. She wondered why she couldn’t identify him by his face.
“I can’t come right now. My sister and her boyfriend are on their way here.”
“The Prince wants you to come now.” The vampyre’s tone changed. “Pets obey their masters.”
Raven lifted her eyebrows, while resisting the urge to correct him.
“I’ll call Ambrogio and explain.” She pivoted toward the kitchen table.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Reflexively, Raven stood aside.
She opened her mouth to invite the vampyre in, when something Father Kavanaugh had said flashed through her mind. She turned her head slowly and saw the man watching her, poised on the threshold like a snake, waiting to strike.
She smiled in an effort to disarm him. Then, in one quick motion, she closed and bolted the door.
Something heavy slammed against the door and the wooden object sagged on its hinges. The sounds of Italian curses filtered through the air.
She pulled out her cell phone, fumbling with the buttons. The man pounded on the door, demanding to be invited inside. Raven waited impatiently for her call to connect.
“Ambrogio?” she almost shouted into the phone. “A strange vampyre is here. He says he works for his lordship. He’s pounding on my door, demanding to be invited in.”
“Don’t invite him in,” Ambrogio responded coolly, as if she were merely giving him a weather report. “His lordship is not at home but I will get a message to him. Stay where you are. I’ll send Luka and Marco.”
“My sister is on her way here. She’s taking a taxi from Santa Maria Novella.”
“Stay where you are. The men are coming.”
Raven ended the call, dropping her phone on the kitchen table.
Luka and Marco, who were merely human, would be no match for the angry, pounding vampyre. And what if he was lurking around when Cara and Dan arrived?
Raven inclined her head toward the door, but the vampyre had ceased. Quietly, she stepped over to the peephole and looked outside. The hallway was empty.
Cautiously relieved, she entered her bedroom and walked to the window, pushing the curtains aside so she could look down at the piazza.
There were patrons sitting at the café across the square and there were a few tourists and students milling about. But there was no vampyre. She wondered where he’d gone.
Thirty minutes later, Raven was sitting on her bed, clutching her phone and waiting for Luka and Marco to arrive. There was still no sign of the vampyre. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Cara and Dan, either.
Her apartment buzzer rang. She looked out her bedroom window and was relieved to see Cara and Dan standing outside with their luggage.
She placed her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and approached the door to her apartment. The hallway was still clear.
She unlocked the door, opened it a crack, and poked her head out. Satisfied the hall was empty, she locked the door behind her and descended the stairs, gazing over the railing as she descended to make sure no one was hiding on the staircase.
Once she reached the front door, she opened it and quickly pulled her visitors indoors.
Raven was about to close the door behind them, when a man’s hand clamped onto the door frame.
Chapter Forty-four
Before Raven could push the door shut, the man swept inside the building, slamming the door behind him. He stood, blocking the exit, his size menacing, his expression severe. When his gaze alighted on Raven, he leered.
In a horrifying instant, Raven recognized him as the vampyre who had attacked Bruno some months before. William had called him Max.
“Dan, take Cara to the back door.” Raven placed herself between the vampyre and her family, tossing her house keys to Dan. He caught them handily.
With a growl, Max grabbed her by the arm and began to drag her toward the door.
“Hey, let her go!” Cara reacted immediately, moving to Raven’s side.
Raven struggled, twisting and turning in an attempt to free herself. But he held her in a bruising grip.
Cara struck him with Raven’s cane, but her blows seemed to have little effect other than to irritate him. He wrenched the cane from her grasp and threw it several feet away. When he lifted his hand as if to strike her, Dan intervened, grabbing the vampyre’s meaty arm and pulling it backward. With a snarl, the creature released Raven and she fell to her knees. The vampyre reared back and punched Dan in the face, causing a sickening crunch to echo in the hall. Dan slumped to the floor amid Cara’s screams.
“Dan!” she cried, kneeling at his side. She placed a hand on his chest. “He isn’t breathing!”
The vampyre ignored her outburst and grabbed Raven by the hair, pulling her to her feet.
“Cara, run,” Raven managed, wincing in pain. “Get help.”
“Let her go.” Cara stumbled to her feet, wiping her boyfriend’s blood on her black jeans. She was shaking with anger.
“No, Cara. Run!”
Cara ignored her sister’s pleas and picked up the discarded cane, brandishing it like a club in the direction of the vampyre.
“Run!” Raven screamed, panic overtaking her.
“Let my sister go.” Cara advanced determinedly.
The vampyre spat at her feet. “My orders were to limit the mess. Stay where you are or I’ll kill you.”
“No.” Raven gripped Max by his shirt. “I’ll go with you. Leave her alone.”
Max grinned.
He opened his mouth to voice a retort but Cara caught him in the side of the head with the cane.
Momentarily stunned, he released Raven and she pitched forward, slamming against the wall.
“Cara, get out of here!”
Her sister kept swinging the cane at the vampyre, striking him where she could, but Max just batted the cane away, his face split into a broad grin. When he’d tired of Cara, he backhanded her and she crashed to the ground, blood spurting from her nose. She grew still.
“No!” Raven cried, crawling toward her sister.
Max interrupted her movement and picked her up by the waist.
“I belong to the Prince of Florence.” Still struggling, she showed him the bracelet William had given her. “I’m his pet.”
“I know who you are,” he snarled. “Shut your mouth or I’ll kill the other one, too.”
Raven’s gaze darted over to Cara. She wasn’t moving and neither was Dan.
Perhaps the vampyre could sense Dan was already dead.
Raven grew quiet.
As Max carried her through the back door and into the alley, she turned to him.
“Where are you taking me?”
He shook her like a cat shakes a kitten. “Silence.” He brought his nose to her neck and inhaled deeply. “I’m taking you somewhere private enough for revenge. Then I’m going to find out exactly what kind of pet you are.”
He laughed at her show of fear and tucked her under his arm, grabbing hold of the side of the building as he prepared to climb.
Chapter Forty-five
“What news from Switzerland?” The Prince stood at the Piazzale Michelangelo after sunset with Gregor, his assistant.
The younger vampyre bowed. “On your orders, I went to Cologny and met with the family who sold your illustrations to the Americans. I told them I was an Interpol agent assigned to investigate the robbery.”
“What have you to report?”
Gregor produced a small valise and handed it to his ruler. “The family provided me with notes and pages from a diary that was kept by one of their ancestors—the man who purchased the illustrations in the nineteenth century.”
The Prince tucked the valise under his a
Gregor cleared his throat. “He was described as Italian. He sold the illustrations for much less than they were worth, saying that they had belonged to his family, who’d fallen on hard times.”
The Prince’s eyebrows drew together. “Did this Italian have a name?”
“The gentleman insisted he remain anonymous.” At this, Gregor pointed to the valise. “But the diary describes the man. He wore old clothes, spoke Italian fluently, and had pale skin.”
“A vampyre?”
“The family did not identify him as such, but the description suggests it. The man who purchased the illustrations was warned that he should keep the transaction secret and never make them public, or he would risk some kind of curse.”
“Subterfuge, of course.” The Prince looked off into space for a moment. “It’s possible whoever stole the illustrations from me enlisted the aid of the Italian to sell them.”
“Possible, my lord, but there is more to report.”
The Prince’s eyes moved to his assistant. “Proceed.”
“It seems, my lord, that the recipient described the man as young, with dark, curly hair that fell to his shoulders.”
The Prince moved abruptly to the stone railing. “Thousands of vampyres answered to that description at one time. And we all appear young to some degree.”
Gregor shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Yes, but this individual claimed to be related to the Medici.”
The Prince turned his head, pinning Gregor to the spot with his gaze.
“Are you certain?”
“It’s in the diary, my lord. It’s penned in French but translating it was easy enough.”
“So the shadow reveals himself,” the Prince muttered, turning to survey his city once again. “Rather than exposing himself as a worthy adversary, he shows he is a petty thief and a coward. Have you mentioned your journey to anyone?”
Gregor shook his head vigorously. “No, my lord.”
“Have you spoken about your findings to anyone else?” The Prince’s tone was deceptively calm.
“I serve only you, my prince.”
“Good. You have done well, Gregor. Your service shall be rewarded. I am elevating you to the Consilium.”