“No, I don’t. His protection was unnecessary. I was protecting you, through the relic.”
“Why?”
“Why, indeed?” he muttered to himself.
“There has to be a reason.” She turned toward the window, which was shuttered. “I don’t have any money. I don’t have anything of value. What do you want?”
Several answers sprang to the Prince’s mind. But he was not about to entertain them. Or confess them.
He moved toward the bed and adopted a lighter tone.
“Perhaps I’m captivated by those green eyes of yours.”
Raven blinked in the darkness. “Now I know you’re lying. Why don’t you tell me who you are and what you really want?”
The Prince’s gaze focused on her so sharply, she almost felt it.
“I want you to leave the city.”
“You seem to know a lot about what goes on in Florence. Something happened to me last week. I lost my memory and—things changed.”
“I know that.” His voice was low.
“Tell me what happened.” She put the pillow aside and moved to the edge of the bed. “Please.”
He ground his teeth together. “No.”
“I have a right to know. You have to tell me.” Her expression twisted his insides.
“Promise me you’ll leave the city and I’ll tell you everything you wish to know.”
She sat back on her knees. “If I have the relic and it seems to work, why would I need to leave?”
“Are you mad?” he growled.
“Is the man who attacked the policeman the one who killed the others?”
The Prince froze. “What others?”
“La Nazione reported that several bodies were found downriver.”
His eyes narrowed. “When?”
“It was reported yesterday, but I haven’t had a chance to read the article.”
He swept away from her to the far side of the room, his mind spinning. He was unaware of the bodies and his anger at being surprised was almost boundless.
She heard him move and shifted to the side of the bed.
“Why won’t you go to the police? Interpol is here, investigating the Uffizi robbery. Why not turn these others over to the police?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t presume to give advice about things you don’t understand!”
Undeterred by his temper, Raven continued.
“You won’t turn them in, but you’d go against the others to protect me? Why should I believe you?”
“You don’t have to believe me.” His voice lowered into a growl. “Just leave the city.”
“You gave me the relic to help me. You warned me about the others. Tonight, you heard about the feral and came to see if I was all right. Obviously you don’t want me to get hurt. If you’re powerful enough to know what’s going on in the city, you must be powerful enough to help me.
“Please don’t make me leave,” she whispered. “This is the only place I’ve ever been happy.”
For a moment he was silent. He closed his eyes and began rubbing his forehead.
At length, he spoke.
“A long time ago, I came here in search of happiness.”
“Did you find it?”
“No.”
“I did.” Raven’s tone bespoke her truthfulness. “I left the U.S. to start a new life. If you send me back, I’ll have nothing.”
The Prince watched her in the darkness—her uplifted face with the creamy skin and perfect features, her long black hair. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, and she was brave. Something akin to admiration began to grow and warm in his chest.
He shook his head. He hadn’t come to her home in order to admire her. Any connection to her could only lead to darkness.
He changed the subject abruptly. “Do you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” There was an edge to her voice.
“Learn from Psyche’s mistake and do what I tell you.”
“So you’re Cupid?”
He stepped closer and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “I am the monster, hiding in the darkness.”
“I doubt that a monster would hand out religious artifacts to damsels in distress.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly ‘handing them out.’ I gave you money. Use it to go back to America.”
“It’s in a shoe box in my closet. I don’t want it.”
“You’ll need it.”
She lifted her hands. “All of this must have a perfectly reasonable explanation. The man who killed the other man was disturbed. It isn’t kind to refer to him as feral. And you and the others are part of a crime ring. Obviously.” There was more than a note of hope in her voice.
“Your denial is amusing, but it won’t change reality.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I’m grateful for your help. I don’t know why the man was upset by the cross I was wearing, but I’m glad he was. He could have killed me. But you’re mistaken about the danger. I promise, I’m no one special. I work at the gallery, I go out with my friends, I draw and I paint. I don’t know state secrets and I don’t have access to the security of the gallery. I’m just a boring, average postdoctoral research associate. That’s all.”
“I disagree. But I’ve been here too long already. If tonight’s events won’t convince you to leave, there’s little else I can do. I’ve warned you twice. What happens next is your responsibility.” His voice was cold.
“I won’t leave the city.”
His expression grew fierce.
“Even if it costs you your life?”
Raven faced him stubbornly. “It won’t come to that.”
“Very well.”
The Prince cursed, before lifting both hands, holding them out in front of him, palms up.
“Innocens ego sum a sanguine.”
He dropped his hands and walked to the door. “When you come to beg for my help, I will remind you of this moment. I’ll demand something of you. And you’ll give it to me.”
“I won’t come to you and I certainly won’t beg.” She sounded contemptuous.
He returned to stand next to the bed.
“Yes, you will.”
He stroked the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
The Prince indulged himself in the feel of her skin and the beauty of her eyes.
When the lights came back on, Raven was alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Beneath the city of Florence lay a labyrinth of tunnels, secret passages, and catacombs. The tunnels were used by the citizens of the underworld, especially in daylight when they could not travel aboveground.
The focal point of the tunnels was the great hall below the Palazzo Riccardi, which was used for Consilium meetings and other formal events of state. Its stone walls were hung with tapestries and panels illustrating the history of the city. Several suits of armor along with various swords and weapons were also displayed.
The room was dark. The underworld wasn’t wired with electricity and so torches burned in wall sconces, while elaborate iron candelabras illuminated the cavernous space. Shadows flickered across the faces of the beings who’d assembled.
Interestingly enough, the tunnels were noticeably absent of rats.
“This meeting of the Consilium will come to order.” Lorenzo thumped a tall staff, which boasted a carved gold lily on its top.
At his announcement, the other five Consilium members came forward and sat in tall wooden chairs that were upholstered with red velvet. The seats were arranged in sets of three, facing the front on either side of a central aisle that featured a long, red velvet runner.
Moments later, the Prince entered the hall through its large double doors, his black velvet robe billowing behind him. He strode up the aisle to a large gold throne that stood on a raised platform.
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sp; He did not look pleased.
While the Consilium members wore formal clothes in the style of the Renaissance, capped with red velvet cloaks, the Prince was dressed in modern clothing, with the exception of his robe. As always, he wore black.
The council members stood as soon as he entered and, when he’d taken his place, they bowed. He acknowledged them impatiently, waving at them to be seated before turning to his lieutenant.
“Clear the gallery. Offer my apologies to the citizens and see that they are fed.”
Lorenzo bowed again, trying to hide his displeasure. He quickly directed the sentries to escort the citizens from the hall. Then he whispered instructions to Gregor, the Prince’s assistant, with respect to the feeding.
It was customary to have humans held in reserve during council meetings, in case someone grew hungry.
(It appeared the Consilium members would have to forgo their catering on this occasion.)
The Prince regarded the council members with a look of cold detachment, his piercing gray eyes moving from face to face.
The members were seated in order of rank. Lorenzo sat in the place of honor at his right. Niccolò, a famous Florentine who’d been a chancellor of the city when he was human, sat next to Lorenzo. Aoibhe was seated to Niccolò’s right.
Across the aisle and to the Prince’s left, sat Maximilian, Pierre, and Ibarra.
“There are a number of important matters that must be addressed.” The Prince’s tone was brisk. “Regular business will be tabled until our next meeting.
“Aoibhe.” The Prince’s eyes met hers and she stood.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Tell me about the feral.”
Aoibhe’s brown eyes slid to Ibarra’s and a look passed between them.
“Last night Ibarra and I happened upon a feral in Santo Spirito.”
Her colleagues remained quiet, despite her troubling announcement, for the news had already reached their ears.
“For the benefit of the council members, please tell us what you saw.” The Prince focused his gaze on Ibarra, his expression harsh.
“The feral killed a human in the piazza. When we approached, it attacked. I beheaded it and we took the body and that of the human outside the city to be burned.”
“Pierre.” The Prince turned his gaze to the Consilium member in charge of human intelligence.
The Frenchman stood and bowed. “Yes, my prince.”
“What of the police?”
“The dead human was an Interpol agent who was doing surveillance on a woman in Santo Spirito. I’m told the woman is being watched in connection with a theft at the Uffizi.”
At this the Consilium members murmured among themselves.
“And?” the Prince prompted.
“The investigation is now focusing on organized crime, following our suggestion that the policeman was knifed in the piazza and his body taken. The police are planning to interview the woman to see if she has any information in connection with the agent’s disappearance.”
The Prince carefully controlled his reaction. “Remove the woman from the police records and implicate the Russians. They’ve grown arrogant and fat in recent years. It will be amusing to see them scrambling. A war between the Mafia and the Russians will distract the police from these concerns.
“What of the human witnesses?”
“All have been attended to, my lord. The record consistently reflects reports of a knife attack. Those who resisted mind control have been dealt with.”
“Are you sure?”
Pierre looked confused. “Of course, my lord.”
“There’s no room for error,” he warned.
“Certainly not, my lord.”
“It’s clear this trouble could have been prevented had the feral not entered the city.” The Prince glared at Ibarra before returning his attention to Pierre.
“Am I to understand that the feral Aoibhe disposed of is the same one you saw the other night?”
“I cannot say, my lord. Certainly there haven’t been any other reports of ferals in the area and no other unexplained killings.”
The Prince lifted his eyebrows. “None? The newspaper is reporting that several bodies were found by the river. What of that?”
Pierre’s blue eyes went wide.
“Several bodies?” he repeated.
The Prince nodded curtly.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I know of no such finding. I will speak with our contacts as soon as possible and discover what is known.”
“A sad state of affairs when you don’t know what’s going on with the police, Pierre.”
“The matter will be rectified immediately and our police informant will be dealt with.” Pierre bowed low and withdrew to his seat.
“What of my lieutenant? Lorenzo, did you know about the bodies?”
Lorenzo stood, adopting a chastened posture. “No, my prince.”
The Prince huffed in frustration.
“Am I to dissolve the council in view of these failures?”
The council members shifted uneasily in their chairs.
He turned his attention to the head of security. “Ibarra, what has been done to locate the feral Pierre saw?”
The Basque stood, his expression tight.
“We increased the number of patrols. We’ve also organized searches of the city and the catacombs. The feral has not been found, which leads me to believe that the one we disposed of is the one Pierre saw.”
“A convenient conclusion. What of our borders?”
“I’ve spoken with all those on duty last night and there were no sightings of ferals nor was there evidence of any breach. The feral must have been hiding within the city. Perhaps the bodies of which you spoke belonged to him.”
“Perhaps.” The Prince’s expression shifted and he glared. “As a Consilium, you’ve all grown lax.”
He turned his attention back to Ibarra.
“Our borders were breached by the Venetians, under your predecessor. His ashes are now fertilizing an obliging field. Now the border has been breached by at least one feral, and your patrols knew nothing of it.”
Ibarra curled his hands into fists. “With respect, that’s a hasty conclusion, my lord. We don’t know the feral came through the border. With a full investigation, I can—”
“You can do nothing,” the Prince snapped. “You’re relieved of your duty and of your position on the Consilium.”
The other council members began murmuring and looking at one another.
“Silence,” he hissed. “Our survival requires security. Because of Ibarra’s failure, our city is threatened. Niccolò will assume control of the borders and the patrols, along with his other duties as head of intelligence, effective immediately.”
At this, the Florentine stood and the Prince addressed him.
“I want the patrols increased, I want their schedule varied, and I want daily reports. See to it I am not disappointed.”
Niccolò bowed. “Yes, Prince.”
The ruler continued barking out instructions.
“Maximilian, redouble your efforts at training the younglings. Aoibhe, see that more human beings are transformed so as to expand our numbers.
“And I expect a full investigation of those bodies, Pierre.” The Prince jerked his chin in his direction.
“You would replace me because of one feral?” Ibarra took a step closer to the Prince. “It’s possible it’s been in the city for decades. It’s possible it’s one of our own gone mad.”
“So you recognized it?” the Prince mocked.
Ibarra didn’t answer, his face a mask of fury.
“It wasn’t one of ours,” Aoibhe answered quickly. “It was an older feral. I can’t imagine it was in the city long. We’d have had more than several bodies piling up.”
Ibarra cursed Aoibhe in Basque, using extremely derogatory terms.
“Enough!” the Prince growled. “Ibarra of the Euskaldunak, you are hereby banished from the city of Florence.
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“Aoibhe and Niccolò, escort Ibarra from the council chambers and remain with him until sunset. Take a detachment of guards with you and escort him to the border. If he resists, kill him.”
The Prince dismissed them with a wave of his hand and turned toward Lorenzo.
“See that the banishment is publicized among the citizens and that it is strictly adhered to.”
Niccolò and Aoibhe exchanged a look and moved to flank Ibarra.
“There was no breach.” Ibarra spoke through his teeth. “I would have heard of it. It would have been reported.”
The Prince didn’t bother looking in his direction. “If you return, you will be executed.”
Ibarra cursed. “Our borders are sound. Our patrols our vigilant; I trained them myself. If the feral came from outside, someone must have helped it enter the city.”
“That’s preposterous,” said Aoibhe. “Who would do such a thing?”
Ibarra gave her a hard look. “The Venetian informer. We were never able to discover who sold the schematics of our old security systems. He must still be in the city, trying to wreak havoc. How else was the feral able to slip past our patrols?”
“An expedient excuse,” Lorenzo commented. “Can you produce evidence of this?”
“No, but I will.”
The Prince lifted his hand and all grew silent.
“Ibarra, you’ve had two years to find the traitor. You investigated everyone who knew of the weakness in our security systems and yet you were unable to discover which of them betrayed us. I have no confidence in your ability to discover the traitor now. You have failed in your duties and are lucky to be leaving the principality with your head. Get out of my sight.”
The Prince nodded at Niccolò and Aoibhe, who began escorting Ibarra to the door.
Ibarra cursed as he was led away, shouting his displeasure at the Prince and the Consilium.
When he was halfway down the aisle, he flew to the nearest wall and tore a sword from its hooks. Brandishing it with both hands, he sprinted toward the throne.
In an instant, the Prince was on his feet.
“Take one more step and it will be your last.”
Ibarra ignored the old one’s warning and ran toward him, lifting the sword.
Lorenzo retrieved a matching sword from a nearby suit of armor and tossed it toward the Prince.