Raven’s eyes widened. “William, what did you do?”
“I threw him down a flight of stairs.”
“What?”
“I wrenched his arm, the way you described he wrenched yours. His leg is now broken and he sustained other, minor injuries.” William’s expression was noticeably absent of remorse. “I decided to reserve the true punishment for you to mete out.”
Raven’s face paled and she pulled away. “Where is he?”
William pointed to the floorboards. “Down there.”
It took some time for Raven to process what William was saying.
“He’s here?” she whispered. “In the house?”
“Yes.”
“I have to get out of here.” She limped toward the door that led to the hall.
“He’s locked in a cell, below the villa.” William followed, speaking quickly. “He will never hurt you again, I swear it.”
“Why did you bring him here?”
“I promised you justice.”
“Justice.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s too late.”
“It is never too late for justice. After I became a vampyre, years after Alicia was murdered, I tracked down her killers and ended them.”
Raven’s lower lip trembled. “Where were you when I was twelve?”
William caught her and encircled her with his arms. “You’re mine now. No one touches you. No one hurts you. And everyone who has will pay.”
She clung to him, hiding her face in his shirt. His arms tightened around her. “Your reaction to his presence now is about one-tenth of what it was before.”
“I hate him, William. Of course I’m going to have an extreme reaction.”
“I made a mistake bringing you to him. Seeing him face-to-face was too much of a shock.”
Raven lifted her face. “I saw him?”
“It’s a mercy you don’t remember. I think it was the sight of him that caused you so much distress.”
Raven began to tremble. He pulled back and began to rub her arms up and down. “Cassita, look at me.” He paused until she made eye contact. “You’re safe. You’re here with me and you don’t have to see him again.”
“You’re going to kill him?”
“Or we could turn him over to Aoibhe.”
“Why Aoibhe?”
“She hunts and kills rapists. I doubt it would take much to persuade her to dispose of your stepfather. She’d enjoy torturing him.”
Raven looked horrified.
“Cassita, I would prefer to be the one who ends him. But you’re the injured party. You should decide.”
“I never wanted to kill him. I just wanted Cara to be safe.”
William leaned forward, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Say the word and I will punish him. Leave his fate to me. You won’t have to know.”
“But I would know.”
His gray eyes glittered. “You won’t see remorse on my face. I feel none.”
Raven was silent.
He rumbled in his chest. “Your stepfather deserves to be put to death. He struck you. He tried to kill you because you were protecting your sister.”
“I failed, William.” She disentangled herself from his arms, her gaze bending to the floorboards.
He set his teeth. “You didn’t fail. You protected her—not once but several times. And in return, he threw you down the stairs. Say the word and he will breathe his last with my hand on his throat.”
“What he did to the others was worse.”
“Then do this for them. Do this for your sister.” William’s hands folded into fists, his body shaking.
Suddenly, Raven brushed past him, limping toward the door. “I can’t make this decision.”
“If you can’t, then who can?” he called after her.
“Cara.”
Chapter Nine
“Es natural condición de las mujeres desdeñar a quien las quiere y amar a quien las aborrece.”
A silken whisper came out of the darkness, tickling Aoibhe’s ears as she trod lightly over ashes and bone fragments. She cut quite a figure, the tall, strikingly beautiful vampyre climbing the secret burial ground that lay outside the city of Florence. The air was thick with the scents of death and another, more pleasant aroma.
“Show yourself or I’ll kill you, and this time, I won’t lend you the power of resurrection.” Aoibhe’s voice was low, the Irish lilt of her speech giving the words a musical quality.
A hooded figure stepped out from behind a tree and bowed elegantly.
“Good evening, Lady Aoibhe.” He addressed her in English. “You look beautiful, as always.”
“This had better be important.” She scanned the area, her senses alert. “It’s dangerous for us to meet.”
The figure laughed. “Why should you worry? Your pretty face and pretty lies will always save you. If I’m seen, my life is forfeit.”
She lifted her nose imperially. “Say what you need to say and be quick about it. If they call a Consilium meeting, my absence will be noted.”
“If the security system is anything like what it was, they already know you’ve left the city.” The figure threw back his hood, exposing a mane of thick black hair.
“You look remarkably well for a dead vampyre.” Aoibhe smiled.
Ibarra moved toward her, but she eluded him, retreating several feet.
“Don’t touch me. I can’t return to the city smelling of you. I was surprised to receive your missive. I thought you’d returned to your homeland.”
He shrugged. “It’s more convenient to plot my revenge here. What news from the principality?”
“Hunters managed to worm their way inside the city. A group of them attacked me, but the Prince came to my rescue.”
Ibarra stared in surprise. Abruptly, his dark eyes narrowed. “Why should he come to your aid? He takes pleasure in killing members of the Consilium.”
Aoibhe preened. “We are allies, he and I. He knows there are traitors amongst us. And he trusts me.”
The Basque regarded her with cold calculation before slowly shaking his head. “Why haven’t you found them yet?”
“They’re keeping themselves well hidden while casting suspicion on others. They sold the schematics of the security systems to the Venetians, but implicated Christopher and his people. They helped the feral enter the city, implicating you and causing your execution.”
“We need to find them. I won’t rest until I’ve made them pay.” Ibarra growled.
“I want my revenge, as well. After your death, they colluded with the hunters, advising them where to find the Prince and me. I barely escaped with my life.”
Ibarra’s dark brows lifted. “You and he were together?”
Aoibhe tossed her long red hair. “Yes, what of it?”
“Your loyalties are divided.”
She spat out an Irish curse. “And your jealousy is tiresome. You pledged fealty to me, Ibarra. I saved your life and I keep your secrets. Cross me and I’ll inform the Prince that you’re alive.”
Ibarra lunged toward her, but she leapt to the side, baring her teeth. “I’m the best friend you have, Basque. Don’t provoke me.”
He hesitated. Then, through a great exertion, he appeared to calm himself. “We had a pact to overthrow the Prince.”
“We still have a pact. Help me destroy him and we’ll rule Florence together. Oppose me, and I’ll see your head displayed on a spike in the center of the great hall. Again.”
A long look passed between the two supernatural beings. Then, surprisingly, Ibarra’s mouth widened into a grin. “You’re more dangerous than he is.”
“Hardly.” Her posture relaxed, but she still kept her distance. “Now, to continue my report. The borders appear secure and the hunters have been killed.”
“There are more. I encountered a group not fifty miles from here.”
Aoibhe’s eyes widened. “Are they headed here?”
“I’ve kept my distance, but I could be persuaded to le
arn more.” He surveyed her features. “Who do you suspect of being a traitor?”
“Max is involved, I’m sure of it.”
“Max is lazy and stupid, which is my good fortune. He couldn’t be bothered to burn my corpse.”
Aoibhe grinned. “Amazing how enemies so soon become allies. I agree—Max isn’t intelligent enough to mount a coup. Someone is guiding him.”
“Niccolò.”
“He’s the obvious choice,” she mused. “But why didn’t he seize control when we were at war with Venice? He assumed the role of prince in order to make the Venetians think their assassination attempt was successful.”
“He knows he isn’t strong enough to fell the Prince, even with Max’s help.”
“That’s true.” She shivered. “It would take an army to fell him. The more I’ve seen of his power, the more I realize we’d need the entire city to aid us.”
Ibarra came a step closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She smiled artfully. “Nothing you don’t already know. He’s an old one, perhaps the most powerful next to the Roman. And he seems to have a strange sort of magic that protects him and his precious villa.”
“What’s the source of his magic?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t need your help in killing him.”
Ibarra’s hand tightened on the hilt of the sword that hung at his side. “Killing the Prince will be difficult. We should start with an easier target.”
“Who?”
“Niccolò.”
“If he’s the traitor, we need him alive so he can do his work,” Aoibhe said. “We wait for him to fell the Prince, then we kill him and seize the principality.”
Ibarra’s dark eyes glinted. “You won’t be alive to do so.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“Haven’t you read his work? He speaks of eliminating threats to a principality before the transfer of power. If Niccolò is the traitor, he’ll kill everyone on the Consilium except his closest ally before he kills the Prince.”
Aoibhe closed her mouth with a snap. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“So you do need my help, after all.” He winked maddeningly at her.
“You’re wasting time,” she hissed. “What are we to do?”
“I agree it would be easier to wait and kill the Prince’s successor, since certainly he won’t be as powerful as the Prince. But a coup may fail. If we’re on the wrong side, the Prince will end us. And there’s the added difficulty of avoiding assassination by the traitor, if he decides to eliminate his rivals.”
“I shall try my best to stay alive,” Aoibhe rejoined dryly.
“We need to discover the traitor as soon as possible. And we need to be cautious, especially around the other Consilium members. Trust no one.”
Aoibhe cocked an eyebrow at him. She took a moment to examine their surroundings, the city that lay beneath them, sparkling like a jewel, and the dark woods nearby.
“It’s too dangerous for you in Tuscany. Return to the Basques and I’ll send word when it’s safe for you to return.”
“How shall we seize power if I’m miles away?”
“By watching and waiting. Whoever is behind the attacks must be growing impatient. We wait for them to reveal themselves and assist them with the coup.”
“That’s a risky proposition. They may decide to end you first.”
She smoothed the front of her dress. “I know how to protect myself.”
“What about Lorenzo?”
Aoibhe waved an impatient hand. “I grew tired of him over a century ago. I’m looking forward to killing him, but only after the Prince is dead.”
“And what of the Roman? Or the Curia?”
“Neither will interfere unless our conflict is made visible. So long as the humans remain none the wiser, we are safe. Let the traitors risk exposure and depose the Prince, while we wait in the wings.”
Soft laughter came from Ibarra’s lips. “You’re far more cunning and dangerous than that pretty face suggests.”
“Men have been underestimating me for centuries.” Her voice grew harsh. “Don’t make the same mistake.”
“Oh, I won’t, fair Aoibhe.” Ibarra offered her an appraising look. “I won’t.”
Chapter Ten
Raven sat in front of her computer in her small apartment in Santo Spirito, waiting for her sister to respond to her request for a video chat.
She’d just completed a sketch of Saint Michael, sword in hand, poised to defend those in need. He was the saint she’d begged to intervene when her sister was being stalked by a monster. But the saint, if he existed, had ignored her pleas.
In this sketch, Michael figured as a warrior with the wings of an angel and the visage of a vampyre prince. Almost twenty years later, he’d come to her defense. The damage, however, was irreversible.
Her defender was, at that moment, on his way to an undisclosed location in order to take care of principality business. He’d been angry when she insisted she needed to speak with Cara before pronouncing judgment on their stepfather. But his anger had been dull, not sharp, and quickly gave way to resignation.
He was distracted, Raven thought, or he wouldn’t have yielded so easily. She was fairly confident his distractions were related to her and not to the principality, because he’d intended to be at her side while she spoke with Cara. In fact, he’d refused to leave her and it was only after repeated requests from someone on the other end of Marco’s cell phone that he’d relented.
Raven believed guilt and remorse were emotions William experienced, but in a blunted way. He didn’t understand the burden she carried over failing to protect her younger sister. He couldn’t fathom the depth of her guilt.
It was close to eleven when he’d driven with Raven to Santo Spirito. They could have traveled on foot—or rather, William could have traveled on foot and supported Raven while they ran through the dark streets. But he insisted on taking the Mercedes, as if he wanted to keep her away from prying eyes.
He’d pressed his lips to her forehead before directing Marco to accompany her upstairs. He said he’d see her soon and made her promise to call Ambrogio if she needed anything.
Raven’s insides twisted as she remembered the way William had looked at her before she exited the car, almost as if he were afraid.
Something was wrong.
She was staring at the sketch of Saint Michael and his beautiful face when her computer chirped. Cara’s image filled the screen.
“Happy birthday, Rave. Did you have a good time at your party?” Cara’s large blue eyes surveyed her sister’s face. “What happened? Did you bump into Bruno?”
Raven put her sketch aside so Cara couldn’t see it. “No, I didn’t bump into Bruno. I never see him anymore. And I had a good time at the party.”
Cara frowned. “You don’t look happy.”
Raven fidgeted in her seat. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Well, I hope this will cheer you up. Dan and I are talking about coming out to see you in August. Would that be all right?”
“That would be great.” Raven smiled and her smile was genuine. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”
“You look different.” Cara leaned closer to her computer’s camera. “Have you lost weight?”
“A little.” Raven shifted uncomfortably.
“I called you yesterday but you didn’t answer. I sent you a present. Did you get it?”
“Not yet. The mail can be slow.”
“When it arrives, let me know. I think you’ll like it.” Cara settled back in her chair. “What’s up?”
Raven struggled to find the right words.
“Seriously, Rave. Tell me what’s wrong.” Cara sounded impatient.
With a sigh, Raven decided to blurt out the problem. “Someone contacted me about David.”
“David who?” Cara carelessly flicked a lock of long blond hair over her shoulder.
“David who was married to Mom.”
Cara’s eyes met her sister’s. “Why would someone contact you about him?”
Raven looked down at her sketch of Saint Michael as she frantically tried to create a credible lie. “Um, a private investigator was looking into David, and he found out about us. He said David was married to someone else before he married Mom.”
Cara shrugged. “We knew that. He was a widower, remember?”
“The investigator said his first wife is still alive. They’re still married.”
Cara inspected her fingernails, which were painted a pale pink. “So he was a bigamist. Who cares? Mom divorced him and married Stephen. Don’t let some jackass get you all bent out of shape. You’re supposed to be celebrating your birthday and having fun. Were there any cute guys at the party?”
Raven studied her sister’s face. “Who cares?”
“Yes, Rave, who cares. Don’t bring up that old shit. It’s time to let it go.” Cara adopted a singsong voice and began repeating the last three words.
Raven interrupted. “David was part of a pedophile ring in California. That’s why he was being investigated.”
Cara examined her fingernails once again. “Is he in jail?”
“Not exactly,” Raven hedged. “The investigator has him.”
Now Cara made eye contact. “What do you mean, the investigator has him? How do you know?”
“The investigator told me. Someone wants David to pay for what he did to those children, and not by going to jail.”
“That’s crazy!” Cara exploded. “Who is that guy?”
“Forget about that. The investigator wants my opinion. What should I tell him?”
“About what?”
“About what should happen to David. About what we want to happen to him.”
“Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds? Some guy contacts you out of the blue, asking what you want done to your stepfather. That is whacked. You need to call the police.”
Raven studied her sister. “Is that what you want?”
“What does it matter what I want? This has nothing to do with me. I’m talking about what you should do.”
“He saw the police records.”
Cara turned away from the camera and began rummaging in her purse. “There’s nothing to see.”