The Shadow

by Sylvain Reynard

  He cupped her face in his hands. “But I’m not. I’m here and you’re safe.”

  He kissed her firmly, his cool breath commingling with hers.

  “The city has fallen into the hands of a traitor. We must return to the villa.” William’s gaze moved to the woman on the bed. “Is that your sister?”

  “Yes.” Raven turned on the bed, examining her sister’s pale form. “I think her nose is broken. Will she be all right?”

  “Her heart is beating and she’s breathing well. She’d do better with vampyre blood.”

  William turned to look at Aoibhe, who shook her head. “I’ve discharged my debt. It’s time for me to leave before someone realizes we’re here.”

  “She’ll heal more quickly if you help.”

  “Then feed her.”

  “Aoibhe.” His voice was just over a rumble.

  A long look passed between the two vampyres.

  “If I do this, I want a favor in return.” Aoibhe sniffed.

  “A modest favor in exchange for what will be a modest amount of blood.” William’s expression grew threatening.

  “Do I have your word?” she asked, still holding Max’s severed head.

  “So long as your request is modest, I won’t refuse.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. She walked to the bed and held out her wrist.

  “Wait.” Raven held her hands over Cara protectively. “William, I’d rather she had your blood.”

  “No,” he said firmly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he doesn’t want your sister to bond with him.” Aoibhe gave Raven a withering look.

  “Is that true?” asked Raven.

  William nodded.

  “I don’t like the idea of Cara bonding with her.” Raven grimaced.

  “You’ll like it well enough when her wounds are healed,” Aoibhe retorted. “You ungrateful wench.”

  “Aoibhe,” William rumbled.

  He took Raven’s hand and passed his thumb over her palm. “It will be all right, I promise. I’ll only feed her a little—enough to heal her wounds and perhaps her mind. She’ll probably sleep peacefully for several hours.”

  “Okay.” Raven squeezed his hand.

  William looked up at Aoibhe, and when she nodded, he took his thumbnail and sliced open her wrist. Opening Cara’s mouth, he positioned Aoibhe’s wrist over it.

  Raven turned her back on the scene.

  “Now that’s done, I’ll be taking my leave,” Aoibhe announced a few minutes later. “You’re welcome, pet.”

  Raven turned and found Aoibhe looking at her contemptuously before she swept out of the room, carrying her prize. Cara was still on the bed, eyes closed. Slowly, her bruises began to fade and her breathing deepened.

  William examined her. “She’s healing. The blood will continue to work for some time. She may not remember what happened, but that’s probably a mercy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I understand why you didn’t want Aoibhe’s blood in your sister’s system, but it’s best this way.” He pulled Raven into his arms. “I’ve never shared my blood with anyone but my maker.”

  “Why?”

  William’s brow wrinkled. “The exchange of blood bonds the pair. I’d be hesitant to share my blood even with you. We already have an extraordinary connection. I think if you tasted me, you wouldn’t be satisfied until you’d drunk enough to transform. I would be unable to refuse you.”

  Raven looped her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Being separated from you is worse than the thought of becoming a vampyre. But I can’t resign myself to a life of hundreds of years. I just don’t want to live that long.”

  William held her more tightly.

  Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “I was so afraid I wasn’t going to see you again. I was more afraid of that than of Max killing me.”

  William crushed her to his chest. “Every bruise, every wound is my fault.”

  “Don’t take on the faults of others, but please, don’t ever leave me alone. We have to stay together.”

  “I will protect you. I swear it.” He reached down and kissed her, their lips melding together until she was breathless.

  Raven leaned against him. “My sister’s boyfriend was with us at my building. Is he all right?”

  William looked at her gravely. “I saw the police there, removing bodies.”

  Raven covered her mouth with her hand, her gaze moving to her sister.

  “Both Luka and Marco were killed. I don’t know about the boyfriend.”

  “They were going to get married.”

  William squeezed her hand. “He may be alive. I shall find out. But right now, we need to get you and your sister to the villa. Can you walk?”

  “Slowly, but yes. What about you? Where will you be safe?”

  “The traitor has taken control of the army. I’m going to have to fight him to regain the city. But I’m not doing anything until you’re safe.”

  William lifted Raven off his lap and they both stood.

  “There’s a secret tunnel. It’s a long walk but it will lead us straight to the villa.” He lifted Cara into his arms.

  William walked toward the door, waiting while Raven turned the doorknob for him. As they stepped into the hall, they saw Aoibhe, flanked by several vampyres dressed in uniform.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  “Aoibhe betrayed you,” Raven whispered as she marched at William’s side down a long corridor. “She summoned the soldiers.”

  He was holding a sleeping Cara in his arms and had been divested of his sword. “I doubt it, unless they were posted at Teatro. There was barely time to summon them from the underworld. Besides, the traitor tried to have her killed earlier this evening. It’s not in her interest to be caught.”

  “Why didn’t you fight?”

  William held Cara more tightly. “I couldn’t dispatch them and save you and your sister at the same time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  William gave her a sharp look. “Don’t be. Stay close, but if we’re separated, remember what I told you about Sarah. Take your sister with you.”

  Raven hesitated. Then she remembered their previous conversation. She nodded.

  The soldiers marched them through the underworld, along with Aoibhe, to a set of large wooden doors, which opened to reveal an immense, cavernous space. Raven had seen glimpses of it from beneath her blindfold on the single occasion William had brought her into the council chamber.

  Only this time, someone else sat on the throne. Someone who had stood at Raven’s apartment door hours earlier, asking to be invited inside.

  “At last, the traitor is apprehended.” Lorenzo applauded slowly.

  The soldiers accompanied the captives to the base of the steps that led to the throne, then half their number moved to flank Lorenzo.

  “Humans aren’t allowed at council meetings unless they’re part of the catering,” he announced.

  “Sitting on a throne doesn’t make you a prince. I am the Prince of Florence and you are a traitor.” William growled.

  “My control of the army says differently.” Lorenzo gestured to the troops. “And I am prince by birth. I am a Medici; you’re only an Englishman.”

  Raven stared with shock at the pretender to the throne.

  “You’re a right bastard, whatever spawned you,” Aoibhe spat out. “Why did you try to kill me?”

  “I’ll deal with you later. Don’t think you’ve escaped execution; you’ve merely delayed it.” Lorenzo spoke over her sputtering. “Where’s Max?”

  “Dead.” Aoibhe lifted Max’s head triumphantly. “I’m going to use this as a door knocker.”

  “I doubt that, since you’ll be dead also.” He gestured to the soldiers who were guarding William. “Remove the pets to Palazzo Riccardi. I’ll dispose of them later.”

  “That would be unwise.” William’s voice was deceptively calm. />
  “I think you overestimate your strength. With a snap of my fingers I can have the entire army assembled in this chamber. Not even you can defeat them singlehandedly.”

  “Perhaps. But these human beings belong to the Curia.”

  Silence rang out in the large room.

  “You lie.” Lorenzo clenched his fist.

  William turned to Raven, who was standing next to him. “In the jacket’s inner pocket on the left is a letter. Hand it to me.”

  Raven did what she was told, rummaging in the jacket she was wearing and retrieving a folded piece of paper. William took the letter with the hand that was wrapped around Cara’s back as he cradled her.

  “This message was sent to me by a priest of the Curia. He has known these humans since they were children. He threatens war if they are not delivered safely to him in Rome.”

  Lorenzo signaled to one of the soldiers, and he took the letter from William’s hand, delivering it to his master.

  Lorenzo scanned the letter. “He mentions one human, not two.”

  “They are sisters.” William lifted Cara slightly. “This one just arrived to accompany the other back to Rome. But you know this already, since you sent Max to capture my pet.”

  “Your pet is a security risk. Isn’t that correct, Stefan of Montréal?”

  The French Canadian had been standing off to the side in the shadows. He moved forward now, bowing nervously before the throne.

  “By the Prince—ah—I mean the former prince’s admission, his pet has psychiatric problems that caused him great concern.”

  “That’s not true,” Raven whispered.

  William shook his head at her. She gave him a wounded look and averted her eyes.

  “I spoke with Stefan about the fragility of her mind,” William admitted. “But that is an ancillary issue. The Curia wants her and her sister. Immediately.”

  “The letter is dated several days back.” Lorenzo tossed the paper to the ground. “Are you telling me you refused?”

  “No. My servants were supposed to deliver them this very night. Unfortunately, you interfered.” William’s tone was stunningly indifferent.

  Raven inhaled loudly, eyes wide. She examined William, trying to determine how much of his presentation was artifice and how much was truth. He’d promised he wouldn’t leave her. He’d promised they wouldn’t be separated.

  Under her scrutiny, William stood statue still, his eyes fixed on the traitor.

  “I suppose my ascension to the throne was dreadfully inconvenient for your pet.” Lorenzo sneered. “Max operated on my orders. I needed some way to ensure we had your attention.

  “You made an agreement with the Curia but since you are no longer prince, that agreement is void,” Lorenzo continued. “I shall dispatch a messenger to the Vatican, inform them of the change in power, and reopen negotiations.”

  “Do so at your peril and at the peril of the city.” William’s tone grew ominous. “The Curia wants the humans. They avoided Florence for centuries, knowing I was a worthy adversary, but they threatened me with war in order to force compliance. With what shall they threaten you?”

  Lorenzo’s expression twisted. “I am the one who will be making threats!”

  “Then your reign will be the shortest in Florentine history.” William spoke evenly. “Honor your ancestors and the house of Medici by protecting the city. Deliver the humans safely to the Curia and avoid a war.”

  Raven placed her hand on William’s arm, cautioning him. She was terrified the traitor was going to agree with his words.

  Lorenzo glanced between the couple. “This is the pet you killed three men for some months ago. You healed her with your blood and have been protecting her ever since. How do I know this is not a ploy to spare her life?”

  “Are you not familiar with the fate of Prague? Who would choose a pet over annihilation?” William’s expression remained impassive.

  Lorenzo’s dark eyes fixed on Raven. She withdrew her arm, unable to hide her distress.

  “Perhaps the letter is a forgery,” Lorenzo observed.

  “The priest who wrote to me visited her some time ago. His presence was confirmed by security.”

  “He may be a member of the Curia, but he isn’t a high-ranking one. His attempt at persuading his superiors to invade us may fail.”

  “Not even you are foolish enough to take that kind of risk,” William said.

  “I am the Prince of Florence!” Lorenzo snapped. “You will address me with respect!”

  William scoffed. “What respect should I have for a lieutenant who betrays his prince? For a petty thief who stole from me and sold my treasures to humans? You sold secrets to the Venetians and colluded with them to have me assassinated on Florentine soil. You let hunters into the city, allowing them to maim and kill, so you could gain the throne.”

  William turned to make eye contact with the soldiers, one by one. “Do you wish to serve a prince who is so quick to sacrifice his citizens at every turn? Do you not know what happened to the principality of Prague? If the Curia marches on Florence, all of you will die.”

  “Enough!” Lorenzo hammered his fist on the armrest. “You did not deserve to be prince of this great city. I am a prince by birth; you are merely a foreigner.”

  William spat on the ground. “You were a bastard at birth in the sixteeth century and only a distant cousin to the reigning Medici. Your father barely acknowledged you, and then only because your mother’s family threatened him with violence.”

  “Those are lies!”

  “I’ve been Prince of Florence since the fourteenth century. I knew the true Medici and what they thought of you. You cannot whitewash your history to me.”

  Lorenzo spoke over him. “Guards, take the humans away. I’ll decide what’s to be done with them later.”

  “No!” Raven cried, clinging to William. Two large vampyres grabbed her by the arms.

  “No,” she begged again, but the soldiers pulled her away.

  Two more soldiers approached William cautiously, eyeing the woman in his arms.

  “You’d condemn us all to death at the hands of the Curia because of your vanity?” William lifted his voice incredulously. “You are a coward.”

  Lorenzo opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak the doors to the chamber crashed open.

  A lone figure appeared in the doorway, his clothes spattered with blood.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  “Next time you send a detachment to kill me, double their numbers.” Niccolò swept into the chamber, his torn robes fluttering behind him.

  Lorenzo stared in shock.

  The former head of intelligence strode up the aisle, nodding stiffly at Aoibhe. “I see you survived execution. What a pity.”

  “Go to hell,” she snarled.

  Niccolò gazed around the council chamber. “It would appear I am already there.”

  “Guards.” Lorenzo pointed at his rival. “Remove Machiavelli and kill him.”

  “A moment, please.” Niccolò lifted his hands in surrender. “It appears I’m interrupting something important. Does anyone care to enlighten me before my execution?”

  Aoibhe angled her head in the direction of Raven and her sister. “The Curia wants the human females. Lorenzo is refusing to give them up.”

  “Ah,” said Niccolò. “Another tactical error on the part of the new prince. It isn’t his first and, sadly, it won’t be his last.”

  “Guards!” Lorenzo barked.

  “Just a moment.” Niccolò stood to Aoibhe’s left, facing the throne. He observed Raven and Cara, then shifted his attention to the new prince. “The black-haired one is sweet enough, but hardly worth a war. Why not give them to the Curia in exchange for a peace treaty?”

  “If I’d wanted your opinion, old man, I wouldn’t have sent a hunting party after you.”

  “Centuries of opportunities came and went and you learned nothing.” Niccolò sighed. “You’re the last of your family—the last of
the famed Medici. You’ve disgraced them with a sloppy coup, leaving the old prince still alive and courting disaster with the Curia.”

  “What’s happening?” Raven whispered, lifting fearful eyes to William.

  “When one’s enemies are at war with one another, it’s best to be silent,” he murmured. The edge of his mouth turned up slightly.

  Raven bit at her lip, struggling to remain calm.

  Niccolò moved to address the soldiers. “This one is not worthy of allegiance. He attempted to unseat his rival, while leaving him alive. Now he risks the ire of our most powerful enemy.”

  A murmur rippled through the ranks.

  “I said, enough!” Lorenzo shouted. “I am prince here, by birth and by power. Guards, seize Machiavelli and take off his head.”

  At this Niccolò smiled. “You’re just like your ancestors—arrogant, small-minded, and ignorant. You wouldn’t recognize greatness if it ran you through with a sword.”

  Lorenzo began to clap, exaggeratedly. “Pontificating even at the end. I’ve never met a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than you.”

  “A voice you ignored.”

  “You had every opportunity to seize the throne for yourself but were too cowardly to do so. What’s the old adage? Ah, yes. Fortune favors the brave. Today, I am favored and you are dead.”

  Niccolò’s smile widened.

  “Yes, fortune favors the brave. If you’d paid attention to the history of your family, you’d know that fortune abandoned them long ago. I witnessed the exile of your family in 1494. I saw them return to power only to lose it. I learned my lesson—never pin your political aspirations on a Medici.”

  He made a low, slashing motion with his hand, and a long line of soldiers entered the chamber, marching down the aisle and assembling behind the chairs that were reserved for the Consilium members.

  Lorenzo appeared confused. “Guards, seize him.”

  One of the soldiers stepped out from behind the throne, sword raised. Lorenzo caught sight of the sword and moved to the side, but another soldier slashed at his head.

  His corpse fell to the ground.

  “Someone should have read The Art of War.” Niccolò stepped over the head with distaste, lifting his robes as he kicked the headless body.