The Shadow

by Sylvain Reynard

  Two swords flew through the air, each caught handily by the captives.

  “This is your last chance, Niccolò.” William’s voice rang out. “End this conflict before I diminish the army.”

  “If I lose soldiers, I’ll make new ones.” Machiavelli nodded at the general. “Begin.”

  Aoibhe lifted her sword with both hands, poised to strike. “Did you hear that, army? You’re no better than humans to your new prince. Each of you is disposable.”

  The general barked out an order and the army advanced on all sides.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  William and Aoibhe were a whirlwind of movement, striking and blocking at every turn, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. For every soldier killed, another took his or her place. All the while, the new prince sat on his throne, watching his army shrink.

  William knew there were too many. There were too many for him and he was an old one. Aoibhe was stronger than any of the soldiers individually, but taken together, they’d overwhelm her and then he’d have no one at his back.

  He’d let Raven go without kissing her. Without persuading her he was keeping his promise to protect her and her sister, even though that meant sending her to his enemy. Now he’d never have the chance to look into her eyes and explain.

  With renewed vigor, William went on the attack, forcing the line of soldiers to retreat.

  Behind him, Aoibhe stumbled. She fell to the ground, her sword careening across the floor and coming to rest out of reach.

  A line of soldiers advanced and one lifted his arm in preparation to take her head.

  His blow was caught inches from Aoibhe’s neck by William’s sword.

  A soldier saw the opening and ran up behind him, aiming for his head. Lightning fast, William turned, leaning backward to avoid the metal that flashed through the air, narrowly missing his throat.

  He lifted his sword, but before he could strike, the soldier’s head flew from his shoulders and his body crumpled to the ground.

  Gregor stood behind him, sword in hand.

  It was then William saw an influx of his citizens, armed and battling with the soldiers who surrounded him. Beyond them, half of the army had already fallen back, disengaging from the conflict.

  A female tossed a sword to Aoibhe and she was on her feet, swirling like a red-haired dervish.

  “Down with the traitor!” William cried. “To arms, citizens of Florence!”

  The loyal civilians cheered as he battled his way to the throne, taking the steps two at a time before standing in front of the one who had unseated him.

  “Guards, kill him!” Niccolò shouted.

  But the guards ignored his order, throwing down their swords. The metal clattered on the stone floor.

  William paused as he stood over his former head of intelligence.

  “You should have granted my appeal, Niccolò.”

  “It was a calculated risk.”

  Machiavelli looked out over the hall. The skirmishes had ended as everyone watched the scene unfolding at the throne.

  “I have lived a long life, with some regrets.” He gazed at William’s sword bitterly. “I regret underestimating the citizens’ loyalty to you.”

  “A mistake you will not make again.”

  Machiavelli looked up at his prince. “I don’t suppose you can be persuaded to be merciful?”

  William pressed his lips together. “I know no such word.”

  Machiavelli’s head flew to the floor and a great series of cheers filled the hall.

  William tugged the signet ring from the headless corpse’s finger and pushed the body aside. He replaced the ring on his finger and stood, arms raised.

  “Citizens of Florence, the traitor is dead.”

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  “It’s fortunate the Curia have a prize being sent their way,” Aoibhe declared, standing with the Prince in the empty council chamber. “They would have marched on us for certain. The hunting parties wreaked havoc across the city, and Max killed three humans in Santo Spirito, leaving their bodies to rot.”

  The Prince kept his own counsel as he surveyed the aftermath of the battle. They’d been able to regenerate much of the army—reuniting bodies with their severed heads and borrowing vampyre blood in order to effect the reanimation. The corpses and heads of those the Prince despised had been removed from the chamber and were now burning on a pyre outside the city.

  He’d executed General Valerian and his officers, replacing them with lower-ranked ones who’d sworn fealty. He would be keeping a closer eye on the army henceforth.

  At the mention of the Curia, William grew agitated. Niccolò hadn’t had time to send couriers to the rulers of the neighboring principalities. William had dispatched messengers as soon as he could but it was still possible Raven and Cara could fall into the hands of another coven on their way to Rome. They’d escaped one danger only to be thrust into another.

  “I know better than to believe our kind worthy of miracles,” Aoibhe observed, moving so the Prince could no longer ignore her. “Yet I cannot help but believe you were favored with one today.”

  He stiffened. “I make no such claim.”

  “It seems I’m destined to remain in your debt.” She touched his arm. “Thank you. Now comes the difficult task of rebuilding the city.”

  The Prince regarded her stoically. “You fought at my side today and for that I’m grateful. But you concealed your contact with Ibarra. I should execute you for that.”

  Aoibhe withdrew her hand as if she’d been burned. “Ibarra is dead.”

  “Ibarra’s amalgam of scents might be strong enough to fool many, but it isn’t strong enough to fool me. I scented him atop the building where you were attacked. He came to your aid.”

  “It was a stranger. I didn’t recognize him.”

  “You lie as you fornicate, Aoibhe: artfully and forcefully. I have no time for either.” He strode down the aisle, carrying his sword in one hand and the missive with the Roman’s signature in the other.

  “Wait.” She lifted her skirts and followed him. “Why would you think Ibarra is still alive? We watched him die.”

  William glared at her. “Don’t insult me. An armed detachment is already hunting him.”

  Aoibhe flew to his side. “I’ve been your ally. I helped secure your pet. I gave my blood for her sister.”

  “That is why you are still alive,” he replied. “I promised you a modest favor. Electing not to execute you for treason is hardly modest but I don’t have time to deal with you at the moment.”

  Aoibhe scowled. “I’ve done nothing but show my loyalty, again and again, while the other members of the Consilium plotted your demise. I argued with Nick for your life. I fought at your back. This is how you repay me?”

  William’s jaw clenched and unclenched, as if he were barely controlling his anger. “Did you summon the soldiers at Teatro?”

  “Of course not! They were already posted in the club. They’d scented us in the hall and when I left the room, they fell on me.”

  “You’re adept at lying, Aoibhe. Did you not think to lie in order to lure them away?”

  “They knew Max had your pet. They knew you were inside the room. Lying would have accomplished nothing. You saw me when you came into the hall—they’d already disarmed me. I have yet to retrieve my sword.”

  William’s eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the sound of her heart, listening for any indication of duplicity.

  “We’ve been allies, Aoibhe. But alliances change. If you betray me, I’ll kill you.”

  Aoibhe swept into a curtsy, averting her eyes. “Understood, my lord.”

  William approached the door and was just about to walk through it, when she called after him.

  “What was in the letter you showed to Nick?”

  William considered her question for a moment before he answered.

  “The Roman wrote a postscript in his own hand.”

  “A postscript isn’t enough to have given N
iccolò pause.”

  “He wrote, ‘Greetings, my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased.’” William’s gray eyes glittered. “The Roman is my maker.”

  Her eyes widened. “Truly?”

  “Yes.”

  She took a step back, her expression fearful. “Is it true the Roman is past his thousand years? That he escaped the curse?”

  “He was past his thousand years when he made me.”

  “How is that possible? The curse affected everyone—those who were past their thousand years were struck with madness immediately.”

  “Our existence seems to be riddled with—exceptions.”

  She looked at him with new eyes. “You have so much power. Why didn’t you take over the principalities in America?”

  William pressed his lips together. “You forget my age. America wasn’t desirable at that time.”

  “You could have made of America what you wanted.”

  “I came to Florence in search of beauty and hope.”

  “Beauty?” She frowned. “Perhaps you didn’t look hard enough.”

  “On the contrary, I was rewarded with both. Now I must save her.” He strode toward the door.

  Aoibhe raised her voice. “Florence doesn’t need saving, my prince. Florence is already saved.”

  William exited into the corridor, his footsteps quick and sure. Yes, he’d saved the city he loved, but in trying to protect his woman, he’d placed her in grave danger. He’d done so even as she begged to stay with him, knowing they would both likely die.

  The woman with the great green eyes and the maddening, courageous soul.

  His teacher had not heard his prayer to keep her safe. It was clear. There was only one being who could help him battle the Curia with any hope of success.

  It was time to see his maker.

  It was time to visit the Roman.

  Fin

  List of Terms and Proper Names

  (NB: This List Contains Spoilers)

  ALICIA—William’s fiancée from the thirteenth century.

  ALLEGRA—Fifteenth-century woman who loved the Prince.

  AMBROGIO—William York’s servant.

  AOIBHE—Pronounced “A-vuh.” An Irish member of the Consilium.

  ISPETTOR BATELLI—Police inspector in Florence.

  THE CONSILIUM—The ruling council of the principality of Florence. It consists of six members: Lorenzo, Niccolò, Aoibhe, Stefan, Maximilian, and Pierre. The Prince is an ex officio member.

  THE CURIA—Enemy of the supernatural beings.

  GABRIEL EMERSON—The professor is a Dante specialist who teaches at Boston University. He is the owner of a famed set of Botticelli illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy, which he lent to the Uffizi Gallery in 2011. His story is told in the Gabriel’s Inferno trilogy: Gabriel’s Inferno, Gabriel’s Rapture, and Gabriel’s Redemption.

  JULIA EMERSON—Doctoral student at Harvard University. She is married to Gabriel and the co-owner of the Botticelli illustrations.

  FEEDERS—Derogatory term for human beings who offer themselves up as a food source to supernatural beings.

  FERALS—Supernatural beings who live and hunt alone. They display brutal, animalistic behavior.

  GREGOR—Personal assistant to the Prince.

  HUMAN INTELLIGENCE NETWORK—Human beings who are contracted to provide information to the supernatural beings. They also provide security and perform specific tasks.

  HUNTERS—Humans who hunt and kill supernatural beings for commercial purposes.

  IBARRA—A Basque former member of the Consilium.

  FATHER KAVANAUGH—Former director of Covenant House in Orlando, Florida, and friend of Raven Wood.

  LORENZO—A member of the Medici family and second in command in the principality of Florence. Also a member of the Consilium.

  LUCIA—Ambrogio’s wife and servant to William York.

  LUKA—Servant to William York.

  DAN MACREADY—Cara’s boyfriend.

  NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI—Famous Florentine and member of the Consilium. Head of intelligence for the principality of Florence.

  MARCO—Servant to William York.

  MARCUS—Also known as the Prince of Venice. Former ruler of the underworld principality of Venice, now deceased.

  MARIA—A young girl with special needs who lives at the Franciscan orphanage in Florence. She is introduced in Gabriel’s Redemption.

  MAXIMILIAN—A Prussian member of the Consilium.

  THE MEDICI—Famous ruling family of Florence during the Renaissance.

  GINA MOLINARI—Friend of Raven Wood, employed in the archives of the Uffizi Gallery.

  OLD ONES—A special class of supernatural beings who, by virtue of having attained seven hundred years in their supernatural state, enjoy tremendous power and special abilities.

  GIUSEPPE PACCIANI—A professor of Dante at the University of Florence. His backstory is given in the Gabriel’s Inferno series.

  KATHERINE PICTON—Retired Dante specialist and former professor at the University of Toronto. Her backstory is described in the Gabriel’s Inferno series. Friend of the Emersons.

  PIERRE—A French member of the Consilium. Oversees security and liaises with the human intelligence network as well as the police services.

  THE PRINCE—Ruler of the principality of Florence, the underworld society of supernatural beings.

  RECRUITS—New supernatural beings, formerly human.

  THE ROMAN—Ruler of the principality of Rome and also the head of the kingdom of Italy, which includes all the Italian principalities.

  AGENT SAVOLA—Interpol agent assigned to Florence.

  SIMONETTA—The Princess of Umbria.

  STEFAN—A supernatural physician of French Canadian origin.

  TARQUIN—The current ruler of Venice, under the authority of the Prince of Florence.

  PROFESSOR URBANO—Director of the restoration project working on the Birth of Venus. Raven Wood’s supervisor.

  GENERAL VALERIAN—Commanding officer of the Florentine army.

  THE VENETIANS—Supernatural beings living in the principality of Venice.

  DOTTOR VITALI—Director of the Uffizi Gallery. He appears in the Gabriel’s Inferno trilogy.

  PATRICK WONG—Canadian citizen and friend of Raven Wood. Works in the archives at the Uffizi Gallery.

  CAROLYN (CARA) WOOD—Raven’s younger sister. Carolyn is a real estate agent in Miami, Florida.

  RAVEN WOOD—American citizen and postdoctoral restoration worker at the Uffizi Gallery.

  WILLIAM YORK—A wealthy Florentine and patron of the Uffizi Gallery. He appears briefly in Gabriel’s Redemption.

  YOUNGLINGS—Supernatural beings who have yet to attain one hundred years in their supernatural state.

  Acknowledgments

  I owe a debt to the city of Florence, its citizens, and the incomparable Uffizi Gallery. Thank you for your hospitality and inspiration.

  I’ve used poetic license in locating Raven’s restoration work in the Uffizi itself, since in reality it would be undertaken in one of the labs operated by the Opificio instead.

  The quotation in chapter 9 is taken from Miguel de Cervantes’s famous work Don Quixote. Other texts referenced in this novel include The Prince and The Art of War, both by Niccolò Machiavelli, as well as The Art of War written by Sun Tzu.

  I am grateful to Kris, who read an early draft and offered valuable constructive criticism. I am also thankful to Jennifer and to Nina for their feedback and support.

  I’ve been very pleased to work with Cindy Hwang, my editor, and Erin Galloway and Kristine Swartz at Berkley. Thanks are also due to the production and design team at Berkley. I’d also like to thank Kim Schefler and Cassie Hanjian, my agent, for their guidance and counsel.

  My publicist, Nina Bocci, works tirelessly to promote my writing and to help me with social media, which enables me to keep in touch with readers. I’m honored to be part of her team.

  Elena patiently answered my various que
stions, and for that I’m grateful. I also want to thank the many book bloggers who have taken the time to read and review my work.

  I am grateful to Erika, Deborah Harkness, and Lauren for their kind words about The Raven. Thank you.

  I also want to thank the Muses, Argyle Empire, the readers from around the world who operate the SRFans social media accounts, and the readers who recorded the podcasts for The Gabriel Series and The Florentine Series. Thank you for your continued support.

  I wish to remember Terry, who was a supportive reader and contributor to Argyle Empire before she passed away. She is greatly missed.

  I owe a debt I can never pay to my teachers, who educated and mentored me and set me on a path of curiosity and learning.

  Finally, I would like to thank my readers and my family for continuing this journey with me. I’m proud to be your Virgil during this foray into the Underworld.

  —SR

  ASCENSION 2015

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