The Shadow (Florentine #2)

by Sylvain Reynard

  Loud techno music thumped inside the club, but with the door closed the noise faded into a distant hum. If Max were to attack them, no one in Teatro would hear their cries.

  Raven shuddered.

  She tore a strip from the bottom of her T-shirt and began wiping the blood from her sister’s face. Cara was positioned on her back, eyes closed. Her nose was broken, her eyes blackened, and there was a large bruise purpling her jaw.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Raven whispered. “I promise.”

  Holding the soiled fabric in her hand, she glanced at Max. “My sister has a head injury. She needs to be in a hospital.”

  “No doctor!” His hand shot out and he shoved Raven’s shoulder, sending her flying backward on the bed.

  Instinctively, she crawled back to her sister and covered her body with her own. “Don’t touch her.”

  The vampyre watched her display with undisguised amusement. “Your blood smells sweeter.”

  He lumbered toward the door and placed his ear against it. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he did or did not hear, he put his back to the door and stared across the candlelit room.

  His body had already begun to regenerate, but slowly. Skin was beginning to grow on his face and neck, closing over the open wounds. His injured eye was no longer swollen shut and he seemed to have regained full sight.

  He was, however, still hideous.

  Raven met his gaze. “Can I have some ice? It will help with the swelling.”

  “No ice.”

  “Ice would help your face, as well. Those wounds must hurt.”

  The vampyre blinked. “You’d tend my wounds?”

  “In exchange for ice? Yes.”

  He stared. When he offered no further communication, Raven swung her feet over the side of the bed. She walked to a cabinet that held a small bar fridge. While keeping watch on the vampyre, she opened the fridge and was relieved to discover a few ice cubes. She wrapped them in the fabric she was still holding and returned to the bed.

  Max watched her movements but did not intervene.

  “Why don’t you let us go?” She held the ice to her sister’s face, alternating between her nose and her jaw. “The Prince will rescue us. Now is your chance to escape.”

  The vampyre laughed. “The Prince is dead. A new one has taken his place.”

  Raven froze. “Dead?”

  “We seized control of the army. Not even an old one can defeat so many.” He chuckled. “Why do you think it was so easy for me to take you?”

  Raven pressed her hand over her mouth.

  William is dead?

  She didn’t know if Max was telling the truth. But it would explain why William hadn’t come to her rescue. It would also explain why the other vampyre had been so bold as to venture inside her building.

  He’s lying. William has powers they are unaware of; they won’t be able to kill him so easily.

  Despite her positive thoughts, Max had introduced doubt into her psyche. She looked at her sister and tears filled her eyes.

  A low chuckle came from across the room. The creature was laughing at her, mocking her pain.

  Perhaps he spoke the truth and something had happened to William after she’d spoken with Ambrogio. Perhaps the creature was lying, toying with her mind. She didn’t have time to grieve. She had to save her sister.

  “Rave,” Cara whispered, her eyes fluttering open. She slid her hand across the bedspread, her baby finger touching her sister’s.

  Raven gripped her hand tightly, swallowing back tears. She held the ice to her sister’s face.

  “If the Prince is—dead”—Raven shivered, barely able to pronounce the word—“there’s no reason to keep us. I’m sure the new prince needs your help. The Curia is watching.”

  Max’s angry footsteps echoed in the chamber. “What do you know about the Curia?”

  She tried to sound nonchalant. “I am the Prince’s pet. I hear things. He was worried the Curia would invade the city.”

  “What else?” He leaned forward, bringing his hideous face inches from hers.

  Raven racked her brain for something she could say, something that wouldn’t be too damaging to William, if he were still alive.

  “He said there were spies in the city.”

  Max straightened, stroking what was left of his beard. “Everyone knows that.”

  “Yes, but these spies are reporting to the Curia. Every time a human is killed in a suspicious manner, the Curia hears about it. Those bodies you left by my apartment are going to attract attention.” She leaned forward. “Maybe it’s time for you to escape.”

  “No escape,” he said angrily. “Now is time for sport.”

  “There are beautiful women out there.” She gestured to the door. “Why don’t you leave us? We aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Not yet. I’m going to enjoy you before I drain your heart. And then I’m going to dispose of your sister.”

  Raven gritted her teeth. “Everything you could ever want is out there. You don’t want to waste your time with us.”

  The vampyre stood next to the bed and leered at her from head to foot.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “No.” Raven’s low voice had steel in it.

  “I said, take off your clothes.” He pulled her from the bed, spinning her toward the wall.

  “If the Prince is dead, then I don’t care about living.” Her voice was low but defiant. “I don’t care if you kill me. I’m not taking my clothes off.”

  Max lifted his hand as if to strike her, then he squeezed her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him.

  “Look into my eyes and focus on my voice. I am your master now.”

  Something niggled in the back of Raven’s mind, something disturbing. At that moment, she couldn’t remember what it was.

  An icy tendril of fear snaked down her spine. She stared back at the vampyre with contempt.

  “No,” she repeated stubbornly.

  Max’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He cursed and gripped her head with both hands. “I am your master. You will do as I say. Take off your clothes.”

  Raven blinked. “No.”

  He pushed her aside, rubbing a hand across his face where the skin was new. “Then I’ll take your sister first.”

  He moved toward the bed.

  “No!” Raven grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back. He shook her off and put a knee to the bed.

  Cara lay motionless, eyes closed.

  There was no way Raven was going to stand by while this animal touched her sister. She hadn’t done so when she was twelve and she wouldn’t do so now, not so long as she still had strength with which to fight.

  Raven grabbed the vampyre around the waist. “No, please. Not her.”

  He turned his head, his eyes cold and calculating.

  “Then take your clothes off. Slowly. I want to savor this moment.

  “I’m going to fornicate you until you can no longer walk, and then I’m going to drink you dry.”

  Raven released him. She moved away from her sister, hoping he would follow.

  He did so, watching in anticipation.

  She screwed her eyes shut.

  William, she thought, help me.

  With trembling hands, she lifted the hem of her T-shirt.

  Chapter Fifty

  By the time William arrived at Raven’s apartment building, the police had already cordoned it off.

  Ispettor Batelli was visible smoking a cigarette just outside the front door. Two emergency medical technicians walked past him, carrying a black body bag on a stretcher.

  Anxiety rolled over William as the scent of death filled his nostrils. But the dead human being was male, not female, and certainly not Raven.

  Hope lived.

  From his vantage point atop her roof, he could see another set of medical personnel hovering over two bodies that were lying behind the building. He recognized Marco’s scent and that of Luka. With that recognition came the chilling reali
zation that whoever had attacked them had probably done so in an effort to steal Raven.

  Fortunately, there was no sign of her body.

  Not caring if he was seen leaping to the building next door, he flew across the gap and ran to the edge of the roof. Some distance away he could see his Mercedes, abandoned on a side street. Policemen were moving in and out of the vehicle, placing items in bags.

  A gust of wind lifted from the street below and with it, a hundred different scents. He shut his eyes and discerned the remnants of blood, including the blood of a young female. Her scent was unfamiliar.

  Commingled with that scent was the sweetest aroma he’d ever experienced—light, sensual, courageous, and beautiful.

  He inhaled, savoring the fragrance, and began to cough violently. The stench of a vampyre scoured his nostrils, blotting out Raven’s scent. The vampyre odor was all too familiar.

  Maximilian.

  He had returned.

  William resisted the urge to give in to fury or to haste, forcing himself to set aside the stench and focus only on Raven. His heart sank when he realized that Max must have extricated her from the Mercedes, carrying her toward the Arno. Puzzlingly, the scent of the unknown female remained linked with the other two.

  The scent was fresh—less than an hour old. But that was time enough for Max to have murdered Raven or to have transformed her into a vampyre.

  A cry of anguish escaped William’s lips as he swung his fist heavenward.

  I’ve lived for centuries and cursed the empty years. Now I have no time.

  William ran as fast as he could across the roofs, tracking the scent from building to building before dropping to the street in order to cross the river.

  He climbed a building near the Ponte Santa Trinita in his pursuit, pausing atop a roof strewn with vampyre bodies. They were dressed in the uniform of the Florentine army, their swords discarded nearby. If this was one of his rival’s hunting parties, it had failed. No Consilium members were to be found among the dead.

  And yet two familiar vampyre scents were discernible—one belonged to Aoibhe. And the other . . .

  “I knew it.” A triumphant voice sounded beside him.

  Aoibhe was standing a few feet away.

  He gestured to the bodies that lay behind them. “Is this your handiwork?”

  “A stranger came to my aid. But I killed my share.” She smiled. “I see rumors of your death are exaggerated.”

  William sniffed. “A stranger, you say?”

  Aoibhe appeared uneasy, but only for an instant. “Yes. I’m fortunate he happened by.”

  “I am not so fortunate.” William walked to the edge of the roof. “I am in haste and cannot dally. I’m glad you’re well.”

  “If you’re looking for your pet, Max has her.”

  William hesitated. “Where are they?”

  “They headed in the direction of the Duomo, but of course that cannot be his destination.”

  William leapt to the ground and Aoibhe followed. He gave her a sour look.

  “Your life is in danger. They’re hunting the Consilium. You should leave the city.”

  She tossed her hair. “And be killed somewhere else? No. I’m too old to join another principality. They’d never admit me.”

  “It’s your head.”

  He took off at great speed, running in the direction of the Duomo and, once again, Aoibhe stayed at his side. He scowled in her direction. “If you’re found with me, they’ll kill you.”

  “If I’m with you, there’s a chance I’ll survive.”

  “Then be useful and gather the loyal citizens. We may have to fight our own army.”

  She set her teeth stubbornly. “After I’ve paid my debt.”

  William turned a corner, following the scent to the building that housed Teatro.

  “What debt?”

  “You saved my life. Your pet defended me from the hunters. I’ll help you retrieve her, then see to my own skin.”

  William stopped. “It isn’t like you to take an interest in others, let alone a human.”

  “It isn’t like you to take an interest in a woman, yet you’re running as if your existence depended on it. Clearly, you value her. In helping you, I’ll discharge my debt. Besides, I’ve wanted to kill Max for close to a century. He’s a rapist. It would be a pleasure to end him.”

  William’s expression hardened. “If he’s touched her, I shall be the one killing him.”

  Aoibhe grinned. “Then allow me the luxury of being present at his execution. I’m in need of a new decoration for my front door. His head shall do nicely.”

  William shook his head but didn’t bother to discourage her further.

  “He’s taken her inside.” William gestured to the side door. “It could be a trap. We’ll have to enter through the tunnel.”

  He strode off in the opposite direction, Aoibhe trotting at his heels.

  “There isn’t a tunnel that leads to Teatro.”

  “Prepare to be surprised.”

  He entered a nearby building and descended a staircase, twisting and turning in the darkness until he came upon a wooden door, locked with an iron padlock. With a flick of his wrist he broke the lock and swung the door open.

  Aoibhe lifted her skirts distastefully as they walked down a dark, damp passage that was crawling with rats. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not noble enough to pay my debts.”

  William ignored her, increasing his pace. Without explanation he made two left turns and then stopped in front of another locked door.

  “This will lead us to one of the rooms.”

  “Pray it’s not in use,” Aoibhe muttered as he broke the lock.

  They ascended a winding staircase that led to a trapdoor. Loud, pulsing music swirled around them, signaling they were under the club.

  “There may be soldiers. Are you armed?” William whispered, moving his attention to his companion.

  “Yes. You?”

  “Yes.” He lifted the trapdoor a fraction of an inch, bracing himself as the hinges of the door creaked. He could see dim candlelight but little else. The trapdoor opened underneath a bed.

  “Allow me to enter first,” Aoibhe whispered. “I frequent Teatro and will not garner attention.”

  “You’re wanted for treason. They’ll execute you on sight.”

  “Which is why you must follow me closely, my prince.” She touched his face. “These may be my final moments.”

  “It isn’t like you to be sentimental.”

  “Death has strange side effects.” She nodded at him and he lifted the door higher. She crawled through it onto the floorboards.

  Then she peeked from underneath the bed.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  The room was empty.

  “Follow me.” Aoibhe crawled out from under the bed and stood, dusting her crimson dress off and clucking to herself. “What a pity. I liked this dress.”

  William followed her to the door, opening it a crack.

  Other rooms ran the length of the empty hallway. He’d have to enter it and make haste to pick up Raven’s scent.

  He hoped he wasn’t too late.

  “Let me.” Aoibhe ducked under his arm. “If I’m seen, I may be able to talk my way out of danger.”

  Reluctantly, William stood back, watching through the crack as Aoibhe tiptoed down the hall, finally pointing to a closed door. Before he could join her, she’d already knocked.

  “Aoibhe!” he hissed.

  She gave him a knowing smile and turned to face the door.

  Nothing happened. She knocked again.

  “Be gone!” Max bellowed from inside.

  She knocked a third time, somewhat impatiently.

  “What is it?” he cried, flinging the door wide.

  Aoibhe had already drawn her sword and as soon as she saw his face, she swung at it. Unfortunately, her weapon glanced off his spine, leaving his head only partially severed.

  William wasted no time but flew past her and knocked
over the great, hulking beast.

  Aoibhe closed the door firmly and blocked it with her body.

  “William!”

  He lifted his head to see Raven standing by the bed. She was clad in only her underclothes. William’s anger ignited.

  He landed a blow on Max’s jaw while the larger vampyre still lay on the ground. “What did you do to her?”

  Max jumped to his feet. “You aren’t the master here. Your reign is over.”

  Aoibhe intervened, slashing at his legs with her sword and toppling him. William took hold of his head and, with a quick tug, caused the flesh that had been opened to rip further.

  “What did you do to her?” he hissed.

  Max began to laugh. “He was right. You care more for your little pet than you do for the city. That’s why he was able to take over the army. You’re so busy rutting with your crippled human, you ignored what was going on under your nose.”

  Aoibhe wiped her hands on her dress. “Let’s kill him and be quick about it. We need to leave before someone scents us.”

  Max stumbled to his feet but she evaded him, landing a swift kick in his ribs. He groaned and bent over, clutching his side. “You won’t survive,” he gasped. “You’ll lose everything.”

  “One last question.” William lifted Max’s chin with his sword. “Where’s Pierre?”

  Max’s eyes took on a strange light. “Dead. We never reached Paris.”

  “May I?” Aoibhe asked, holding her sword.

  William nodded.

  “Finally,” she breathed. She swung her sword with both hands, decapitating Max completely.

  She walked over to his head, which was still dripping black blood, and lifted it. “Yes, this shall do nicely. Now that I have my prize, I’ll leave you.” She bowed to William.

  “Don’t leave, Aoibhe. I have need of you.”

  A strangled cry filled the room as Raven collapsed on the bed, covering her mouth with both hands. William moved to her side, draping his jacket over her shoulders. He sheathed his sword.

  “Are you injured?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did he . . .” William trailed off, his gray eyes darting to her lower body, which was noticeably absent trauma.