The Roman

by Sylvain Reynard

  “Cara?”

  She whimpered, shifting her legs, and fell silent again.

  Raven waited to see if she would stir, but Cara’s breathing remained deep and regular. She was still asleep or unconscious.

  Raven wiped at her eyes.

  “You should join her.” Borek’s tone was pointed.

  “I’ll sleep in Rome.”

  “Rome.” His face grew thunderous. “If we make it there alive.”

  “One of the soldiers said we’d arrive tomorrow. I can last another day. How long have you lived in Florence?”

  “Long enough.”

  Raven looked at him curiously. “Where are you from?”

  His expression tightened, and he looked out the window again.

  Raven turned back to her sister, placing a hand on her head and stroking the fine, blond hair.

  “Russia,” he answered at last.

  “You don’t sound Russian.”

  “I am,” he rumbled.

  Raven frowned. “Why did you leave?”

  “Too many wars. And the Curia, always bringing death.” He gave her a severe look.

  She chewed at the edge of her lip.

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently.

  Borek snorted. “Your lies mean nothing.”

  Raven lifted her chin. “It isn’t a lie. I told Machiavelli the truth when we were in Florence: I’m against killing, even the killing of vampyres.”

  His hand moved to his sword. “Yet you threaten us with death.”

  “I’ll do anything to protect my sister.”

  “You should save yourself.”

  “To save my sister is to save myself.” She touched the top of Cara’s head.

  Borek closed his eyes.

  For a moment, Raven thought he was resting.

  He opened his eyes, his lips curling derisively. “How did a Curia spy end up a pet to the Prince of Florence?”

  “Perhaps because I’m charming.” Raven glared. “And what we were doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

  “The price of treason.” He gazed in contempt at her injured leg. “You must have gold running through your veins. Why else would the Prince risk his throne?”

  “Maybe he loved me.” Raven’s temper flared. “Not everyone chooses a lover based on appearance. No wonder the Prince ruled you and your soldiers for so long. You’re a bunch of empty-headed thugs.”

  “Silence.” Borek’s raised voice drew the attention of the other vampyres. They sat up from their resting places, their hands reaching for their swords.

  Borek gestured to them to return to their positions.

  “The whore has teeth,” he taunted her. “But teeth won’t save you if the Curia decides you’re no longer useful. Then I’ll be the one spitting on your corpse.”

  Raven restrained the urge to curse him and turned her back, curling up next to Cara on the floor. She was so angry, her body nearly vibrated.

  There were many who could be blamed for her predicament, including herself. But in that moment, lying next to her sister on the cold, hard floor of an abandoned building, she blamed William. He should have fled the city when he had the chance and taken her with him.

  Now he was dead. She and her sister stood on the very precipice of death, with only an angry, vindictive Russian to protect them.

  Raven ran through the forest, searching for William. She called his name over and over. No answer came.

  In her heart, she knew he was dead, but she would not give up.

  “To arms!” Borek raised the alarm, interrupting Raven’s dreams.

  She moved slowly, shaking off sleep as the vampyres shouted at one another, descending the staircase from the upper floor.

  Something smashed through the window, landing on the wooden floor and igniting into flame. A cloud of black smoke lifted to the ceiling before spreading through the room.

  They were under attack.

  Dim light shone from outside as the last rays of sun faded from sight. Two more fire bombs flew through the windows, engulfing the far end of the space in flames. They licked across the floor and climbed the wall.

  “Grab your robes,” Borek shouted. “Douse the flames!”

  The soldiers followed orders, picking up fabric and throwing it over the fire.

  Smoke billowed in Raven’s direction, and she began to cough. She tried to shake Cara awake, but her sister merely murmured a few words and continued sleeping.

  “There’s only one exit.” Stefan stood in the center of the room, gesturing to the front door. “We’re trapped.”

  “Then get to work.” A soldier threw a robe toward Stefan.

  Borek moved beneath one of the windows, taking care to keep out of sight. He peered outside.

  Somewhere nearby, a dog growled.

  “Hunters.” He swore an oath and moved away from the window. “At least ten. Maybe more.”

  Raven huddled next to her sister, fighting to stay calm. She remembered the hunters who’d cornered her in Florence. They’d felled Aoibhe with an arrow and tried to kill William. Even though she was of no use to their blood trade, they’d threatened her with death.

  One of the soldiers approached Borek. “Give them the humans.”

  Borek boxed the soldier’s ear with a meaty fist. “The hunters will kill them, and then the Curia will kill us. It would be better to throw you outside, Carlos.”

  “Pardon, commander,” the soldier apologized, casting a baleful look at Raven.

  Raven continued to cough as smoke filled the room.

  Stefan gestured to the women. “The humans are a liability. Leave them.”

  Borek rounded on him. “And let them burn to death? Will you be the one to announce our failure to the new Prince? Or the Curia?”

  Stefan scowled, pointedly turning his back.

  Raven’s coughing grew louder as she struggled for air.

  “We must get the humans out now.” Borek pointed at Carlos. “Take your sword and hold them off as long as you can. Your vest will block the arrows.”

  “Excuse my words. I was too hasty.” Carlos began backing away.

  Borek brandished his sword. “Step outside the door, or I’ll toss you through it.”

  The other soldiers began to close ranks, moving behind Carlos with swords at the ready.

  Carlos surveyed his brethren. Then, with a tight nod, he walked toward the door.

  Borek gestured to two of the remaining vampyres. “Carry the humans. Keep clear of the skirmishes and head south. Those of us who survive will follow you.

  “The rest of you, prepare to break through the back wall. Carlos will distract them.”

  “We’re probably surrounded.” Stefan grumbled.

  “Then succumb to the flames.” Borek glared.

  “Be vigilant, all of you. They’re armed with poisoned arrows and relics. Be sure you’re wearing your vests.” Borek nodded at Carlos, who cursed him before opening the door and stepping outside.

  A group of soldiers began kicking and hacking through the back wall as the voices of the hunters rose from the front of the building.

  As soon as the opening was large enough, the soldiers surged through, leaving Borek and the two vampyres carrying the women behind. Then they also leapt into the twilight.

  Chapter Six

  THE HUNTERS WERE MERCENARIES, not fools.

  They’d tracked the vampyres to the abandoned house, lying in wait until just before sunset. It would be folly to force their prey into the light—the sun’s rays would burn them to a crisp, destroying their valuable blood. Attack dogs prowled the perimeter, but the hunters restrained them, not wanting to alert the vampyres to their presence.

  As soon as the first figure emerged through the front door, the hunters closed in.

  An archer aimed at the va
mpyre’s chest. He waited until he had the perfect shot, not wanting to waste one of his precious poison-tipped arrows.

  But this vampyre was a trained soldier. He ran to face his enemies, avoiding the spray of holy water. Had each hunter not carried on his person a relic, the soldier would have felled some of them. Instead, he could only swing his sword and curse in frustration, edging toward the trees in hope of escape.

  An arrow flew. It struck him in the chest but bounced off his Kevlar vest, falling to the ground.

  The hunters murmured in shock.

  One of them ran forward, holding out a cross. The vampyre retreated toward the building.

  A Rottweiler bounded forward, snapping at the vampyre’s legs and sinking its teeth into his calf. The vampyre cursed, slashing at the dog with his sword.

  The animal didn’t let go.

  A garrote flew through the air, catching the vampyre around the neck.

  He dropped his sword and tried to pull the wire away from his flesh.

  It was no use. The garrote tightened with a loud clicking sound until it separated his head from his body.

  Some of the hunters remained with the corpse to drain the blood, not wanting it to lose any of its magical properties. The others rejoined their gang behind the house, where they confronted the remaining vampyres.

  Thrown over the back of a soldier, Raven had to rely on her ears rather than her eyes as they burst through a hole in the back wall of the building.

  Arrows whizzed through the air, dogs growled and barked, and the panicked voices of hunted vampyres swirled around her.

  The soldier who carried her wove from side to side, avoiding those in his path, until a German shepherd began to chase him, snapping at his heels.

  Despite carrying Raven, the vampyre maintained his distance, but the animal would not give up. It began to jump, trying to catch Raven with its teeth.

  She clutched her arms to her chest to avoid the snapping jaws.

  Then she flew through the air and slammed to the ground. She lay on the damp earth, stunned, her right hand caught beneath her body. Pain lanced through her.

  A few feet away, the soldier who’d been carrying her lay sprawled. He kicked at the snapping German shepherd, making contact with its muzzle.

  The animal yelped and retreated, allowing the soldier time to escape. Unencumbered by Raven, he fled into the trees.

  “Looks like someone abandoned his dinner.” A male voice laughed.

  With a great force of will, Raven began to crawl toward the trees.

  Quick footsteps approached her. The hunter grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back.

  She looked up into dark, cruel eyes.

  “How many are there?” he demanded.

  “Go to hell!”

  The hunter backhanded her, splitting her lower lip with the force of his blow. “How many are there?”

  Raven made a show of wiping the blood from her mouth, while surreptitiously sliding her other hand down to her ankle.

  “There are twenty vampyres. Ten inside the house and ten a short distance from here.”

  The man wrenched her hair, lowering his face so he could see her eyes. “There are more?”

  She nodded, moving her hand beneath the hem of her jeans. “Ten more avoiding the daylight in a building to the north.”

  He hit her again. “You’re lying.”

  She let out an anguished cry and tried to pull away from him. “I’m not; I swear it. We were supposed to meet the others after sunset.”

  “You will lead us to them.” The man grabbed Raven’s injured arm and pulled.

  Before he could drag her to her feet, her fingers closed over the hilt of the dagger. In one swift motion, she withdrew it and plunged it into the top of his foot.

  The hunter cursed and released her, his hands closing on the dagger.

  Raven stumbled to her feet, cradling her injured arm and heading toward the trees as fast as she could manage.

  Over her shoulder, she could see that several of the vampyres had been felled, and hunters were already gathered around their corpses. She couldn’t see Cara or the vampyre who had been carrying her. Raven hoped they’d escaped.

  Just as she approached the tree line, the hunter caught her from behind, wrapping his forearm around her neck. “You’ll pay for that, feeder.”

  Raven scratched at his arm, gasping for breath.

  He tightened his grip, and Raven felt her throat close. She continued to struggle, tearing his flesh with her fingernails and pulling at his arm.

  “Release her.” A voice drifted out of the trees.

  Raven pounded the hunter’s arm with her fists, straining for breath.

  “I said, release her.” Out of the darkness a figure emerged, dressed entirely in black.

  The fire from the burning building behind them illuminated the figure’s face.

  Raven looked straight into a pair of angry gray eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  “YOU WISHED TO SEE ME?” Father Jack Kavanaugh stood in front of the large desk, clasping his hands together.

  The Director of Intelligence for the Curia was dressed in the robes of a cardinal, befitting his position. He peered up at the Jesuit, his dark eyes assessing. “Tell me about your trip to Florence.”

  “I met Raven, the young woman I wrote to you about. Two nights ago, her sister came to me with her fiancé. I gave them sanctuary, and we wrote to Raven, asking her to join us. She refused.

  “This morning, one of our officers shared a report from Florence’s police department, indicating that the fiancé had been murdered, and Cara and Raven are missing. It sounds as if the fiancé was killed by a vampyre.”

  The Director remained silent.

  Slightly unnerved, Jack continued. “The Prince of Florence has been deposed by Machiavelli, who is sending Raven and Cara to us as a peace offering.”

  The Director blinked. “In your letter, you requested a squad of Curia soldiers so you could retrieve the women.”

  “Yes. I’m concerned for their safety.”

  The Director glanced down at the open file on top of his desk. “This Raven woman was the Prince’s pet.”

  Jack grimaced. “I was unaware of that until I saw her in Florence.”

  The Director’s eyes narrowed. “Did you write to the Prince, asking him to release her?”

  “Yes. I’ve known her since she was a child. I’ve always protected her.”

  The Director rested his hand on top of the open file. “So you don’t deny ignoring proper channels and compromising the Curia’s mission?”

  “Since when is an attempt to save a human soul a compromise?” Jack grew very red in the face.

  The Director studied him.

  “You Jesuits have a habit of asking for forgiveness rather than permission. We aren’t all Jesuits, Father Kavanaugh, and that kind of thinking isn’t tolerated here.” The Director paused. “You were brought to Rome because of your service record. I will personally transfer you to Prague if you compromise our activities again.”

  “Prague?” Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “But there aren’t any—”

  “Precisely.”

  Jack bowed his head to hide his anger. “Understood.”

  “It’s fortunate Florence decided to accede to your weakness rather than to exploit it.”

  Jack lifted his head. “I don’t consider caring for my parishioners to be a weakness.”

  The Director tapped one of his fingers on top of the desk. “We exist in order to protect humanity from evil. I wish we could save everyone. We both know that’s impossible.”

  “I’m not asking to save everyone.” Jack forced himself to keep his tone even. “I’m simply asking for support in protecting two young women, women who are like daughters to me.”

  “We have int
elligence that they are being sent as a gesture of peace, but we have no idea what condition they’re in or how many soldiers accompany them. It would be folly to send a squad outside our walls until we know more.”

  Jack leaned forward, placing his hands on top of the desk. “Raven and Cara are in danger, not just from the Florentines, but from ferals, mercenaries, other vampyres. They could be killed.”

  “You’ve already tipped your hand by writing to the Prince and expressing your attachment. Any movement of our troops will simply place a higher price on the women’s heads.”

  “Then let me go. Alone.”

  The Director gave the priest a long look. “I admire your courage. But I’m not going to allow you to initiate a military engagement over two souls, one of whom is a pet.”

  Jack straightened. “Our Lord left Heaven to seek and to save those who are lost.”

  “I am well-acquainted with sacred scripture.”

  Jack leaned closer. “Then you must know the story of the Gadarene, who was a pet to various demons. Our Lord clothed him, fed him, and rescued him from his tormentors.”

  “If the women arrive at our borders, we will welcome them. But I won’t allow you to walk into the arms of our enemies and be held for ransom. Nor will I send troops outside Vatican City, unless it’s to lay siege to a stronghold we can overtake. We cannot tip our hand.”

  Jack gave the Director a long look. “Are there plans to invade Florence?”

  The Director shuffled a few papers on his desk. “Since your protégé was a pet, she will have to be exorcised on arrival.”

  Jack touched the cross he always kept in his pocket. “I will see to it personally.”

  “I have already directed some of our agents to secure the body of the fiancé. We can’t allow an autopsy to go forward, if he was killed by a vampyre.” The Director made the sign of the cross. “You are dismissed.”

  Jack bowed and withdrew to the door.

  “Father Kavanaugh.” The Director’s voice interrupted his movements.

  He turned. “Yes?”

  “The most recent intelligence out of Florence indicates that Machiavelli has been executed.”