The Roman

by Sylvain Reynard

  Her fingers were black from the charcoal an hour later when her cell phone rang.

  Father Kavanaugh.

  She declined the call.

  A few seconds later, he called again.

  She declined the call.

  He called again.

  With a huff, she tossed her charcoal aside, wiped her hands on a cloth, and answered the phone. “Yes?”

  “Raven, where are you?” Father’s tone was anything but casual.

  “I’m in Florence.”

  “Where in Florence?”

  “I’m not going to tell you that. Where are you? Where’s Cara?”

  “You need to leave Florence at once. It’s very dangerous. There are—”

  “I’m fine,” she interrupted. “Tell me about Cara.”

  The priest paused, and Raven heard something muffled in the background.

  “I’m back in Italy. Cara is in Miami with your mother.”

  “How could you?” Raven reproached him. “You just deliver her to our mother, after everything?”

  “Cara needed a place to stay until she’s ready to return to the house she shared with her fiancé.” Father cleared his throat. “Raven, you have to leave Florence. Things are falling apart, and I won’t be able to protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection.”

  “Don’t hang up!” Father shouted.

  Again, Raven could hear something muffled in the background, as if the priest was in a moving car.

  “I heard what you said. I’m not leaving the city. Call me when you want to talk about Cara.” Raven tapped her screen to end the call.

  Father called again.

  She declined.

  He called again, and she let it ring.

  She picked up her charcoal and returned to her drawing. Art had always provided a solace for her, as well as an occupation. She was glad to forget her strife with Father Kavanaugh and her anxiety over her sister, and lose herself in her sketch.

  Fifteen minutes later, a loud, shrieking alarm sounded.

  Raven covered her ears. She couldn’t tell if it was a fire alarm or a burglar alarm, but the sound was deafening.

  She picked up her cane and had begun to walk toward the door when Lucia stormed in, bolting it behind her.

  “There’s been a security breach. Someone has come over the fence.” Lucia took her arm and hurried her toward one of the bookshelves. “You need to evacuate.”

  “Evacuate?” Raven looked around the room. “Can’t we call the police?”

  “This is the protocol. His lordship will be notified, but he’s unreachable at the moment.” Lucia opened a drawer and withdrew a flashlight, a cell phone, and a piece of paper, all of which she thrust into Raven’s hands. She touched a volume on the bookshelf, and the entire bookcase swung inward.

  Lucia escorted Raven to the secret entrance. “Go down the staircase. Turn right. Go to the end of the corridor. Enter the number written on that piece of paper in the keypad next to the door. It will open to reveal a passage that runs beneath the city. Make sure you close the door behind you.”

  “Wait.” Raven planted her feet. “What about you? What about Ambrogio?”

  “We’re following his lordship’s orders.”

  “Forget about that! You need to come with me.”

  Lucia stared at her impassively. “His lordship’s orders are always obeyed. Once you enter the passage, you’ll find a network of tunnels. His lordship will find you, but you must go now. The intruders are armed.”

  Lucia pushed her through the door as the sound of heavy, booted footsteps echoed from outside the library.

  Someone began rattling the door handle.

  “Hurry.” Lucia pushed her again and retreated, closing the secret door.

  Raven was left standing in total darkness.

  She fumbled with the flashlight, and a beam of light shone down the spiral staircase.

  The stairs were familiar, but Raven couldn’t remember when she’d seen them. Perhaps the night William had taken her to see her stepfather.

  Her stomach rolled.

  She limped awkwardly down the stairs, breathing shallowly against the damp air. It smelled musty and ancient.

  A long corridor lay at the foot of the staircase, punctuated by a series of wooden doors.

  Raven heard noises from above—loud footfalls and raised voices.

  She quickened her pace, walking with as much speed as she could muster toward the door at the far end of the corridor.

  She heard more footfalls above. Something began to thud loudly and repeatedly.

  As she approached the door at the end of the corridor, she saw a numbered keypad.

  She put her cane aside, fumbling for the piece of paper Lucia had thrust at her. She shone the flashlight on it so she could see the numbers.

  Someone shouted above her, and she heard the clatter of things being thrown to the library floor.

  With shaking fingers, she punched in the code. The keypad beeped at her and…

  Nothing.

  She tried the door and was surprised to find it opened easily.

  Blocking out the sounds from the library upstairs, she grabbed her cane and passed through the door. She closed it quickly and leaned against it, taking a deep breath.

  Something slithered across her foot. Without thinking of the consequences, she screamed.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “WE COULD BLOW THE DOOR.” The commander of the Curia’s special forces unit banged his fist against the secret door he’d uncovered. “But the local police are probably on their way. We don’t have much time.”

  Father Kavanaugh stood next to him in the Prince’s library, holding Raven’s cell phone. “She left her phone. I have no way of tracking her now.”

  “We came prepared to storm Palazzo Riccardi.” Commander Sullivan’s tone was testy, his New York accent more pronounced. “You didn’t provide schematics for this building.”

  “Our sources told us there was a secondary residence, but no one believed it could be this one. There are relics here.”

  The commander shrugged. “You’re the Padre.”

  “Nothing at the seminary prepared me for this,” Father muttered.

  “We agreed to a simple extraction, Padre, off book. I can give you until an hour before sunset and then me and my guys are packing up and getting out, with or without the girl.”

  Father stared at the soldier incredulously. “We can’t leave her.”

  “I’m not getting hemmed in here after dark with only nine guys.”

  Father tugged at his beard. “What do you suggest?”

  “We traced the SIM card in her cell phone. She was in this room until we came over the wall. Behind the door there could be a safe room or access to a tunnel. We can enter the tunnel system outside and do a sweep. But we aren’t armed for a large-scale engagement.”

  “Do you have time to locate the relics?”

  “Negative. We need to vacate before hostiles get the drop on us.”

  The priest glanced around the room. It was in chaos. Papers and books had been flung on the floor as the soldiers searched for a hidden exit. They’d succeeded in antagonizing the Prince without securing Raven.

  He’d failed his mission and was probably about to be ousted from the Curia, if not defrocked.

  But he wasn’t going to give up.

  “Let’s find the tunnels,” he told the commander, who ordered his team to retreat.

  Father took one last look around before pocketing Raven’s cell phone.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  AOIBHE TOUCHED HER SHORN LOCKS, comparing them with the longer strands of her hair. She’d been stripped of her position in the Consilium and barred from her usual seat of honor near the throne. She’d been forced to stand by t
he wall, guarded by two soldiers, while the Prince attended to the business of state.

  Ibarra hadn’t informed her of his plan to kill a policeman and hang his body for the world to see.

  She had to admit, it was a devious and ingenious way to destabilize the principality. She should have gone into hiding to see how it played out.

  Now she was the Prince’s prisoner and assured of death, since she’d been unable to lead him to Ibarra.

  She cursed him. If she ever set eyes on Ibarra again, she’d destroy him herself.

  Her poor hair.

  A vampyre’s nails and hair grew terribly slowly. It had taken decades for her to grow the long, lustrous locks that were her crowning glory. Now her hair was horribly asymmetrical. She wanted to weep.

  “My Lord?” A hesitant voice came from the door to the council chamber.

  The Prince gestured to Theodore, one of his servants from Palazzo Riccardi, to come forward. “What is it?”

  “An urgent message from the villa, my Lord.” As he approached the throne, Theodore glanced at Aoibhe.

  “Come closer,” the Prince beckoned.

  The servant moved close enough to whisper. “The villa has been breached. I’m told your pet was able to escape into the tunnels.”

  William gripped Theodore by the shirt. “When?”

  “Within the hour. It took time for the message to be relayed because the intruders held Lucia and Ambrogio hostage.”

  “What news of my pet?”

  “None, my Lord.” Theodore blinked rapidly. “She must still be in the tunnels.”

  “Find out from Ambrogio if there’s any way for her location to be determined. Report back immediately.”

  Theodore nodded, and the Prince released him. “What is the state of the villa?”

  “The servants are trying to repair the damage done by the intruders.” Theodore cleared his throat. “Ambrogio reports that one of the men wore a clerical collar and spoke of intelligence sources.”

  A strange kind of silence filled the council chamber as both the Prince and Aoibhe absorbed the servant’s ominous revelation.

  “Tell Ambrogio to ready himself in case we need to initiate the Geneva protocol. And fetch Gregor,” the Prince added, pressing a fist over his mouth.

  The servant bowed a second time and scurried away.

  “What’s the Geneva protocol?” Aoibhe asked, her expression curious.

  “None of your concern,” the Prince snapped.

  Wisely, Aoibhe clamped her mouth shut.

  A few minutes later, Gregor appeared, looking a good deal more harried than usual. “My Lord?”

  “We have a security breach. Armed men, one with a clerical collar.” The Prince glared at his head of security. “Perhaps you were going to inform me of this?”

  “Pardon, my Lord.” Gregor bowed very low. “I was just informed. But I can tell you that the priest is a member of the Curia, a man called Kavanaugh. The team appear to be one of the Curia’s special forces units.”

  Aoibhe gasped.

  The Prince cursed. “How many are they?”

  “A unit of ten, plus the priest, my Lord.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “They were seen entering the tunnel system near the Piazzale Michelangelo.”

  “Wake the army and place them on the highest alert. Send the General to me immediately. Send a message to Rome, informing the king that the Curia has made an illegal incursion. Ask for his support.

  “Tell Commander Borek to put together a team of his own and have them report to me here.” The Prince stood, his black velvet robe billowing behind him as he strode down the stairs from his throne.

  “Yes, my Lord. Shall I inform the commander of his mission?”

  The Prince stopped. “We’re hunting Curia. Tell them to arm accordingly.”

  If Gregor could have gone pale, he would have. He bowed quickly and raced out of the council chamber, all decorum cast aside.

  “You can’t be serious.” Aoibhe stood, her expression drawn and anxious.

  The Prince glared. “At the moment, there are only eleven of them. They must be destroyed before others join them. Even if the Roman sends soldiers immediately using modern transport, they won’t arrive before sunset. We have no choice but to engage the invaders now.”

  “We can’t fight the Curia and win.”

  “But we can die trying.” He gave her a challenging look. “You have a chance to extend your life, Aoibhe. Join me or die on the spot.”

  Aoibhe withdrew a step. “You would commit suicide? For what? A city? A pet?”

  The Prince’s eyes glittered. “I’ve grown tired of your insolence. Choose.”

  She watched him for a long moment. She nodded.

  The Prince turned on his heel and approached the door, with Aoibhe trailing after him.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  RAVEN SCREAMED and nearly dropped the flashlight.

  The thing that had crawled over her foot retreated, its own feet making a scratching noise against the hard dirt floor.

  She shone the light ahead in the tunnel and saw a large rat trotting away. It turned and stared back at her.

  She shivered.

  The tunnel was damp, and the scent of earth and decay filled her nostrils.

  She kept her flashlight pointed toward the ground in front of her as she leaned on her cane, her eyes darting warily to and fro.

  When she’d gone a thousand feet, she pulled out the cell phone. It was different from her own, but simply arranged. There were only a few applications visible on the screen.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t get a signal.

  It took patience and a few minutes to check out the different applications, but eventually she discovered a compass. She found north, which meant she could walk in the direction of the city center. She doubted the tunnels were dug in straight lines. That, coupled with her disability, made the journey from the Piazzale Michelangelo to the city center seem interminable.

  Raven put the phone away, since it was impossible to hold it, the flashlight, and her cane all at once.

  She continued walking through the tunnel, pausing from time to time in an effort to hear whether someone was coming. All she could hear was the occasional scurry of rats or the distant sound of dripping water.

  A few times she passed other tunnels that branched off. On each occasion she stopped to check her compass, continuing to travel north.

  She’d been on foot for almost an hour when she felt the hairs lift on the back of her neck. A sudden gust of wind swirled past her.

  Something yanked the flashlight out of her hand and switched it off. She heard it thud to the ground.

  A low laugh sounded nearby.

  She was bathed in absolute darkness, completely disoriented. Something cool grabbed her wrist, toying with the bracelet William had given her.

  “Here is the Prince’s pet. Where is your master?”

  She pulled her arm away, shrinking from the direction of the voice. “He’s right behind me.”

  The voice sounded amused. “I doubt that. It seems the Prince has left his precious pet all alone. How careless of him.”

  “Who are you?”

  The voice laughed again.

  Raven’s heart began to pound. She held her hand out, attempting to locate the wall so she could inch along it. “Show yourself.”

  The voice moved closer. “Reveal the spider to the fly? This is far more entertaining.”

  “If you’re weak.” Raven’s hand found the wall and she began moving, tightening her grip on her cane.

  “Weak?”

  “If you’re a vampyre, you can see in the dark. I thought such a powerful species wouldn’t need an advantage.”

  The voice growled.

  Raven lifted her cane,
wielding it as a weapon.

  Out of the darkness, the flashlight switched on, shining in Raven’s direction.

  “I know what I look like,” she complained, squinting against the bright light. “Who are you?”

  The light swung away, and Raven saw the figure of a male vampyre with thick, dark hair and glittering, dark eyes.

  He smiled, arms stretched wide. “I am the resurrection of the dead.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  AT THE SIGHT OF HIS LIEUTENANT, the Roman tossed the man he’d been feeding from aside, unhurriedly arranging his imperial robes to cover his lower body.

  The naked man fell to the floor and was quickly removed from the throne room by a pair of Praetorian guards.

  The Roman wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Am I never to have pleasure without interruption?”

  He turned his back on his lieutenant and ascended the steps to the throne. He arranged his robes leisurely, licking his lips.

  “I beg pardon, your excellency, but you gave permission for me to enter.” Cato walked briskly toward the throne.

  “Cave,” the Roman growled.

  Cato prostrated himself before his ruler.

  “Why are you here?” The Roman’s voice resumed its normal tone.

  “There are disturbing reports from Florence.” Cato’s voice was muffled, as he spoke against the mosaic tile floor.

  “Get up.”

  Cato struggled to stand, his toga catching beneath one of his feet. “A policeman was found dead, naked, and drained of his blood in a piazza in the city center.”

  “And?”

  Cato frowned. “Panic has ensued, your excellency. Photographs of the body have been sent around the world. There are discussions about the existence of vampyres in Florence and the suggestion that the policeman was murdered by one.”

  The Roman’s gaze fell on one of the frescoes. He studied it intently, but offered no comment.

  “Your excellency, although we haven’t received any formal communication from the Curia, our spies have revealed that a small group of black robes has entered Florence.”