The Roman

by Sylvain Reynard

  “A small group of black robes won’t fell the city. My son is stronger than that.”

  “If the human population is in chaos and the suggestion that vampyres exist begins to take root, the Curia will act in greater numbers.”

  The Roman turned peering eyes to his lieutenant. “Has the Prince requested our assistance?”

  “Yes, a message has just arrived.” Cato lifted his eyes. “Florence is unstable. Clearly, one of the Prince’s subjects is attempting to unseat him. He survived a Venetian assassination attempt only to crush a coup a short time ago. Now there is the public display of a dead policeman.”

  “Unstable,” the Roman repeated, closing his eyes.

  “The Curia knows you support Florence. That is the only reason they have not marched on the city.”

  The Roman remained silent.

  Cato frowned. He moved a bit closer to the throne. “There are precious few old ones left in Italy. There’s Simonetta of Umbria, but she’s content where she is and would never challenge you. The Prince of Florence might.”

  The Roman’s eyes opened. “What are we speaking about?”

  Cato’s eyebrows drew together. “Your son, excellency, the Prince of Florence.”

  The Roman closed his eyes again. “Ah, yes. My beloved son.”

  Cato coughed theatrically. But the Roman did not open his eyes.

  “If I may speak freely, excellency, I believe the Prince’s visit was a ruse.”

  “To what end?”

  “It’s clear he has some strange attachment to his pet. Why else would he risk the ire of the Curia and come to you for support? He sounds like Faustus of Sardinia.”

  Now the Roman’s eyes opened. “You believe Florence’s conflict with the Curia is caused by the pet?”

  “The Curia wants it. The Prince wants it. The Prince won the last contest of wills by invoking your alliance. But an exsanguinated policeman in full view of the human population is certain to attract Vatican attention, even if the pet were not an issue.”

  “If Florence is not under attack, I have no need to defend it.”

  Cato paused, conflicted as to whether or not he should press the matter. It was not in his interest as an ambitious lieutenant to encourage the Roman to go to war. But the king was capricious and likely to blame him for any missteps.

  “Shall I send word to Florence that we will not send troops?”

  “Tell my son he has my confidence that he can best a few black robes.” The Roman focused on the fresco to his right, the image of a young and beautiful man dressed in Dominican robes being changed by an older, dark-haired man. “Order him to surrender the pet to the Curia and put an end to this petty squabble.

  “I am hungry and require another feeding.” He bared his fangs. “Send in another, something young and fresh.”

  Cato watched his ruler’s expression carefully, surprised by the non sequitur. “I shall procure something for you immediately.”

  “You are dismissed.” The Roman closed his eyes once again.

  Cato bowed, his smile growing wider as he quit the throne room.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  THE VAMPYRE SMILED, arms stretched wide. “I am the resurrection of the dead.”

  Raven frowned. “And a plagiarist. I’ve heard that line before.”

  He studied her for a moment. His smile widened. “You are a wit.”

  “And you are?” She lifted her eyebrows.

  “I am Ibarra of the Euskaldunak.” He bowed theatrically. “Late head of security for the principality of Florence and former Consilium member.”

  “Former? What happened?” Raven stalled.

  “Your master executed me.”

  Raven made a show of inspecting his body, which seemed very fit. “You don’t look executed.”

  “How is it you came to be wandering these tunnels all alone?” he snapped.

  “I’m not alone. I told you, the Prince is with me.”

  “I don’t see him. Perhaps he’s at his villa, resting.” Ibarra moved a step closer. “You aren’t under mind control, that much is certain. Feeding from you will be all the more pleasurable.”

  Raven cringed. She had her cane in hand, but even if she struck him, she could never outrun him. She wondered if she could outsmart him.

  “If you’re going to feed from me, can we at least move somewhere more comfortable? It’s damp down here, and I’m wearing sandals.”

  Ibarra laughed, and the sound echoed. “So the Prince’s pet doesn’t mind someone else feasting on her. Perhaps the reason you’re in this tunnel all alone is because the Prince tired of you?”

  Raven’s heart pounded. If Ibarra thought William no longer wanted her, he’d probably kill her.

  She pretended to be insulted, sticking her nose in the air. “Of course he hasn’t tired of me. He fed from me a short time ago.” She touched the bite mark on her neck.

  Ibarra stood in front of her and pressed two cold fingers to her throat.

  His dark eyes met hers. “It’s a pity he fed from you so recently. I intend to use you hard before letting him know I have you. I can’t have you dying on me.”

  His hand smoothed down her neck and trailed across her collarbone, which was exposed in her sundress.

  Raven’s hand tightened on her cane. She knew if she attacked him now, he would likely knock her unconscious or worse.

  Surely William was aware of the security breach at the villa by now. He would come looking for her. Her best chance for survival without serious injury was to accompany Ibarra willingly.

  She placed a hand on her hip. “Can I have the flashlight? I can’t see very well.”

  Ibarra switched the flashlight off. A crash sounded, as if he’d thrown it against the wall.

  “I can’t see!” Raven protested.

  “I suppose you’ll have to stay with me.” Ibarra grabbed her elbow. He began pulling her forward.

  Raven continued to use her cane, exaggerating her disability so as to slow their pace to a crawl.

  “Faster,” Ibarra hissed, almost pulling her off her feet. “I’d like to make it to new quarters before sunset.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  Ibarra tugged her cane out of her hand and threw it away, then lifted her into his arms.

  “Much more comfortable.” His nose brushed her neck. “You smell delicious.”

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Ibarra lifted his head. “What?”

  “I have to use the toilet. Can we move this along?” Raven squinted against the darkness, trying to see. But it was no use.

  “Humans are disgusting,” Ibarra muttered.

  “Vampyres are parasites,” she retorted.

  Ibarra ignored her remark and started jogging through the tunnel.

  Raven kept her eyes closed.

  She was forced to place her arm behind his neck, simply to hang on. Ibarra moved at a high rate of speed, jostling her from time to time.

  He seemed to enjoy it, however.

  They ran for some time, and all the while, Raven’s mind raced from scenario to scenario, trying to think of a means of escape. If he took her to a house that had a bathroom, perhaps she could crawl out the window. It was at that moment she remembered the cell phone in her pocket.

  She hoped Ibarra wouldn’t find it.

  Her vampyre captor made a number of turns, so many that Raven had no idea in what direction they were headed.

  Abruptly, he stopped. His body went still.

  “What is it?” She opened her eyes.

  “Listen,” he whispered.

  Raven couldn’t hear anything. “What’s happening?”

  Ibarra placed her on her feet and shoved her against the wall, putting his body in front of hers. “Be quiet,” he ordered.

 
Raven pressed herself against the damp earth, shrinking away from him.

  He simply moved closer, his back flush with her front.

  Raven didn’t like the experience of being pressed against damp dirt by Ibarra, but she surmised he was trying to cover her, and perhaps mask her scent as well.

  She strained her ears for the slightest sound.

  In the distance, she could hear a low hum.

  The hum grew louder as it approached, morphing into the frenzied cacophony of multiple footsteps.

  A gust of wind swirled past, accompanied by the pounding of feet, as if a herd of animals was stampeding toward them. Raven cringed as the terrible noise approached, along with the sounds of curses and shoving.

  She held her breath, worrying she would draw the creatures’ attention.

  Then Ibarra’s body was gone.

  “What is it? What’s happening?” he asked.

  “Curia. In the tunnels,” a panicked voice responded.

  “Curia? Are you sure?” Ibarra sounded incredulous.

  “They felled four of us. They’re right behind me!”

  There were sounds of a struggle and the noise of footfalls moving away.

  Ibarra inhaled, slowly and deeply.

  “I can’t scent them. We need to run.” His voice was tight.

  He hefted Raven over his shoulder and took off. She fisted the fabric of his shirt with both hands, trying to hang on.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  FATHER KAVANAUGH WAITED at the entrance to the tunnel for the special forces unit to secure it. The commander in charge had given him a communications link so he could speak with the team. He was not invited to join them.

  He had no intention of retreating. He was armed with holy water and relics and willing to lay down his life for the woman he thought of as a daughter. Even so, he followed orders, pacing the entrance while the soldiers attempted to track Raven.

  He’d been waiting about twenty minutes when he heard footsteps.

  He exited the entrance and wisely stood in sunlight, partially hidden by an obliging tree.

  Sullivan and his men ran out of the tunnel. The commander spotted the priest and signaled to him to follow them.

  “We ran into a nest. We took down four, and the others retreated, but our mission is compromised. We need to evacuate now.” Sullivan’s tone was abrupt.

  Father struggled to keep up with him. “Any sign of her?”

  “Negative. We didn’t get very far.” The commander gestured to his men to increase their pace.

  They jogged about a mile to where two black Suburbans had been parked and climbed in. The engines roared to life, and they screeched away from the curb.

  Father’s cell phone vibrated.

  He glanced at the screen. The Director of Intelligence of the Curia had sent him a text.

  Update your position and status immediately.

  Father was not in the habit of cursing, but a curse word or two entered his consciousness. (Also, he was not in the habit of texting.)

  He ignored the message and returned his phone to his pocket.

  Sullivan, who was seated in the front passenger seat, turned around to look at him. “Is that the old man?”

  Father nodded.

  “In a few minutes, everyone will know we’re here.” The commander jerked his chin at the driver. “Step on it.”

  The priest’s phone vibrated again as the Suburbans formed a military convoy and sped away from the villa.

  Other Curia agents are inside the city.

  Advise of your position and status immediately.

  Now Father cursed aloud.

  “Padre?” Sullivan addressed him.

  “There are other Curia agents inside the city. I have to make contact.”

  The commander swore.

  Father Kavanaugh touched the screen on his phone and pressed the device to his ear.

  The intelligence director answered on the first ring. “I know you’re in Florence, and I know who you’re with. Advise me of your position.”

  “During our incursion, we discovered that the Prince’s residence housed some powerful relics.”

  There was a short pause on the other end of the line. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. We traced the pet to a villa, and local intelligence confirmed it’s the primary residence. The unit I’m with can corroborate the presence of relics.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Near the Church of San Miniato, heading to the highway. We’re on our way out.”

  The director’s voice was loud enough to fill the vehicle. “You are to proceed to the Jesuit safe house near the Duomo, immediately.”

  The commander ripped the phone out of the priest’s hand.

  “Sir, this is Sullivan. We did a sweep of an underground tunnel and encountered a nest. Several hostiles escaped before they could be neutralized. We need to evacuate.”

  “This is a direct order. There are over a hundred agents inside the city. Three centuries of soldiers are en route from Rome. You are to report to the safe house and take your orders from General Vale.”

  “Yes, sir. I didn’t know the General was here.”

  “As always, there is a point to my orders, which is why I approved your mission.”

  Father Kavanaugh sputtered at the revelation.

  “Yes, Jesuit,” the director patronized. “I knew exactly what you were planning, and I gave Sullivan and his team permission to accept your proposal because I wanted them inside the city.” The director paused. “Providentially, the Roman has withdrawn his support until the Prince surrenders the girl. That is all.”

  The commander disconnected the call and tossed the cell phone back to the priest.

  “Make a U-turn,” Sullivan ordered the driver. “We’re going downtown.”

  The commander flicked on his communication link. “Rover two, change of plans. We’re pulling a U-turn and heading downtown. Over.”

  “Copy that,” the driver of the second vehicle replied.

  Father Kavanaugh crossed himself, and his hand went to the relic he carried in his pocket. “War?”

  The commander kept his eyes fixed on the road. “They don’t send General Vale to tea parties.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  IBARRA SPRINTED AS FAST as he could while Raven bounced on his shoulder, her skirts flying.

  She clutched at his shirt, a myriad of thoughts rattling in her mind. She hoped the vampyres had mistaken hunters for the Curia. But that seemed like a remote possibility.

  Her thoughts moved to William. If the Curia had entered Florence, they must have done so ignoring the Roman’s support. She wondered how many Curia soldiers were inside the city. She wondered if war had begun.

  They’d been running for ten minutes when Ibarra slowed. He turned in a circle, his body tense, as if he were combing the silent tunnels for sound.

  “They aren’t following us.” His body relaxed somewhat. “Whoever they are.”

  “Do you think it’s the Curia?”

  Ibarra’s body jerked. “You know about them?”

  “I’m the Prince’s pet, remember? I hear things.”

  Ibarra swore in Basque. “If the Curia are here, the devil take us all.”

  Raven ruminated on that for a moment.

  Then, without warning, she found herself flying through the air.

  Something reached out to catch her.

  Still surrounded by darkness, she was confused. Cursing and scuffling could be heard close by.

  Raven was placed on her feet, and the person who’d caught her withdrew.

  “You should have stayed in Rome.” An Irish-accented voice spoke. “You’re the most unlucky human I’ve ever met.”

  “Aoibhe.” Raven’s voice was shaky.

  The vampyre sniffe
d in response.

  “William?” Raven groped for him in the darkness.

  A familiar hand stroked her face. “Are you injured?”

  She grabbed his hand. “There are Curia soldiers in the tunnel. A group of vampyres ran past us, saying they’d been attacked.”

  “Is that true?” The Prince seemed to turn away from her.

  “True.” Ibarra groaned, his voice coming from the ground.

  “How many?”

  “I didn’t stay to count them,” Ibarra retorted.

  “Captain Borek, take your men and continue into the tunnel. If you encounter Curia soldiers, engage them. Send one of your men back to report your position,” the Prince commanded.

  “Yes, sir,” Borek replied.

  Raven heard footsteps pass, echoing in the tunnel.

  “Aoibhe, escort the traitor to the council chamber. If either of you tries to escape, I’ll rip your heads off.” The Prince’s calm tone belied the threat in his words.

  He pulled Raven against his chest and flew with her through the tunnel.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “YOU TOUCHED WHAT IS MINE.” The Prince was quiet, but loud enough to be heard in the great council chamber.

  Ibarra stood before the throne, flanked by ten soldiers.

  At the Prince’s behest, Raven sat in a chair to his right, watching the politics of reality unfold.

  The Basque spat on the ground. “You executed me.”

  “It seems you found your head.” The Prince’s gaze flickered to Aoibhe. “Or rather, someone found it for you.

  “Ibarra of the Euskaldunak, did you kill a policeman and suspend his body in the Loggia dei Lanzi?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Aoibhe assist you?”

  Ibarra grimaced. “I acted alone.”

  “You lie. You have committed treason against the principality of Florence, and you have violated our treaty with the Curia. For your punishment, you are to be held until you can be delivered to them. Unlike mine, their execution will no doubt be successful.”

  Ibarra took a step forward, but was restrained by a soldier. “Execute me now. Death at your hand would at least be honorable.”