The Roman

by Sylvain Reynard

  Raven followed, catching Monsieur Marchand’s last words, “—military-style convoy, with diplomatic plates.”

  “Where?” asked William, his eyes meeting Raven’s.

  “Just outside the city, sir.”

  “And the intelligence report?”

  “We have been unable to identify the convoy, sir. If they’re headed here, they’ll arrive in thirty minutes.”

  “Right. We’re leaving at once. Prepare for our departure.” William hung up the phone.

  Raven grabbed his hand. “Curia?”

  “We don’t know, but I don’t want to take the chance. Pack whatever you can’t live without.”

  Raven twined her fingers with his. “You. You are what I can’t live without.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

  Within twenty minutes, Raven and William had changed their appearances and were carrying Swiss diplomatic passports.

  A decoy Mercedes had already left the Trivium through the back gates, heading for Geneva Airport.

  Raven and William rode in a black Range Rover with diplomatic plates, accompanied by a driver and an armed guard, heading south to the French border.

  Another twenty minutes and they had crossed into France, entering Saint-Julien-en-Genevois, where a private jet waited for them.

  Raven held her breath as the plane taxied on the airfield. Anxiously, she surveyed their surroundings and the snow-capped mountains in the distance.

  Next to her, William exhaled loudly and drew a deep breath.

  “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered, her gaze sweeping the landscape. “It has to be.”

  The plane took off, and when they’d finally reached their cruising altitude, William began to relax.

  Raven gave him an encouraging smile. “You still haven’t told me what happened to you.”

  “I will,” he cleared his throat. “But I think we need to discuss our next steps first.”

  He turned in his seat to face her. “I want to live the rest of my days with you, in safety. If you want to stay in Europe, we can. But I believe it will be safer for us to go far, far away. At least for the near future.”

  “Where would we go?”

  “I own property around the world. My recommendation is that we place as much distance between us and the Curia as possible. I own a secret island in French Polynesia, near Bora Bora. We can travel to the island in about a day and a half.”

  “What about the pilots? Can they fly that far?”

  “They’re being well paid. They will take us wherever we want to go.”

  Raven’s mouth widened into a smile. “You want to take me to Tahiti?”

  “Thereabouts.”

  “Okay.”

  He chuckled. “You don’t want to think about it?”

  Raven turned and looked out the window. She examined the landscape beneath them and the snowy Alps that climbed to the clouds.

  When she spoke, her tone was wistful. “I miss my sister. I hope someday I’ll be able to tell her I’m alive. But I don’t want to do anything that will make her a target for the Curia or anyone else. I agree we need to disappear.” Raven half-smiled. “Tahiti is warm. You can join me in the sunshine now.”

  “It doesn’t have to be forever.” William’s face grew serious. “But the island is the safest place I can think of for now.”

  “What’s the island called?”

  William grinned sheepishly. “I always referred to it as the island. You’ll have to pick a name for it.”

  He sat back in his seat and rested his head against the headrest. “Now it’s time for me to explain what happened…”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  “AFTER I FELT MY SOUL LEAVE MY BODY, everything went dark. My first thought was that I’d failed you. I’d failed the city and my people. I’d failed my teacher.” William’s voice grew thick.

  At Raven’s signal, the flight attendant retrieved two bottles of water from the mini bar and opened them, pouring the water over ice.

  William drank the water gratefully. “Do you remember the story of Guido da Montefeltro?”

  “Yes, I think we talked about this once. Dante tells Guido’s story in the Inferno. Guido claimed that St. Francis of Assisi came for his soul when he died but lost it to a demon.”

  “Yes.” William studied her.

  “You aren’t telling me that St. Francis came for your soul?”

  “No.” His gaze dropped to the carpet of the plane. “But I saw my teacher.

  “I thought I was dead, but I could hear voices. I could hear my teacher arguing with someone, arguing about my soul. And then, all of a sudden, my teacher said, ‘He is not dead.’ And I realized I was still alive.” William’s eyes lifted.

  “You saw him?”

  “I’d know him anywhere. I recognized his voice, his face. He was there. He spoke to me.” William stopped, momentarily overcome.

  “I was given mercy—a second chance. When I opened my eyes, I was alone, lying on a table.

  “I realize now I was in the hospital in Florence. But at that moment, I had no idea where I was. My memory of being a vampyre was completely gone. I couldn’t even remember listening to my teacher a moment earlier. All I could remember was his death and being in mourning in Fossanova. That’s where I thought I was.

  “I was half-naked, so I wrapped a sheet around my body, determined to return to the monastery. I stumbled outside and collapsed in the street.

  “I’m not sure how long I was there, but someone found me.” William hesitated.

  “Who?”

  “A Dominican. My mind was so scrambled, I couldn’t speak Italian or English. I could only speak Latin and Anglo-Norman. The brother thought I was mad and tried to take me back to the hospital, but I kept telling him I was a Dominican and my teacher had just died. I think he brought me to the Dominican House just to placate me.”

  “But what about the Curia? Aren’t the Dominicans part of them?”

  “Some of them are. But these brothers seemed to have no knowledge of what had transpired at the Duomo, and they certainly didn’t recognize me. The Dominican who rescued me took me to an older brother whose Latin was better, and I explained to him who I was.

  “They gave me some clothes and some food. They gave me a place to sleep. It was clear they had no idea what to do with me, and I think several of them wanted to send me back to the hospital. But the old Dominican was adamant that I stay with them. Whatever they thought I was or what I was suffering, they knew I wasn’t a vampyre. There were relics all over the house.”

  “Relics never bothered you anyway.”

  “Not much, that’s true.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “I think the relics that belonged to my teacher never bothered me because he never rejected me.” Emotion colored William’s voice. “He prayed for me, hoping I would find my way back to God. He never lost that hope.”

  “You believe, then? You believe in God again?”

  “Yes, but I can say that I never stopped believing in him completely. You were the one who told me you thought my teacher would have compassion for me for reaching out to the Roman when I was in despair. Even as I took what he offered me, I regretted it. It wasn’t what I wanted; I just wanted my teacher. I begged him to help me, and I know now that he did.”

  Raven shifted in her seat so she could see William more clearly. “The voice we heard during the exorcism, it said despair. What was that?”

  “I’m not sure,” William hedged. “From the moment I transformed into a vampyre, I felt the darkness of despair surround me. It was like drinking what I’d thought was the water of life only to discover it was poisoned.”

  “So vampirism was your punishment for giving in to despair?”

  “No.” William shook his head emp
hatically. “The Roman offered me power, and wealth, and sonship. Because I had given up hope of having a good life without my teacher, I willingly took what the Roman offered. But I regretted the choice immediately. My teacher said the transformation was incomplete. Perhaps that’s why I could walk on holy ground and handle relics. I didn’t give in to despair entirely, and because of that and the prayers of my teacher, I never acquired the full nature of a vampyre.”

  Raven pondered what he’d said. “I guess it wasn’t a coincidence you were found by a Dominican.”

  William smiled. “I don’t think so. The brothers could have sent me back to the hospital. I’m sure the Curia was looking for my body. But the brothers kept me while I regained my strength. Then, several weeks later, they took me to Fossanova.

  “I had no memory beyond 1274. One of the Dominicans thought it might help to bring me to the monastery where my teacher died. A few of the brothers traveled with me.

  “When we arrived, it was as if I’d never left. I was so convinced my teacher’s body was there. I was so convinced my brothers were still there. Of course, they weren’t.

  “I spent a lot of time in the monastery and praying in the chapel, trying to figure out what had happened. I’d always had a good memory. I’d always been strong. I felt so weak, so powerless.

  “One night I climbed to the top of a nearby hill.” William cleared his throat. “It was the same hill where the Roman found me.

  “I was there for some time, trying to figure out what to do. That’s when everything flashed before me. I fell to my knees, overwhelmed by my memories. I remembered the Roman and my transformation. I remembered traveling to Florence and deposing the old prince. I remembered you.”

  He brushed Raven’s knuckles with his thumb. “As soon as I remembered you, I wanted to leave. I’d made arrangements before Machiavelli’s coup for you to have safe passage out of the city. I chose Prague because I thought it would be the safest place, away from vampyres and Curia alike. But even though I paid Sarah’s network well, I was worried they’d failed. What if the Curia had you? What if they’d already erased your memories? I had to find you.

  “I had nothing—no passport, no money. I went to the brothers and explained that my memory had returned. I was a businessman, I was married, and I urgently needed to get to Geneva so I could locate you.”

  “You lied?” Raven poked him in the side.

  “You and I pledged ourselves to one another—first on the Loggia some months ago and again in the Duomo.” He thumbed the ring she wore on her left hand. “We are married.”

  “Agreed.” She lifted his hand and kissed the skin above his gold band. “What did the Dominicans say?”

  “I think some of them continued to believe I was disturbed. Or they thought I was deceiving them. But the others believed me, and they secured a train ticket to Geneva and gave me money to travel. I didn’t have a passport, but the Swiss rarely check passports at the border with Italy. I took the night train and made my way here.” William exhaled loudly. “You know the rest.”

  Raven leaned her head against his shoulder. “How do you feel now?”

  “Different.” William passed a hand over his eyes. “I’m still adjusting to this body. It’s strange to feel my heart beat regularly. It’s strange to have to breathe. I have memories of my human life, long ago, as well as memories of when I was a vampyre. Sometimes I get mixed up.”

  “You don’t feel the urge to drink blood? Or climb the sides of buildings?”

  William pressed his lips to her temple. “No. The first human food I craved was roast venison. I still haven’t had it yet. The Dominicans seem to subsist on fish and chicken.”

  Raven pondered his words as the warmth of his body radiated to hers.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t believe me?” William’s face was stricken.

  “I believe you, but it’s hard for me to balance what I know about the world with what you’ve just described. I don’t believe in God or an afterlife. But I’ve seen things, strange things I can’t explain. I don’t understand the whirlwind we saw in the Duomo. I don’t understand how I could watch you die as a vampyre and now you’re sitting next to me, alive and human.

  “I’m going to hold on to this.” She clutched his arm with both hands. “You are here with me. You are human, and you are alive. For the moment, at least, we are safe. I’m not going to bend myself out of shape trying to figure out how we got here. I would like to know why—why you and why me.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “But human beings don’t know everything. Perhaps that’s best.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Three years later

  Hope Island, near Bora Bora

  RAVEN SAT ON THE COVERED TERRACE of their villa, painting a vista of the island. The breeze blew her long, black hair around her face, forcing her to tie it back.

  From her current vantage point, she could see part of the white sandy beach. A figure appeared, jogging barefoot across the pristine sand.

  The figure seemed to search for her as he jogged. He waved.

  She waved back.

  Her husband continued his jog and disappeared from view.

  She turned to look inside the house, through the enormous space where the side walls had been retracted. Beautiful paintings hung in the living room and beyond, in their bedroom.

  The architecture and design of French Polynesia was at odds with the style of the Italian Renaissance, but she didn’t care. This was their home. Their refuge. Their sanctuary.

  The few original works of their collection they’d had shipped to the island were protected in a closed room that had carefully controlled light, temperature, and humidity. Both Raven and William enjoyed visiting the private galley that included paintings by Michelangelo and Botticelli, among others.

  Beyond the villa, on a hill at the other end of the island, there stood a chapel where her husband spent time in meditation and prayer. Where he sometimes spoke to his teacher. Where she joined him on occasion as she navigated her own uneasy spiritual journey.

  Raven spent her days painting and sketching, much of her work inspired by the island or their time in Italy. William explored the limits of his human body, learning to snorkel and surf. But their evenings were always spent together. They’d tell one another stories next to the fire, or make love on the beach, or simply enjoy one another’s company.

  Most of their art collection was still housed in Geneva, awaiting final decisions of where the various pieces should go. Raven and William had sold several works privately in support of their fund for abused children. The fact that they could continue their support from their island sanctuary gave their lives added meaning.

  Perhaps a day would come when they could travel to America and she could see her sister again. For now, they lived a simple life together while their enemies appeared to be chasing other foes.

  Raven had no idea why William had been spared. She had no idea why they’d been given a second life together. But she lived every day grateful and full of hope.

  FIN

  Epilogue

  December 2013

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  “DARLING, CAN YOU GET THE DOOR?” Julia called to her husband. “I have my hands full.”

  Clare was covered in milk. Somehow, in her exhausted state, Julia hadn’t closed the baby bottle securely and milk had poured all over Clare’s face and body as it splashed to the floor.

  Clare currently sat in the kitchen sink while Julia attempted to separate her from her wet, milky sleeper.

  “Did you order something?” Gabriel stuck his head into the kitchen on his way to the front door.

  “No. It could be Christmas presents.”

  “From whom?”

  The doorbell rang again.

  “I don’t know, Gabriel.” Julia grew impatient. �
��Could you just answer the door?”

  She heard her husband’s solid footsteps crossing the hardwood. She heard the opening of the door, the faint murmur of voices, and the door closing.

  Gabriel entered the kitchen carrying a very large box.

  Julia eyed it curiously. “Who is it from?”

  “Some shipping company I’ve never heard of.”

  “I meant who’s the sender?”

  “The name was left off the label.”

  Gabriel retrieved a knife and began opening the box.

  He pawed through a great pile of Styrofoam packing material in order to uncover another box.

  He cursed.

  “Language,” Julia whispered, angling her head toward Clare.

  “Dada.” Clare giggled and bounced on her backside, cheerfully half-naked and still sitting in the large kitchen sink.

  Gabriel lifted the second, smaller box and placed it on the kitchen table.

  He opened it and sifted through the contents.

  Then he took a very large step back.

  “What is it?” Julia was alarmed by his sudden movement.

  Their eyes met.

  Gabriel reached into the box and pulled out a protective sleeve. Then, very carefully, he opened the protective sleeve and drew out an etching.

  Julia dropped the cloth she’d been holding. “Holy crap.”

  Clare mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like the words her mother had just uttered.

  “There are a lot of them.” Gabriel appeared bewildered. He pulled out more of the sleeves and began arranging them carefully on the table.

  “Are they ours?” Julia’s eyes grew wide.

  Gabriel began checking the sleeves. He found the illustration of Dante and Beatrice in the sphere of Mercury and flipped it over.

  There, on the back of the illustration, was a faint pencil mark. He showed it to Julia. “This one, at least, is ours. I remember the mark.”

  Julia covered her mouth. “They must have found them. Interpol must have found them.”