Текст книги "The Raven"

Автор книги: Sylvain Reynard

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

“When you ask me to stay, I’ll stay.” He shifted to his side and placed his hand on her abdomen.

“We’re still searching for the hunters. The patrols need my help.”

She looked at him askance. “You left the search so you could kiss me?”

William lifted the hem of her T-shirt and slid his hand over her bare skin, back and forth, back and forth. “Is that an objection?”

She shook her head.

William continued his movements, lightly tracing the curves of her waist. “Tell me what happened at the Uffizi today.”

She placed her hand over his, stilling his movements. She found it difficult to think while he was touching her.

She recounted her conversations with Patrick and with Batelli, explaining how the inspector had threatened her with a formal questioning.

“Don’t worry about that.” William slid his hand to her hip and squeezed.

“He heard me talking on the phone to Ambrogio about Agent Savola. If he goes to the public prosecutor and has me brought in for questioning, I’m sunk.”

“There’s a security guard at the Uffizi who’s part of our network. He made a videotape of Batelli’s encounter with you and presented it to the director of the Uffizi this afternoon.

“He also sent me a copy. There wasn’t any sound from the security cameras, but what I saw was extremely damaging to the inspector. He accosted you, shouted at you, and tried to prevent you from leaving. The director reported him to his superiors and he was escorted from the gallery.”

Raven was surprised. “No one at work said anything.”

“Since the investigation at the Uffizi is ongoing, I’m sure things are sensitive.” He brought his face closer to hers. “When I promised to protect you, I meant it. No one, human or vampyre, is going to intimidate or harm you.”

She kissed him, bringing her hand up to brush through his hair. “Thank you.”

“The inspector is still in charge of the investigation but he’s been ordered to stay away from you and he’s been formally reprimanded. Now the police can’t bring you in for questioning in connection with the Interpol agent’s disappearance, even if they wanted to.” William tugged a lock of her hair. “The outcome is better than expected.”

Impulsively, Raven wrapped her arms around him, shoving her face into his neck.

William seemed taken aback by her reaction, but he recovered, hugging her back. “What’s that for?”

“For helping me. I’m used to having to rely on myself.”

“I’m more than willing to help you, in almost anything. Just say the word.”

“He scared me,” she whispered. She’d become emboldened, perhaps by their closeness.

William held her more tightly. “I could see that. But you stood your ground.”

“I didn’t realize it was Agent Savola who was killed by the feral. I didn’t get a good look at him.”

William brought his lips to her neck.

“Um, I spoke to Professor Urbano about the restoration of Primavera.”

William ignored her remark and continued to kiss her throat.

“When I was in the archives I noticed that Botticelli changed Mercury’s hair color and length.”

“I told him to,” William murmured against her skin.

It took a moment for Raven to process his remark.

“Because?”

“Because he was trying to paint me into the painting. I instructed him to adjust the features and the hair.”

“Mercury still looks like you.”

“Perhaps. But Zephyr doesn’t.” He kissed her once again, moving to the indentation at the base of her throat.

“Why doesn’t Urbano know what’s in the radiographs? He worked on the restoration with Baldini.”

“Probably because I used mind control to adjust his memory.”

“You did that?” She pushed back to look at him.

“Of course.” He frowned. “Their interest in Mercury would have raised questions. I’ve been known to visit the Uffizi on occasion. I didn’t want to be recognized.”

“How did you get into the gallery the night you took the illustrations?”

“Don’t ask those kinds of questions.” He nibbled on her skin.

“I can’t help it. It bothers me.”

He pulled away, his eyes hard.

“They were stolen from me. I’ve owned them since Botticelli completed them. I had no idea where they were until they materialized at the Uffizi over a century after they were taken from my home.”

“Wait a minute. You said Botticelli completed them?”

“Of course.” He sounded cross.

“But they’re copies, made by one of his students. The originals are in the Vatican and the Staatliche Museen in Berlin.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on William’s lips.

“No, the illustrations in Rome and Berlin are copies. I own the originals.”

“Holy shit.” Raven clapped a hand to her mouth.

Now William was grinning.

“During the Renaissance, I took an interest in human affairs. There were tremendous innovations in architecture, science, painting, and sculpture. I moved in human circles from time to time.

“Botticelli heard rumors about my true nature and decided to illustrate it in the original version of Primavera. I appear as Mercury and as Zephyr. A human woman who fell in love with me was the model for Chloris as well as the second of the three Graces.

“I was angry when I found out what he’d done and intended to kill him. He begged for his life, offering me the painting in question and a set of illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy. I agreed. He completed the copies later on.”

Raven dropped her hand.

“A human woman fell in love with you?”

“Yes,” he replied tersely.

“What happened to her?”

William ground his teeth. “She climbed Giotto’s bell tower at the Duomo and jumped to her death.”

“Good God! Why?”

“Because she fell in love with a monster.” William lowered his voice, his eyes steel gray.

“Did you love her?”

“No.”

Raven felt pain lance through her. Few things were more tragic than unrequited love. It was easy to imagine a young Renaissance woman falling in love with William, only to discover that he was a vampyre.

“I’m sorry.”

“So was I.” He shifted to lie on his back, folding his hands on his chest.

“Was she your pet?”

“No.”

Raven was uncertain what to do with that information. Whatever William’s relationship with the woman, centuries later he was still upset about her death.

She looked over at him as a terrible feeling passed over her. He’d mentioned many disturbing things, but all of a sudden several of them came to mind, forming a picture she did not like.

She decided to change their topic of conversation. “Are you hungry?”

Now it was his turn to lift his eyebrows. He stared unashamedly at her neck.

“I meant for food,” she clarified. “Human food. Or wine?”

“I could take a glass of wine, but our bodies don’t digest human food.”

She moved as if to climb off the bed, but he stopped her, placing an arm on either side of her body.

“Are you in pain?”

“No.” She looked away.

“Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not.”

William’s eyes narrowed.

“You are. I can see it, hear it, and, more importantly, I can smell it. What’s the matter?”

She made a face.

“And don’t lie.” His tone grew serious.

Her eyes moved to his. “Did you eat before you arrived?”

“Of course.”

“How many times a day do you eat?”

“It depends. Old ones can feed once per day. Younglings need to eat frequently. I feed when the mood suits, either once or twice per day. It depends on what’s on offer and what my appetite is.” He smiled at her slowly. “I’ve been known to have a healthy appetite.”

“Whenever you feed, you have sex?”

His smile disappeared. “Why are you using that tone?”

“I’m not using a tone.” She tried to shift away from him but he hovered over her, caging her with his body.

His eyes narrowed. “You sound upset.”

“Well, I’m not,” she huffed.

“It’s usual for a vampyre to have sex when he or she feeds. But I tend to be a bit more discerning.”

She looked up at him with interest. “So you don’t have sex every time you feed?”

“Why are you so concerned about this?”

“No reason. Can I get up now?” She glanced at his arms pointedly.

“Cassita.” He ran his nose down the side of hers. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not.”

He fought a smile. “Then why are you asking about my sexual assignations?”

“You said you wanted me. I was curious if you were building a harem.”

“Such things don’t interest me.”

She hummed in response. “I’m sure you could find someone who didn’t need a cane.”

He brought his lower body to hers. “Are you considering engaging in intercourse with me?”

She reddened. “I’m just trying to figure out what your game is.”

“It isn’t a game. As I told you before, you’re the first to capture my interest in a very long time.”

He bent down and kissed her firmly. He swept her hair to the side and stroked her neck, lightly, up and down.

When he pulled back, her eyes were still closed.

“Your beauty is a feast for the eyes as well as the senses.”

At that her eyes opened. “I hate it when men lie.”

“Look at me,” he ordered, his tone momentarily harsh.

Their eyes met.

“I have no reason to lie. While it’s true that flattery is a means of seduction, I have no reason to use it with you. I think you’re beautiful. If you want me to heal your leg, I’ll do so. But stop playing the jealous mistress. I don’t owe you explanations or fidelity, unless you agree to be mine.”

He rolled to the side and left the bed, moving to stand next to her desk.

She sat up, watching him. He looked very unhappy.

“Are vampyres faithful to their pets?”

“No.”

“And you?”

“I’ve never had a pet,” he confessed.

“Never?”

“That’s correct.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I can only surmise that part of your reaction has to do with my story about Allegra, the young woman who killed herself. The story is not a pleasant one. Perhaps I’ll tell you someday.

“In the interim, I’ll reiterate what I have already said. You are not my pet and if anything were to develop between us it would be pleasurable and enjoyable.”

She toyed with her fingernails, avoiding his eyes.

He lifted his arms in frustration. “Why don’t you tell me what is really going on?”

“I think I missed you,” she blurted out. “When I came home after staying with you, the apartment seemed so quiet.”

William smiled, and the smile lit his entire face. “You missed me?”

Raven looked down at the bedcovers. “What kind of person am I? You kidnapped me, you threatened to keep me as your sex slave, and I miss you? I must have serious issues.”

William’s expression darkened. “Is it really so terrible to desire my company? Am I so repulsive that you’d despise yourself for wanting to see me again?”

“It isn’t exactly natural. You’re a vampyre.”

“I may as well be human. I’m not feeding on you.” He gave her exposed throat a hungry look. “If fidelity matters, I’ll volunteer the information that, for the present, I’m not having intercourse with anyone—vampyre or human.”

Raven tried to ignore the strength of feeling that bubbled up inside of her. But she failed.

He sat next to her on the bed once again. “There is mutual attraction between us. Clearly we enjoy one another. Spend the night with me, just once, and you’ll see how magnificent we will be together.”

He traced her cheekbone with his finger. “It will be the greatest evening of your life, I swear it.”

Raven closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

The music shifted and her laptop began playing Madeleine Peyroux’s “Dance Me to the End of Love.”

“I like this,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “I never listen to modern music.”

He traced the V-neck of her T-shirt, his finger descending to just above the curve of her breasts.

She grabbed his wrist.

“Are you positive the illustrations you have are original?”

“Yes.” His eyebrows knitted together in irritation. “Forget about them. You’re the only work of art I’m interested in.”

He brought his lips to her throat.

Raven knew she was fighting a losing battle. His touch was light but sensuous, leaving a scorched trail across her skin.

No one had ever made her feel this way before. She felt as if he were drawing away her resolve, little by little, and soon there would be nothing left.

“You have to give them back.”

William lifted his head.

“Absolutely not.”

“You own a lot of beautiful things,” she said quietly. “Don’t you want to share them?”

“No. And I’d rather not discuss them, especially when I’m trying to seduce you.”

“Is that what’s happening?”

“This is the dance of love. Men and women have been doing it for centuries. What did you think was happening between us?”

“No one ever looked at me with… desire.” She fumbled her words, embarrassed.

“Because human beings are shallow, ignorant creatures.” He lifted his eyebrows, as if daring her to contradict him.

Her eyes dropped to her hands, which were gripping the quilt. “You don’t mean love, you mean sex.”

He frowned. “I am not capable of love, Cassita. No vampyre is.”

He lifted his hand and ran it through her hair.

“But I am capable of tenderness, I think, at least with you. Can’t that be enough?”

Raven fought the urge to wince.

Perhaps these had been the words William spoke centuries earlier to the woman who jumped from the bell tower. For her, it had not been enough.

Raven had always discounted love, thinking it wasn’t possible for her. She wondered bleakly if William was offering her the best she could do.

She moved toward the head of the bed, putting space between them.

“Let’s not talk about love, okay? It’s ridiculous to have that conversation when we barely know one another.”

William’s expression tightened, but he did not disagree.

“Would sex bond us?” she asked.

“Bond us?”

“You mentioned something once about vampyres bonding.”

He shook his head. “That bond is through the intake of blood.”

“Oh.”

“The sexual act unifies the two, unless the parties will that it doesn’t.”

“So is that what you’d do? You’d have sex with me, but will that it didn’t bring us closer together?”

“I never said that.” His eyes took on a strange light.

Raven didn’t want to consider what that meant.

“Getting back to the illustrations, since they’re original, why don’t you share them with the world? The way the Emersons did?”

William stood, placing his hands on his hips. “Don’t mention the name of those thieves. They stole from me and they’re going to pay for it.”

At that moment, Raven was almost grateful for William’s anger. It was a great deal easier for her to deal with than his hands on her body. But she found his response distressing.

“You’re talking about a man and his wife and child. You wouldn’t harm them, would you?”

His expression remained unchanged.

“The Emersons weren’t alive a hundred years ago,” she persisted. “They didn’t break into your house.”

“That is no excuse.”

“They’re a young family with a baby. I don’t know the professor, but I met his wife. She told me they’re going to adopt a child from the Franciscan orphanage.”

Something shifted in William’s eyes, but he didn’t speak.

“It’s true. They’re going to adopt a little girl who has special needs. I volunteer at that orphanage. I know Maria. No one wants her. If you kill the Emersons, that little girl will never have a family.”

William clenched his jaw.

“That is not my concern. I cannot tolerate thievery. If the others realize I let this go, it will weaken my authority.”

“Can’t you strengthen your authority in other ways? Find out who stole from you originally?”

“I have my suspicions.”

“Then leave the Emersons alone.”

“Never,” he said haughtily, moving toward her bedroom door.

“William,” she called. “I need to tell you something.”

“Proceed.” His tone was cold but his eyes radiated concern.

“I think it’s obvious I’m attracted to you. And I—” She struggled for the words. “I feel something for you.”

She held up her hand. “Not love. I’m not sure love is for me, anyway. But if you harm the Emersons, whatever is between us will end. I can’t condone punishing the innocent for someone else’s crime, especially a mother and child.”

“I’ve already decided not to harm the family,” William responded primly. “But Emerson received stolen property. That hardly makes him innocent.”

Raven’s eyebrows knitted together. “Do you think whoever sold him the illustrations revealed they’d been stolen? The Swiss family probably wasn’t even alive when they were taken from you.”

“I want justice.”

“In your justice, don’t forget mercy.”

William’s gaze moved inexplicably to the kitchen, then back to Raven.

He said nothing.

“If you’re intending to hurt Professor Emerson, take this back.” She picked up the gold bracelet from her nightstand and held it out to him. “I don’t want it.”

He scowled darkly. “It’s for your protection.”

“Which I no longer want.”

“You wanted it badly enough a few minutes ago.” William sounded bitter. “I see you return gifts from men with practiced ease.”

“Men don’t give me gifts.”

“I have no interest in taking my revenge against a mother and child.” His eyes sparked with anger. “My issue is with Emerson.”

“Don’t you understand, William?” Raven lowered her voice intentionally. “If you kill him, you destroy his family. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father. Things happened to us after he died, terrible things. Please don’t do that to Julia and Clare.”

William started. “You know their names?”

“I met them, yes. And I liked them. Julia is kind and gentle and Clare is a beautiful baby. Would you condemn that beauty to a lifetime of sadness?”

William regarded her, his expression blank.

He glanced at the gold bracelet, but didn’t take it.

His gray eyes moved to hers. “Good-bye, Jane. Be well.”

“Wait.” She struggled to her feet as he strode through the door.

Hurriedly, she grabbed her cane and made her way to the hall. “William, wait. I can’t walk that fast.”

By the time she reached the kitchen, he was gone. Mysteriously, the door was still locked from the inside.

Raven pulled out a kitchen chair and sat, on the verge of tears.

She hadn’t expected his visit that evening, or the way her heart leapt when she saw him. She hadn’t expected to feel so warm and desirable in his embrace, or to feel her spirits rise when he kissed her.

She hadn’t expected him to say good-bye.

She looked at the bracelet, still in her hand, and felt loss.

William wasn’t a friend and he wasn’t a lover. He was something else—something for which there was no name.

He’s Zephyr, hovering in the shadows. He took pity on Psyche and helped her and then he disappeared.

She felt unshed tears burn in her eyes.

You’re selfish. Her conscience spoke. You’re crying over someone who isn’t even a friend, while a whole family is at risk.

Her conscience’s reminder was enough to stop the tears. The Emersons were in danger.

She doubted he’d go after them tonight, when there were hunters in his city. He had more pressing concerns.

You need to warn them.

But how? She knew there was no point in writing a letter to Julia, pointing out that she and her husband had angered the vampyre prince of Florence. They’d think she was mad and probably persuade Dottor Vitali to dismiss her from the gallery and have her put in the hospital.

She had to do something.

If she couldn’t warn the Emersons, her only alternative was to change William’s mind. Based on his parting words, she doubted she’d be successful.

She wouldn’t offer herself this time. She’d have to come up with some other way to persuade him.

Raven poured herself a large glass of wine and sipped it, trying to come up with a plan.

He wouldn’t come to her again. He was through with her.

She would have to go to him.

Chapter Thirty-five

Two hours later, Ispettor Batelli stood on the other side of the piazza, watching the lights go out in Raven Wood’s apartment.

He was not alone in his observations. At a nearby café, a man sat and smoked, keeping careful eye on both the apartment and the inspector.

Unbeknownst to both of them, a vampyre stood on the roof above, noting with interest the comings and goings of the apartment building opposite.

When the lights in Raven’s apartment went out, the vampyre leapt across the rooftops in the direction of the Duomo, a group of hunters tracking him from the ground.

The vampyre saw movement below him and doubled back, moving in the opposite direction.

The hunters regrouped, some of them on motorcycles, speeding along behind him.

With one tremendous leap, the vampyre sprang into the air, his body hurtling over an alley toward the roof on the other side.

At that moment, a hunter who had been lying in wait aimed his crossbow toward the sky. When the vampyre came into view, the bow snapped and shot the arrow at its target.

There was the sound of something sharp piercing flesh and an agonized cry.

The vampyre was hit midair and fell like Icarus from the sky, crashing to the ground below.

Before he could rise, other hunters encircled him, quickly pouring a perimeter of salt around his body. Now he was trapped.

Black blood poured from the wound in his chest, the arrow piercing his heart. He lifted a hand to break the shaft, but one of the hunters threw holy water on him.

He screamed as the water ate into his flesh like acid.

Two hunters approached from behind, looping a closed garrote around his neck. They flipped a switch and stood back. A loud clicking sound echoed across the alley.

The vampyre lifted his hands to tear the metal cord from his neck, but it was too late. The garrote’s mechanism clicked and tightened until, with one terrible, grotesque sound, the vampyre’s head was severed from his body.

With lightning speed, the hunters moved the head some distance away, then set to work. In less than thirty minutes, the body was drained of blood and the corpse was left to decay.

A cursory observation of the vampyre’s body, along with a quick test of his blood, indicated that he was no youngling.

The hunters cheered.

With one last triumphant cry, they retrieved the head and left the scene, bolstered by their success and eager to fell their next target.