Текст книги "The Raven"

Автор книги: Sylvain Reynard

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-Six

William was angry.

He left Raven’s apartment after she’d ended things and immediately flew to Teatro.

He’d had her in his arms. She’d thanked him for coming to her rescue, again. This time, he felt the beginning of trust in her embrace.

They’d even talked about sex. Her ardor fanned the flames of his hope, cautious as it was.

Now she was willing to throw everything away, and for what? For a proud, arrogant thief.

He conceded the need to spare the lives of Emerson’s wife and child. He’d already made that determination when he left their hotel room.

That was not enough for Raven. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d saved the world.

He leapt into the air, landing lightly on the roof of the building next to Teatro.

The surrounding rooftops were empty. Vampyres young and old were either in the club or pursuing pleasure elsewhere.

He was glad of it. How could he explain to his brethren that he needed to feed at Teatro when he had a perfectly good pet at home? A pet with long, silken hair and soft, fragrant skin that smelled of roses.

A pet who guarded her body as if it were clad in a chastity belt.

He growled, rubbing his face.

Raven was not a pet and he wasn’t angry simply because she’d tried to save Emerson. He was angry because she’d sent him away, as if their connection were tenuous and easily broken.

He’d allowed himself to hope, knowing that hope was vain. Just as quickly, his hope had been extinguished. And there would be no Raven to reignite it.

He leapt to the ground, standing in the alley outside Teatro’s side entrance.

A burly security guard moved menacingly in his direction but stopped when he scented the Prince. The guard bowed.

“May I be of service, my lord?”

“Not at this time.” William dismissed him.

A taxi drove up, stopping at the entrance to the alley.

As if on cue, the door to the club opened, and a young woman exited. She was slight of height and build, her eyes large and almost black, her hair dark. Her skin was a coppery brown and she spoke to the security guard in Spanish.

She was thinner than William preferred but he inhaled her scent eagerly; the spicy tang of her blood almost a taste on his tongue.

“Good evening.” He addressed her in Italian.

She peered around the bodyguard with a frown. When she caught sight of William, she smiled.

“Good evening,” she replied, in Spanish.

She turned as if to go to her taxi.

Suddenly William stood in front of her. “May I see you home?”

“I have a taxi.”

“I’ll walk you.” He stared deeply into her eyes.

This was the test, of course. Would she look away or return his stare?

She returned his stare and smiled.

William allowed the hunger in his belly to grow. He instructed the security guard to dismiss the taxi.

Offering the young woman his elbow, he escorted her from the alley to a side street.

“Your name?” he asked.

“Ana.”

“Ana.” He repeated her name, as if trying its feel in his mouth.

She didn’t ask his name. Or perhaps she intended to but wasn’t given the opportunity.

He quickly pulled her into another alley and pressed her back against the wall.

He didn’t kiss her mouth, as he usually did in such moments. In fact, he closed his eyes and went for her neck, immediately.

She gasped as his tongue tasted her skin, her hands lifting to grip his biceps.

She rubbed herself against him, her breasts pert and high on her chest.

He placed his hand to her waist, leaning into her, before swiping his thumb across her nipple.

When she moaned and lifted her leg to place her thigh against his hip, he sank his teeth into her throat.

She cried out as he drank furiously, carefully counting the number of times he swallowed. Too much and she’d faint.

He drank quickly, but savored every mouthful. Her blood was light and sweet, like her body, with a delicate spice that hinted of recklessness.

When he reached the maximum volume he could drink from her, he carefully licked her wound. She gripped his arms tightly and orgasmed.

He waited until she stopped shaking, then carefully disentangled himself from her.

She murmured at him and tried to kiss him, but he kept her at arm’s length, escorting her back to the security guard.

He’d given the young woman pleasure and fed from her, but he felt no joy. In fact, he felt even hungrier—hungry for blood, hungry for sex, hungry for hope.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to blot Raven’s image out of his mind. His inability to take pleasure in the simple act of feeding did not bode well.

He instructed the guard to send the girl home in a taxi, then he melted into the shadows, feeling empty and conflicted.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Raven’s head arched back, exposing her neck, as William’s lips closed on her breast. His body, including his mouth, was cooler than hers. The feel of his tongue in intimate places was particularly arousing.

They were naked.

He was sitting up, his back against the wall at the head of her bed. She was straddling him, his arm encircling her waist as he thrust inside her.

At the sight of her neck, he growled, his mouth moving from her breast to her throat.

She moved up and down, riding him. She was close, a familiar tightening beginning below her stomach.

He kissed her throat, nipping and sucking the skin. His lips and tongue stroked across her flesh, her breasts brushing across his smooth chest.

“Cassita.” He tugged her earlobe with his teeth. “I won’t let such beauty die.”

One more swivel of her hips and she climaxed, the words that tumbled from her lips incoherent.

With a snarl, he sank his teeth into her neck, piercing skin and artery until the blood flowed into his mouth. He sucked and sucked as her orgasm peaked, thrusting between her legs faster and faster.

With the blood flow to her brain diminished by half, she grew light-headed. But the sensation only compounded her climax, causing it to continue, like a wave that would not crash.

She was suspended in time, in the throes of absolute ecstasy as he drank, the blood flowing warm and liquid down his throat.

She grew more and more light-headed, the pleasure in her body still present, but she began to disconnect with it, as if she were losing the ability to feel.

She raised a weak hand to his shoulder, trying to push him away.

He shoved her arm aside.

Her eyes shot open and she began to cry out, begging him to stop, her limbs immobile.

Pain shot through her body, overtaking the pleasure. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she felt weightless, the pain as well as the pleasure gone.

When she collapsed in his arms, he laid her on the bed, lifting his bloodied mouth to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Raven lacked the strength to respond. She felt the darkness close in around her as her heart stuttered and finally stopped.

Chapter Thirty-eight

To say that Raven was unsettled by the nightmare would be an understatement. She slept fitfully the rest of the night, finally giving up on sleep at around four o’clock in the morning.

She wrote short e-mails to Cara and to Father Kavanaugh, telling them she’d be glad to see them in the summer. She lied to her sister, saying that Bruno had canceled their date. She hoped Cara wouldn’t pursue the matter further.

At six o’clock, it was still too early to get ready for work, so Raven spread her drawing paper and charcoals across the kitchen table and began sketching the lost Michelangelo painting that hung in William’s villa.

It was difficult to draw from memory, even though Raven’s memory (when not recovering from a life-threatening head injury) was very good. Still, it was worth a try, since it seemed unlikely she’d ever see it again.

An hour and a half later, she’d outlined the naked bodies of Adam and Eve. They were a fair approximation of the figures painted by Michelangelo.

Disturbingly, however, she’d drawn the faces of William and herself without realizing it.

Frustrated, she tossed the paper and charcoals into her knapsack and went to the bathroom to wash her hands. The drawing was ruined. And it certainly hadn’t helped her put thoughts of William aside.

He was handsome, it was true. But he was dangerous.

He kissed like an angel. Or rather, what Raven thought an angel would kiss like if there were such things.

But he was cruel.

Her subconscious had placed interesting words into his mouth.

I won’t let such beauty die.

But William would let beauty die. Moreover, he’d bring about its death directly, by killing Professor Emerson.

She chose a pair of black pants and a green blouse to wear to work, dressing listlessly. She pinned her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and retrieved her glasses from the nightstand, where they sat next to William’s bracelet.

He hadn’t taken it.

As she looked at the gold, at the fleur-de-lis in the center, it occurred to her that returning it would give her an excuse to visit him. Then she could speak to him about the Emersons.

It was a flimsy excuse but all she had.

She placed the bracelet on her wrist, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and exited the apartment. After locking her door, she saw a woman on the landing, preparing to enter Lidia’s apartment.

The woman bore a striking resemblance to Bruno, with the same dark hair and eyes.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Raven.”

The woman’s face flashed with recognition.

“I’m Graziella, Bruno’s mother.”

“Um, I heard Bruno was in the hospital. Is he okay?”

Graziella appeared upset.

“He was attacked the other night. But he’s doing much better. We think he will be able to come home tomorrow.”

Raven exhaled her relief. “That’s good news. How is Lidia?”

“Not so good. But a specialist from Rome is coming to examine her.” She nodded toward the apartment. “She was refusing treatment until she heard her case had come to the attention of a distinguished oncologist. She decided she’d see him.”

Raven found herself heartened by the news. “I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t know she was sick. I’m so sorry I didn’t try to help earlier.”

“Would you like to come inside? Say hello?”

“Of course.”

Raven glanced at her old Swatch discreetly. She had plenty of time to get to work.

When they entered the apartment, Dolcezza, the cat, darted toward the door.

Raven hung back, not knowing how the cat would react to her. It had hissed at her only a week previous.

But the cat seemed to have forgotten her previous bad temper and began threading itself through her legs.

Raven leaned over to pet the cat, hearing its throaty purr.

“Mamma, you have a visitor,” Graziella announced.

Lidia was over seventy and small and rounded, with curly gray hair and dark, wise eyes. She was sitting on her couch in the living room, watching television. As soon as she saw Raven, she smiled.

“Hello, my dear.” She waved her over and Raven crossed the room.

Lidia patted the couch next to her.

Raven sat down, placing her knapsack on the floor. “I’m so sorry to hear that you’re sick.”

“I’m fine, just old. How did your date with my grandson go?”

“Oh.” Raven shifted awkwardly. “Well, something came up and he couldn’t meet me.”

“Really?” Lidia frowned. “That isn’t like him. He told me he was looking forward to it. I’ll have to speak to him. But you know he had an accident.”

“Yes, I heard that. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s getting better. Now, what do you want for breakfast?” Lidia moved as if to stand, but Raven stopped her.

“I should be making you breakfast.”

“I can still fix breakfast. I’m not dead.”

Raven shot a worried look at Graziella, who rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“I’m just on my way to work at the Uffizi. Maybe we could have breakfast another time.”

“Anytime. Just knock on the door. But not tomorrow; tomorrow the doctor from Rome is coming.”

Raven smiled and squeezed her neighbor’s hand. “Good. I’ll see you soon. If you need anything, please let me know. I’m just next door.”

Raven hugged Lidia and took leave of Graziella, wishing with all her might that the specialist might find a way to help her neighbor.

It was with great surprise that Raven saw Luka standing in the hallway of her building after she left Lidia’s apartment. She’d thought that William would withdraw his protection after what had happened the night before.

She didn’t bother asking him questions about William, for she knew Luka wouldn’t answer. His lordship had trained his servants well and they always obeyed orders.

Luka was human. As far as Raven knew, all William’s servants were human. Although at first she couldn’t tell the difference between a human and a vampyre, now she found it easy. Vampyres were paler of skin, stronger, and more imposing physically than human beings.

An air of danger and threat clung to them, as well.

As she exited her building with Luka, she didn’t see Ispettor Batelli watching her from across the piazza. Nor did she see him following the Mercedes from a distance.

She spent a quiet but constructive day in the restoration lab, working on the Birth of Venus. Patrick and Gina stopped by to invite her to lunch and the trio walked to a nearby osteria, on the other side of Piazza Signoria.

Luka drove Raven home after work, where she prepared a simple dinner, packing up half of it to deliver to Lidia. Lidia was grateful for the gift and prevailed on Raven to stay and enjoy a glass of wine.

Just as the sun was setting, Raven took leave of her neighbor and descended the staircase to the street. She put on her helmet, climbed on her Vespa, and drove to the Piazzale Michelangelo.

The Emersons’ time was decidedly short. She didn’t know how long the hunters were going to remain in the city. She didn’t know when William would decide to go after the professor.

She was determined to see him and try once more to change his mind.

When she approached the gate to his villa, she heard a voice from the security speaker. She hadn’t even announced her arrival.

“State your business.”

“Um, it’s Raven. Raven Wood. I’m here to see his lordship.”

“His lordship is not at home.”

Raven recognized Ambrogio’s voice. She also recognized that he was being cool with her.

“Could I come inside and wait? I really need to see him.”

There was a long pause.

When Ambrogio didn’t reply, she decided to change tactics.

She lifted her wrist, displaying the gold bracelet to the security camera.

“His lordship ordered me to return this,” she lied. “And his lordship’s orders are always obeyed.”

Raven bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face. It was too ridiculous.

“One moment.”

Raven waited and the high iron gate opened, allowing her to pass through. She was shocked her strategy had worked.

She drove to the triple garage and parked in front of it, storing her helmet inside the Vespa’s seat. She picked up her cane and walked through the garden to the door.

Ambrogio greeted her, directing her to Lucia, in the kitchen.

“Ah, Miss Wood. Sit down.” Lucia gestured to the kitchen table, on which she’d already set a bottle of wine and a plate of fruit and cheese. She gestured to an empty glass. “Shall I?”

“Please.” Raven tried not to drum her fingers on top of the table as she watched Lucia pour her a glass of red wine.

“His lordship is not here.” Lucia corked the bottle and set it aside before placing the full glass in front of her guest. “In fact, he is not expected home this evening.”

“Why not?”

“He has another residence that he sometimes uses. He stayed there last night and will probably stay there again tonight.” Lucia’s expression was carefully controlled.

Raven derived the impression that there was much, much more that Lucia was not telling her; none of it good.

“Can I wait for him?”

“I would not recommend that. As I said, he is not expected home.” Lucia glanced significantly at Raven’s wrist.

She removed the bracelet. “If you could return this to his lordship, I’d be very grateful.”

“Of course.” Lucia took the item.

“Can I still see his version of Primavera? He ordered me to give him my report for the restoration, but there’s one part of the painting I need to see again.”

Lucia smiled. “Please enjoy your wine, and when you are ready I will escort you upstairs. Will you need to have the painting removed from the wall?”

Raven shook her head.

Lucia gestured to a small bell that stood in front of Raven’s plate. “Ring when you are ready.”

With a nod, Lucia disappeared, leaving Raven to finish her wine alone.

While she sipped her wine and nibbled nervously on the fruit and cheese, Raven came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with Ambrogio, Lucia, and Luka.

They seemed to lack something, in addition to a sense of humor. And the way they mindlessly followed William’s instructions…

William had mentioned something about mind control when he took her to meet his coven. Perhaps his household staff were under mind control, which was why they’d blindly let her in when she referred to his orders.

Having come to this momentous conclusion and having finished her remarkable glass of wine, Raven rang the bell. Lucia escorted her upstairs to the master bedroom.

As usual, the space was immaculate. The bed looked as if it hadn’t been slept in.

Lucia instructed her to ring if she needed anything and closed the door behind her.

Raven examined the room carefully, searching for anything that would give her a clue as to William’s whereabouts. But she found nothing.

It was possible, she reasoned, that he was at Palazzo Riccardi. Given what had happened the last time she went looking for him, Raven decided not to go there.

Surely he would have to return to the villa sometime. Unfortunately, Raven didn’t have days to wait. She needed to be at the Uffizi early tomorrow morning for work.

What a mess.

In order to keep up the lie she’d told to Lucia, she decided to examine the painting.

She took a few photos of it with her phone, especially of the figures of Mercury, Chloris, and Zephyr. Then she sat, analyzing it.

Seeing William as Zephyr was jarring, especially since she now knewthe story behind his depiction.

She examined the features of Chloris. It was difficult to make them out, since her head was turned. If what William had said was correct, the woman who’d fallen in love with him was the model for Chloris and for the second of the three Graces.

It was at this moment that Raven saw the painting in a new light.

Under the benevolent hand of Venus, Cupid pointed his arrow at the second Grace, who was already gazing with longing at Mercury. Mercury was busy stirring the clouds, his back to the Graces.

On the right side of the painting, Zephyr hovered in an orange grove, having captured Chloris. She was producing flowers from her mouth, marking the result of his fertile breath.

Without the figure of Flora, which appeared in the other version of Primavera, Botticelli’s work was a dark morality tale.

Reading the painting from left to right and substituting the Renaissance persons for their classical counterparts, Botticelli told the story of Allegra, who fell in love with the handsome but indifferent William York. Subsequently, he was revealed as a monster. He captured her and had sex with her, but she fled from him.

Eventually, she killed herself.

Raven stared wide-eyed at the painting. It no longer seemed beautiful and serene to her. No, it was a portrait of horror and despair.

And he’s had this painting for over five hundred years.

No doubt he’d stared at it daily, perhaps feeling guilt over the woman who’d loved him as one being, but killed herself when she realized what he truly was.

No wonder he’d never had a pet. Perhaps he feared the same outcome. If he was capable of feeling remorse.

Raven was fairly sure that William felt remorse and guilt, as evidenced by his reaction to her shaming him. Without guilt or remorse, shame was an empty emotion. Indeed, shame would not be shame.

Raven gazed with sadness at the second Grace.

What a tragic end.

She contemplated what William’s overnight guests thought of the painting—if he’d ever told anyone its dark history.

Raven wrinkled her nose.

She tried not to guess the number of overnight guests he’d entertained over the centuries. The idea sickened her.

She threw back the curtains and opened the balcony doors, letting the night air into the room. She breathed deeply, staring up at the stars and the winking moon. With night blanketing the city, William and his coven would be free to walk the streets.

The hunters would come out in search of their prey.

She hoped William would be safe.

Raven returned to the painting and opened her knapsack, withdrawing some clean paper and her set of charcoals, which she spread across the hardwood floor.

Moving to lie on her stomach, because it was more comfortable than

hunching over the paper, she began to sketch the second Grace.

Soon she was lost in the interplay of light and shadow, black and gray, her fingers ever moving over the page. She drew, she shaded, she blended with her fingers until her skin grew black. And finally, a few hours later, she had a large sketch she was proud of.

She signed her name at the bottom, as was her custom, and walked to the bathroom to wash her hands.

When she checked her watch, it was after midnight. William had not returned.

Maybe he’ll return soon.

She could wait one more hour, especially to help the Emersons.

Raven sat on the bed, stretching her back and neck.

The bed was comfortable and her body was beginning to complain about having lain on the floor.

A few minutes later, she reclined, clutching a pillow.

Then she fell asleep.

Raven felt a breeze on her face.

She opened her eyes and was momentarily confused. She was in William’s bed, his room swathed in darkness.

A light breeze wafted in through the balcony doors, causing the curtains on either side to lift and sway.

Raven turned on her side to face them and saw a figure standing in the doorway.

A light from somewhere in the gardens shone behind him. He was leaning against the doorpost, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at her.

“She awakes,” he murmured.

Raven sat up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“What are you doing here, besides sketching my paintings?” His tone was abrupt.

“I came to see you. Where were you?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile.

“‘I have gone round about the earth, and walked through it.’”

Raven rubbed her eyes. “I’ll never understand how it is that a vampyre can quote scripture.”

“Perhaps because he was taught scripture before he became a vampyre.”

William pushed off the doorpost and approached the bed, his steps quick and purposeful.

“What are you doing in my bed? You made it quite clear whatever was starting between us ended.”

“I was worried about the Emersons.”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “Raven is savior to the world. I believe someone else lays claim to that accomplishment.

“Go back to sleep. You can leave after breakfast.”

He moved toward the door and Raven’s heart sank.

“Aren’t you tired?” she called.

He paused but didn’t turn around. “We aren’t capable of sleep.”

“It must be exhausting not to have an escape from the worries of the day.”

“It’s necessary to rest the mind, if one doesn’t want to go mad. We have various ways of doing that.” He turned to face her, his tone somewhat ominous.

“And you?”

“I meditate.”

Raven looked around the room. “Where do you do that?”

His chin jerked toward where she was lying. “There.”

“Oh.”

Raven pulled back the duvet and sheets to her right, where there was a pillow and an empty space. “Come here, then.”

He eyed the bed with narrowed eyes. “Are you tempting me?”

“No, I’m apologizing for putting you out. We can share.”

William walked to the empty side of the bed, his eyes fixed on hers.

He placed a hand on the mattress, giving her a challenging look.

When she didn’t retreat, he sat on the edge of the bed. He removed his shoes and reclined, lying on his back next to her.

She reached down to remove her shoes as well, before lying on her side facing him.

“Lucia presented me with your gift.” He sounded unfriendly.

“William,” she murmured. “Don’t be angry.”

“You’re the most frustrating being—human or vampyre—that I’ve dealt with in centuries. And that’s saying something, since I know Aoibhe.”

Raven bristled at the female vampyre’s name, but she tried to hide it.

“You said you felt shame when I offered myself in exchange for Bruno’s life. Please don’t be angry with me for trying to save a family and give a home to a little girl who needs one.”

William sniffed but didn’t respond.

She shifted closer to him on the bed.

“Did you capture the hunters?”

“No. They took down one of my brethren last night. The hunters have

new weapons we weren’t aware of.”

“I’m sorry. Was the vampyre a friend of yours?”

“I don’t have friends. It isn’t in my nature.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She reached out a hesitant hand across the mattress and placed it on his shoulder.

He didn’t flinch but he didn’t move into her touch, either.

“William, what happened to Angelo’s body?”

“Angelo?” He turned his head toward her.

“The homeless man who died the night I was attacked.”

William returned to looking at the canopy above the bed.

“His body was taken outside of the city and burned. That’s what we do with corpses.”

Raven’s heart twisted. “Is there a grave? A place I could bring flowers?”

“You don’t want to visit that place. It reeks of death.”

“I suppose I could put flowers by the bridge, where he used to sit.”

William exhaled loudly, as if her remark displeased him.

Raven touched his shoulder again. “Where did you find me? The night I was attacked?”

“There’s an alley near the Ponte Santa Trinita. The animals dragged you into it. Why do you ask?”

“I still can’t remember that evening. It’s hazy.”

“Be thankful for small mercies.

“Until the hunters are removed, I will do nothing about Emerson. But I make no promise for the future.” He shifted to face her. “You have a day or so to manipulate one out of me.”

“I’m not manipulating you. I’m appealing to your better nature.”

“My better nature.” He sounded bitter. “There is no better nature. Don’t you understand?”

“You had compassion on me when those men would have raped and killed me. Who has the better nature between you and them?”

“You’re comparing monster to monster—comparisons don’t imply positives.”

She shook her head. “Monsters aren’t heroic.”

William gave her a searching look, as if her remark truly surprised him. He soon recovered, however.

“Why are you so adamant about saving a man you don’t even know? Emerson is arrogant and proud. I’ve seen him in public, parading his illustrations as if he were Dante himself, resurrected from the dead.”

Raven frowned. “You don’t like Dante?”

“The man was a mercurial egoist who panted after a married woman, neglecting his wife and family.”

Raven’s mouth dropped open. “Did you know him or is this merely your opinion?”

“I knew him. I knew Beatrice, too. She was lovely. And far too intelligent to leave her husband for such a fiend.”

“I didn’t think he was trying to persuade her to leave her husband. In La Vita Nuova, he talks about her as a kind of Muse.”

“If she’d returned his attentions, he’d have committed adultery with her in the middle of the Ponte Santa Trinita. Don’t fool yourself.” He shifted on the bed so he could see her better. “My question remains. Why are you so intent on helping Emerson?”

Raven avoided his eyes. “I gave you the reason. It’s unjust to kill him when he bought the illustrations in good faith not knowing they were stolen. And I’m worried about what will happen to his wife and child if you murder him.”

William’s gaze traveled the length of her body to where her legs rested under the covers.

“You said something happened to you after your father died. What was it?”

Raven rolled away from him, facing the balcony doors. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

William reflected on her answer and realized he truly wanted to know Raven’s history.

(He didn’t take time to ask himself why he was interested in her past. No doubt he would have been surprised by the answer.)

“That is my price. You tell me about your family, and I’ll spare Emerson.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I give you my word. I’ll spare the Emersons entirely if you answer my question.”

“Just like that?” Raven was incredulous.

“Not just like that. A confrontation between Emerson and me is coming. I will have my satisfaction. But I won’t kill him.

“I may predate psychology, but I can divine that whatever happened to you marked you. I’d like to understand why you’re so hell-bent on protecting anyone and everyone.”

“I’m not.”

“Cassita.” He approached her cautiously, moving his body to spoon behind hers. “You’re a protector. The question I’m asking is, why?”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away, either. He placed his arm over hers across her stomach.

“Tell me what happened to your leg, then.” His voice softened.

“It’s the same story. And it’s ugly.” She tapped her fingers on top of the mattress. “If I tell you, I want your word you won’t harm the Emersons, ever.”

“I said I’ll spare their lives, that’s all I’ll promise.”

“William, I—”

“This is already a concession, Raven. I hate the man.”

William’s tone indicated his intractability.

“Fine.” She sighed.

Raven closed her eyes, paused, and began her tale.