The Shadow (The Florentine 2)

Gabriel pressed his back against the bedroom door, signaling to the vampyre that he would have to go through Gabriel and the door in order to attack his family. He was willing to give his life to protect the wife and child who remained blissfully unaware just inside.

The Prince thought of another human being who was a protector; a woman who’d almost given her life to intervene in the beating death of a homeless man.

He didn’t like being reminded.

“Your wife is ill,” he announced abruptly, adjusting his shirtsleeves.

Gabriel’s features shifted. “What?”

“You’re an intelligent man, or so they say. By now I’m sure you realize I have certain—abilities. One of them is sensing human illness. I can’t identify the problem, but there is something wrong with your wife, something causing her blood to lack iron.

“When I first met her at the Uffizi two years ago, I scented the illness. Whatever it is, it still threatens her.”

The professor appeared noticeably shaken by the revelation and turned his head to gaze at Julianne through the window.

“You acquired illustrations that were stolen,” the Prince continued. “Since I’m the original owner, I’ve taken them back. I should have destroyed you, but instead, I’ve gifted you with vital information about your wife’s health. I think you’ll agree I’ve been more than generous.”

Gabriel turned his attention back to the Prince. It was clear he was struggling with what to believe, but his desire to protect his family won out.

“I’ll drop the investigation and speak to Interpol personally.” Gabriel spoke through clenched teeth. “I shouldn’t be held accountable for the actions of others. If the Italians choose to pursue you, that’s their misfortune.”

“If your involvement ceases, we have no quarrel.” The Prince gave him a sustained glare, then approached the edge of the balcony and turned.

Gabriel was still standing in a defensive posture outside the bedroom. He’d clapped a hand over his mouth, as if restraining himself from raising the alarm.

The Prince fixed him with a stony gaze.

“Be sure to live long enough to ensure your daughter has a good life. Things happen to children when they lose their father.”

He vaulted over the railing and flew to the ground, before disappearing into the darkness.

Chapter Two

July 6, 2013

Florence, Italy

They stood for what seemed like an age, the young woman and the centuries-old vampyre, holding one another desperately on a rooftop of a loggia, overlooking the Uffizi.

They were the most improbable of lovers. Yet it was manifest to both they were a perfect match.

Raven’s heart was full, her mind relaxed, her body sated.

William extricated himself from between her legs, placing her on unsteady feet. He righted his trousers and withdrew a handkerchief from the pocket. Supporting her with an arm around her waist, he lifted her skirt to press the linen gently between her legs.

When he was finished, he tossed the handkerchief aside and carefully lowered her skirt.

“Now that you’ve given me your gift, I must give you mine.” William stroked her cheek, his eyes alight.

Raven flattened her hand against his chest, over his heart. She felt the strange rhythm under her palm and the almost frightening silence.

“This is my gift,” she said quietly. “The way you touch me, I can tell that you love me.”

He lifted her fingers and kissed them, one by one. “But you’ll want the other gift I’m about to give you.”

“This is the only gift I want, but I’m happy to have the words.”

“I love you,” he whispered. “Defensa.”

She smiled against his shoulder. “I’m no longer wounded; I’m a protector.”

“You’ve always been a protector.” He kissed her forehead, before tracing the faded scar that marred it. “You told me once no one ever defended you. Tonight, I will.”

“What?” She pulled back, confused.

“I promised to give you justice. I keep my promises.”

A wave of anxiety passed over her. “William, what have you done?”

He smiled at her slowly. “It’s what I am going to do. Come.”

He pulled her tightly against him and they climbed to the roof, their bodies disappearing into the night like a wisp of smoke.

Raven paused expectantly at the foot of the grand staircase in William’s lavish villa.

“This way.” He gestured to the hall.

She looked up at the second floor with longing. “I thought we were going upstairs.”

His gray eyes danced. “We are going to the library.”

Raven had expected him to lead (or carry) her to his bedroom, where they’d spend the rest of the hours before sunset making love. She frowned. “Why?”

“Come and see.” He took her hand, escorting her down the hall.

The library was a beautiful room, featuring floor-to-ceiling bookcases, an immense wall of windows, and a high, domed ceiling formed entirely of glass. Pale light shone from outside, but Raven nearly stumbled in the semidarkness.

William lit a candle for her benefit. Vampyres had perfect vision in the dark.

“This isn’t our destination,” he explained. “It’s merely the vestibule.”

He turned to one of the bookcases and pressed on the spine of a large volume penned by Virgil. With a groan, the bookcase swung inward, revealing a dark passageway.

Raven peered into the narrow space. She hadn’t enjoyed their last journey into the underworld, when he’d introduced her to some of his fellow vampyres. She had no wish to repeat the experience.

“I was looking forward to spending the night with you in your bed.”

William gazed at her hungrily. “I’m looking forward to that, as well. But I haven’t given you your gift yet.”

She eyed the passageway. “I don’t like surprises.”

“This is a surprise you will enjoy, I assure you.” He led her down a spiral staircase, carefully supporting her weight since she was without her cane.

The space beneath the villa was damp. Raven felt her skin begin to crawl and she tugged at William, stopping him.

“Can’t you give me the gift upstairs? In your room?”

“Patience, Cassita.” He released her to smooth her long black hair. “All will be revealed.”

They continued down a long corridor that was punctuated by a series of heavy wooden doors. Raven could swear she heard rats scratching and scurrying behind them.

She clung to William until, finally, they stopped in front of a large, primitive-looking door. It was barred from the outside. With practiced ease, he lifted the bar and pulled the door open. The hallway echoed with the groans of rusted metal hinges.

He entered the room before her, using the candle to light torches that were suspended on the walls. Soon the cold, dank space was bathed in warm, flickering light.

Raven hesitated at the threshold. At first she thought the room was a wine cellar. But a glance at the interior revealed nothing like wine bottles or casks.

There was an old wooden table and a chair that sat to one side. There were iron sconces on the walls that held the now-lit torches and a pair of rusty iron manacles affixed with long, heavy chains. It was only the absence of weapons and other instruments that kept her from believing she stood outside a torture chamber. Then she saw the cell.

On the far side of the room was a small jail cell made of stout iron bars that ran from the floor to the low ceiling.

The cell wasn’t empty.

She entered the room, her shoes crunching on a few small rocks that were scattered over the stone floor. Dampness seemed to lift from it, seeping through her soles and up her bare legs. She shivered.

Inside the cell was a man, lying on the ground. His garments were dirty and torn and his hair was matted. In the dim light that shone through the iron bars, she could almost make out his face,

but not quite.

Raven wrinkled her nose at the stench that emanated from his direction—as if he hadn’t washed in days. As if he’d used the ground of his cell for a toilet. Curious, she approached him.

The prisoner chose that moment to move, revealing his face. Raven’s eyes widened.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, ceasing her forward movement.

William materialized at her side, bringing his lips to her ear. “Happy birthday.”

With a curse, Raven stumbled toward the door. She only managed three steps before the contents of her stomach splattered on the floor.

William wrapped his arm around her waist. “That is not the reaction I was expecting. Are you all right?”

She pushed him away, heaving a second time. When she’d finished, he tried to pull her in the direction of the chair.

“No.” She shoved his hands aside.