She fanned a hand to her throat as she tried once again to swallow. The intruder’s face was familiar not only because she’d drawn him. He bore more than a passing resemblance to the figures of Mercury and Zephyr in the painting upstairs.
She puzzled how that could be.
“Sit down.” He spoke English with a British accent, pointing to the now vacant chair.
Something about his voice speaking English nudged her memories.
She sat in the proffered chair, clutching her knapsack in her lap.
William gestured to a bottle of wine and a single glass that stood on the table. “Would you care for something to drink?”
She shook her head, lifting her eyes to examine his appearance.
He was wearing a black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and black jeans. He’d removed his motorcycle boots and was now wearing black shoes. For some reason, he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing muscled forearms and pale skin that was lightly dusted with fine, blond hair.
In short, he was probably the most attractive man she’d ever seen.
“Shall we begin our discussion, or would you rather examine my collection?”
He gestured to the room proudly.
It was difficult to make out all the works by the light of a single candle, but Raven took her time scanning the space. There were Renaissance paintings on the walls and marble sculptures positioned at different points in the room.
On the far wall, directly in front of her, was an elaborate display of illustrations, under glass.
Raven pushed her knapsack aside and marched over.
Her suspicions were correct. He had the missing Botticelli illustrations, unashamedly arranged.
“You stole them,” she whispered.
“I most certainly did not.” He sniffed.
She turned to face him. “Semantics. You hired someone to do it.”
He gestured to the display. “They were stolen from me years ago. I simply took them back.”
“Dottor Vitali said they belonged to a Swiss family for generations before the Emersons bought them.”
William’s eyes narrowed. “The story is a long one and I’m not interested in telling it. Sit down.”
Raven stubbornly remained where she was.
“How did your people get past the security systems?”
He made a sweeping gesture, as if to brush aside her question. “Stop wasting my time with trifles. Tell me why you aren’t wearing the relic I gave you.”
“I told you I don’t believe in that shit.”
“That ‘shit,’ as you so ignorantly put it, would have saved your precious boy from being injured. He’s in the hospital now because of you. In addition, the police found your knapsack next to his body, making you a person of interest.”
“You put a lot of faith in inanimate objects.” Raven glanced over at her bag. “If I’m a person of interest, how did you get it back?”
“Bribery and threats. I should note that I’m tired of expending energy and manpower on your account.”
William’s tone was credible and Raven believed him, momentarily stunned into silence.
He regarded her with narrowed eyes.
“I warned you about going out after dark. You caught Maximilian’s attention tonight and it was only through the miracle of Sanctuary that you escaped.”
“What do you mean by Sanctuary? I didn’t go inside the church.”
“Where do you think the efficacy of Sanctuary comes from? From the holiness of ground. You stood on holy ground and they couldn’t follow you.”
“How do you know there was more than one?”
He scowled. “I make it my business to know what’s going on in the city, especially concerning you.”
Raven exhaled loudly. “I never asked for your help. I don’t even know you.”
William approached her. “We met before. You simply don’t remember.”
“I would have remembered,” she mumbled, her cheeks beginning to warm.
William noticed her reaction and tilted his head to the side, as if he found it curious.
“Do you find me handsome?”
“I’m physically disabled, not visually impaired,” she snapped.
Anger moved across William’s face.
“No one ever speaks to me as you just did. No one who retains his head.”
Raven’s cheeks flamed again and she avoided his eyes. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I was in trouble and you helped me. Thank you.”
She pushed her long black hair behind her ears. “I’m sensitive about my disability.”
William’s gaze dropped to her right leg. “Are you in pain?”
“Just a dull ache.” She flexed her foot and rotated her ankle, as if hoping the movement would soothe the discomfort.
It didn’t.
“Wait a minute.” She paused, examining him closely. “How did you know which of my legs was injured?”
“That is a very good question.” He gave her a knowing look.
“Are you going to answer it?”
“Perhaps.”
Raven was about to say something insulting but she caught herself. She tried to adopt a conciliatory expression.
“The man you mentioned, Maximilian, he asked me who my master was. He said something about blood.”
“I can explain that,” William said quietly. “And if you were to ask me politely why you lost your memory, I’d tell you.”
He gave her an expectant look.
She took a step closer. “I’m asking politely—please tell me what happened. I’ve been going crazy trying to figure it out.”
“As you wish.” He thrust his hands in his pockets.
He paused, as if he were trying to figure out where to begin.
“A week ago, I was downtown after dark. I came upon a young woman who was being attacked by three men. They’d beaten her and dragged her into an alley in order to rape her.
“I’d come across similar scenes in the past. I always ignore them.”
Raven gave him a censorious look.
He returned her gaze. “It isn’t my job to rid the world of such animals.
“This was different. I knew she was good. I knew she hadn’t led an easy life, but she’d led a brave one. Later, I would discover that the reason she’d been attacked was because she’d seen a homeless man being beaten and she’d intervened.”
Raven felt a piercing pain at the back of her head. The pain was so great and its onset so sudden, she failed to notice the strangeness of William’s claim to have moral perception.
But she would notice it later.
Raven heard the sound of quick, sure footsteps, which stopped about two feet in front of her.
“Are you all right?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “My head aches.”
“Here.” He took her by the elbow and led her to the chair. “Do you want a drink?”
“No.” She sat down heavily. “What happened to the girl?”
“She was dying. They’d smashed her head against a wall and caused a brain injury.”
Raven fought back bile.
“Did they rape her?” she whispered.
“I killed them before that happened.”
An expression of horror flashed across her face. “You killed them?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I have no use for police.”
“You didn’t have to kill them.” Her voice was unsteady.
William’s eyes glinted a cold, steel gray. “Would you have preferred I leave them to their next victim? Another woman? Another homeless man? Or a child?”
“No, but death is final.”
“In some cases.” He cast her a meaningful look.
Raven could see there was more, much more, that he wasn’t telling her. She felt her grasp on what she thought she knew begin to slip, like a lifeline being pulled out of her hands.
She gazed up at him, wide eyed. “How can death
not be final?”
“Now is not the time for theological questions.”
William paced to her left and back again. “Faced as I was with a dying woman, I had to make a decision. I could let her die, I could hasten her death, or I could save her.
“I thought about ending her suffering.” He paused his pacing. “I couldn’t do it. She hadn’t done anything to deserve the attack. Her death would have been a tragedy.
“I brought her here, to my home. She nearly died in my arms. There wasn’t time to fetch a doctor, and in any case I doubted one could help her. So I did what I could.”
Raven shuddered. “And what was that?”
William turned to face the illustrations and she was treated to the sight of his back, his wide shoulders and narrow waist. He was quiet, as if he were reading the answer to her question in the drawings of Dante and Beatrice.
“I used—alchemy.”