“Cara,” Raven whispered.

Cara’s eyes moved to her sister’s and, for a moment, Raven thought she saw acknowledgment. Her sister retrieved what looked like a tube of lipstick and began painting her mouth with it.

“You need to call the cops. The guy who called you is a nutcase. How did he find you? You go by a different name.”

Raven bristled. “He isn’t crazy. He found me because he’s good at finding things. He wants to hear what we think. He’s offering us justice.”

“Justice?” Cara laughed. “Some lunatic approaches you and says he has our stepfather, and you want advice about what he should do to him? I can’t believe you haven’t called the cops already.”

“We weren’t the only children he hurt.” Raven leaned toward the camera. “But we’re the oldest. The investigator wants to give us closure.”

Cara tossed her lipstick into her purse and moved out of range of the camera.

“There’s no we, Raven. There’s just you. You want some stranger to do God knows what to David. Why? Because you had an accident and fell down the stairs?”

“I didn’t fall down the stairs. He pushed me!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Pain shot through Raven’s middle at her sister’s words. “I don’t care about me.” She clutched her laptop screen with both hands. “Are you listening? It was never about me. It was about you.”

“It wasn’t necessary.”

“Someone had to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“From what he did to you!” Raven shouted.

“He didn’t do anything!” Cara slapped her hands on the desk. “How many times do I have to tell you? Nothing happened! He never touched me. Do you hear? He never touched me!”

“Cara,” Raven managed. Cara turned her face away and began to cry. Raven reached for the screen. “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell is going on?” Dan, Cara’s boyfriend, came into view of the camera. He tried to put his arms around her but she pushed him away.

“Fuck you, Raven!” She turned toward the camera, her face filling the screen. “Fuck you.”

“Cara, I’m sorry. If you could just—” Raven’s plea was cut off by Cara’s disappearance and the sound of a door slamming.

“What just happened?” Dan crouched so he could see Raven’s face on the computer.

“I didn’t mean to upset her. We were talking about our former stepfather. I just found out he was part of a pedophile ring in California.”

Dan cursed. “Why did you tell her that?”

“I wanted to know how she felt about it. I wanted to know what would give her closure.”

He stood, facing the door. The sounds of Cara’s sobs could still be heard in the background. He moved toward the computer once again. “You upset her.”

“I was trying to help her.”

“I don’t want you bringing up that shit again.”

“She’s my sister.” Raven felt a tear slide down her cheek.

“She doesn’t need your help. Nothing happened to Cara and I want you to stop trying to convince her that it did.”

“Dan, I—”

“Stay out of our lives. That’s it, Raven. I mean it.”

Before Raven could protest, Dan ended the chat.

For a long time she sat, staring at the computer. Then she walked to her bed and crawled under the covers, pulling them over her head.

Gregor moved away from Raven’s bedroom window and climbed to the roof. He leapt from building to building with the intention of informing the Prince about what had just happened to his pet.

In truth, he was confused. He didn’t understand the subject of the argument or its context. However, it was clear the pet was distressed, which meant he needed to report that fact with haste.

As he dropped to street level and approached one of the secret entrances to the underworld, he quickened his pace, hoping the pet would not harm herself before he could deliver his report.

He wanted to keep his head.

Chapter Eleven

“This is disturbing.” The Prince folded the handwritten report and placed it carefully on his desk.

He was seated in one of his personal rooms near the council chamber that lay at the heart of the underworld. A set of flickering candles sat to one side, the only illumination in the dark space.

“Yes, my lord. That’s why I thought you should see it immediately.” Niccolò stood in front of the desk. His face wore a look of intense concentration as he watched his ruler’s reaction.

“What news from Rome?” The Prince placed his hand on top of the report, as if by pressing down he could lessen its threat.

“None. As usual, the Roman seems to operate without the Curia’s interference. If you recall, Lorenzo was told personally by the Roman’s lieutenant that Rome’s support ends when the Curia’s involvement begins.”

“I am aware of that.” The Prince’s hand folded into a fist. “I am also aware of the fact that Rome is Florence’s ally.”

A look of surprise flitted across Niccolò’s features.

“Nevertheless,” the Prince continued, “we don’t want the Curia here.”

“No, my lord. If I may?”

The Prince waved his hand in his security adviser’s direction.

“Thank you. The war with the Venetians was kept quiet. The Curia heard of it but did not interfere, probably because they were delighted two principalities were at war.”

“Obviously,” the Prince commented dryly.

“But the murder of the Interpol agent by a feral drew international attention. Then there were the bodies found downstream. And more recently, the incidents with the hunters.”

“I am well aware of our most recent history, Sir Machiavelli. Have you anything new to contribute?”

Niccolò schooled his features, hiding his irritation. “Forgive me, my lord. Now that it’s clear the eyes of the Curia are on Florence, it may be the time to enact stricter laws on feeding and killing.”

“Our laws are already some of the strictest. That is how we’ve avoided their attention.”

“True, but a gesture of strictness may ameliorate the situation.”

“Our citizens have always enjoyed their liberty,” the Prince mused.

“There will be no liberty to enjoy if the Curia enters the city. Remember what they did to Prague.”

The Prince was filled with revulsion. He remembered the reports of how the Curia had entered Prague and slaughtered most of its supernatural inhabitants as punishment for widespread, indiscriminate killing. It was a genocide.

“My lord?” Niccolò’s voice broke into the Prince’s reflections.

He straightened in his chair. “Outline your analysis and recommendations. I’ll review them and call for a Consilium meeting tomorrow.”

“With respect, my lord, the proclamation should come from Florence’s Prince and not the Consilium.”

“I don’t disagree. But the support of the Consilium is useful for my purposes.”

Niccolò bowed. “Of course, my lord.”

“You are dismissed.”

The Prince stroked a hand across his chin as he watched his adviser’s departing form. He would do what was necessary to avoid confrontation with the Curia. Even as he made plans on how to do so, his thoughts strayed to a certain young woman, wondering how she would fare if their most dangerous enemy ever entered the city.

He lifted a copy of one of Machiavelli’s works from the desk and opened it, noting with satisfaction that the missive he’d hidden inside was still there. He reshelved the volume in one of the bookcases, not because he thought he’d ever need to produce the secret message, but simply because it was precious to him. And he wanted it to remain hidden.

Chapter Twelve

As the first rays of morning sun illuminated the city, Raven awoke to discover a naked vampyre in her bed.

It was not an unwelcome discovery.

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nbsp; The bed was narrow—too narrow for two persons. Somehow William had slipped between the sheets without disturbing her. His naked body was spooned behind her, his arms around her waist, his long legs entangled with hers.

It was very comfortable, despite the coolness of his skin. She closed her eyes and settled into his embrace.

“I wondered when you’d stir.” William chuckled in her ear.

“You could have woken me.”

“And miss the opportunity to do—whatever they call this?”

“What?”

He squeezed her waist. “I don’t know what it’s called, the way we are lying together.”

“It’s called spooning.”

William paused. “That is an extraordinarily silly description for something this sensual.”

Raven laughed and snuggled closer. He pressed a smile against her hair. “I enjoy the sound of your laughter. I can’t remember the last time I heard it.”

“I haven’t had much to laugh about recently.”

He flexed his hand against her abdomen, pulling her back against the cradle of his hips.

She sighed. “It’s fine.”

“Do not do that.”

Tags: Sylvain Reynard The Florentine Romance
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