Reflexively, Raven stood aside.
She opened her mouth to invite the vampyre in, when something Father Kavanaugh had said flashed through her mind. She turned her head slowly and saw the man watching her, poised on the threshold like a snake, waiting to strike.
She smiled in an effort to disarm him. Then, in one quick motion, she closed and bolted the door.
Something heavy slammed against the door and the wooden object sagged on its hinges. The sounds of Italian curses filtered through the air.
She pulled out her cell phone, fumbling with the buttons. The man pounded on the door, demanding to be invited inside. Raven waited impatiently for her call to connect.
“Ambrogio?” she almost shouted into the phone. “A strange vampyre is here. He says he works for his lordship. He’s pounding on my door, demanding to be invited in.”
“Don’t invite him in,” Ambrogio responded coolly, as if she were merely giving him a weather report. “His lordship is not at home but I will get a message to him. Stay where you are. I’ll send Luka and Marco.”
“My sister is on her way here. She’s taking a taxi from Santa Maria Novella.”
“Stay where you are. The men are coming.”
Raven ended the call, dropping her phone on the kitchen table.
Luka and Marco, who were merely human, would be no match for the angry, pounding vampyre. And what if he was lurking around when Cara and Dan arrived?
Raven inclined her head toward the door, but the vampyre had ceased. Quietly, she stepped over to the peephole and looked outside. The hallway was empty.
Cautiously relieved, she entered her bedroom and walked to the window, pushing the curtains aside so she could look down at the piazza.
There were patrons sitting at the café across the square and there were a few tourists and students milling about. But there was no vampyre. She wondered where he’d gone.
Thirty minutes later, Raven was sitting on her bed, clutching her phone and waiting for Luka and Marco to arrive. There was still no sign of the vampyre. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Cara and Dan, either.
Her apartment buzzer rang. She looked out her bedroom window and was relieved to see Cara and Dan standing outside with their luggage.
She placed her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and approached the door to her apartment. The hallway was still clear.
She unlocked the door, opened it a crack, and poked her head out. Satisfied the hall was empty, she locked the door behind her and descended the stairs, gazing over the railing as she descended to make sure no one was hiding on the staircase.
Once she reached the front door, she opened it and quickly pulled her visitors indoors.
Raven was about to close the door behind them, when a man’s hand clamped onto the door frame.
Chapter Forty-four
Before Raven could push the door shut, the man swept inside the building, slamming the door behind him. He stood, blocking the exit, his size menacing, his expression severe. When his gaze alighted on Raven, he leered.
In a horrifying instant, Raven recognized him as the vampyre who had attacked Bruno some months before. William had called him Max.
“Dan, take Cara to the back door.” Raven placed herself between the vampyre and her family, tossing her house keys to Dan. He caught them handily.
With a growl, Max grabbed her by the arm and began to drag her toward the door.
“Hey, let her go!” Cara reacted immediately, moving to Raven’s side.
Raven struggled, twisting and turning in an attempt to free herself. But he held her in a bruising grip.
Cara struck him with Raven’s cane, but her blows seemed to have little effect other than to irritate him. He wrenched the cane from her grasp and threw it several feet away. When he lifted his hand as if to strike her, Dan intervened, grabbing the vampyre’s meaty arm and pulling it backward. With a snarl, the creature released Raven and she fell to her knees. The vampyre reared back and punched Dan in the face, causing a sickening crunch to echo in the hall. Dan slumped to the floor amid Cara’s screams.
“Dan!” she cried, kneeling at his side. She placed a hand on his chest. “He isn’t breathing!”
The vampyre ignored her outburst and grabbed Raven by the hair, pulling her to her feet.
“Cara, run,” Raven managed, wincing in pain. “Get help.”
“Let her go.” Cara stumbled to her feet, wiping her boyfriend’s blood on her black jeans. She was shaking with anger.
“No, Cara. Run!”
Cara ignored her sister’s pleas and picked up the discarded cane, brandishing it like a club in the direction of the vampyre.
“Run!” Raven screamed, panic overtaking her.
“Let my sister go.” Cara advanced determinedly.
The vampyre spat at her feet. “My orders were to limit the mess. Stay where you are or I’ll kill you.”
“No.” Raven gripped Max by his shirt. “I’ll go with you. Leave her alone.”
Max grinned.
He opened his mouth to voice a retort but Cara caught him in the side of the head with the cane.
Momentarily stunned, he released Raven and she pitched forward, slamming against the wall.
“Cara, get out of here!”
Her sister kept swinging the cane at the vampyre, striking him where she could, but Max just batted the cane away, his face split into a broad grin. When he’d tired of Cara, he backhanded her and she crashed to the ground, blood spurting from her nose. She grew still.
“No!” Raven cried, crawling toward her sister.
Max interrupted her movement and picked her up by the waist.
“I belong to the Prince of Florence.” Still struggling, she showed him the bracelet William had given her. “I’m his pet.”
“I know who you are,” he snarled. “Shut your mouth or I’ll kill the other one, too.”
Raven’s gaze darted over to Cara. She wasn’t moving and neither was Dan.
Perhaps the vampyre could sense Dan was already dead.
Raven grew quiet.
As Max carried her through the back door and into the alley, she turned to him.
“Where are you taking me?”
He shook her like a cat shakes a kitten. “Silence.” He brought his nose to her neck and inhaled deeply. “I’m taking you somewhere private enough for revenge. Then I’m going to find out exactly what kind of pet you are.”
He laughed at her show of fear and tucked her under his arm, grabbing hold of the side of the building as he prepared to climb.
Chapter Forty-five
“What news from Switzerland?” The Prince stood at the Piazzale Michelangelo after sunset with Gregor, his assistant.
The younger vampyre bowed. “On your orders, I went to Cologny and met with the family who sold your illustrations to the Americans. I told them I was an Interpol agent assigned to investigate the robbery.”
“What have you to report?”
Gregor produced a small valise and handed it to his ruler. “The family provided me with notes and pages from a diary that was kept by one of their ancestors—the man who purchased the illustrations in the nineteenth century.”
The Prince tucked the valise under his a
rm. “And the person who sold them?”
Gregor cleared his throat. “He was described as Italian. He sold the illustrations for much less than they were worth, saying that they had belonged to his family, who’d fallen on hard times.”
The Prince’s eyebrows drew together. “Did this Italian have a name?”
“The gentleman insisted he remain anonymous.” At this, Gregor pointed to the valise. “But the diary describes the man. He wore old clothes, spoke Italian fluently, and had pale skin.”
“A vampyre?”
“The family did not identify him as such, but the description suggests it. The man who purchased the illustrations was warned that he should keep the transaction secret and never make them public, or he would risk some kind of curse.”
“Subterfuge, of course.” The Prince looked off into space for a moment. “It’s possible whoever stole the illustrations from me enlisted the aid of the Italian to sell them.”
“Possible, my lord, but there is more to report.”
The Prince’s eyes moved to his assistant. “Proceed.”
“It seems, my lord, that the recipient described the man as young, with dark, curly hair that fell to his shoulders.”
The Prince moved abruptly to the stone railing. “Thousands of vampyres answered to that description at one time. And we all appear young to some degree.”
Gregor shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Yes, but this individual claimed to be related to the Medici.”
The Prince turned his head, pinning Gregor to the spot with his gaze.
“Are you certain?”
“It’s in the diary, my lord. It’s penned in French but translating it was easy enough.”
“So the shadow reveals himself,” the Prince muttered, turning to survey his city once again. “Rather than exposing himself as a worthy adversary, he shows he is a petty thief and a coward. Have you mentioned your journey to anyone?”
Gregor shook his head vigorously. “No, my lord.”
“Have you spoken about your findings to anyone else?” The Prince’s tone was deceptively calm.
“I serve only you, my prince.”
“Good. You have done well, Gregor. Your service shall be rewarded. I am elevating you to the Consilium.”