The Raven (30 page)

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.

W
illiam was conscious of the tension in Raven’s body, but she accepted his touch. He tried not to be distracted by the warmth and softness of her form, or the delight he had in wrapping himself around her.

He’d never held a woman this way before. He’d never asked a woman to tell him her secrets or share her hidden pain.

Raven was different.

He tried very hard to focus on her words and not be distracted by her scent, which had almost cleared of the vampyre blood he’d given her.

“I am not a victim.” Her voice was low but steely. “I’m not telling you this story to inspire pity. I don’t want that.”

“Agreed.” He spoke near her ear.

She mumbled a curse and he almost regretted demanding her history from her. Almost, but not quite.

“Everything began when my father died. I was eleven and we were living in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. My father was a construction worker. One day, he had an accident and fell off a roof.”

Raven shuddered. “It was sudden, obviously. My mother went to pieces. We didn’t have extended family so it was just my mother, me, and my sister, Carolyn. We called her Cara. She was four.

“My mother didn’t function well without my father. He’d kept the house repaired and paid the bills and looked after the car. She didn’t know how to do any of those things. Or if she did, she was too depressed to do them.

“We were going to lose our house. We didn’t have money for food. So my mother got a job as a hostess in a local restaurant. That’s where she met him.” Raven shivered and William moved closer, wrapping himself around her like a shield.

“He was a real estate developer from Florida. He took a shine to my mother and asked her out. He didn’t mind that she had kids. In fact, he told us he loved kids.” Raven spat out the words.

“They started dating. Soon she was pregnant and they decided to get married and move us to Orlando, Florida, to live with him.

“Things were fine at the beginning. Mom was happy and pregnant. Cara was happy to have a new daddy.”

“And you, Cassita”—William’s voice was low—“were you happy?”

“I was relieved. When Dad died, I was left having to do things—buy food, try to cook, and remind my mother to pay the bills.

“After the first month or two in Orlando, I started noticing things about our stepfather. He barely spoke to me and when I tried to talk to him, he brushed me off.

“But he talked to Cara. And he stared at her, a lot. I didn’t like the way he looked at her.

“One night I came out of my room to go to the bathroom and I saw him going into her room. I followed.

“He gave me some bullshit excuse of checking on her and tried to send me back to bed. I wouldn’t go. I said I was scared of the dark and was going to sleep in her room.

“He argued with me but I wouldn’t move. He was angry with me but eventually he left. That’s when I realized something was very, very wrong.

“I tried to tell my mother, but she wouldn’t listen. She was in a happy haze preparing for the baby and she didn’t want to hear what I had to say. She didn’t want to admit that something was wrong with her new husband.

“I started sleeping on Cara’s floor every night. That made him furious.”

“Did he try to hurt you?”

“Not directly. He’d ground me for no reason or try to convince my mother I was stealing from him. They tried to lock me in my room a couple of times but I figured out how to pick the lock with a bobby pin.”

“What’s a bobby pin?”

“A metal thing women use in their hair sometimes,” Raven answered before forcing herself to continue. “I couldn’t sleep at night because I was worried about my sister. I’d go to bed early, but set my alarm so I could wake up after my mom went to bed.

“I started having trouble in school because I was falling asleep. The teachers wanted to know what was going on at home but my stepfather just told them I was sneaking out at night with my friends.

“One night, I fell asleep and didn’t hear my alarm. Or maybe he’d turned it off, I don’t know. I ran to Cara’s room and the door was locked from the inside. He’d switched the doorknob around.

“I went to my room and found a bobby pin and picked the lock. I opened the door and saw him sitting on her bed. He’d pulled Cara’s nightgown up around her neck. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“I started screaming. I picked up things and threw them at him. He pulled Cara’s nightgown down and came at me, telling me to shut up or I’d wake my mother.”

“Where was your mother?” William interrupted.

“In bed. Her door was closed but I know she heard me. She knew exactly what was going on but she was too fucking weak to stand up to him.”

William felt Raven’s arms tense as she balled her hands into fists.

“What happened next?”

“He hit me. I didn’t even feel it, I was just trying to get to my sister. I started crawling on the ground toward her but he grabbed me.

“I was kicking and screaming and he was yelling at me to shut up.

“My mother chose that moment to open her door and come down the hall. I was struggling with my stepfather and shouting at my mother about what he’d done to Cara. I wouldn’t shut up, so he pushed me down the stairs.”

William’s body went rigid.

She moved her head in his direction.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” He tried to keep his voice calm, for her sake. “What happened next?”

“I don’t remember. Actually, I don’t remember him pushing me down the stairs. I just remember fighting with him and then I remember falling.

“When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The doctors said I broke my leg and ankle. A social worker came to see me, and after I told her what happened, my sister was put in temporary foster care.”

William squeezed her lightly. “What’s foster care?”

“Um, when children are in danger, sometimes the state steps in and takes them away from their family. Foster families look after the children until they can be placed somewhere safe.”

“So they believed you.”

“They believed the evidence—Cara was hysterical and she wouldn’t talk about what happened. I was in the hospital and my stepfather was at the police station lying his ass off. He said he’d been drinking and it was a misunderstanding—that I tripped and fell.

“My mother knew. She
knew
and she did nothing,” Raven whispered. “I told her something was happening with Cara. She said I was lying because I was jealous of my stepfather’s attention; that I was trying to break up her marriage. To this day, she sides with him.”

Raven inhaled deeply.

“Just once, I wanted someone to defend me. By the time we were placed in foster care, it was too late.”

William’s hand moved to her injured leg, ghosting over her scar.

“This happened because you were protecting your sister?”

Raven flinched. “I didn’t protect her. He got to her while I was asleep. And I don’t think that was the first time.”

She stopped abruptly and William smelled the tang of salt. She was crying.

He buried his face in her hair, not knowing what to do.

“I failed her,” she cried. “She was only five. She was just a baby. And it’s my fault.”

He grimaced. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

William withdrew so he could look at her. “What twelve-year-old girl would have the courage to physically confront a man? Precious few.”

Raven swiped at her eyes.

“I don’t see how it is your fault that a pedophile went after your sister. You’re the hero in this tale, Cassita.”

“It’s why I changed my name. I couldn’t hear the word
Jane
without hearing his voice.”

“So you chose
Raven
?”

“I wanted to prove to myself that I could be someone else. That I could be brave.”

William brought his lips to her ear. “You are brave, Raven. You are very brave. A slip of a girl, fighting to protect her sister. That’s heroic.”

“Hardly.”

“Joan of Arc had that kind of courage.”

Raven shifted to look up at him. “Did you know her?”

“No. I came to Florence in the late thirteenth century. I’ve been here since then.”

“You never leave?”

“Rarely. Vampyres in my position are expected to ask for permission before they travel across another prince’s territory. I find the process tiresome.”

He brushed a kiss against her hair. “What about your leg? Couldn’t they repair it?”

Raven turned on her side once again. “They tried but it didn’t heal properly. We were wards of the state at that point. I suppose if we’d had enough money for expensive surgeons and multiple surgeries they could have fixed it. But my stepfather was under a restraining order and he was the one with all the money. My mother was told she had to stay away from him.”

“And did she?”

“Long enough to get us back. When I was released from the hospital, Cara and I were placed with a foster family for several months. My stepfather was brought up on charges but he plea-bargained and received a suspended sentence.”

Raven exhaled loudly. “My mother lost the baby—probably because of the stress. I don’t know. Eventually she was settled in an apartment and started working. We went to live with her.

“We were there only a week when my stepfather showed up. They said that we were moving to California. She said we were going to be a family again.”

William growled, low, near her ear.

“That night, when we went to bed I grabbed my sister and we left. I stole my stepfather’s wallet and used the money to try to get back to our old foster home. But I wasn’t sure how to get there. We hopped a bus and ended up in a bad section of Orlando.

“We were at a bus stop trying to figure out how to get where we needed to go. My sister was crying and I was on crutches because my leg was still healing.

“A guy came up and started talking to us. He was creepy but we had nowhere else to go, we had to wait for the bus. He tried to persuade us to go with him, that he could help us. When I said no, he grabbed me. I fought him, hitting him with one of my crutches. He took my crutch and threw it away. I thought he was going to knock me out and kidnap us.

“Out of nowhere, a man and a woman appeared. They’d heard me yelling and came to see what was going on. The man who’d grabbed me ran off.

“The guy who came to our rescue was a priest. He asked me what had happened and I told him everything—about my stepfather, about my leg, about Cara . . .”

Raven cleared her throat. “He was the director of Covenant House, which is a shelter for teenagers. The woman was one of the shelter workers. They were making the rounds handing out food and trying to convince homeless kids to come to the shelter.

“They took us in and gave us a safe place to sleep. And they didn’t call my mother.”

William was puzzled. “Why would they?”

“Normally, you’d report missing children to their parents. But Father Kavanaugh kept us at Covenant House until he could figure out how to help us. In the morning, he called a friend of his who was a police officer and he came over.

“They called our social worker and we went back into foster care. It was over a year before we were returned to my mother. She gave up on my stepfather permanently and moved to St. Petersburg. Um, that’s a different city in Florida.”

“What happened to him?” William’s hand curled into a fist.

“I don’t know. He was in trouble with the police because he’d violated the terms of his sentence and the restraining order. He may have been sent to jail, I’m not sure. We didn’t talk about him after that.”

“And your mother?”

“I lived with her until I was old enough to go to college. I kept in touch with Father Kavanaugh. He paid for me to take art lessons when I was in high school. He helped me get a scholarship to Barry University. I left home and never went back.”

“What about your sister?”

Raven squirmed in his arms. “She stayed with my mom. When she was a teenager, she got mixed up with the wrong crowd. She was promiscuous. I worried it was because of what had happened to her.”

“And now?”

“She dropped out of high school for a while, but I persuaded her to go back. I was living in New York by then and going to graduate school. I think she realized that education was her ticket to a better kind of life.

“Father Kavanaugh helped her pay for college, and when she graduated she became a real estate agent. She’s successful now and has a nice boyfriend. They’re coming to visit me this summer.”

“Is she all right?”

“She doesn’t remember anything about that night and has basically accepted my mother’s version of events.” Raven shifted on the bed. “Maybe that’s better than being tormented by the past.”

“Are you tormented?”

“Every day.”

William was quiet for a very long time.

“A priest came to save you, yet you don’t believe in God?”

“What kind of God lets children be abused?” Raven’s voice was low and very fierce.

“You don’t need to tell me about the injustice of God. I agree. But his injustice doesn’t entail his nonexistence.”

“Maybe for you.”

William stroked her hair softly.

“You cried for your sister but not for yourself.”

Now he could smell the salt from fresh tears.

“She was a baby,” Raven managed to say. “It was my job to protect her.”

“It was your mother’s responsibility to protect you both. And she didn’t.” William tightened his arm across Raven’s middle. He sighed deeply, his tone tinged with regret. “I would not have asked you to talk about this if I’d known.”

“A lot of kids had it worse than me. That’s why I volunteer at the orphanage.”

William swore, the muscles of his body tensing.

“I blame my father,” she whispered. “I love him and I miss him, but if he’d been more careful, he wouldn’t have died. None of this would have happened.”

“Put the blame where it belongs, on your mother and stepfather.”

“I blame her, William, believe me. We don’t have a relationship because of this.”

“I have considerable power, Cassita, and more than a considerable fortune. I will use both to have your leg repaired medically, if that’s what you want. If you’d rather use alchemy, the best vintages of my cellar are yours.”