The Raven (29 page)

R
aven’s head arched back, exposing her neck, as William’s lips closed on her breast. His body, including his mouth, was cooler than hers. The feel of his tongue in intimate places was particularly arousing.

They were naked.

He was sitting up, his back against the wall at the head of her bed. She was straddling him, his arm encircling her waist as he thrust inside her.

At the sight of her neck, he growled, his mouth moving from her breast to her throat.

She moved up and down, riding him. She was close, a familiar tightening beginning below her stomach.

He kissed her throat, nipping and sucking the skin. His lips and tongue stroked across her flesh, her breasts brushing across his smooth chest.

“Cassita.” He tugged her earlobe with his teeth. “I won’t let such beauty die.”

One more swivel of her hips and she climaxed, the words that tumbled from her lips incoherent.

With a snarl, he sank his teeth into her neck, piercing skin and artery until the blood flowed into his mouth. He sucked and sucked as her orgasm peaked, thrusting between her legs faster and faster.

With the blood flow to her brain diminished by half, she grew light-headed. But the sensation only compounded her climax, causing it to continue, like a wave that would not crash.

She was suspended in time, in the throes of absolute ecstasy as he drank, the blood flowing warm and liquid down his throat.

She grew more and more light-headed, the pleasure in her body still present, but she began to disconnect with it, as if she were losing the ability to feel.

She raised a weak hand to his shoulder, trying to push him away.

He shoved her arm aside.

Her eyes shot open and she began to cry out, begging him to stop, her limbs immobile.

Pain shot through her body, overtaking the pleasure. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she felt weightless, the pain as well as the pleasure gone.

When she collapsed in his arms, he laid her on the bed, lifting his bloodied mouth to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Raven lacked the strength to respond. She felt the darkness close in around her as her heart stuttered and finally stopped.

T
o say that Raven was unsettled by the nightmare would be an understatement. She slept fitfully the rest of the night, finally giving up on sleep at around four o’clock in the morning.

She wrote short e-mails to Cara and to Father Kavanaugh, telling them she’d be glad to see them in the summer. She lied to her sister, saying that Bruno had canceled their date. She hoped Cara wouldn’t pursue the matter further.

At six o’clock, it was still too early to get ready for work, so Raven spread her drawing paper and charcoals across the kitchen table and began sketching the lost Michelangelo painting that hung in William’s villa.

It was difficult to draw from memory, even though Raven’s memory (when not recovering from a life-threatening head injury) was very good. Still, it was worth a try, since it seemed unlikely she’d ever see it again.

An hour and a half later, she’d outlined the naked bodies of Adam and Eve. They were a fair approximation of the figures painted by Michelangelo.

Disturbingly, however, she’d drawn the faces of William and herself without realizing it.

Frustrated, she tossed the paper and charcoals into her knapsack and went to the bathroom to wash her hands. The drawing was ruined. And it certainly hadn’t helped her put thoughts of William aside.

He was handsome, it was true. But he was dangerous.

He kissed like an angel. Or rather, what Raven thought an angel would kiss like if there were such things.

But he was cruel.

Her subconscious had placed interesting words into his mouth.

I won’t let such beauty die
.

But William would let beauty die. Moreover, he’d bring about its death directly, by killing Professor Emerson.

She chose a pair of black pants and a green blouse to wear to work, dressing listlessly. She pinned her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and retrieved her glasses from the nightstand, where they sat next to William’s bracelet.

He hadn’t taken it.

As she looked at the gold, at the fleur-de-lis in the center, it occurred to her that returning it would give her an excuse to visit him. Then she could speak to him about the Emersons.

It was a flimsy excuse but all she had.

She placed the bracelet on her wrist, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and exited the apartment. After locking her door, she saw a woman on the landing, preparing to enter Lidia’s apartment.

The woman bore a striking resemblance to Bruno, with the same dark hair and eyes.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Raven.”

The woman’s face flashed with recognition.

“I’m Graziella, Bruno’s mother.”

“Um, I heard Bruno was in the hospital. Is he okay?”

Graziella appeared upset.

“He was attacked the other night. But he’s doing much better. We think he will be able to come home tomorrow.”

Raven exhaled her relief. “That’s good news. How is Lidia?”

“Not so good. But a specialist from Rome is coming to examine her.” She nodded toward the apartment. “She was refusing treatment until she heard her case had come to the attention of a distinguished oncologist. She decided she’d see him.”

Raven found herself heartened by the news. “I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t know she was sick. I’m so sorry I didn’t try to help earlier.”

“Would you like to come inside? Say hello?”

“Of course.”

Raven glanced at her old Swatch discreetly. She had plenty of time to get to work.

When they entered the apartment, Dolcezza, the cat, darted toward the door.

Raven hung back, not knowing how the cat would react to her. It had hissed at her only a week previous.

But the cat seemed to have forgotten her previous bad temper and began threading itself through her legs.

Raven leaned over to pet the cat, hearing its throaty purr.

“Mamma, you have a visitor,” Graziella announced.

Lidia was over seventy and small and rounded, with curly gray hair and dark, wise eyes. She was sitting on her couch in the living room, watching television. As soon as she saw Raven, she smiled.

“Hello, my dear.” She waved her over and Raven crossed the room.

Lidia patted the couch next to her.

Raven sat down, placing her knapsack on the floor. “I’m so sorry to hear that you’re sick.”

“I’m fine, just old. How did your date with my grandson go?”

“Oh.” Raven shifted awkwardly. “Well, something came up and he couldn’t meet me.”

“Really?” Lidia frowned. “That isn’t like him. He told me he was looking forward to it. I’ll have to speak to him. But you know he had an accident.”

“Yes, I heard that. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s getting better. Now, what do you want for breakfast?” Lidia moved as if to stand, but Raven stopped her.

“I should be making you breakfast.”

“I can still fix breakfast. I’m not dead.”

Raven shot a worried look at Graziella, who rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“I’m just on my way to work at the Uffizi. Maybe we could have breakfast another time.”

“Anytime. Just knock on the door. But not tomorrow; tomorrow the doctor from Rome is coming.”

Raven smiled and squeezed her neighbor’s hand. “Good. I’ll see you soon. If you need anything, please let me know. I’m just next door.”

Raven hugged Lidia and took leave of Graziella, wishing with all her might that the specialist might find a way to help her neighbor.

It was with great surprise that Raven saw Luka standing in the hallway of her building after she left Lidia’s apartment. She’d thought that William would withdraw his protection after what had happened the night before.

She didn’t bother asking him questions about William, for she knew Luka wouldn’t answer. His lordship had trained his servants well and they always obeyed orders.

Luka was human. As far as Raven knew, all William’s servants were human. Although at first she couldn’t tell the difference between a human and a vampyre, now she found it easy. Vampyres were paler of skin, stronger, and more imposing physically than human beings.

An air of danger and threat clung to them, as well.

As she exited her building with Luka, she didn’t see Ispettor Batelli watching her from across the piazza. Nor did she see him following the Mercedes from a distance.

She spent a quiet but constructive day in the restoration lab, working on the
Birth of Venus
. Patrick and Gina stopped by to invite her to lunch and the trio walked to a nearby osteria, on the other side of Piazza Signoria.

Luka drove Raven home after work, where she prepared a simple dinner, packing up half of it to deliver to Lidia. Lidia was grateful for the gift and prevailed on Raven to stay and enjoy a glass of wine.

Just as the sun was setting, Raven took leave of her neighbor and descended the staircase to the street. She put on her helmet, climbed on her Vespa, and drove to the Piazzale Michelangelo.

The Emersons’ time was decidedly short. She didn’t know how long the hunters were going to remain in the city. She didn’t know when William would decide to go after the professor.

She was determined to see him and try once more to change his mind.

When she approached the gate to his villa, she heard a voice from the security speaker. She hadn’t even announced her arrival.

“State your business.”

“Um, it’s Raven. Raven Wood. I’m here to see his lordship.”

“His lordship is not at home.”

Raven recognized Ambrogio’s voice. She also recognized that he was being cool with her.

“Could I come inside and wait? I really need to see him.”

There was a long pause.

When Ambrogio didn’t reply, she decided to change tactics.

She lifted her wrist, displaying the gold bracelet to the security camera.

“His lordship ordered me to return this,” she lied. “And his lordship’s orders are always obeyed.”

Raven bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face. It was too ridiculous.

“One moment.”

Raven waited and the high iron gate opened, allowing her to pass through. She was shocked her strategy had worked.

She drove to the triple garage and parked in front of it, storing her helmet inside the Vespa’s seat. She picked up her cane and walked through the garden to the door.

Ambrogio greeted her, directing her to Lucia, in the kitchen.

“Ah, Miss Wood. Sit down.” Lucia gestured to the kitchen table, on which she’d already set a bottle of wine and a plate of fruit and cheese. She gestured to an empty glass. “Shall I?”

“Please.” Raven tried not to drum her fingers on top of the table as she watched Lucia pour her a glass of red wine.

“His lordship is not here.” Lucia corked the bottle and set it aside before placing the full glass in front of her guest. “In fact, he is not expected home this evening.”

“Why not?”

“He has another residence that he sometimes uses. He stayed there last night and will probably stay there again tonight.” Lucia’s expression was carefully controlled.

Raven derived the impression that there was much, much more that Lucia was not telling her; none of it good.

“Can I wait for him?”

“I would not recommend that. As I said, he is not expected home.” Lucia glanced significantly at Raven’s wrist.

She removed the bracelet. “If you could return this to his lordship, I’d be very grateful.”

“Of course.” Lucia took the item.

“Can I still see his version of
Primavera
? He ordered me to give him my report for the restoration, but there’s one part of the painting I need to see again.”

Lucia smiled. “Please enjoy your wine, and when you are ready I will escort you upstairs. Will you need to have the painting removed from the wall?”

Raven shook her head.

Lucia gestured to a small bell that stood in front of Raven’s plate. “Ring when you are ready.”

With a nod, Lucia disappeared, leaving Raven to finish her wine alone.

While she sipped her wine and nibbled nervously on the fruit and cheese, Raven came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with Ambrogio, Lucia, and Luka.

They seemed to lack something, in addition to a sense of humor. And the way they mindlessly followed William’s instructions . . .

William had mentioned something about mind control when he took her to meet his coven. Perhaps his household staff were under mind control, which was why they’d blindly let her in when she referred to his orders.

Having come to this momentous conclusion and having finished her remarkable glass of wine, Raven rang the bell. Lucia escorted her upstairs to the master bedroom.

As usual, the space was immaculate. The bed looked as if it hadn’t been slept in.

Lucia instructed her to ring if she needed anything and closed the door behind her.

Raven examined the room carefully, searching for anything that would give her a clue as to William’s whereabouts. But she found nothing.

It was possible, she reasoned, that he was at Palazzo Riccardi. Given what had happened the last time she went looking for him, Raven decided not to go there.

Surely he would have to return to the villa sometime. Unfortunately, Raven didn’t have days to wait. She needed to be at the Uffizi early tomorrow morning for work.

What a mess
.

In order to keep up the lie she’d told to Lucia, she decided to examine the painting.

She took a few photos of it with her phone, especially of the figures of Mercury, Chloris, and Zephyr. Then she sat, analyzing it.

Seeing William as Zephyr was jarring, especially since she now knewthe story behind his depiction.

She examined the features of Chloris. It was difficult to make them out, since her head was turned. If what William had said was correct, the woman who’d fallen in love with him was the model for Chloris and for the second of the three Graces.

It was at this moment that Raven saw the painting in a new light.

Under the benevolent hand of Venus, Cupid pointed his arrow at the second Grace, who was already gazing with longing at Mercury. Mercury was busy stirring the clouds, his back to the Graces.

On the right side of the painting, Zephyr hovered in an orange grove, having captured Chloris. She was producing flowers from her mouth, marking the result of his fertile breath.

Without the figure of Flora, which appeared in the other version of
Primavera
, Botticelli’s work was a dark morality tale.

Reading the painting from left to right and substituting the Renaissance persons for their classical counterparts, Botticelli told the story of Allegra, who fell in love with the handsome but indifferent William York. Subsequently, he was revealed as a monster. He captured her and had sex with her, but she fled from him.

Eventually, she killed herself.

Raven stared wide-eyed at the painting. It no longer seemed beautiful and serene to her. No, it was a portrait of horror and despair.

And he’s had this painting for over five hundred years.

No doubt he’d stared at it daily, perhaps feeling guilt over the woman who’d loved him as one being, but killed herself when she realized what he truly was.