He stepped closer and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “I am the monster, hiding in the darkness.”
“I doubt that a monster would hand out religious artifacts to damsels in distress.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly ‘handing them out.’ I gave you money. Use it to go back to America.”
“It’s in a shoe box in my closet. I don’t want it.”
“You’ll need it.”
She lifted her hands. “All of this must have a perfectly reasonable explanation. The man who killed the other man was disturbed. It isn’t kind to refer to him as feral. And you and the others are part of a crime ring. Obviously.” There was more than a note of hope in her voice.
“Your denial is amusing, but it won’t change reality.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I’m grateful for your help. I don’t know why the man was upset by the cross I was wearing, but I’m glad he was. He could have killed me. But you’re mistaken about the danger. I promise, I’m no one special. I work at the gallery, I go out with my friends, I draw and I paint. I don’t know state secrets and I don’t have access to the security of the gallery. I’m just a boring, average postdoctoral research associate. That’s all.”
“I disagree. But I’ve been here too long already. If tonight’s events won’t convince you to leave, there’s little else I can do. I’ve warned you twice. What happens next is your responsibility.” His voice was cold.
“I won’t leave the city.”
His expression grew fierce.
“Even if it costs you your life?”
Raven faced him stubbornly. “It won’t come to that.”
“Very well.”
The Prince cursed, before lifting both hands, holding them out in front of him, palms up.
“Innocens ego sum a sanguine.”
He dropped his hands and walked to the door. “When you come to beg for my help, I will remind you of this moment. I’ll demand something of you. And you’ll give it to me.”
“I won’t come to you and I certainly won’t beg.” She sounded contemptuous.
He returned to stand next to the bed.
“Yes, you will.”
He stroked the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
The Prince indulged himself in the feel of her skin and the beauty of her eyes.
When the lights came back on, Raven was alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Beneath the city of Florence lay a labyrinth of tunnels, secret passages, and catacombs. The tunnels were used by the citizens of the underworld, especially in daylight when they could not travel aboveground.
The focal point of the tunnels was the great hall below the Palazzo Riccardi, which was used for Consilium meetings and other formal events of state. Its stone walls were hung with tapestries and panels illustrating the history of the city. Several suits of armor along with various swords and weapons were also displayed.
The room was dark. The underworld wasn’t wired with electricity and so torches burned in wall sconces, while elaborate iron candelabras illuminated the cavernous space. Shadows flickered across the faces of the beings who’d assembled.
Interestingly enough, the tunnels were noticeably absent of rats.
“This meeting of the Consilium will come to order.” Lorenzo thumped a tall staff, which boasted a carved gold lily on its top.
At his announcement, the other five Consilium members came forward and sat in tall wooden chairs that were upholstered with red velvet. The seats were arranged in sets of three, facing the front on either side of a central aisle that featured a long, red velvet runner.
Moments later, the Prince entered the hall through its large double doors, his black velvet robe billowing behind him. He strode up the aisle to a large gold throne that stood on a raised platform.
He did not look pleased.
While the Consilium members wore formal clothes in the style of the Renaissance, capped with red velvet cloaks, the Prince was dressed in modern clothing, with the exception of his robe. As always, he wore black.
The council members stood as soon as he entered and, when he’d taken his place, they bowed. He acknowledged them impatiently, waving at them to be seated before turning to his lieutenant.
“Clear the gallery. Offer my apologies to the citizens and see that they are fed.”
Lorenzo bowed again, trying to hide his displeasure. He quickly directed the sentries to escort the citizens from the hall. Then he whispered instructions to Gregor, the Prince’s assistant, with respect to the feeding.
It was customary to have humans held in reserve during council meetings, in case someone grew hungry.
(It appeared the Consilium members would have to forgo their catering on this occasion.)
The Prince regarded the council members with a look of cold detachment, his piercing gray eyes moving from face to face.
The members were seated in order of rank. Lorenzo sat in the place of honor at his right. Niccolò, a famous Florentine who’d been a chancellor of the city when he was human, sat next to Lorenzo. Aoibhe was seated to Niccolò’s right.
Across the aisle and to the Prince’s left, sat Maximilian, Pierre, and Ibarra.
“There are a number of important matters that must be addressed.” The Prince’s tone was brisk. “Regular business will be tabled until our next meeting.
“Aoibhe.” The Prince’s eyes met hers and she stood.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Tell me about the feral.”
Aoibhe’s brown eyes slid to Ibarra’s and a look passed between them.
“Last night Ibarra and I happened upon a feral in Santo Spirito.”
Her colleagues remained quiet, despite her troubling announcement, for the news had already reached their ears.
“For the benefit of the council members, please tell us what you saw.” The Prince focused his gaze on Ibarra, his expression harsh.
“The feral killed a human in the piazza. When we approached, it attacked. I beheaded it and we took the body and that of the human outside the city to be burned.”
“Pierre.” The Prince turned his gaze to the Consilium member in charge of human intelligence.
The Frenchman stood and bowed. “Yes, my prince.”
“What of the police?”
“The dead human was an Interpol agent who was doing surveillance on a woman in Santo Spirito. I’m told the woman is being watched in connection with a theft at the Uffizi.”