The Raven (The Florentine #1)(62)
Author: Sylvain Reynard

His hand slid down her arm and squeezed before returning to her elbow.

Raven took a deep breath, trying not to shake.

The air surrounding them was damp and carried with it a hint of mold.

She coughed.

“Be brave and be silent, no matter what you hear.” William’s grip tightened on her arm.

Her stomach pitched.

A door opened and they entered what must have been a huge hall or theater. Raven could hear the echoes of metal clanking against metal, and the sounds of grunts and yells.

She lifted her chin slowly.

Despite William’s best efforts, the blindfold had shifted. It was failing to cover a tiny field of vision to the right of her nose. If she moved her head, she could see.

And what she saw overwhelmed her.

She was on a balcony that overlooked an immense space, like a gymnasium. Men and women were engaged in various kinds of combat on the floor below. Some used weapons; some used just their bodies.

As Raven tried very hard not to move, she saw people leaping from the ground and seeming to fly through the air. She also saw them inflicting what she thought would be mortal wounds, although the victims remained unscathed.

She cursed impulsively.

“No sounds.” William squeezed her once again.

What she had just seen was impossible. It defied gravity. It defied everything she had come to believe about human beings and their abilities.

It confirmed what she already believed—that William and his kind, whatever they were, weren’t human.

He led her through another door and into a hallway. It was dark and appeared to be lit dimly by torches that were placed on the walls.

As they moved forward, Raven noticed that the underworld was hewn out of stone.

She heard voices in the distance, but no one passed them.

They stopped and Raven heard another door open. William led her inside a small, dark room.

She heard the striking of a match and inhaled the scent of smoke. A small light grew visible from a short distance away.

He must have lit a candle.

“Take a few moments to calm yourself.”

Raven breathed deeply.

She heard the opening of a bottle and the splash of liquid. He placed a cold, smooth object in her hand and closed her fingers around it.

“This is Vin Santo. Sip it slowly, but drink all of it. It will relax you.”

She brought the glass to her nose and sniffed.

She pressed the glass to her lips and drank.

“Humans are not allowed here unless they’re under mind control and reserved as food. You must pretend your very will is slave to mine. You cannot reveal what you’ve seen. Or I’ll be forced to silence the lark I’ve come to admire.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

“What is the meaning of this? Why have we been convened?” Aoibhe strode into the council chambers below the Palazzo Riccardi. She was in a foul mood.

Pierre shrugged. “No one knows. The order came from the Prince himself, and he would not accept delays.”

“But for what purpose?” She turned her attention to Lorenzo, who shook his head.

“Something came in from the human intelligence network but the report went straight to the Prince. I haven’t seen it.”

Aoibhe frowned. “That’s irregular. You’re second in command.”

Lorenzo opened his mouth to comment, but closed it almost immediately.

“Where’s Max?” She scanned the large room.

“He’s been summoned.” Lorenzo took his place at the front of the hall, holding the staff of the city out to his side.

Aoibhe approached Niccolò, who was already seated. “Are there problems with the patrols?”

“Not at all. Everything is proceeding according to plan.” Niccolò’s tone was not friendly.

Aoibhe clapped slowly. “Eager to keep your head, Nick?”

“It’s attached to my body.”

“For now,” she muttered.

“Perché la fortuna è donna, et è necessario, volendola tenere sotto, batterla et urtarla,” Niccolò stated, his dark eyes taunting her.

She scowled and took a threatening step forward. “Five hundred years later and you’re still spouting that ridiculous drivel? I’ll show you what it is to be beaten, you ridiculous cretin.”

“Aoibhe.” Lorenzo spoke sharply. “Stop antagonizing Sir Machiavelli.” She opened her mouth to protest, but at that moment Max entered the room, followed by Gregor.

Aoibhe reluctantly took her seat, but not before hurling a few insults in Niccolò’s direction.

“This meeting of the Consilium will come to order.” Lorenzo tapped his staff on the floor.

The Consilium members stood as the Prince entered the room.

As soon as they saw the young woman beside him, a series of growls left their throats. All six vampyres inhaled her heady scent, turning with hunger in her direction.

Chapter Thirty

It was all Raven could do to keep moving. Her leg was troubling her but she refused to limp. She walked slowly, navigating the stone floor in her high heels like a cat mincing across a hot surface.

William had hold of her arm, but his proximity did nothing to stave off her fear. She heard animalistic snarls and growls. They seemed to surround her, echoing in a large space.

For one desperate moment, she wondered if William had escorted her to her death.

As he led her forward, she glimpsed a chair to her right and two pairs of feet encased in men’s shoes. William positioned her in front of them, next to a series of steps.

When his hand fell away, she had to fight the urge to reach after it.

Her heart beat furiously as she worried he’d abandoned her.

She could feel eyes burning into her back. She sensed the closeness of the two men behind her.

She closed her eyes beneath her blindfold, willing herself not to show any reaction.

“A situation has arisen that requires our attention.” William’s commanding Italian broke into Raven’s musings, and her head moved in the direction of his voice. “First, I have an announcement.

“I have taken a pet.” He paused, as if gesturing in her direction. “No one is to speak to her, approach her, or touch her. This announcement is to be made to the plebs, as well, and it admits no exception.”

Raven heard movement to her left.

“Forgive me, my prince. It pains me to remind you that human beings are not permitted in the underworld, with the exception of Teatro, unless they are part of the catering.” The man’s voice was respectful but firm.

“Yes, Niccolò, I am well aware of the rules since I am the one who established them.” William’s tone was cool.