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Chapter Forty-Seven
FATHER KAVANAUGH WAITED at the entrance to the tunnel for the special forces unit to secure it. The commander in charge had given him a communications link so he could speak with the team. He was not invited to join them.
He had no intention of retreating. He was armed with holy water and relics and willing to lay down his life for the woman he thought of as a daughter. Even so, he followed orders, pacing the entrance while the soldiers attempted to track Raven.
He’d been waiting about twenty minutes when he heard footsteps.
He exited the entrance and wisely stood in sunlight, partially hidden by an obliging tree.
Sullivan and his men ran out of the tunnel. The commander spotted the priest and signaled to him to follow them.
“We ran into a nest. We took down four, and the others retreated, but our mission is compromised. We need to evacuate now.” Sullivan’s tone was abrupt.
Father struggled to keep up with him. “Any sign of her?”
“Negative. We didn’t get very far.” The commander gestured to his men to increase their pace.
They jogged about a mile to where two black Suburbans had been parked and climbed in. The engines roared to life, and they screeched away from the curb.
Father’s cell phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen. The Director of Intelligence of the Curia had sent him a text.
Update your position and status immediately.
Father was not in the habit of cursing, but a curse word or two entered his consciousness. (Also, he was not in the habit of texting.)
He ignored the message and returned his phone to his pocket.
Sullivan, who was seated in the front passenger seat, turned around to look at him. “Is that the old man?”
Father nodded.
“In a few minutes, everyone will know we’re here.” The commander jerked his chin at the driver. “Step on it.”
The priest’s phone vibrated again as the Suburbans formed a military convoy and sped away from the villa.
Other Curia agents are inside the city.
Advise of your position and status immediately.
Now Father cursed aloud.
“Padre?” Sullivan addressed him.
“There are other Curia agents inside the city. I have to make contact.”
The commander swore.
Father Kavanaugh touched the screen on his phone and pressed the device to his ear.
The intelligence director answered on the first ring. “I know you’re in Florence, and I know who you’re with. Advise me of your position.”
“During our incursion, we discovered that the Prince’s residence housed some powerful relics.”
There was a short pause on the other end of the line. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. We traced the pet to a villa, and local intelligence confirmed it’s the primary residence. The unit I’m with can corroborate the presence of relics.”
“Where are you?”
“Near the Church of San Miniato, heading to the highway. We’re on our way out.”
The director’s voice was loud enough to fill the vehicle. “You are to proceed to the Jesuit safe house near the Duomo, immediately.”
The commander ripped the phone out of the priest’s hand.
“Sir, this is Sullivan. We did a sweep of an underground tunnel and encountered a nest. Several hostiles escaped before they could be neutralized. We need to evacuate.”
“This is a direct order. There are over a hundred agents inside the city. Three centuries of soldiers are en route from Rome. You are to report to the safe house and take your orders from General Vale.”
“Yes, sir. I didn’t know the General was here.”
“As always, there is a point to my orders, which is why I approved your mission.”
Father Kavanaugh sputtered at the revelation.
“Yes, Jesuit,” the director patronized. “I knew exactly what you were planning, and I gave Sullivan and his team permission to accept your proposal because I wanted them inside the city.” The director paused. “Providentially, the Roman has withdrawn his support until the Prince surrenders the girl. That is all.”
The commander disconnected the call and tossed the cell phone back to the priest.
“Make a U-turn,” Sullivan ordered the driver. “We’re going downtown.”
The commander flicked on his communication link. “Rover two, change of plans. We’re pulling a U-turn and heading downtown. Over.”
“Copy that,” the driver of the second vehicle replied.
Father Kavanaugh crossed himself, and his hand went to the relic he carried in his pocket. “War?”
The commander kept his eyes fixed on the road. “They don’t send General Vale to tea parties.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
IBARRA SPRINTED AS FAST as he could while Raven bounced on his shoulder, her skirts flying.
She clutched at his shirt, a myriad of thoughts rattling in her mind. She hoped the vampyres had mistaken hunters for the Curia. But that seemed like a remote possibility.
Her thoughts moved to William. If the Curia had entered Florence, they must have done so ignoring the Roman’s support. She wondered how many Curia soldiers were inside the city. She wondered if war had begun.
They’d been running for ten minutes when Ibarra slowed. He turned in a circle, his body tense, as if he were combing the silent tunnels for sound.
“They aren’t following us.” His body relaxed somewhat. “Whoever they are.”
“Do you think it’s the Curia?”
Ibarra’s body jerked. “You know about them?”
“I’m the Prince’s pet, remember? I hear things.”
Ibarra swore in Basque. “If the Curia are here, the devil take us all.”
Raven ruminated on that for a moment.
Then, without warning, she found herself flying through the air.
Something reached out to catch her.
Still surrounded by darkness, she was confused. Cursing and scuffling could be heard close by.
Raven was placed on her feet, and the person who’d caught her withdrew.
“You should have stayed in Rome.” An Irish-accented voice spoke. “You’re the most unlucky human I’ve ever met.”
“Aoibhe.” Raven’s voice was shaky.
The vampyre sniffe
d in response.
“William?” Raven groped for him in the darkness.
A familiar hand stroked her face. “Are you injured?”
She grabbed his hand. “There are Curia soldiers in the tunnel. A group of vampyres ran past us, saying they’d been attacked.”
“Is that true?” The Prince seemed to turn away from her.
“True.” Ibarra groaned, his voice coming from the ground.
“How many?”
“I didn’t stay to count them,” Ibarra retorted.
“Captain Borek, take your men and continue into the tunnel. If you encounter Curia soldiers, engage them. Send one of your men back to report your position,” the Prince commanded.
“Yes, sir,” Borek replied.
Raven heard footsteps pass, echoing in the tunnel.
“Aoibhe, escort the traitor to the council chamber. If either of you tries to escape, I’ll rip your heads off.” The Prince’s calm tone belied the threat in his words.
He pulled Raven against his chest and flew with her through the tunnel.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“YOU TOUCHED WHAT IS MINE.” The Prince was quiet, but loud enough to be heard in the great council chamber.
Ibarra stood before the throne, flanked by ten soldiers.
At the Prince’s behest, Raven sat in a chair to his right, watching the politics of reality unfold.
The Basque spat on the ground. “You executed me.”
“It seems you found your head.” The Prince’s gaze flickered to Aoibhe. “Or rather, someone found it for you.
“Ibarra of the Euskaldunak, did you kill a policeman and suspend his body in the Loggia dei Lanzi?”
“Yes.”
“Did Aoibhe assist you?”
Ibarra grimaced. “I acted alone.”
“You lie. You have committed treason against the principality of Florence, and you have violated our treaty with the Curia. For your punishment, you are to be held until you can be delivered to them. Unlike mine, their execution will no doubt be successful.”
Ibarra took a step forward, but was restrained by a soldier. “Execute me now. Death at your hand would at least be honorable.”
