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“Call an ambulance,” the medic grunted.

The cardinal sat back on his heels. “Are you sure?”

“Now!” The medic snapped.

One of the black robes pulled out a cell phone and walked some feet away, dialing a number.

“You said an exorcism wasn’t an execution.” Raven turned accusing eyes on Father Kavanaugh. “You said he’d be alive!”

She struck him with her fists even as the medic continued to work a few feet away. The great Duomo echoed with her anguished cries and the sound of urgent prayers.

Chapter Fifty-Five

“APPARENTLY, SHE WASN’T POSSESSED. We had to sedate her, but the sedative will wear off in a few hours.”

“After that?”

“We will leave it to you to adjust her memories. The body is at the morgue. We’re waiting for it to be released.”

Raven sat in a small bedroom, staring at a crucifix on the wall.

Since she awoke, she’d been waiting for her mind to clear. Slowly, very slowly, her memories returned, along with scraps of conversation she must have overheard.

She remembered being taken by the black robes to the Jesuit safe house. She remembered Father Kavanaugh telling her William was dead. He’d been rushed to the hospital, but was dead on arrival.

She’d attacked the priest in a fury, screaming that he was a murderer. Black robes had restrained her while another plunged a needle into her vein.

She didn’t remember anything after that.

She’d awoken in a narrow bed, disoriented and feeling strangely subdued. The sedative had numbed her. She couldn’t cry or feel anger, even as her heart wept blood.

Raven sat quietly, waiting for her equilibrium to return, and took stock of her surroundings—a narrow bed, a chair, and a desk. A short bookcase that held a few books, all theological, stood next to the desk. A crucifix hung on the wall next to a brass rendering of the symbol of the Society of Jesus. A small window revealed the night sky and the barest sliver of moonlight.

She stretched her legs and stood, leaning against the bed. The sedative must have numbed her leg because she didn’t feel any discomfort.

She walked slowly to the door. It was locked.

Father Kavanaugh was no longer the benevolent man she’d thought he was. While he and the others truly seemed shocked that William had died, they couldn’t have been ignorant of the possibility. They’d shackled him and placed him in an incredibly stressful situation. Perhaps it was the power of suggestion, along with the stress, that killed him.

Raven didn’t believe in demons. She didn’t have a scientific explanation for the strange whirlwind or the disembodied voice, but she knew William had not been possessed.

She’d begged Father over and over again to free William. He could have intervened. He could have put a stop to the entire bizarre ritual. But he hadn’t. He and all the other black robes had simply stood and watched William die.

Murderers.

Father Kavanaugh and the Curia were now her enemies. They’d been duplicitous in their negotiations for peace and treacherous in their actions. The fact that the priest, who she’d trusted with William’s life, had betrayed them cut her deeply.

Listlessly, she returned to the bed and sat down. The window was too small to crawl out of, and she appeared to be on the second floor.

Perhaps an opportunity to escape would present itself before the Curia attempted to wipe away her memories.

She hugged her pillow, noticing that her gold bracelet was gone. The Curia must have taken it from her. The Curia had taken everything away from her.

She closed her eyes, trying with all her might to catalogue every moment, every word she’d exchanged with William, hoping some of the memories could be hidden from the Curia amongst the memories of her childhood and its own betrayals.

Raven awoke with a start.

The room was dark except for the moonlight that spilled onto the floor from the small window.

She’d been dreaming. She and William were walking in his garden, hand and hand, in bright sunlight. She’d broken down when she saw him, hardly able to say the words that expressed how relieved she was that he wasn’t dead.

He’d smiled at her gravely and opened his mouth to explain.

Something moved, making the sound of a broom sweeping across a floor.

The room was empty, save for the furniture. As she sat up in bed, she saw something.

She slid her legs over the side of the bed and unsteadily crossed to the door, bending to retrieve a piece of paper.

She held it up in the moonlight.

Open the door and walk to the end of the hall. Take the staircase to the ground floor. Someone will be waiting for you.

-Sarah

Raven read the handwritten message twice before the words penetrated her foggy mind.

The paper was too solid in her hand to be a figment of imagination. She wondered if someone was manipulating her or if the letter had truly been written by the Sarah William had wanted her to find.

As far as she knew, she and William and Sarah were the only ones who knew about the address on Via San Zanobi. Perhaps the mysterious Sarah had learned of her whereabouts and come to her.

It didn’t matter to Raven if the author of the note could be trusted or not. She wanted to escape and was willing to risk it.

She tried the doorknob and was surprised to find that it turned easily. She opened the door and stuck her head into the hall. It was empty.

As quietly as she could, she exited her room and hobbled to the end of the hall. She opened the door to the stairwell and closed it quietly behind her. The staircase was narrow, and she leaned on the railing as she cautiously descended, her ears straining for the slightest sound.

When she reached the bottom, she came face to face with a teenage boy. He placed a finger against his lips.

He took her hand in his, which was stunningly warm, and led her outside into the alley.

They moved to the street as fast as Raven could manage and walked hand in hand about a quarter of a block. In the distance, she could see Brunelleschi’s dome.

She winced at the realization.

The teenager opened the passenger door of a small Fiat and helped her into the seat. He walked around the car and started it. They pulled away from the curb and sped down the street, the headlights penetrating the darkness.

“Who are you?” she asked in Italian.

“A messenger.” He gave her a small smile before returning his concentration to the road.

It was only a short drive to Via San Zanobi. Raven saw the sign as they made a right turn onto the street.

The boy parked in front of number thirty-three. He leaned his head toward the building. “Press the buzzer, and give them the password.”

“Thank you.” Raven reached into the pockets of her sundress. “I’m sorry I don’t have any money.”

“I have been well paid.” He flashed her a smile. “Go. They will realize you are gone at any moment.”

Raven thanked him once again and exited the vehicle.

The teenager waited as she crossed the street and pressed the buzzer. As soon as she spoke the password, he pulled away, his taillights disappearing around the corner.

The lock on the door buzzed and Raven opened it,

stepping into a lightless corridor.

Chapter Fifty-Six

THE CORRIDOR OPENED UP into a lit courtyard that housed a garden. Doors lined the walls around the courtyard.

A woman stood next to an open door, beckoning.

Raven limped toward her.

The woman appeared to be in her fifties and had shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes. She seemed unsurprised by Raven’s disability and moved to her side, offering a shoulder to lean on.

She ushered Raven through the open door and into an apartment, bolting the door behind them.

The apartment was spacious, with an open-concept kitchen and dining area that had sliding glass doors leading out to another garden.

The woman led Raven through the kitchen to a sitting room.

Raven was grateful to take the weight off her leg and sank onto a low couch. “How did you find me?”

“It’s best if you don’t ask too many questions,” the woman replied in English, sitting in a chair opposite. “I have been paid to help you escape the city. I couldn’t do that with you being held captive.”

“William hired you?”

“We don’t have much time.” The woman ignored her question. “If you wish to escape, you must leave within the hour.”

“So soon?”

“The police would like to speak to you in connection with the murdered inspector who was found in the Loggia dei Lanzi. I was also told you wish to escape other interested parties.”

Raven fidgeted with her fingernails. “You could say that.”

“Because of the nature of the threats against you, my services were engaged to provide you with a new identity and a new life.”

Raven’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that really necessary?”

The woman frowned. “You can refuse my assistance, of course. But according to the risk assessment I was provided, you are in danger. Whether you leave Florence or not, the life you have lived up until this point is over.

“I’m offering you a new identity, a new job, and a new life. If you accept this new life, you can never return to Italy. You cannot see or speak with anyone from your old life, including your family.”

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