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“I was there for some time, trying to figure out what to do. That’s when everything flashed before me. I fell to my knees, overwhelmed by my memories. I remembered the Roman and my transformation. I remembered traveling to Florence and deposing the old prince. I remembered you.”
He brushed Raven’s knuckles with his thumb. “As soon as I remembered you, I wanted to leave. I’d made arrangements before Machiavelli’s coup for you to have safe passage out of the city. I chose Prague because I thought it would be the safest place, away from vampyres and Curia alike. But even though I paid Sarah’s network well, I was worried they’d failed. What if the Curia had you? What if they’d already erased your memories? I had to find you.
“I had nothing—no passport, no money. I went to the brothers and explained that my memory had returned. I was a businessman, I was married, and I urgently needed to get to Geneva so I could locate you.”
“You lied?” Raven poked him in the side.
“You and I pledged ourselves to one another—first on the Loggia some months ago and again in the Duomo.” He thumbed the ring she wore on her left hand. “We are married.”
“Agreed.” She lifted his hand and kissed the skin above his gold band. “What did the Dominicans say?”
“I think some of them continued to believe I was disturbed. Or they thought I was deceiving them. But the others believed me, and they secured a train ticket to Geneva and gave me money to travel. I didn’t have a passport, but the Swiss rarely check passports at the border with Italy. I took the night train and made my way here.” William exhaled loudly. “You know the rest.”
Raven leaned her head against his shoulder. “How do you feel now?”
“Different.” William passed a hand over his eyes. “I’m still adjusting to this body. It’s strange to feel my heart beat regularly. It’s strange to have to breathe. I have memories of my human life, long ago, as well as memories of when I was a vampyre. Sometimes I get mixed up.”
“You don’t feel the urge to drink blood? Or climb the sides of buildings?”
William pressed his lips to her temple. “No. The first human food I craved was roast venison. I still haven’t had it yet. The Dominicans seem to subsist on fish and chicken.”
Raven pondered his words as the warmth of his body radiated to hers.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t believe me?” William’s face was stricken.
“I believe you, but it’s hard for me to balance what I know about the world with what you’ve just described. I don’t believe in God or an afterlife. But I’ve seen things, strange things I can’t explain. I don’t understand the whirlwind we saw in the Duomo. I don’t understand how I could watch you die as a vampyre and now you’re sitting next to me, alive and human.
“I’m going to hold on to this.” She clutched his arm with both hands. “You are here with me. You are human, and you are alive. For the moment, at least, we are safe. I’m not going to bend myself out of shape trying to figure out how we got here. I would like to know why—why you and why me.”
She lifted a shoulder. “But human beings don’t know everything. Perhaps that’s best.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
Three years later
Hope Island, near Bora Bora
RAVEN SAT ON THE COVERED TERRACE of their villa, painting a vista of the island. The breeze blew her long, black hair around her face, forcing her to tie it back.
From her current vantage point, she could see part of the white sandy beach. A figure appeared, jogging barefoot across the pristine sand.
The figure seemed to search for her as he jogged. He waved.
She waved back.
Her husband continued his jog and disappeared from view.
She turned to look inside the house, through the enormous space where the side walls had been retracted. Beautiful paintings hung in the living room and beyond, in their bedroom.
The architecture and design of French Polynesia was at odds with the style of the Italian Renaissance, but she didn’t care. This was their home. Their refuge. Their sanctuary.
The few original works of their collection they’d had shipped to the island were protected in a closed room that had carefully controlled light, temperature, and humidity. Both Raven and William enjoyed visiting the private galley that included paintings by Michelangelo and Botticelli, among others.
Beyond the villa, on a hill at the other end of the island, there stood a chapel where her husband spent time in meditation and prayer. Where he sometimes spoke to his teacher. Where she joined him on occasion as she navigated her own uneasy spiritual journey.
Raven spent her days painting and sketching, much of her work inspired by the island or their time in Italy. William explored the limits of his human body, learning to snorkel and surf. But their evenings were always spent together. They’d tell one another stories next to the fire, or make love on the beach, or simply enjoy one another’s company.
Most of their art collection was still housed in Geneva, awaiting final decisions of where the various pieces should go. Raven and William had sold several works privately in support of their fund for abused children. The fact that they could continue their support from their island sanctuary gave their lives added meaning.
Perhaps a day would come when they could travel to America and she could see her sister again. For now, they lived a simple life together while their enemies appeared to be chasing other foes.
Raven had no idea why William had been spared. She had no idea why they’d been given a second life together. But she lived every day grateful and full of hope.
FIN
Epilogue
December 2013
Cambridge, Massachusetts
“DARLING, CAN YOU GET THE DOOR?” Julia called to her husband. “I have my hands full.”
Clare was covered in milk. Somehow, in her exhausted state, Julia hadn’t closed the baby bottle securely and milk had poured all over Clare’s face and body as it splashed to the floor.
Clare currently sat in the kitchen sink while Julia attempted to separate her from her wet, milky sleeper.
“Did you order something?” Gabriel stuck his head into the kitchen on his way to the front door.
“No. It could be Christmas presents.”
“From whom?”
The doorbell rang again.
“I don’t know, Gabriel.” Julia grew impatient. ?
??Could you just answer the door?”
She heard her husband’s solid footsteps crossing the hardwood. She heard the opening of the door, the faint murmur of voices, and the door closing.
Gabriel entered the kitchen carrying a very large box.
Julia eyed it curiously. “Who is it from?”
“Some shipping company I’ve never heard of.”
“I meant who’s the sender?”
“The name was left off the label.”
Gabriel retrieved a knife and began opening the box.
He pawed through a great pile of Styrofoam packing material in order to uncover another box.
He cursed.
“Language,” Julia whispered, angling her head toward Clare.
“Dada.” Clare giggled and bounced on her backside, cheerfully half-naked and still sitting in the large kitchen sink.
Gabriel lifted the second, smaller box and placed it on the kitchen table.
He opened it and sifted through the contents.
Then he took a very large step back.
“What is it?” Julia was alarmed by his sudden movement.
Their eyes met.
Gabriel reached into the box and pulled out a protective sleeve. Then, very carefully, he opened the protective sleeve and drew out an etching.
Julia dropped the cloth she’d been holding. “Holy crap.”
Clare mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like the words her mother had just uttered.
“There are a lot of them.” Gabriel appeared bewildered. He pulled out more of the sleeves and began arranging them carefully on the table.
“Are they ours?” Julia’s eyes grew wide.
Gabriel began checking the sleeves. He found the illustration of Dante and Beatrice in the sphere of Mercury and flipped it over.
There, on the back of the illustration, was a faint pencil mark. He showed it to Julia. “This one, at least, is ours. I remember the mark.”
Julia covered her mouth. “They must have found them. Interpol must have found them.”
