Raven sat back from her computer, resisting the urge to send a terse and angry reply.
She loved her sister more than anyone, but they had lived radically different lives. Carolyn was seven years younger, so she didn’t remember their father or the happy life they’d had as a family living in New Hampshire. She certainly didn’t remember the accident.
Raven took a moment to muse on the way her mind always attached a euphemism to the event that had disabled her. She flexed her feet beneath the desk, reminding herself that whatever she called it, its effects had disappeared. That fact alone made her more positively disposed to her mother, but barely.
When Carolyn was old enough, Raven had told her what had happened. Carolyn, to her credit, had listened carefully. But her memories were so at odds with Raven’s account, she had trouble believing it.
On one level, Raven viewed Carolyn’s lack of memory as a good thing, so she didn’t revisit the subject. She remained silent, even in the face of their mother’s revisionist history.
But she refused to see her mother, speak with her, or be in the same room as her until she acknowledged the truth. Which meant she hadn’t seen her mother since she’d left home for college over ten years earlier.
As for Carolyn’s question about her old crush on Bruno, who was her neighbor’s grandson, well, of course it had come to nothing. She’d almost forgotten about it, and him, given the previous day’s events.
Hi Cara,
It’s good to hear from you.
I’ll think about coming to Miami, but if I do, I’ll pay my own way. I won’t be seeing Mom. She knows why. There’s no point in getting into it.
As for your visit, it would be great to see you. But things are really busy at the moment. Let’s talk later about this, okay? I’m swamped at work.
I love you,
Rave
Raven sent the e-mail and closed her laptop, not bothering to scroll through the rest of her in-box.
She walked to the bathroom, putting thoughts of her troubled family life aside.
She wondered why some unnamed group would take an interest in her. She wasn’t going to abandon everything she’d worked so hard for, just because a mysterious criminal with connections to a secret association told her to leave the city.
She bristled as she remembered what the intruder had said about her sleuthing skills. She was going to redouble her efforts at investigating William York and the Palazzo Riccardi and, hopefully, find something that would convince the police she was not an accomplice to the Uffizi robbery.
As she brushed her teeth, she began formulating a plan. She’d stuff the euros in a shoe box for now, then donate the money to the Franciscan mission.
She spat out her toothpaste and gazed at her appearance. It was still difficult to accept that the attractive woman staring back at her from the mirror was real.
Her gaze dropped to the relic around her neck. She was going to have to hide it under her clothes.
She muttered a few choice expletives and went to get dressed.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m telling you, the time is now!” Maximilian raised his voice, his imposing figure moving forward in the predawn darkness.
He and his companion stood high atop the Palazzo Vecchio, arguing. His interlocutor lifted a hand to stay him.
“Patience.”
“We’ve been patient enough. I say we kill him tonight.”
His companion sighed dramatically. “Have you learned nothing from the Venetians? It will take more than us to fell him, particularly if one of the others is with him.”
Maximilian drew his sword. “We aren’t exactly young. Who’s to say the others will defend him? They’re probably just as eager as we to seize control.”
“Precisely why we must be confident in our alliances. Now is not the time for haste, particularly when you’re in danger of losing your temper. It makes you reckless, Max, and that is something you cannot be when dealing with the Prince. He’s more powerful than you can imagine.”
Max cursed, swinging his broadsword through the air. “I disagree.”
“Then you’re a fool. Even I don’t know the full extent of his power. I’m not about to find out only to lose my head.”
“Must we wait until his thousand years have expired?”
“Don’t be pessimistic. I made a mistake colluding with the Venetians. Now I’m cultivating other, stronger partners. And there’s always the ferals and the hunters.”
Max sheathed his sword. “Now you’re talking nonsense. Ferals can’t be controlled. And why would you want to work with the hunters?”
His companion smiled slowly.
“The Prince is old. The hunters would be only too glad to have his blood. They’d probably sign a treaty to leave the city alone if we were to deliver him up to them.
“Our borders have been somewhat porous recently. If a pack of ferals were to appear, they would wreak havoc. The Consilium will hold the Prince responsible. Not to mention that our noble prince has made a few errors recently—errors that threaten to expose him.”
Max rested his large paw on the hilt of his sword. “The Consilium is riddled with his allies.”
“And his rivals. They know his reign won’t last forever. All they lack is a leader who is willing to depose him, and a little motivation.
“Be patient, Max. The city will be ours soon enough.”