He paused but didn’t turn around. “We aren’t capable of sleep.”
“It must be exhausting not to have an escape from the worries of the day.”
“It’s necessary to rest the mind, if one doesn’t want to go mad. We have various ways of doing that.” He turned to face her, his tone somewhat ominous.
“And you?”
“I meditate.”
Raven looked around the room. “Where do you do that?”
His chin jerked toward where she was lying. “There.”
“Oh.”
Raven pulled back the duvet and sheets to her right, where there was a pillow and an empty space. “Come here, then.”
He eyed the bed with narrowed eyes. “Are you tempting me?”
“No, I’m apologizing for putting you out. We can share.”
William walked to the empty side of the bed, his eyes fixed on hers.
He placed a hand on the mattress, giving her a challenging look.
When she didn’t retreat, he sat on the edge of the bed. He removed his shoes and reclined, lying on his back next to her.
She reached down to remove her shoes as well, before lying on her side facing him.
“Lucia presented me with your gift.” He sounded unfriendly.
“William,” she murmured. “Don’t be angry.”
“You’re the most frustrating being—human or vampyre—that I’ve dealt with in centuries. And that’s saying something, since I know Aoibhe.”
Raven bristled at the female vampyre’s name, but she tried to hide it.
“You said you felt shame when I offered myself in exchange for Bruno’s life. Please don’t be angry with me for trying to save a family and give a home to a little girl who needs one.”
William sniffed but didn’t respond.
She shifted closer to him on the bed.
“Did you capture the hunters?”
“No. They took down one of my brethren last night. The hunters have
new weapons we weren’t aware of.”
“I’m sorry. Was the vampyre a friend of yours?”
“I don’t have friends. It isn’t in my nature.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She reached out a hesitant hand across the mattress and placed it on his shoulder.
He didn’t flinch but he didn’t move into her touch, either.
“William, what happened to Angelo’s body?”
“Angelo?” He turned his head toward her.
“The homeless man who died the night I was attacked.”
William returned to looking at the canopy above the bed.
“His body was taken outside of the city and burned. That’s what we do with corpses.”
Raven’s heart twisted. “Is there a grave? A place I could bring flowers?”
“You don’t want to visit that place. It reeks of death.”
“I suppose I could put flowers by the bridge, where he used to sit.”
William exhaled loudly, as if her remark displeased him.
Raven touched his shoulder again. “Where did you find me? The night I was attacked?”
“There’s an alley near the Ponte Santa Trinita. The animals dragged you into it. Why do you ask?”
“I still can’t remember that evening. It’s hazy.”
“Be thankful for small mercies.
“Until the hunters are removed, I will do nothing about Emerson. But I make no promise for the future.” He shifted to face her. “You have a day or so to manipulate one out of me.”
“I’m not manipulating you. I’m appealing to your better nature.”
“My better nature.” He sounded bitter. “There is no better nature. Don’t you understand?”
“You had compassion on me when those men would have raped and killed me. Who has the better nature between you and them?”
“You’re comparing monster to monster—comparisons don’t imply positives.”
She shook her head. “Monsters aren’t heroic.”
William gave her a searching look, as if her remark truly surprised him. He soon recovered, however.
“Why are you so adamant about saving a man you don’t even know? Emerson is arrogant and proud. I’ve seen him in public, parading his illustrations as if he were Dante himself, resurrected from the dead.”
Raven frowned. “You don’t like Dante?”
“The man was a mercurial egoist who panted after a married woman, neglecting his wife and family.”
Raven’s mouth dropped open. “Did you know him or is this merely your opinion?”
“I knew him. I knew Beatrice, too. She was lovely. And far too intelligent to leave her husband for such a fiend.”
“I didn’t think he was trying to persuade her to leave her husband. In La Vita Nuova, he talks about her as a kind of Muse.”
“If she’d returned his attentions, he’d have committed adultery with her in the middle of the Ponte Santa Trinita. Don’t fool yourself.” He shifted on the bed so he could see her better. “My question remains. Why are you so intent on helping Emerson?”
Raven avoided his eyes. “I gave you the reason. It’s unjust to kill him when he bought the illustrations in good faith not knowing they were stolen. And I’m worried about what will happen to his wife and child if you murder him.”
William’s gaze traveled the length of her body to where her legs rested under the covers.
“You said something happened to you after your father died. What was it?”
Raven rolled away from him, facing the balcony doors. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
William reflected on her answer and realized he truly wanted to know Raven’s history.
(He didn’t take time to ask himself why he was interested in her past. No doubt he would have been surprised by the answer.)
“That is my price. You tell me about your family, and I’ll spare Emerson.”