“You don’t need to tell me about the injustice of God. I agree. But his injustice doesn’t entail his nonexistence.”
“Maybe for you.”
William stroked her hair softly.
“You cried for your sister but not for yourself.”
Now he could smell the salt from fresh tears.
“She was a baby,” Raven managed to say. “It was my job to protect her.”
“It was your mother’s responsibility to protect you both. And she didn’t.” William tightened his arm across Raven’s middle. He sighed deeply, his tone tinged with regret. “I would not have asked you to talk about this if I’d known.”
“A lot of kids had it worse than me. That’s why I volunteer at the orphanage.”
William swore, the muscles of his body tensing.
“I blame my father,” she whispered. “I love him and I miss him, but if he’d been more careful, he wouldn’t have died. None of this would have happened.”
“Put the blame where it belongs, on your mother and stepfather.”
“I blame her, William, believe me. We don’t have a relationship because of this.”
“I have considerable power, Cassita, and more than a considerable fortune. I will use both to have your leg repaired medically, if that’s what you want. If you’d rather use alchemy, the best vintages of my cellar are yours.”
She curled into herself. “William, I don’t—I can’t—”
“Take time to consider it,” he interrupted. “You don’t need to decide tonight. But more than that, I will give you justice.”
“Justice?”
“You said no one defended you. I will.” His tone grew frightening.
“It’s too late.”
He rolled her to her back and leaned over her.
“It’s never too late for justice.”
Raven looked away.
“I will deal with everyone who ever harmed you. All you need to do is name them.”
“It won’t change the past.”
He placed his hand on her cheek. “It will stop the torment.”
“Your justice involves death.”
“I don’t see why a death sentence for your mother and stepfather is problematic.”
“I don’t want you to kill my mother. Do you hear me?” She rolled away from him, exasperated. “Don’t you get tired of death?”
His gazed burned into her back. “I get tired of evil triumphing over goodness. I get tired of the injustice inherent in the universe and beings, human and otherwise, standing aside and doing nothing.”
Raven sighed.
“It must be sad to live forever,” she said after a while. “Everyone you cared about is dead.”
William shifted beside her. “I haven’t loved anyone since I was human.”
“Then I feel sorry for you. Love—even the love for family and friends—is a light that shines in the darkness. Without that light, I would have killed myself.”
William frowned. “This is a morbid conversation.”
Raven stifled a laugh. “Coming from a vampyre, that’s funny.”
She sobered and looked up at the canopy. “But it’s true, William. I feel sorry for you. I wouldn’t want to live forever—to carry this pain for eternity. I just want peace.
“No matter the justice you think you can get, I will always have this weight on my shoulders. I’m glad that someday I’ll go to sleep and never wake up.”
Raven curled her body into a ball, lying on her side, and tucked her hands under her pillow. Soon her breathing grew even and he knew she was asleep.
William was in desperate need of a few hours of meditation, simply to clear his mind and allow him to relax. But all he could think about was a twelve-year-old girl fighting a grown man to protect her sister and being thrown down a flight of stairs.
He could see her, the young girl with the black hair, lying at the foot of the staircase, her body battered and broken.
Cassita vulneratus.
Defensa.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved the gold bracelet that featured the symbol of Florence. He slipped it over her right wrist.
Everyone you cared about is dead.
“Not everyone,” he whispered, pulling her against his chest.
Chapter Forty
Although William was unable to meditate while holding Raven in his arms, he was surprised to discover that the posture calmed and relaxed him. He closed his eyes and rested, allowing his mind to drift like a sailboat over the sea.
He felt a modicum of guilt for the way he’d treated her—first, allowing her to exchange her freedom for his assistance with her friends, and second, exacting her painful history in exchange for Emerson’s life.
Don’t you get tired of death? Her sweet voice echoed in his ears.
The truth was he did tire of it. When the Black Death scourged Florence and he had to scavenge for uninfected humans on which to feed, he tired of death. When the old prince allowed the brethren to kill without limit, including infants and children, he tired of death.
He overcame his fatigue by killing the Prince and taking over the principality. He accumulated wealth and power, he allowed his appetites to be fed, and he derived a measure of satisfaction from all his pursuits.
But he lacked hope. He lacked peace. The only way he could continue was to never, ever think of the future.
Of course, Raven couldn’t know that vampyres didn’t live forever. That the Curia had cursed them to a life of only a thousand years. Still, given his age, he had time and time enough to spare.
He’d outlive her.
The thought burned through him.
William released Raven as gently as he could, determined not to wake her. He retired to one of the guest bedrooms so he could shower and dress.
His considerable respect for her had increased a hundredfold. He was more determined than ever to make her his.
He simply needed to be patient, and patient he was.