The Raven (The Florentine #1)(27)

She heard the man move, almost imperceptibly.

“Um, that is, I used to be disabled. I’m not anymore.”

“Had Ordo Fratrum Minorum seen him?”

“Ordo Fratrum Minorum?” she repeated.

“The Franciscans,” he clarified impatiently.

“No, they hadn’t. I’m worried something happened to him.”

“You care for this creature?” The intruder sounded incredulous.

“Don’t call him that.” Raven bristled. “Yes, I care for him. Most people ignore him. Some people, like you, ridicule him. But he’s a beautiful person.”

“I suppose you care for the orphans as well?” The man was contemptuous.

She frowned. “Of course.”

“If someone attacked your precious homeless man and tried to kill him, would you intervene?”

Raven hesitated. “I’d be afraid to intervene, but I couldn’t stand there and do nothing. I’d call for help.”

The man hummed, as if her answer displeased him.

“I couldn’t do nothing,” she repeated, her voice breaking on the last word. An old memory tried to overtake her, but she stubbornly placed it aside.

She heard something then, as if he were rattling change in his pocket.

“If you had to choose between justice and mercy, what would you choose?”

“Mercy,” she whispered.

“And if you were brought face-to-face with those who abused your homeless man, would you offer them mercy?”

She hesitated, and he laughed.

“I expected as much. Even the most magnanimous want mercy only for those who deserve it.”

“No one deserves mercy. Not deserving it is what makes it mercy.”

The man was quiet for so long, she wondered if he’d left. She looked behind her, scanning the darkness for any sign of him.

“What am I to do with you?” he wondered softly.

“Let me go. I answered your questions. I don’t know anything.”

“I made a grave mistake with you. Now it seems I’m destined to pay for it.” The man’s tone changed; it was low and ached with resignation.

“Please let me go,” she repeated. “I won’t be any trouble.”

“I’m afraid that trouble is not what you do. Trouble is what you are.”

The man sighed and Raven heard movement that sounded like he was rubbing his face.

“Leave Florence and never return.”

“But this is my home,” she protested. “My life is here. My friends—”

“Friends are of no consequence if you’re in jail or dead,” he snapped.

“Dead?” She shifted forward on the chair, preparing to run.

“You’ve attracted the attention of a group far more dangerous than the Carabinieri. For the moment, at least, you’re safe. When they realize who you are, they will hunt you.”

“But I didn’t take the illustrations, I swear!”

The intruder laughed darkly.

“They care little enough about art, I assure you. No, their interest in you will be personal.”

Raven’s body tensed. “Why?”

“The less you know, the better.”

Her spine stiffened. “I don’t understand what they would want with me. I’m no one special.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” The intruder grasped her wrist, plucking it out of the darkness as if it were low-hanging fruit. He placed two of his fingers across her pulse point and pressed.

Raven was seized with a sudden vision of being restrained in a hospital bed, an intravenous tube transferring blood to her body. Except the blood flowing through the tubes was black.

With a cry, she leapt to her feet. She lifted the kitchen chair, swinging in the direction of his voice, before turning toward what she thought was the door. She took only two steps before he caught her from behind.

She struggled, kicking and screaming, but his arms were like bands of steel. He pulled her flush against his front, lifting her so her feet dangled above the floor.

“Silence!” he hissed.

Raven’s heartbeat was erratic. She tried to inhale but his arms squeezed too tightly.

“Can’t—breathe,” she managed to whisper hoarsely, twisting and squirming.

He loosened his hold but still held her aloft.

She gulped the air, her mind frantically assessing her predicament. She was not light, even in her new form. Still, he held her five-foot-seven-inch frame above the floor as if she were a doll. And he didn’t seem to be exerting very much effort.

“I came here to help you,” he whispered. “This is how you repay me?”

“You broke into my apartment. You’re holding me against my will!” She scratched at his arms, but her fingernails met the fabric of what felt like a suit jacket.

“The others would have killed you, except they would have played with you first.”

“How do you know so much about them?”

“Because I am one of them.”

Raven stilled.

Her heart skipped a beat and began to thump loudly in her chest. She wondered if he was going to kill her.

With a curse, the intruder deposited her roughly on another chair, which he then slid across the floor to the wall.