The Raven (The Florentine #1)(58)

“You put a lot of faith in inanimate objects.” Raven glanced over at her bag. “If I’m a person of interest, how did you get it back?”

“Bribery and threats. I should note that I’m tired of expending energy and manpower on your account.”

William’s tone was credible and Raven believed him, momentarily stunned into silence.

He regarded her with narrowed eyes.

“I warned you about going out after dark. You caught Maximilian’s attention tonight and it was only through the miracle of Sanctuary that you escaped.”

“What do you mean by Sanctuary? I didn’t go inside the church.”

“Where do you think the efficacy of Sanctuary comes from? From the holiness of ground. You stood on holy ground and they couldn’t follow you.”

“How do you know there was more than one?”

He scowled. “I make it my business to know what’s going on in the city, especially concerning you.”

Raven exhaled loudly. “I never asked for your help. I don’t even know you.”

William approached her. “We met before. You simply don’t remember.”

“I would have remembered,” she mumbled, her cheeks beginning to warm.

William noticed her reaction and tilted his head to the side, as if he found it curious.

“Do you find me handsome?”

“I’m physically disabled, not visually impaired,” she snapped.

Anger moved across William’s face.

“No one ever speaks to me as you just did. No one who retains his head.”

Raven’s cheeks flamed again and she avoided his eyes. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I was in trouble and you helped me. Thank you.”

She pushed her long black hair behind her ears. “I’m sensitive about my disability.”

William’s gaze dropped to her right leg. “Are you in pain?”

“Just a dull ache.” She flexed her foot and rotated her ankle, as if hoping the movement would soothe the discomfort.

It didn’t.

“Wait a minute.” She paused, examining him closely. “How did you know which of my legs was injured?”

“That is a very good question.” He gave her a knowing look.

“Are you going to answer it?”

“Perhaps.”

Raven was about to say something insulting but she caught herself. She tried to adopt a conciliatory expression.

“The man you mentioned, Maximilian, he asked me who my master was. He said something about blood.”

“I can explain that,” William said quietly. “And if you were to ask me politely why you lost your memory, I’d tell you.”

He gave her an expectant look.

She took a step closer. “I’m asking politely—please tell me what happened. I’ve been going crazy trying to figure it out.”

“As you wish.” He thrust his hands in his pockets.

He paused, as if he were trying to figure out where to begin.

“A week ago, I was downtown after dark. I came upon a young woman who was being attacked by three men. They’d beaten her and dragged her into an alley in order to rape her.

“I’d come across similar scenes in the past. I always ignore them.”

Raven gave him a censorious look.

He returned her gaze. “It isn’t my job to rid the world of such animals.

“This was different. I knew she was good. I knew she hadn’t led an easy life, but she’d led a brave one. Later, I would discover that the reason she’d been attacked was because she’d seen a homeless man being beaten and she’d intervened.”

Raven felt a piercing pain at the back of her head. The pain was so great and its onset so sudden, she failed to notice the strangeness of William’s claim to have moral perception.

But she would notice it later.

Raven heard the sound of quick, sure footsteps, which stopped about two feet in front of her.

“Are you all right?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “My head aches.”

“Here.” He took her by the elbow and led her to the chair. “Do you want a drink?”

“No.” She sat down heavily. “What happened to the girl?”

“She was dying. They’d smashed her head against a wall and caused a brain injury.”

Raven fought back bile.

“Did they rape her?” she whispered.

“I killed them before that happened.”

An expression of horror flashed across her face. “You killed them?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I have no use for police.”

“You didn’t have to kill them.” Her voice was unsteady.

William’s eyes glinted a cold, steel gray. “Would you have preferred I leave them to their next victim? Another woman? Another homeless man? Or a child?”

“No, but death is final.”

“In some cases.” He cast her a meaningful look.

Raven could see there was more, much more, that he wasn’t telling her. She felt her grasp on what she thought she knew begin to slip, like a lifeline being pulled out of her hands.

She gazed up at him, wide eyed. “How can death not be final?”