The prisoner gripped the bars with both hands, his frantic eyes meeting hers. “My name is Greg. I’m from Sacramento, California. I’ve never seen you before, I swear to God.”
“Bullshit,” Raven spat out. “You think I wouldn’t recognize you? You think I’d forget what you sound like, you fucking monster?”
She stood for a moment, seething with rage.
“You molested my sister.” Raven bent to the ground and picked up a rock, hurling it at him. The rock glanced off one of the iron bars; the man ducked just before impact.
“She was only five. She was a baby!” Raven scrambled to pick up more rocks, throwing them at him. A few made it through the bars, striking him in the chest.
The man fell back, lifting his hands to protect himself. “My name is Greg. I have a wife and two kids. I’ve never seen you before.”
“Liar!” Raven roared. “I stayed awake every night, trying to protect her. But you got to her anyway. I screamed for my mother and you pushed me down the stairs to shut me up. You aren’t shutting me up now, you worthless piece of shit.
“You say you broke your leg?” She bent down to his eye level. “Does it hurt? Are you afraid you’ll never walk right?”
The man stared at her as if she were mad.
“Who the fuck cares about your leg? I’m crippled! I’ll never run again.” She spat at him through the bars. “I hate you!”
With a strangled cry, she reached through the iron bars, trying to strike him with her fists. The man dragged his injured leg behind him as he crawled to the back of the cell, evading her blows.
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” he whimpered. “I swear to God, my name is Greg. I never hurt anyone. You have to believe me.”
Raven spat again, gripping the iron bars tightly. “I hope you burn in hell. I hope you never walk again!”
William appeared to her right and touched her clenched fingers. Their eyes met. Without warning, she burst into tears.
“I’m innocent.” The prisoner’s voice grew more desperate. “I swear to God, you’ve got the wrong guy.”
William bared his teeth and snarled. Wetness seeped through the prisoner’s trousers and spread out beneath him. He covered his head with his arms, curling into a ball.
“One more word and I’ll rip out your tongue.” William gently pried Raven’s fingers from the iron bars. “You don’t speak to her.”
The prisoner trembled in his corner, as he, too, began to sob.
With one final growl, William swept Raven into his arms. He doused the torches and carried her from the room, barring the door behind them.
Chapter Four
To say that William was concerned by Raven’s reaction would be an understatement. The sound of her sobbing—a keening, soul-rending noise—tortured him.
He’d hurt her when all he wanted was to please her. Indeed, there was a part of him that wished to make the man who’d hurt her suffer. But he recognized that revenge was hers, not his. He had the power to give it to her and he did. He hadn’t expected her anger to turn to sorrow.
Clearly, he didn’t understand human beings.
Guilt—a very human emotion—bathed his insides. The sight of Raven’s suffering also made him feel helpless, which was not a typical feeling for an old one such as himself.
A flash of memory overtook him, like a bolt of lightning across a dark sky. He was holding Alicia in his arms, watching as the very breath ebbed out of her. And there was not a damned thing he could do about it.
He’d failed Alicia. But he was a different being now, with different powers. He’d be damned if he failed Raven.
He sat next to her on the bed, placing his hand at the small of her back. “Cassita.” She continued to cry, curled like a fetus on her side, as if she hadn’t heard.
He rubbed at her back awkwardly, wondering if he should ring for Lucia. She’d likely suggest they administer a sedative. William wasn’t sure he had a sedative on hand. Most of the medical supplies had been used in May, when he’d brought Raven back from the brink of death.
He recalled the night he’d brought a dying Raven into his home. He’d injected her with one of the oldest vintages in his collection. As the vampyre blood began to swim through her veins, she’d stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. He hadn’t known how to comfort her and had lapsed into Latin and Anglo-Norman, almost without realizing it. His whispered words had little effect. At one point, he’d had to sedate her, if only to keep her from pulling the transfusion tubes out of her arm.
Watching her cry was far more disturbing now, because he loved her.
“Cassita.” He spoke firmly. “Cassita, listen to me.”
“My sister,” she managed between sobs. “My f-fault.”
“No.” William’s tone was fierce. She didn’t respond.
“It wasn’t your fault.” He grasped her biceps, pressing down for emphasis. “You protected her. You got her away from him.”
Raven continued to cry. He waited, hoping she would cry herself dry, and she did. But what came next proved far more disquieting. She lay on her side, facing the wall, eyes open and unblinking.
When he spoke to her, she was unresponsive. When he tried to move her, he found that her body maintained the same posture, as if her muscles had stiffened. Even more alarming, her heart rate was uneven and her breathing was shallow. Sweat beaded on her forehead, even though the room was cool.