He stood in front of her protectively.
“He doesn’t have a demon.” Raven tried to move around the priest, but the black robes stood on either side, poised to intervene.
The cardinal placed his hand on William’s head and recited another prayer before reading a text from one of the Gospels.
William’s body continued to seize. The color of his skin changed and deepened, and sweat appeared on his brow. The mysterious breeze swirled above him, a private whirlwind, the voice growing louder and more ominous. “Despair.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Raven rubbed her bare arms against the cold. Panic filled her, along with a feeling of defeat. The situation was hopeless. They were torturing William, and she couldn’t free him.
She felt short of breath, as if the figures guarding her were pressing closer. All her striving, all her words, had come to naught. The person she loved most in the world suffered in front of her, and she could do nothing.
The cardinal prayed, making the sign of the cross over himself and over William. He took the stole he was wearing from his shoulders and placed it on William’s back.
Then, in a loud voice that rang out in the great cathedral, the cardinal addressed the demon Despair and commanded it to come out.
The breeze swirled into a whirlwind, spinning and gusting furiously. The voice shrieked and cursed.
All of a sudden, the whirlwind ascended toward the dome and vanished.
William remained perfectly still, prostrate before the altar, face down.
The cardinal touched William’s head, making the sign of the cross as he continued his prayers. He addressed the demon once again, commanding it to leave.
A strange white mist appeared over the Prince’s body, like a fog descending in night air. The mist shimmered and vibrated, then it too vanished.
“It’s finished,” the cardinal announced.
As the feeling of dread lifted from Raven’s body, like a heavy coat being removed, her legs buckled. Father caught her before she fell to the floor.
The cardinal prayed a final prayer. Kneeling beside William’s body, he placed his hand on his head. “You have been healed. Arise.”
William didn’t move.
The cardinal bowed very low, examining William’s face.
The cardinal lifted his head immediately. “Medic!”
One of the black robes ran to his side and fell on his knees. He rolled William to his back, the shackles and chains crashing against the floor.
William’s head lolled, his eyes closed.
The medic lowered his ear to William’s chest. “No heartbeat.”
He began doing chest compressions.
“What’s wrong?” Raven pushed against Father’s arms, finding her feet once again.
“Sometimes the demon tries to destroy its host as it leaves.” Father joined the others standing around William. He added his voice to their prayers.
Raven stumbled toward them, startled that the black robes moved aside for her.
She watched as the medic continued performing cardiopulmonary resuscitation, moving from time to time to exhale air into William’s mouth.
“Call an ambulance,” the medic grunted.
The cardinal sat back on his heels. “Are you sure?”
“Now!” The medic snapped.
One of the black robes pulled out a cell phone and walked some feet away, dialing a number.
“You said an exorcism wasn’t an execution.” Raven turned accusing eyes on Father Kavanaugh. “You said he’d be alive!”
She struck him with her fists even as the medic continued to work a few feet away. The great Duomo echoed with her anguished cries and the sound of urgent prayers.
Chapter Fifty-Five
“APPARENTLY, SHE WASN’T POSSESSED. We had to sedate her, but the sedative will wear off in a few hours.”
“After that?”
“We will leave it to you to adjust her memories. The body is at the morgue. We’re waiting for it to be released.”
Raven sat in a small bedroom, staring at a crucifix on the wall.
Since she awoke, she’d been waiting for her mind to clear. Slowly, very slowly, her memories returned, along with scraps of conversation she must have overheard.
She remembered being taken by the black robes to the Jesuit safe house. She remembered Father Kavanaugh telling her William was dead. He’d been rushed to the hospital, but was dead on arrival.
She’d attacked the priest in a fury, screaming that he was a murderer. Black robes had restrained her while another plunged a needle into her vein.
She didn’t remember anything after that.
She’d awoken in a narrow bed, disoriented and feeling strangely subdued. The sedative had numbed her. She couldn’t cry or feel anger, even as her heart wept blood.
Raven sat quietly, waiting for her equilibrium to return, and took stock of her surroundings—a narrow bed, a chair, and a desk. A short bookcase that held a few books, all theological, stood next to the desk. A crucifix hung on the wall next to a brass rendering of the symbol of the Society of Jesus. A small window revealed the night sky and the barest sliver of moonlight.
She stretched her legs and stood, leaning against the bed. The sedative must have numbed her leg because she didn’t feel any discomfort.
She walked slowly to the door. It was locked.
Father Kavanaugh was no longer the benevolent man she’d thought he was. While he and the others truly seemed shocked that William had died, they couldn’t have been ignorant of the possibility. They’d shackled him and placed him in an incredibly stressful situation. Perhaps it was the power of suggestion, along with the stress, that killed him.