“I know,” he whispered.
“Father thinks you’re possessed.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Why does he think that?”
William dropped his hand. “I tried to explain it to you once, while we were in this room.”
“All I can remember is you talking about light and darkness.”
Raven moved to sit on top of William’s desk in order to take the weight off her leg. She exhaled her relief.
“Just so,” William mused. “You can see the possessive power of the darkness in ferals. They lack rationality. They behave like animals. Vampyres maintain their rationality, but there are times when the darkness clouds it. Or overtakes it.” His gaze dropped to one of the candles that sat on his desk, and he stared at the flickering flame.
“The darkness is a demon?”
“The Curia thinks so.”
“What do you think?”
William’s eyes met hers. “All I know is my own experience. I feel the presence of the darkness; I feel its power and its influence. But I am able to overcome it, at least, on occasion.”
He cleared his throat. “When I came upon you in the alley, I was tempted to feed from you. I was tempted to share you with Aoibhe and the others.”
“But you didn’t.” Raven clasped her hands together.
“No, I did not. I remembered how I felt when I found Alicia. I failed her, but I would not fail you.”
Raven touched his sleeve. “Your humanity saved you.”
“No.” William jerked away from her. “Humanity has its own darkness. You of all people know that. It was the memory of goodness and the resolve to preserve it that enabled me to save you. I’d do it again, and again, without regret. If I lived a thousand years, I would make the same choice.”
His profile appeared resigned and vulnerable.
Raven blinked back tears. “Did you choose to become a vampyre, William?”
He pretended not to hear and approached the desk. He made his hand pass through the candle’s flame, over and over again, the movements rhythmic and hypnotic.
“William?” she prompted.
“Yes.”
Raven felt a tightness in her chest. She pressed her hand over her heart, as if in an effort to release it. “I thought for sure Father Kavanaugh was wrong about that. I thought someone forced you into this life.”
“Sadly, no. Once again, I can only speak from my experience, but I have the suspicion that transformations only occur when the humans are willing to give themselves over to the change.”
“Was that how it was when you transformed someone?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed, holding his hand in the flame. “I’ve never changed anyone.”
“Stop.” Raven grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand from the fire.
“It doesn’t hurt.” He held his palm in front of her face. “See? No harm done.”
“You’ve harmed me by doing that in front of me. And you’ve self-harmed by treating your body with indifference.”
William placed his hand palm up on her thigh. “I didn’t mean to harm you.” His voice was like a child’s.
She lifted his palm to her lips and kissed it, surprised by the heat that radiated from his unmarked skin. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
His gaze flickered to the surface of the desk. “I remember when I tried to prove to you I was a vampyre. I stuck a dagger in my hand.” William’s eyes lifted to hers. “You were so upset. You wanted to use your white sweater to stem the bleeding.”
“I love you, William. Of course I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“There’s very little on this earth that can hurt me,” he whispered, his expression solemn. “But I shall be more careful, my little lark with the large heart.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
“Ah, but that’s not true, Defensa. And we both know it.”
“Why haven’t you transformed someone?”
He pulled his hand back. “Transformations require a certain level of responsibility. The maker becomes responsible for the vampyre he creates. I didn’t want that kind of responsibility. I didn’t want to exploit a human’s momentary weakness and condemn him to a long life of this.” He gestured to himself.
She reached for him, pulling him to stand in between her parted knees.
“Tell me why you chose this life for yourself.”
William buried his face in her neck before he began his story.
Chapter Thirty-one
“I’ve already told you I lived in York in the thirteenth century. I was the eldest son in a Norman family. I fell in love with an Anglo-Saxon’s daughter, Alicia. We made plans to elope but she was attacked on her way to meet me.”
Raven tightened her embrace.
“After Alicia died, my family arranged for me to marry a Norman girl from another aristocratic family. I fled the arrangement and traveled to Oxford. While I was there, the Dominicans took me in. I lived with them and continued my studies, later taking vows as a novice.
“I moved to Paris to continue my education. It was there I became a student of a famous teacher of theology.”
William cleared his throat.
“He was a quiet man—contemplative and studious. But he was kind to me. I confessed to him about Alicia and how I’d left my family. He put his hand on my head and prayed for me, with a look of sorrow on his face. As if he was truly sorry I’d lost her. As if he felt my grief.”
“I’m glad he was kind to you.”
“He was very kind. And very wise.”
“What year did you go to Paris?”
“Twelve sixty-nine.”
“How old were you?”
“Just turning nineteen.”
“So young,” she mused.
He smiled. “I’ve kept my true age a secret, but I will tell you. I was born in 1250.”
“And you became a vampyre in 1274?”
“Yes.”
Raven touched his face. “So young. So beautiful.”
He closed his eyes as she tenderly traced his eyebrows and his jaw.
“I’m so much older than you.” Her voice sounded regretful.
He opened his eyes. They shone in amusement.
“Have you been alive for eight centuries?”
“You were only twenty-four when you were changed. I’m thirty.”
“Actually, I was twenty-three. I was changed in March but my birthday is in November.” He pressed his lips to the side of her hand, as it rested against his cheek. “I didn’t realize I would have to wait seven hundred years to find my soul mate.”
She smiled, withdrawing her hand. “I didn’t think my soul mate would be a younger man.”
He laughed and the sound echoed about the dark library. “Age should mean nothing to us. What matters is that we’ve found one another. Finally.”
“I agree. Your eyes look old sometimes, but your face always looks young.”
“It’s part of the curse—trapped in a body that never ages while our mind slowly decays.”
She shuddered. “That’s morbid.”
He rubbed his thumb against his lower lip. “That is my reality. But I was telling you about my time in Paris. I lived, worked, and studied with my fellow Dominicans. My days and nights were structured around prayer, time at the university, and Mass. I was respected for my ability to reason and my facility with languages. I became an assistant to a friar called Reginald, who was the confessor and assistant of my teacher. When they were transferred to Naples, I went with them.”