Gardella Vampires - Rises The Night Part 20

"Of course. Ye ken that is Max's way." Zavier looked over at her; he did not have to look down, as they were of a height. "Her bites dinna heal, even for a Venator. Even with the balm we use, or the salted holy water. They are always there, and cause him pain when she wishes, for she chooses to remind him of her influence over him."

"Why?"

Now he looked at her in an odd way. "She wants him as her concubine, is my understanding. I am certain he would do anything to be released from that position. To be a Venator yet tied to the vampire queen is a burden heavier than I could ken." He offered his arm and she slid her fingers around the bulge of muscle that seemed to be flexed at all times, even when at rest.

"Here is another of our lady Venators. Lady Rosamund, meant to take holy vows, but instead she left the abbey when she learned of her calling, and went on crusade to the Holy Lands."

Victoria stood before the picture of the young woman. Dressed simply, in a sapphire-colored gown similar to Wayren's long, loose garments, with pointed sleeves that brushed the ground, Lady Rosamund looked serene and calm-very different from the mischievous Catherine Gardella. Long honey-colored hair fell from a simple headdress of pearls. She held a stake in one hand and a rope of prayer beads in another.

"She was a mystic, and during her time in the abbey, before she knew she was called, she wrote many ma.n.u.scripts about the revelations she received during her meditation and prayer. Many of her works have become known as our prophecies, and Wayren studies them a great deal. Aye, she is the one to whom was revealed the whole story of how Judas, beloved of Jesus, came to betray him and turn to Lucifer, and was thus turned into the first vampire."

"There are some who say Jesus asked him to turn him over to the Jews in order to set all of the following events in motion,"

Victoria commented, looking at the portrait of the serene woman whose calm gray eyes reminded her of Wayren's.

Zavier laughed, a low, rolling laugh that fit his bearlike physique. "Och, that is what Lucifer would like us to believe. If ye study Rosamund's writings, as I have, ye will learn that for whatever reason, Judas indeed sold Jesus for thirty pieces of silver, and even today the presence of that particular metal is cause for a vampire to shrink back. Perhaps Judas knew what would happen because of his betrayal; perhaps he did not. But the truth is, after Jesus was crucified, Judas dinna believe he would be forgiven for his role in the betrayal, and Lucifer was easily able to convince him to turn to him for protection."

"You are quite a historian. Do you remember such detail for all of the Venators?"

He grinned back at her. "Ye ken, it is the female Venators' stories I am the most fond of, because men are expected to be warriors and hunters. When a woman is called to do so, she has more hurdles to leap than the men ever do. It is hard enough for a man to be chosen and called as a Venator. I have the greatest respect for a woman who answers the call."

Victoria thought of Melly, her own mother, who had been chosen to be a Venator, but who had ultimately decided not to take on the responsibility because she had just met the man who was to be Victoria's father. Because of that, Melly's mind had been wiped clean of any memory related to vampires and Venators, and any innate skill that she would have had had been pa.s.sed to her daughter. In that way, and because Melly's father-who was Aunt Eustacia's brother-had also chosen not to accept the Venator call, Victoria had inherited the skills and sense of two previous generations of Venators.

Zavier was clearly pleased to be in the presence of a female Venator, and had no hesitation in showing it. Victoria decided to be flattered and to enjoy his acceptance. "And where is Aunt Eustacia's portrait?" she asked.

"There is no portrait yet. The paintings are not made until the Venator's work is done. The biggest question regarding your aunt will be how to portray her-as the young, fierce Venator of legend, or the older, elegant matriarch."

Before Victoria was able to ask about the next portrait, they were interrupted.

"Pardon me, Zavier, Signorina Victoria, but the Consilium is drawing to order." The man gestured toward the door with a great flourish, torchlight glinting off his round spectacles.

"Grazie, Miro," Zavier replied, and led Victoria out of the room. "He is one of our weapon masters," he explained to her. "A Comitator who has a finesse for creating new ways to fight vampires and protect ourselves. We will have to see if he can create a special, more ladylike stake for ye. Perhaps one that will fit in your reticule, or down a stocking. Or some formfitting leather armor?" He winked.

The Consilium, which was both the name of the governing body and also the name of the chambers through which they walked, met in a different room. This one had a circle of chairs arranged in a half-moon shape about a semicircular dais. Most of the twenty seats were taken; Victoria selected one near the back and noticed that her aunt and Wayren had been seated on the dais behind a table.

They did not waste any time. Wayren spoke, referring to the sheaf of notes in front of her.

"Nedas has Akvan's Obelisk, and it is clear he intends to activate it; in fact, has already begun the necessary steps to do so.

My research indicates that the Day of the Dead, All Souls' Day, is the optimal time for such an event. This is the day on which the souls of the departed are released from their bodies, making it a perfect time for Nedas and the immortals to attempt to capture them and use them for their purposes. It is, of course, November the second, which is two days from now."

She shuffled the curling papers into a pile and looked at Aunt Eustacia, who continued. "As many of you know, I was present the last time the Tutela gained vast power and unleashed it upon the mortals. It was the Battle of Praga, where twenty thousand people were ma.s.sacred by vampires and the members of the Tutela, in the name of the immortals. Although we were ultimately able to stop them, it was only after great devastation. With the power of Akvan's Obelisk controlling the souls of our departed, Nedas will be impossible to beat back and we expect the damage to be even greater, should he succeed." She paused and looked around the room. "I believe it will be the end of our battle with them, for their power will overmatch ours."

"So how do we stop it?" asked Zavier. His face was expressionless. "How do we destroy the obelisk? And where does he keep it?"

"Last night there was a fire at the Blendimo Opera Theater," Wayren said, with a glance at Victoria. "It has not been completely destroyed, by some odd happenstance, but it has been closed to the public and will not reopen for months, if at all. And there were some reported vampire attacks at that location as well. I do not believe it is a coincidence, for several reasons. First, my research indicates that Nedas will need a very large s.p.a.ce in which to complete his activation of the obelisk, and the theater is one of the largest and tallest chambers in the city-other than cathedrals, of course, which would not be a welcoming place for a group of vampires bent on calling an evil power to life. Second, the theater, as you well know, is perched on a small hill near the city's largest cemetery. This makes sense, for it will be much easier for him to draw the dead souls from the nearby cemetery; although I do not believe he would be restricted to only those that are close to him. I am certain that this is where Nedas plans to activate the obelisk. However, there is no known way to destroy the object, so we must consider other alternatives."

"Then we must a.s.sa.s.sinate Nedas. If he is dead, he cannot activate the obelisk," offered another Venator, one of the older ones. Perhaps he was nearing fifty.

"That would have been our hope," Wayren agreed. "But once the... mm"-she squinted down at her papers, plugged a word with her finger, and looked back up-"shadow has been broken and has wrapped around the being who broke it, even a.s.sa.s.sinating the holder of the obelisk will not solve the problem. Its power can be transferred quite easily to another. And another. We certainly do not want any other demon or vampire to obtain it and its powers."

"Beauregard would be waiting to s.n.a.t.c.h it up with both hands if Nedas were taken from the picture," agreed Zavier.

That caught Victoria's attention. "Beauregard?"

"A rival vampire to Nedas. He's older and very powerful; but Nedas is Lilith's son, and has been given more favor as a result.

If only we could turn their attention to the other, and engage them in their own internal battles, we could let them destroy each other."

Aunt Eustacia was nodding. "Indeed. In fact, that is how we were able to stop the horror in Praga thirty years ago. But I do not think it will work now, for from what we have been able to learn, the obelisk's shadow has already been broken. Nedas has already begun the steps to activate the obelisk, and Beauregard, powerful as he might be, is no match for Nedas with his obelisk. There is no chance of distracting them in that manner."

"What can we do, if the obelisk cannot be destroyed and Nedas is already bound to it?""Two things. We must prepare for the worst, and expect that Nedas will succeed. We shall commence with that discussion shortly and put our preparations into place immediately, for we have less than two days. The only other possibility is for someone to get close enough to a.s.sa.s.sinate Nedas and steal Akvan's Obelisk before its power can be transferred to another."

"I will do it," volunteered the same Venator who'd first suggested a.s.sa.s.sination.

"You will not get close enough to do so," Eustacia told him. "The moment the Tutela recognized you as a Venator, you would be slain. As would any of you." Her eyes lingered on Victoria. "Except perhaps one."

"I have already agreed to do it," Victoria said, rising. "In London I agreed. There is no question that it must be me." She had not told Aunt Eustacia what had occurred at the opera house last night-that she had been seen by the Imperial, who would recognize her as a Venator. Or of her conversation with Max.

She opened her mouth to speak, then decided better of it. There was no one else who could do it. The others here would more certainly be recognized as Venators than she would.

There was a chance-slim, yes, but a chance-that the Imperial vampire had not betrayed her to the Tutela, or that he did not know for certain that she was a Venator.

And then she remembered what Max had told her: Nedas is going to win. He is too strong. You will be needed after this is all over.

However and for whatever reason Max had become involved with the Tutela and with Nedas was no longer important. The worst was going to happen, and he accepted it. He would allow it to happen. Somehow he knew that Nedas would succeed.

At that moment her last vestige of deep-seated hope poofed like a staked vampire. There would be no help from Max. From anyone.

She really was on her own.

Chapter 20.

Lady Rockley Dines Out

When Victoria arrived home from her visit to the Consilium, a carriage waited in front of the villa.

It was past teatime, nearing supper-late for a casual social caller.

Her steps were quick as she hurried up the stairs to the entrance.

"You have a visitor, signora," the butler told her; but she was already flinging the parlor door open.

Sebastian looked up from the newspaper he was perusing. "I don't know who you were expecting, my dear, but I'm sure you must be disappointed. Such enthusiasm could not have been meant for me, much to my regret." His attention wandered over her figure in a way that reminded her of the last time they were in this room.

And then of his threat to call on the Tarruscelli twins when he became inexplicably angry with her.

Previous Top NextAnd then back to last night, when he'd called her mine. And casually invoked the name of a powerful vampire.

"It's a bit late for tea, Sebastian," she said coolly, trying to keep her breathing easy and her stomach from fluttering. The way he was looking at her... it made her want to cover her cheeks to hold back the blush, to touch his thick, golden brown hair, to back out of the room before he put his hands on her, as it was clear he intended to.

Apparently something had changed since he'd chased the vampires away from her neck.

"We must talk," he said, but there was a wholly different message in his eyes. Now she couldn't stop it-the unfortunate warmth billowed up from her bosom over her neck and to her cheeks. "Will you permit me to take you for a drive?"

"It is unfas.h.i.+onably late for a drive in the park," she countered.

"Other than my attire, I thrive on being unfas.h.i.+onable. Will you come with me?"

Victoria knew that if she accepted his invitation, it would be tantamount to accepting whatever was to develop between them.

Most likely to continue what they'd started in this very room only a few days ago, but what had been simmering betwixt them for more than a year.

And then there was the minor fact that he had questions to answer, and having him closed up in a carriage with her would be conducive to getting those answers... among other things. She gave him a thoughtful look, then said casually, "I'll freshen up, and then I will be delighted to accompany you."

"Merci, ma chere."

Victoria hurried up to her bedchamber, calling for Verbena. It didn't take long for her to have her hair re-pinned, to change into a more flattering gown of rose pink, and to pull on a matching pelisse to keep the cooling fall air away. It had long sleeves that b.u.t.toned tightly from elbow to wrist, and would keep her arms warm even if she had occasion to remove her gloves.

Which would come in handy with Sebastian around, since he seemed to have a penchant for relieving her of her handwear.

"You look much refreshed," he told her in the foyer when she returned back down the stairs. "I took it upon myself to ask for a dinner basket to be prepared for us; it will be some time until we arrive at our destination, and I would not wish you to become famished."

"I did not realize we would be gone for so long."

Sebastian paused in the act of placing the tall, curly-brimmed hat on his head. "Do you have another engagement this afternoon? This evening? I did not realize."

"No," she replied, eyeing him suspiciously.

"There were other callers today, my lady," Verbena interrupted as she and Oliver walked in carrying a large basket. "Their cards are on the table."

Annoyed that Sebastian's presence had distracted her from that simple task of looking at the front table, Victoria turned and thumbed through the small stack of cards. The Tarruscelli twins and Sara Regalado. Silvio Galliani. Obviously they'd all made it home from the opera unscathed. She was thankful she hadn't been home when they called, for how on earth could she have conversed casually with them after watching Sara succ.u.mb so wantonly to a vampire bite? Even her mother would have been hard-pressed to accomplish such a feat.

No one else had called.

Victoria would not even acknowledge that she'd hoped for anyone else; she knew Max had told her all he was going to tell her. It just confirmed her realization earlier today at the Consilium. She was on her own.

"Shall we?" Sebastian asked, donning his gloves and then offering her his arm.

There was much more room for her fingers inside the crook of his elbow than there had been in Zavier's. And he was taller.

And much handsomer.

And less trustworthy.

Yet, she did trust him after a fas.h.i.+on. He had, at least, saved her from being mauled by the vampire last evening. That must count for something.

Inside the carriage, they sat across from each other as it lurched off, reminding Victoria of Barth's erratic driving back in London. She smiled, and Sebastian noticed.

"Fond memories, my dear? Or are you merely thinking how brilliantly I handled getting us alone in a carriage yet again?"

"Your technique was brilliantly transparent." Victoria watched him warily.

He noticed and laughed. "Are you afraid I will leap across the carriage and tear your clothes off? It is not that it hasn't occurred to me, but I would hope you would grant me more finesse than that."

"I am never quite sure of what you will do, Sebastian. In fact, I was more than surprised by your actions last night."

His eyebrows rose, as they tended to do when he played the innocent. "Do you mean my extended attentions toward Portiera?

I do hope it didn't bruise your pride, ma chere Victoire. You must know that it is you who has truly captured my regard." His voice was light and merry, as if to cut the meaning of the words, but the sentiment caused a sudden sharp tingle in her middle.

"I was not referring to your gross flirtations with the Tarruscelli twins," she replied. "And you know it. I was expecting your visit, as I was certain you would wish to claim some sort of acknowledgment from me-not compensation, Sebastian; I know you have decried that motive in the recent past-some acknowledgment that you saved me from a very unpleasant experience last night. I was, and am, very grateful."

"Ah, but you are a Venator," he reminded her, still with that light tone, "you did not truly need my a.s.sistance. I merely stepped in because I could not bear to see that lovely neck marred again." His voice slipped into a low tenor, and all humor evaporated from his countenance. "And you are dying to know who Beauregard is and how I know him."

"Of course I am. And I know that you will tell me only if you wish it, and so there is no point in asking. I don't wish to play this game of cat and mouse with you, Sebastian." Her words were steady, unlike her fingers, which, if she hadn't been clasping them in her filmy silk skirt, would have been trembling.

"Then we shan't play." In a trice he was sitting next to her on the bench. He swept off his hat and tossed it indolently across the carriage, ignoring the fact that it rolled and landed on the floor near the door. "Will you kiss me this time, Victoria, or will you make me do the dirty work?"

"I kissed you at the docks in London."

"Of course you did, because you knew it was safe. You were getting on a s.h.i.+p to come here. But now..." After shrugging out of his jacket, he settled back in the corner and looked at her, his arms crossed over his waistcoat. His leg pushed against hers in the center of the bench, his chest rose and fell, and his shoulders jolted off rhythm with the movement of the carriage. "Are you brave enough, my lovely Venator?"

She leaned forward, and he pulled up from his relaxed pose to meet her halfway. Their mouths met in a tangle of lips and tongue and her delicious, deep sigh of pleasure.

Before she knew it her hair was falling around her, the pins scattering from Sebastian's fingers to her shoulders, the cus.h.i.+oned bench, and the floor below. He pushed his hands through her curls and the coils Verbena had made, combing from her neck along her upper arms, then moving to unfasten the pelisse that b.u.t.toned tightly over her bosom.

Pulling the tight jacket off her shoulders, pus.h.i.+ng it down over her arms, he continued to kiss her on the mouth, the jaw, the neck, until she struggled beneath him. "The sleeves... need to be unb.u.t.toned," she told him, trying to shrug out of the tight jacket.

"I know," he said in her ear, and pushed the sleeves farther down her arms so that the coat slipped over her hands, leaving her wrists trapped inside the arms, pulling the pelisse taut behind her hips.

"Sebastian," she said, a warning note and a tinge of panic in her voice. "I don't like this."

"Shhh," he murmured against her neck, brus.h.i.+ng his eyelashes over her cheek. "Just relax. Enjoy." He sucked on her earlobe, his mouth warm and slick.

Victoria took a deep, shaky breath and realized that the hint of panic was subsiding as he spread his hands over her shoulders, pulling the bodice away, then slipping behind to unfasten the b.u.t.tons and unlace the top of her stays-mainly because of what his mouth and hands were doing to distract her.

He was quick and smooth, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s free and bare, jouncing in the darkening carriage before she realized it. He covered them, lifted and thumbed them, gentle and then firm in his touch. Victoria closed her eyes and sighed when his lips closed over one nipple and drew it sharply into his hot mouth, flicking over it with the tip of his tongue. The pulsing sensation matched the throb between her legs, and she s.h.i.+fted her hips beneath his weight.

With one last tug from his lips, Sebastian chuckled against her breast. "Patience, my dear," he said, but lifted himself away to attend to his breeches. She saw them fall, baring muscular thighs, and then his drawers; and then he bent forward as his hands smoothed up beneath her skirts, sliding along her thighs, baring her legs and piling her gown into a ma.s.s of silk and lace in her lap.