by Lora Edwards
Victoria shuddered and whirled, reaching into her skirts and pulling on the ribbon. As her full skirts pooled on the floor, the room wavered again and she was no longer in the ballroom but in a dank and dripping castle dungeon, one that looked all too familiar.
“Amora, you have been a very naughty girl,” came a whisper from the shadows. Victoria whirled and looked around the dank space, trying to pinpoint where the voice had come from.
Before she knew what was happening, the countess attacked. Victoria felt the urge to submit, to just let herself be taken, but then Ovidia’s voice sounded from the shadows. “You got this, vampire. Kick her ass!”
Victoria took a deep breath and ducked as the countess prepared to sink her long nails into the meat of her shoulders. She swept out one leg and knocked the other woman to the ground. The surprised look on her face turned to a mask of rage.
“You will pay for that.” The deep growl reverberated in Victoria’s chest, but she was ready when the countess sprang again.
It was a long and punishing fight, and when Ovidia finally brought it to a halt, Victoria was covered in blood, hers and the countess’s, but she was still standing, still fighting.
Victoria collapsed to the floor as it once again became the padded ballroom in Armand’s villa. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing.
“Well done, vampire. You fought well for your first time, held your own.”
Opening her eyes, she saw the grin on Ovidia’s face and took the hand she held out, helping her to her feet.
A feral grin spread across Victoria’s face as the cuts and bruises healed throughout her body.
“I held my own.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Ovidia.
“It was exceptional for your first time. We will practice the scenario in different places and with a variety of clothing. You will get used to it. You will become immune to her, and when it comes time, you will be ready to take her down.”
Ovidia gave her one last pat on the back before striding out of the room. Victoria just stood there, tears welling in her eyes. These people had all put their lives on hold for weeks to help her become the best version of herself, to help her fight her demons. She had never imagined she would have all of this in her life. Something had come clear to her since arriving there: she may have been born in a very different time and have skipped many centuries to get there, but this was where she belonged. Victoria held that tight to her as she knew it was this knowledge more than anything that would help her fight the fear when she came up against the countess again. Knowing she had a life to fight for would make all the difference.
Chapter 30
“Sir, there has been…you must come see it for yourself, sir.”
Armand looked up at Jacques, irritated at the interruption. To be fair, it wasn’t Jacques interrupting his paperwork that annoyed him; it was this whole situation. The countess had vanished without a trace, and all he could do was twiddle his thumbs and try to occupy himself with the paperwork of his various holdings.
“I will be right there, Jacques. Where is it that I am needed?”
“The, the…front door, sir. I have never seen anything like it. You and your visitors are so civilized…”
Armand really looked at the young man and noticed his pale face, shaking hands, and pounding heartbeat.
He was down the stairs and into the front foyer of the villa before Jacques could blink. A small crowd of servants was gathered around something on the ground in front of the double doors.
As he approached, they turned white-faced, and most of them scattered back to their duties. Mrs. Ambroise stood resolute, although her coloring looked the same as Jacques’s.
“What has everyone so spooked?”
Mrs. Ambroise moved aside so he could see. Armand was used to the sight of death—he had fought wars and was a member of the undead—but what he saw made him blanch.
A human form lay before him. From the scattered bits of clothing and the short hair that was left, it looked to be a man. He had been ravaged by vampires. His throat had been torn out, and his face was contorted in a grotesque and macabre scream.
“The countess is still in the area, and she is very angry.” Armand swung around to see Victor standing behind him. “I heard all the commotion and came down to find out what it was.”
“Do you know this man? Is he special to Victoria?”
“I do not know him, but he must mean something as he was dumped here as a warning.”
“I heard all the commotion—what is going on down here?”
Armand and Victor turned to see Victoria standing there, Teagan and Ovidia coming up behind her.
“Keep the children away. I believe we have had a message from the countess. Victoria, it is a gruesome sight, but I need you to come see if you can identify this man.”
Victoria took a deep breath and strode over to stand with the men. She looked down into the face of the man lying on the doorstep and her breath whooshed out. He was not known to her. She instantly felt guilty for the thought because the man had been tortured and maimed as a message to her.
She bent down and looked more closely. He was slightly familiar…she had seen him before. Was he a newer member of the nest of vampires, one that had come into the fold right as she escaped?
She frowned, leaning closer, taking in his neat sweater and pants. It then dawned on her where he was from, and at the same time she saw the envelope sticking out of his right hand. She snatched it up and stood with a sorrowful look at Armand.
“He is one of yours.”
Armand looked at her, puzzled. “One of mine?”
“He is a member of the institute, a witch, if I remember right. I met him at the institute. He was polite and welcomed me when we were in line to get coffee one morning. He seemed like a nice man.”
Armand’s face caved, and for a moment he looked every bit the centuries-old being he was.
“I will confirm his identity and we will have to contact his family. She did this to strike at me. She took one of my own and twisted him to be used for her own purposes.” Armand turned to leave.
“Armand, wait.” Victoria inhaled when he turned—the rage in his eyes was chilling.
“He had this in his hand.” She held up the creamy vellum envelope.
Armand closed his eyes and took a deep breath, offering her a small smile.
Victoria turned it over, revealing the large red wax seal. “This leaves no doubt who the message came from—this is the countess’s mark.” The red seal was the Bathory family crest, a dragon circled around three large claws.
Victoria slid one fingernail underneath, breaking the seal, and pulled out the single sheet of paper, the handwriting contained within familiar to her.
Dear Amora and friends,
I have left you a present to enjoy, and I hope it brings you as much pleasure as it brought me. I am still quite angry over the loss of one of my own. Amora, you were always one of my favorite children and such a hard worker. It is a shame you felt the need to leave us.
Not to worry, though, as that will be remedied shortly. Those of your nest are eager to welcome you home.
This little game you have set up has been just the diversion I needed. Life has become so simple and boring.
Below is a little riddle for you.
Yours,
The Countess of Bathory
Hands shaking, Victoria took a breath and read the riddle included at the bottom of the page. The body of the letter had been done with ink and quill; in some things, the countess refused to move into the modern world. The wording at the bottom had been written in blood, the smell obvious to the noses of the three vampires in attendance, most likely in the blood of the fallen institute member.
Come and find me if you can
I dwell with kings and queens in opulence
Where the colors swirl and the people laugh
The streets filled with mirth and masks
Come and find me if you dare<
br />
To the party you cost me
In the place where I have many friends
Come and find me if you dare
Don a costume and join in the revelry
Come and find me if you dare…
Victor snickered. “Not much for rhyming. That is a terrible riddle.”
“Yes, but what does it mean?”
Both men looked at Victoria. She shook her head. “I am not sure…it could mean many places. Let me think on it and I will let you know.”
Armand nodded and strode off, shutting his office door with a decisive click.
“I will take care of the body. Mrs. Ambroise, can you please have someone scrub the step? We don’t want to advertise this.”
“Of course, monsieur.” Mrs Ambroise hurried off to do Victor’s bidding.
He stepped out and picked up the body of the young man. “What a waste,” he grumbled before turning back to Victoria. “That message was meant for you. Think hard—you understand her better than anyone.”
Victoria only nodded as Victor turned with his grisly burden. He would burn the young man, remove the heart to be safe, and release the man’s soul. Vampires created after such torturous beginnings rarely fared well, as if the trauma of their beginnings scarred them in some way. Victoria had been one of lucky ones.
She rubbed her arms and went to her rooms. She read the riddle over and over again, the meaning eluding her. She paced back and forth, thinking about all the places and times she had been with the countess. It was pointless. They had met many queens and kings in many different times and had attended many masquerade balls; it was impossible to narrow it down.
“Vampire, you cannot trap yourself in this room ruminating on that riddle all day. You will go mad. Let it simmer in your mind while you come train with me.” Victoria looked up at Ovidia standing in her doorway.
What she said made sense. It would do her no good to continue to beat her head against this particular wall. She needed to distract herself and let her mind work on the riddle on its own.
“That sounds perfect.”
Chapter 31
As Victoria readied herself for bed, she felt weary. Vampires rarely needed sleep, but between the strenuous lesson with Ovidia, fighting off the countess, the emotional upheaval of the “gift”, as well as a hard lesson with Teagan, Victoria needed some downtime. She knew in reality, it was not her body that craved the oblivion of sleep as it never tired, but it was her mind that required it.
She immediately drifted off into a bizarre dream. Women in bright costumes swirled around her, their beaded masks hiding faces as she stood there in her nightgown, watching as they danced around her. Men dressed in the costume of a jester spun the women around the floor.
There was a break in the crowd and Victoria could see a dais with two people sitting atop it. They watched the dancers impassively as if they were made of stone, and they each held an ornate mask made of jewels that winked in the candlelight.
Her bare feet whispered across the cold stone floor as Amora made her way through the dancers, toward the platform. Her memory itched; she had been in this place before, had seen this dais.
Laughter and revelry could be heard through the tall mullioned windows that lined the ballroom. She stood staring at the stoic pair. The woman’s eyes moved through the crowd, ever watchful of the dancers.
They did not speak to each other or look each other’s way. Outside the windows, the sound of glass breaking on stone sounded and raucous laughter followed. Still the dancers whirled and the two figures watched.
Suddenly the scene changed and Victoria turned to watch a figure cut a swathe through the crowd. The jewels on her mask glinted like drops of blood in the flickering candlelight, matching the gown she wore. She glided through the dancers as effortlessly as if they were not there. It was if they parted for her as she slipped her way through them.
The women stopped at the platform and sank into a deep curtsey.
“Your majesties.” The woman’s sultry, slightly accented voice sent a chill through Victoria.
The countess.
“Countess, we welcome you.” The heavily accented voice of the woman on the dais sounded throughout the space.
Victoria sat up in bed, her heart pounding. The riddle—she had figured it out. The countess had gone to Italy, to Carnevale in the time of the Medicis.
She had talked of one day wanting to be present for the event. They had attended Carnevale in many other times and places, had visited the Medicis and the great witch Catherine de’ Medici, who was a friend of the countess. The countess had gone there, to the Carnevale they had missed.
The countess had been furious. They had been set to go to Carnevale at the invitation of the king and queen, as they had for many years during their reign. This particular Carnevale was to be the one that outshone all the others, the one where the Medicis showed off to the world their riches and power.
Victoria had cost the countess her trip to Carnevale that time. She had been punished dearly for it, and it appeared the countess had never traveled back at a different time and experienced it, almost as if she had been waiting for this moment.
Victoria threw off the covers and grabbed her silk robe off the back of a chair. She had to tell the others she knew where the countess had gone. They would need to travel to Italy in the time of the Medicis.
Chapter 32
“I am going to miss you all.” Victoria stood in front of her friends as they prepared to return to the institute. She would miss them, but it was time to get on with the mission. She had woken half the household when she had solved the riddle, and Armand had put their travel plans into motion almost immediately.
Ovidia stepped forward, putting her hands on Victoria’s shoulders and looking deep into her eyes. “Vampire, you have trained and worked hard. You have the fighting skills, and you can defeat the countess—you just need your mind to follow. You’ve got this, girl. Remember, you kicked the simulation’s ass, and it was made to mimic the countess as closely as possible.”
Victoria nodded as Teagan came to stand in Ovidia’s place.
“I am so proud of you. The magic given to you by the countess has blossomed in you, and as I have told you many times, the power is not evil, it just is. It is not the source that determines the witch—it is the witch herself. You choose how you wish to wield the power, and you can wield it for good as you wish. Do not worry. Use it when you need to, and don’t hesitate. Like the magic that sustains your undead life, it may have come from the countess, but it is yours now to do with as you choose.” Teagan placed a small kiss on Victoria’s cheek.
Delphine was next, her eyes shining bright. “Stupid hormones.” She sniffled and both women giggled. “I enjoyed our talks, Victoria. You are where I was once, as we have talked about, and it’s your time to blossom, your time to choose what life you want. We’ll be here waiting for you, whatever you choose.” Delphine rubbed Victoria’s shoulder and moved away with one last sniff so Victoria could say goodbye to the children.
“You three are a joy, if not a trial to your parents at times. It was lovely spending time with you while you were here.” Victoria ignored the giggling of her friends. Like Ovidia, children made her nervous as she had never spent much time around them.
Esme placed her hand on Victoria’s face first, the little girl’s eyes unfocused as she showed the woman a vision. It showed her standing with one foot atop a bound and gagged countess. She was bloody and weary from a hard battle, but the feral smile that crossed her lips showed she was victorious.
Victoria placed her hand on top of Esme’s and smiled at the girl. “Bloodthirsty you are, little one—must be the Siren in you. I appreciate that you believe in me.”
It will come to pass whispered through her mind before Esme turned and joined her mother.
Before Victoria had a chance to process that, the twins were on her, giggling as they gave her their own message.
It showed her playing with t
hem and Esme in the ocean room at the institute, Victoria snuggling with slightly older twins in their tower bedroom, and many other scenes. The love pouring from the visions caused the tears Victoria was fighting to stream down her face. The little ones were telling her without words that they were family now. She was loved and accepted, a part of their tribe.
She squeezed them tightly, whispering her love for them in their little ears until they squirmed. Drake lifted a little hand to her face once more, showing her an echo of the vision she had received from Esme. This time she heard You are strong, you are a warrior in her mind before the twins toddled back to their mother.
Victoria stood and looked toward her friends. “Thank you all for your kindness and patience”—she nodded at Teagan—“for your wisdom and friendship”—she nodded at Delphine—“and for teaching me to kick ass.” She nodded at Ovidia, who returned it with a feral grin. “Without what you have taught me, it would be impossible for me to continue my journey.”
“We love you, Victoria, and we will see you back at the institute soon,” Delphine told her before linking hands with Teagan.
Teagan in turn linked hands with Ovidia as each of the children held hands with each other and with Delphine. Teagan muttered a few words and a bright light surrounded the group. It dazzled Victoria’s eyes, causing her to shield them, and then they were gone.
She wiped her eyes and sighed. She would see them again soon.
“Now that you have seen that lot off, it is time to get to work. We will start with some day-to-day outfits, and then we will join you in Italy to complete the Carnevale outfits.” Victoria turned to see Mrs. Bloom and a few of her assistants standing in the hall, their arms full of fabrics and bags.
Victoria grinned. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter 33
Armand adjusted his doublet and sighed. He had grown used to wearing modern clothing, and to have to suffer the hose and doublet of the 15th century again was an irritation. Leave it to the countess to escape back in time to one of the most uncomfortable eras. He could see the appeal for her. Italy in the 15th century was ruled by the Medicis. They had a queen on the throne in France and a stranglehold on the politics of the day in Italy.