by Колин Глисон
She couldn't see his face, blast it! How could she know what to think? "Move into the light, where I can see you."
"My pleasure." He stepped away from the balcony, but did not stop at one or two, or even three paces. He stopped when he had her upper arms in his hands, his boots touching her slippers. "Victoria." The French of his voice hung on the syllables, and her breath stilled.
He bent toward her and she closed her eyes, waited. It had been over a year since a man's hands had been on her. A year since she'd been touched with any affection or sensuality. She'd given no thought to how much of a dearth it made in her life. But now she knew.
A tiny huff of breath escaped her lips before he brushed his mouth over hers, back, and then again. Fitted to her lips just perfectly, just enough that her fingers wanted to close over his arms.
And then he pulled away, released her, and opened his eyes. For the first time that night she read the message there, and it made her want to step away… or drag him back for more.
He was back to his cool, charming self. "Don't believe for one moment that I didn't want more, Victoria," he said lightly, as though to deny the fact. "But there are more pressing matters to discuss."
"Pressing matters?"
As if shaking off a slumber, he turned and paced back along the balcony, rolling up a sleeve that had fallen back to his wrist. "Since you found the amulet at the Chalice, that means someone involved with the Tutela was there… likely the demon or vampire you killed, or perhaps both. There are no other vampires in London, are there?"
"When I left this morning, it was after two weeks of patrolling every night. I found the demon and vampire at the ruins of the Chalice, and I saw one other vampire, who got away… and no others. Lilith has not returned." She looked up at him in question. "I don't know where you've been for the last year, Sebastian, but you may not be aware that Lilith took her followers and returned to her hideaway in the mountains after she did not succeed in getting the Book of Antwartha."
"I am aware of that, although I have not been in England. I made my way to the Continent quite rapidly after my visit from the vampires at the pub." He looked out over the gardens below, then turned back to Victoria. "They're looking for Polidori. And someone is here. Someone from the Tutela. Someone must have dropped that amulet. But there aren't any vampires here."
"No, there aren't. Nor demons either, I don't believe."
"You can sense demons as well, then. Good. Polidori will be relieved to hear that."
"Are you going to tell me why they are after him? Or shall I guess?"
His charming smile was back. "I'm certain it won't be difficult for you to figure out."
"It must be his book. The Vampyre. It reveals too much about the truth of vampires. And you are traveling with him for what reason? Surely not to protect him."
"Now, Victoria… do not besmirch my capabilities; particularly since you aren't acquainted with the vast array of my talents." What little seriousness was left on his face shifted away, and his eyes locked on hers. "Though it is not for lack of desire on my part that you remain uneducated. At any rate, yes, I met him in Italy. Byron dismissed him from his service, not because he didn't need a physician any longer, but because he was afraid for his life." He sighed. "I will let John tell you the story; he has all of the details. Suffice to say, I do not expect this to be a quiet and safe house party. Someone is here from the Tutela. Whoever it is, they will be after Polidori, and I should not be far from him until we determine who it is."
"Why doesn't the doctor just leave?"
"That is what he has been doing for the last year—trying to stay ahead of them. Somehow, they must have found out I was involved; hence, they were looking for me at the Silver Chalice." He pushed away from the railing. "At least no one knows that there is a Venator in our midst," he said, his lips twitching crookedly. "Polidori will be relieved to hear that; and with you in attendance, he won't be in any hurry to leave. He's safer here with you than anywhere else."
"That is true. Can you arrange for me to speak with him tomorrow?"
"Of course. If you join us on our hunt in the morning, we should be able to take a few moments to speak alone where no one can hear."
"Very well, then."
He started to go, moving toward her, and she suddenly felt exceedingly aware of… him, herself, the quiet and intimacy of the night. Victoria could have shifted out of his path, or opened the doors and slipped into the room before him… but she didn't. His approach sent her gaze up into his face as he neared, and her belly pitched unsteadily.
"If you continue to look at me like that, Victoria, I'll be most happy to give you what you want." The edge in his voice was unfamiliar and brusque. "After all, you are no longer an innocent."
She stood her ground and reached up to touch his cheek with light fingertips. She'd never voluntarily touched a man before… except Phillip. She wanted Sebastian's arms around her, not just a brush of mouth over mouth. She wanted to feel and to forget. She wanted to be more than a Venator, more than a widow, more than a sedate marchioness sipping tea whilst discussing the weather and who was fornicating with whom.
Sebastian allowed her fingers on his face for a moment; then, with studied casualness, he reached for her wrist and brought her palm gently to his mouth. A kiss on the inside cup of her hand, and one on her wrist, brought back the memory of the night he'd removed her glove and done the same. She'd never gotten that glove back.
"If I didn't have to go to Polidori, you would be in quite a bit of trouble, my dear." He released her hand and, without looking back at her, brushed past and through the French doors.
Chapter 6
In Which a Rather Disruptive Evening Ensues
As it turned out, Victoria did not meet up with Sebastian and Polidori as planned the next morning; nor did she find the comfort of her bed for very long.
Lying there, reviewing the conversation with Sebastian, and considering whether he had been completely forthcoming with her, Victoria became aware that the hair on the back of her neck had lifted. It was as if the gentle breeze from the balcony, where she had left the doors open after Sebastian eased out of the room, brushed over it.
However, since she was lying on her back, the pillow tucked into the curve of her nape, Victoria knew that was not the case.
If Sebastian was to be believed, the vampires had found Polidori.
Even if he wasn't to be believed, the fact remained: Claythorne House had attracted some unwelcome guests.
Flinging the blankets away, along with her confused feelings about Sebastian, she rolled from the mattress, planting her feet silently on the floor. Victoria tucked her long braid down into the back of her gown (all the better to keep it from flying into her face during any ensuing fight) and shoved her arms back into her pelisse. The sleeves caused her nightgown arms to bunch up again, but she was in too much of a hurry this time to fix them. In the bottom of her trunk she scrabbled for her stakes, grabbed one, and also a small vial of holy water, which she tucked into a bulked-up sleeve. Slinging a palm-sized silver crucifix around her neck, she rushed out of the bedroom, not pausing to check whether the door closed behind her.
Out in the hall she hurried along, measuring the chill at the back of her neck. Too soon to tell how many there were. Did they know where Polidori was? Was it truly the author that the vampires sought?
Once at the staircase she had to make a decision: up, down, or continue straight along the corridor? Nerves singing and pulse jumping, nevertheless she made herself pause, draw in a deep breath, and wait. Feel. Listen and smell.
Down.
Victoria fairly flew down the wide, sweeping staircase, stake clutched in her hand, leaping the last few steps and landing light-footed on the floor below. She hadn't felt so alert and in control for months… months! This was what she was born to do.
Here again, she had to pause to sense the undead. Perhaps they had not found a way into the house yet. They had to wait for someone to invite
them in; a vampire could not enter a home, even if the door was open, unless asked by someone with authority to do so.
Since someone with authority could include personages as random as butlers, footmen, or even maids, that requirement did not provide the level of protection one would expect or hope for.
But, there was the amulet to consider. Whoever had lost the amulet was sure to be the one to invite them in.
Then she heard it. A clink, then a low, soft scritching sound from the library.
The library. Where she had left George Starcasset!
Victoria slipped behind the tall, thick column at the base of the stairs, her heart ramming in her chest. Resting her cheek against the chalky plaster, she peered from the shadow and could see into the open door of the room. Was he still there? Surely he was… he had been deeply asleep when she left him.
Try as she might, she could not see the chair where he'd slept; it was in the shadows and facing the fireplace, away from the rest of the room. In his sleep, George would be helpless against any threat, but perhaps unnoticeable if he was not snoring.
She saw movement at the window and held her breath. She counted them. Four. Four figures slipping through an open window one by one, silently and without hesitation. The back of her neck was cold. They were all vampires; she could see the faint glow of four sets of eyes… yet they'd come into the house on their own. There was no other movement in the room… either George was still asleep, or he was no longer there.
The vampires must have been at Claythorne House before. That was the only way they could have entered as they did. Someone had invited them at an earlier time, when they were in their human form, and now they were back… with or without that person's knowledge.
Victoria waited, watching them as they conferred with hand gestures and the faintest of whispers, praying that they would not see George in the chair nestled in the shadows. Then, as they began to move toward the entrance, away from the armchair, she felt a wave of relief, a zing of excitement.
She could take on four of them with little trouble. Her eyes narrowed in anticipation; she adjusted her grip on the stake.
Then she saw their faces, their burning eyes, as they turned to move out of the library, only a breath away from where she hid. These were not normal vampires with blood-red irises.
Two of them had pinkish eyes, the color of rubies. Guardians.
Two of them had eyes of a red-purple color. They had long hair and carried gleaming metal swords. Imperial vampires.
Victoria swallowed, her dry throat crunching in her ears. Her palm grew damp, and the stake shifted in her uneasy grip. One could always tell where a vampire was in the hierarchy of his race by looking at his eyes. Pink-eyed Guardians, members of Lilith's elite guard, were dangerous enough, with their poisonous bite and capacity to enthrall with great ease… but Imperials, with magenta irises, were the most powerful of the undead—with the exception of Lilith, of course. Imperials wielded swords like second hands, and their strength and speed were beyond measure. They could fly when fighting, and could pull the life energy from a person without touching them.
The first and only time she'd encountered an Imperial vampire, Max had been with her. The match had been difficult, frightening for her to watch… but Max had been victorious.
There was no Max tonight—no one but herself.
They could see in the dark—all vampires could—but, thank heaven, they could not sense the presence of a Venator as she could sense theirs. Her presence as a mere human might be scented, but because the house was full of them, the vampires would not necessarily know exactly where the sensation was coming from or be able to sense her particular proximity as long as she was silent and still.
Victoria held her breath as the four undead swept from the library, doing nothing to muffle the sounds of their footsteps.
The four moved past her hiding place, close enough that she could have reached out and snatched at the boot of the last one as they swung past her and up the stairs. Her best hope was for them to separate, and for her to take them on one by one.
Victoria eased from her hiding place, staying in the shadows, but shifting so that she could see through the stair railing curving above her. The four did not appear to be interested in separating, so she would have to assist them in breaking up their party.
Slinking from the shadows, she moved along the wall in the foyer to a small table near the library door. The bust of a Claythorne ancestor sat upon it, and Victoria shifted it on its pedestal, creating the soft grating of marble against wood. Then she backed down along the hallway, away from the foyer and the staircase, standing in the middle of the corridor just out of sight of the stairs. She kept the stake hidden in the folds of her pelisse and wrapped one hand around the crucifix, obstructing its form from view.
Her trick worked. She heard footsteps coming back down the stairs and hoped only one had peeled away from the group.
Luck was on her side, for it was not only a single vampire who made his way from the bottom of the stairs toward her, but a Guardian and not an Imperial.
She stood in the hallway, backing toward one side, as he advanced toward her. The sharp metal edges of the crucifix edged into her palm. "I am sorry, sir," she stammered. "I did not mean to disturb… Oh!" She kept the puff of her scream low and soft—no need to draw any other members of the household into the trap—and her stake-filled hand behind the fold of her skirt.
The vampire moved toward her, a glint of humor in the glow of his pink-red eyes. "You did not disturb me," he replied in a grating voice as he reached for her. "But I might find it satisfying to disturb you, my dear." His fangs, long and silvery in the dim light, bared in a satisfied smile. "I have a task tonight, but it is hard to pass up the fresh blood of a beautiful young lady."
Pretending to jerk away in fright, Victoria pivoted, stepping aside so that he did not grasp the arm where she held the stake. Instead he laughed and easily caught at her forearm where it angled over her bosom, holding the cross beneath it.
They had moved down the hallway, toward the back of the house where the kitchens were, and far enough away from the stairs that the other vampires wouldn't hear the details of their altercation.
"If you taste good enough, perhaps I will give you the gift of immortality," he said with a condescending smile. "Then you shall always be as young and beautiful as you are now, with your long dark hair and creamy skin. What a lovely white neck you have—so long and slender and delicate—"
It all happened quickly: He caught her wrist; she released the cross and allowed him to pull her arm toward him, baring the crucifix to his sight. His grip faltered and he jerked back as though stung, making his chest vulnerable. Victoria struck.
A tiny pop, followed by a poof, and the garrulous vampire disappeared in a satisfying gust of dust.
Victoria couldn't help a grin—she couldn't have choreographed it any better. But before she went haring off after the others, she waited for a moment, listening. If she were lucky, one of the other three vampires would separate from the group to come back and check on the Guardian, giving her the chance to surprise him too.
But after she waited for several breaths and heard nothing, Victoria knew she had no more time to waste. Once again hurrying on light feet, she jogged back down the hallway to the grand foyer and up the sweeping staircase. She was only halfway up the first flight when a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the house… from below.
Blast it!
What now?
The vampires were upstairs, surely Polidori was upstairs, but something was happening below…
Victoria stumbled to a pause at the top of the stairs, forcing herself to wait and try to determine where the danger was. Her neck was cold and her instincts told her to go on upward… but the scream echoed through the house again.
Footsteps sounded, doors slammed, and suddenly people were erupting in the hallway.
"What is it?"
"Who is hurt?"
"L
ady Rockley, is that you?" This last was addressed to her by a man in a nightshirt with spindly knees, his gray curls flattened to one side of his head. She couldn't recall his name—he was a guest of Gwendolyn's father—and she did not have the time to respond politely.
"Get back to your rooms!" she shouted, pushing past him and starting up the second flight of stairs. "Lock the doors!" Locked doors wouldn't protect them forever, but they would at least slow down the vampires. She hoped.
"What is it, Victoria?" Gwendolyn's voice came, high-pitched, from the landing above. "What are you doing?"
"Get in your rooms! Lock the doors, and get a cross or a Bible!" Victoria pushed past her friend, who tried to clutch at the tail of her pelisse as she ran past. "Gwendolyn, now! Do as I say!"
The iciness at the back of her neck had not ebbed; it was getting stronger. They were close. "Where is Polidori?" She screeched to a halt and spun to shout back. "Where is he?"
More yells, more doors slamming, men running, and loud, angry thuds from one of the rooms along the hall.
"Last door," Gwendolyn called, staring fearfully after her. "Victoria, what are you doing? Come back!"
"Lady Rockley!" It was Mr. Berkley, who looked befuddled and rumpled.
Victoria pushed past him and dashed down the hallway, wondering how on earth she was going to fight two Imperials and a Guardian without the element of surprise. And keep the others, who had no concept that vampires had invaded the house, from getting in the way.
But she had to. Polidori's life, apparently, depended upon it.
Something grabbed her from a shadow, and she whipped away, stifling a shriek. "Sebastian!"
"They're in there. Two Imperials and a Guardian."
"I saw them; I staked a Guardian already. I thought you were going to be with Polidori after you left my room," Victoria hissed, pulling away and starting toward the door.