Rises the Night gvc-2

by Колин Глисон

  Victoria raised her eyebrows. "But he would have trusted me?"

  "A Venator. Eustacia Gardella's great-niece. Yes, I believe he would have. But now… we will never know."

  "Nedas. You mentioned him earlier tonight. You said he was moving quickly; I presume he's a vampire and not a demon. What did you mean?"

  "Yes, of course, a vampire. One of Lilith's sons, in fact. And I meant only that he had found Polidori so quickly, and had sent so many of his men after him—including the demon and vampire you encountered at the Chalice." His lips twitched. "I cannot believe it took you so long to ask me."

  She lifted her chin. "I prefer not to be predictable. Besides, I knew you were baiting me, wanting me to ask… I knew you, or Polidori, would tell me in good time. After all, you went through all that trouble to draw me out of my room."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Speaking of my room, and the drawing out of it… why weren't you with Polidori when the vampires arrived? I thought you were going to stay with him."

  "I was on my way back to him when I found your enamored viscount stumbling through the house, so I took a moment to direct him to his own chamber and saw him safely snoring on his bed before I even left the room. By the time I accomplished that, the vampires had stormed through the hall and made their way to Polidori's chamber. He had taken my advice and slept in a different place; not that it mattered in the end."

  "I can see why… you are so inventive when it comes to evading danger."

  "The better to keep my delicate hide safe." His words were light, but there was an edge of temper in his eyes. "Now, let me see to this mess, and perhaps your maid can tend that wound on your leg… unless you would prefer to keep it a secret and allow me to care for it."

  "My maid is perfectly capable, thank you very much." Victoria heard the gravel in her voice and decided it would be prudent to step farther away from Sebastian. He had the unfortunate effect of causing her heartbeat to pick up speed and her nerves to tingle. Especially after seeing the way he'd handled the sword in battle with the Imperial. She'd been distracted, but it hadn't missed her notice that his movements were powerful and graceful.

  "And there I go… being predictable myself. I just cannot seem to help myself around you, Victoria."

  And the look in his eyes told her that he was none too pleased with that.

  "When," grunted Victoria as she whipped her leg around, slamming it into the heavily padded shield her trainer wore, "will you teach me qinggong?" Her momentum did not lessen as she lunged forward with the follow-up of a chest-high blow of fist.

  However, Kritanu was too agile and he ducked, then returned with his own powerful kick. "You must master this kalaripayattu with the sword before I teach you how to glide in the air and leap while fighting," he replied. "And that was a very predictable maneuver."

  Kritanu was one of the Comitators: experts in martial arts who were sent as protectors and assistants, as well as trainers, for the Venator to which they were assigned. He had been with Eustacia for decades, and had been acting as Victoria's trainer as well.

  Victoria, who pivoted to miss the blow, was more than mildly annoyed that he could speak a whole long sentence with ease, whilst she was grunting and breathing heavily. The man was over seventy, and she was twenty. And she was not even wearing a corset, though her breasts were bound.

  Not to mention the fact that she did not want to be thought of as predictable… in battle or with mysterious, charming men.

  "Then when will we begin training with the sword?" she asked, coming at him fast with her fists in rapid staccato on his chest.

  She and Eustacia had returned to London from Claythorne the day before, and Victoria had insisted on a much-needed training session with Kritanu the very next day. If she'd been faster, stronger, more prepared, she might not have the four thin scratches on her neck where the Guardian had been ready to sink his fangs… nor would she have the aching wrist or deep slice along her hip and thigh from the Imperial.

  It had already begun to heal, of course. In a week, it would be little more than a scar. But facing an Imperial alone—despite the fact that Sebastian was there, she had been, for all intents and purposes, alone—had made her realize how much more she had to learn, and how much a year of not fighting vampires had cost her.

  "We shall start with the sword tomorrow," he replied. She was pleased to note that this time, his words came out a bit more raggedly.

  "Good." She punctuated her satisfaction with a quick swivel on one foot, followed by a low blow to his solar plexus.

  Kritanu oofed softly behind the shield, doubling over. But when he looked back up, he was smiling. "That was not predictable." Then he looked toward the doorway and stopped.

  Victoria turned and saw her aunt standing there.

  "Very nice, cam," Eustacia told her, nodding. "It is difficult to surprise Kritanu as you did. Vero, I have been trying for years. Now, Wayren has arrived. Will the two of you join us in the parlor?"

  Wayren was a tall, slender woman who reminded Victoria of a medieval lady. She had pale blond hair that she wore unbound, falling in gentle waves over her shoulders and nearly to her waist. The two times that Victoria had met her, she'd worn the same unfashionable gown: long, loosely gathered at the waist with an intricately tied hemp cord, and wrist-length sleeves that fell in points nearly to her knees. The color of her garment was cream, as though the linen had been woven without adding any dyes or bleach.

  She rose when Victoria entered the room and, to her surprise, enfolded Victoria in a gentle, firm hug. "I am very happy to see you again, my dear. I congratulate you on your work with the Book of Antwartha. I understand from Max that you were the reason everything turned out as it did." The woman, who was of an indeterminate age, and seemed to be older than Victoria but younger than Eustacia, had such a slender build that Victoria was surprised at the strength of her embrace. "But most of all, I am so very sorry about Phillip."

  Victoria knew little about her, except that Wayren and Eustacia had known and trusted each other for a long time. She always felt that if she learned that Wayren lived like a sylph among the forest trees, she would not be surprised.

  "This life we share is difficult enough without having to lose someone you love because of it." Wayren set Victoria back away from her, but kept her hands on the tops of her shoulders, taking a moment to gaze in her eyes, as though trying to read her emotions. Wayren's eyes were light gray-blue, and when she was entrapped by them, Victoria felt calm and soothed—a sense that Wayren truly cared about her.

  At last, the woman released her, sending her to a seat on the sofa with a fond smile. Victoria turned shyly away, surprised at how moved she was by the caring greeting from a woman she barely knew.

  Eustacia had taken her regular seat next to the piecrust table, with Kritanu in the armchair next to her, and now she spoke as though she were calling a meeting to order. "I have told Wayren about the events at Claythorne, and that together with Sebastian Vioget, we were able to obstruct the reason and cause of Polidori's death from the other house-guests. Some will say that he died from poison, and some will say that he died from an accident. The conflicting stories, along with the erasure of the memories of those at the house party, will help to keep the tragedy from the rest of the ton. Victoria, will you please explain to Wayren what Sebastian found." Eustacia lifted a delicate teacup and sipped. "I have told her about the amulet and how you came upon it at the Silver Chalice."

  "When Sebastian was preparing Polidori's body, he found a small leather packet of papers. They were notes about the Tutela and its leader, Nedas. Sebastian had already told me that the amulet was a new symbol of the revival of the Tutela, which is likely why Aunt Eustacia didn't recognize it."

  Wayren looked at Kritanu. "As always, your instinct was close on. I received the message from Eustacia that you had connected the hound on the amulet with the hantu saburos, although not with the Tutela itself. But, of course, the hantu saburos are vampires who trained dogs to b
ring human prey to them for nourishment… and what is the Tutela but humans acting as bitches trained by Nedas and his followers?" Her pale eyes narrowed in dislike. "An appropriate symbol, the meaning of which is likely lost on the members who wear it… but certainly recognized now by all of us."

  Kritanu bowed his head in acknowledgment of her compliment, and turned to Victoria as though to bring the conversation back on track and away from him. "The notes?"

  "Apparently this revival of the Tutela is under the leadership of the vampire Nedas, who, according to Sebastian, is Lilith's son."

  "Ach!" Aunt Eustacia's hands rose. "Of course. Lilith's son Nedas. I knew I had heard the name before."

  "How could she have a son?" asked Victoria. "Did she… breed?" A warmth suffused her face, but she had to ask. She needed to understand.

  "Not in this case, although it is possible, though not common, for a vampire to breed. No, I believe… I believe she turned the boy's father some centuries back, and made him her concubine. He at that time had a wife, whom Lilith did not allow to live, and a babe with her. Lilith had the child raised with her, and when he became an age satisfactory to her, she turned him as well, and now calls him her son. She has endowed him with great powers, of course, similar to her own."

  Her question answered, Victoria continued. "According to Polidori's notes, Nedas has obtained something called Akvan's Obelisk, which constitutes some threat that frightened Polidori so greatly that he left Italy." Victoria looked at Wayren apologetically. "His notes were rather difficult to read and wandered all over the scraps of paper, as though he wrote them down wherever he could find space."

  "The Tutela has had its moments of power and glory, and its times of weakness and near extinction. It has been decades since it was a threat—indeed, the last time was after the events in Austria, when we were able to put a stop to them after that horrifying massacre," Aunt Eustacia said quietly.

  Wayren had been listening intently, pressing the pads of her fingers from one hand against the other, her eyes unblinking. Victoria fancied she could see the slow, thorough spinning of the wheels in her mind as she thought. Then she reached into the large leather satchel she'd placed on the floor next to her chair, rummaged through it, and at last pulled out a small, browning, curling-leafed manuscript.

  Its edges were torn and crumbly, and it was simply bound with a leather thong stitched along one side of the papers. The manuscript was no thicker than a finger, and perhaps twice the size of a man's hand. Victoria could see dark scratches of symbols and writing of some language that did not appear recognizable from her vantage point, and likely wouldn't be even if she were looking directly at the pages. It seemed as though Wayren was blessed with the ability to read every language or glyph that she needed to, whereas Victoria was limited to knowledge of English, Italian, and a bit of Latin.

  Wayren turned the pages carefully, using one slender finger to skim along them, one at a time, and then it was several moments before she said, "Ah, yes, I believed it would be here." She looked up. "Akvan's Obelisk is a large, spearlike stone made from obsidian that, as legend states, when activated, gives a demon or vampire capabilities to call on and control the souls of the dead. Imagine an army of the dead, not vampires, not needing even to feed on the blood of man, but of warped bodies, puppeteered by the strings of their souls, called back from their afterlife and brought forth upon the earth. It would be devastating to us to have to fight an army of that strength and number."

  She glanced back down at the manuscript, scoring her long finger in gentle circles around an image therein. "According to this book, Akvan's Obelisk was a gift given by the mountain demon Akvan to his lover Millitka, who was later turned to a vampire. In a fit of rage—for, as you know, demons and vampires are in general immortal enemies—Akvan took the obelisk back from Millitka and, during his tantrum, threw it into the earth. It penetrated so far and so deeply that no one could find it again." She looked up. "If Polidori is correct, and Nedas has somehow obtained it, there could be serious consequences for us if he activates it. If the legend is true."

  The others remained silent as Wayren returned her attention to the book, reading further. "The stone is impossible to destroy. Once activated and in the hands of its master, it is infallible and indestructible. The activation has several stages, but once it is fully engaged, there can be no way to stop it."

  "Akvan's Obelisk is indestructible… but what about Nedas? Could he be killed?" Victoria asked.

  Wayren's eyes flickered toward Eustacia, then back to Victoria. "If he were killed, it would break the connection between himself and the obelisk… but it would not lessen the power of the obelisk. Someone else could activate it just as he did."

  "However, you are right, cara. Nedas must be assassinated. The Tutela must be infiltrated, and he must be located and killed before he begins the activation."

  "Nedas is a vampire. A son of Lilith, so he is very powerful. We were able to find out that much. But we weren't aware that he had found Akvan's Obelisk," said Wayren.

  "We?" Victoria asked, even though she knew the answer.

  "Max and I. Part of the reason he returned to Italy so soon after everything happened last year was because of the rising power of the Tutela."

  "So Max is going to kill Nedas."

  Eustacia and Wayren exchanged glances again. This time it was much more subtle, but Victoria was not a Gardella for nothing. She caught it, though she was not meant to. Something was wrong. "What is it?"

  "Shortly after we arrived in Rome, the bites on Max's neck from Lilith began paining him more than usual," Wayren replied. "You know those bites have never healed, and she uses that to her advantage—she would like more than anything to have Max in her complete control. He's always been able to fight it, but… it has become more difficult since she bit him again last year, when you were stealing the Book of Antwartha."

  "Where is Lilith now?" asked Victoria, remembering the horror of seeing the powerful Max so helpless under the vampire queen's thrall.

  "I am certain she is in her mountain lair, hidden somewhere in the Muntü Fagaras, in Romania. She has been there since you chased her from London last year, and I have no reason to believe she has left."

  "So what is wrong with Max?"

  "As I mentioned, his bites were becoming more painful, and suddenly he disappeared for several weeks. I know he returned, for he was seen by another Venator, Zavier; but then I was called away to Paris and I have not been able to contact him for more than eight months."

  Victoria's throat felt dry. "What do you think happened?"

  Wayren looked at Eustacia, then back at Victoria. "I don't know. But I am certain Lilith is somehow involved. Her reach is far; even if she is not in Italy, her influence is great. I am not even certain Max is alive."

  Chapter 8

  Of Smashed Toes, Chatty Drivers, and Inflation

  "So you are off to Italy, are you, Lady Rockley?"

  "Indeed I am, Mr. Starcasset," Victoria replied. She would, in fact, have been on a ship at that very moment had her exit from St. Heath's Row not been delayed by a visit from the Starcasset siblings. "I hope you forgive me for being unable to take the time to send word round before I left. My travel to Venice is of a rather urgent nature, in relation to my elderly aunt's estate there."

  "Of course. I hope everything is well." George—she would never again be able to think of him as Mr. Starcasset, or, even when he inherited, as Viscount Claythorne, after the episode in her bedchamber—appeared to be heavily dismayed at her precipitous departure.

  "Victoria, I do hope that you were not put off by the events at Claythorne," Gwendolyn put in, stepping forward into the foyer of St. Heath's Row. From the grimace that flitted over her brother's face, it was quite likely that she'd stepped not only in, but on his toes. It probably served him right, Victoria thought, for he had been rather overzealous in his attempts to monopolize the conversation with her. "I cannot begin to apologize for the terrible fright we
all had that night, Victoria. To think of such a thing happening at Claythorne!"

  "Think nothing of it," Victoria soothed, pressing a gloved hand over her friend's arm.

  Gwendolyn, of course, didn't know the half of what had occurred, thanks to Eustacia's glittering gold medallion, which had been used to alter the memories of all of the guests at Claythorne. "And now, dear Gwendolyn, and G—Mr. Starcasset, I am terribly sorry that I must beg your leave. My carriage is waiting, and the ship on which we are to sail is expecting me to arrive momentarily." Victoria drew her friend into a farewell embrace, realizing with a start that Gwendolyn was her only real friend her age. Yet another reminder that the other half of Victoria's world was so very different from the one that Gwendolyn inhabited.

  Just as it had been for Phillip.

  Perhaps if she'd used Eustacia's medallion on Phillip, things might have turned out differently.

  Victoria was drawn abruptly from her regrettable reverie when George bent over her gloved hand to brush his lips against it.

  When he lifted his face, he pulled her hand up and stepped toward her, so that his words were for her ears only. "Your departure shall put quite a damper on my intended courtship, Lady Rockley." He pressed a kiss to the underside of her fingers, then to the tips. "Godspeed, Victoria, if I may be so bold as to call you that… and if you should have the urge, I would welcome any correspondence from you during your time away." He could not help that his clean, boyish looks made him appear rather more like an earnest schoolboy than a serious beau. But, she allowed, despite the broad smile and the dismay in his eyes, he was rather charming. And in spite of the circumstances, Victoria felt rather pleased at having the attention of a man again. She had been lonely.