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As Shadows Fade gvc-5

Page 29

by Колин Глисон

His hand fell automatically to the vis bulla at his belly. He touched it, winced at the pain, but felt… something-power? relief?-mixed with the pain.

  The need ebbed that little bit.

  “Why did you do this? Let me help.”

  He could breathe now. Words floated through his mind, filtering through the haze.

  The long promise. The new world. A savior.

  Rosamunde’s words came back to him.

  And in the new world shall be a savior who carries the deepest taint. A long promise shall the savior make and in the end those for whom he lives will be saved.

  A long promise… and in the end those for whom he lives will be saved.

  In the end. Was this the end?

  The door burst open, and the next thing Sebastian knew, he was jerked from Victoria, thrown against the wall. Whipped, like a sack of flour. And Max Pesaro had him pinned there by the throat.

  Twenty-Six

  Two Farewells, and a Shocking Instance in Which Victoria and Max Agree

  “Max,” Victoria said, stepping toward them. He had Sebastian by the throat, his stake ready. “Release him.”

  Not only did she not need his help, but the imminent danger was past.

  She’d seen Sebastian’s eyes fade from the burning, needy red into their normal amber color, and knew that his moment of weakness was past. Whether he would face that temptation again in the future remained to be seen, but for now, he controlled it.

  And before she sent him to his rest, she wanted to learn why he’d done this, taken on this burden.

  Max ignored her command, holding an unmoving Sebastian pinned. Instead, he asked, “Did he feed on you?” His words came out tight and more clipped than usual. “Or… anything else?”

  “No.” She took a moment-just a moment, now that the danger was past-to admire Max in all his dark fierceness. She was, after all, a woman. And she was completely besotted with the man.

  Max adjusted his stake as though reluctant to put it away unused; then he dropped his hand and turned from Sebastian. He looked around the room, his gaze skipping over Victoria as if afraid to land there. The same as it had after he succeeded at the Trial, but this time she thought she understood why. “Lilith?”

  “She’s dead,” Sebastian replied. True to form, he’d merely stepped away from the wall and adjusted his clothing, as though nothing more traumatic had occurred than an askew neck cloth.

  “Dead?” Max’s voice held rare surprise. “Truly?”

  “Dead by Victoria’s hand, of course. Did you ever doubt the woman could do what she set out to?” If it hadn’t been for the terrible situation moments earlier, Victoria wouldn’t have known Sebastian was changed, for he replied in the same offhand fashion he might have if this conversation had happened two months ago.

  His blank-eyed look had disappeared, likely because Lilith no longer existed to hold thrall over him, and he seemed more conscious of his surroundings.

  With that revelation, Max seemed to have the courage to look at her, and when he did, his brutal expression became darker. “Christ, Victoria, cover yourself.”

  She looked down and realized that her tattered shirt exposed half of her chest, including one breast-with the other fairly ready to pop out of its sagging bindings if she were to raise a stake. She was amazed at the amount of blood streaking her skin and shirt, and as she gathered the pieces together as well as she could, she glanced up at Sebastian.

  His eyes had narrowed, and she saw the beginning of a glow starting there. His breathing quickened just a bit, his lips parted.

  “Sebastian,” she said sharply.

  Her former lover looked at her, and she felt the faintest tug there in his eyes. More than a simple tease.

  “He needs to drink,” came a familiar-but wholly unexpected-voice.

  Victoria turned to look and saw Wayren standing there. She didn’t bother to express her surprise or delight at the woman’s presence. There was no point in doing so.

  “He needs blood,” said Wayren, moving into the center of the room. She looked around as though curious about the lair that had belonged to the demonic Lilith. Victoria supposed that wasn’t terribly surprising for a scholarly angel.

  “I am feeling a bit… deprived,” Sebastian said. “I think I must feed, and soon. A revolting but wholly necessary aspect of my new… shall we say… life?” His lips twisted unpleasantly, then smoothed into a self-deprecating smile. “I do apologize for the previous… scene, Victoria. My base emotions got away from me.”

  Though he spoke lightly, she saw a combination of hunger and disappointment in his face. Victoria gave a little shiver. Sebastian had a difficult path ahead of him, if he chose to remain as he was. Had he truly chosen this?

  Wouldn’t it be best to put him out of his misery before he gave in to his urges? Save his soul, as she’d done for Phillip? She hefted the stake in her hand, ready to put it to use.

  At that moment, Michalas charged into the chamber, stake drawn. Brim came at his heels. When they saw the tableau, both stopped and gave little bows to the ageless blond woman.

  And then Michalas asked what Victoria had declined to: “Wayren, how did you come to be here?”

  The angel gave him a beatific smile. “I knew it was time. Sebastian needed me.”

  Max stifled a snort, and Victoria could imagine what he was thinking. A vampire in need of an angel’s guidance. A bloody understatement.

  Wayren shot Max a glance that did what Victoria had been unable to do: wipe the arrogance from his expression. Then her pale face smoothed, and she said to the newcomers, “If you haven’t recognized it from the chill at the back of your necks, Sebastian has allowed himself to be turned. He needs blood, or Victoria will continue to need to defend herself from him. Michalas?”

  If Michalas thought that an odd request for a Venator, he didn’t show it. And in fact, as he disappeared from the chamber-presumably to find something for Sebastian to drink-Wayren turned to the rest of them. “Sebastian accepted this change willingly, unlike you, Victoria, when you were faced with the same. The situation is wholly different from your battle with Beauregard. There is a purpose for it.”

  Victoria nodded, remembering awakening from the slumber after nearly being turned undead to find Max with a stake, ready to plunge it into her heart. She would do the same for Sebastian-in fact, would have already done so if she hadn’t needed to understand why. To make certain he’d completed whatever task he’d set out to.

  “He didn’t have to be turned,” she said, speaking what had been on her mind. “He might have offered himself in Max’s place, but come ready to… take care of himself.”

  “To die, rather than be turned,” Max said. “As I’d been prepared to do if necessary.”

  Wayren stepped near Sebastian, who seemed to be made a bit uncomfortable by her proximity. “He chose this path as a sacrifice. By putting himself in Max’s place, he gave up his freedom, and then he gave up his soul in exchange for Giulia’s. She’ll be released from her damnation once his task is finished.”

  “His task?” Victoria asked. “Can we not just stake him now so that he won’t be tempted again?”

  “Er,” Sebastian interrupted, “I prefer not to have my demise, such as it would be, discussed so casually. But I do have a question, Wayren, if I may. I read Rosamunde’s prophecy, and understand that it did-or could-apply to me. But how long is this ‘long promise’ and when might my task be done?”

  Wayren smiled, and the warmth of it seemed to flood the room… not in the same sweltering, suffocating way that Lilith’s fires and presence had done, but in a soft, pleasing manner. “You’ll know when it is time,” she told him. “But I suspect the Venators will have need of and welcome your assistance for a century or more. Particularly since my time has now come to leave them and return to my place.”

  Victoria looked at her. “You’ll be leaving us?”

  “And Vioget is to take your place as adviser?” Max sounded exactly as if it had been s
uggested that he, too, might join Sebastian in a state of undeadness.

  Wayren shrugged, and her smile continued to warm the rest of the room. She seemed clearly pleased with the turn of events. “He has knowledge of the vampires that even you don’t have, Max, and he’ll be around long after you and Victoria and your children. I’m certain he’ll find some way to be of assistance to the Venators.”

  “Never fear, Pesaro,” drawled Sebastian. “I’ll be taking myself off to America in short order. I doubt that I’ll be here when the child comes.”

  Victoria glared at him, knowing that Sebastian had purposely chosen to drop that piece of information at this moment as a last one-upmanship to Max.

  How did he know she hadn’t told him yet? Likely because Sebastian knew that if Max were aware she carried a child, he’d have become much more protective of her.

  He grinned at her, in his Sebastian way, still making warm flutters in her stomach. And that was when the realization struck her. Really struck her.

  Sebastian was gone. For all intents and purposes, he was gone.

  He had given his life for her, and for Giulia, and taken on a more dangerous, challenging task than she and Max would ever do. She’d had only a short while of fighting such deep cravings, such instinctual needs, the deep potential for evil that vampire blood had brought.

  How could Sebastian think to live years, decades… perhaps longer… without giving in to those base instincts?

  Their eyes met, and he allowed only a flare of glow to color his, as if to remind her of what they’d shared… and what they could still share, if she were willing. One last bit of that devilish side of him.

  Victoria made a decision at that moment. “I’ll send someone with you, Sebastian. Someone to stay with you, at least… at least for a while.”

  He gave a wry smile. “My own Tutela member?”

  She understood his attempt at humor and let it pass. “A Venator protector. You’re still a Venator, Sebastian. You wear the vis.”

  “I do. And will. Though I don’t know if it will be enough.” Sadness graced his eyes, and Victoria felt her heart pang.

  Let him be strong.

  “And the ring,” Wayren said. “The ring you wear is there to give you strength, as well.”

  Michalas returned at that moment, and Sebastian looked over at him as though drawn by a string. His nostrils flared as though to scent blood on the air, and even Victoria could smell the faint rust. “Come with me,” said Michalas.

  Sebastian nodded, murmuring something about preferring venison blood to that of beef, and Victoria was glad that he wouldn’t have to feed on whatever animal Michalas had found in front of the rest of them.

  Then a thought struck her, and she looked at Michalas, then glanced meaningfully at Wayren. The angel nodded. Yes, he would be a good person to send with Sebastian, as odd as that might seem for a Venatorial task.

  Sebastian left the room, and a silence fell over the chamber. Victoria felt the sharp sting of a tear and, annoyed with herself, dashed it away. She looked up to find Brim easing out of the room, and Wayren following him in a smooth glide.

  When she glanced at Max, she saw why.

  His face was thunderous.

  “Are we going to fight now?” she asked impudently.

  “Tell me… just tell me that you didn’t know.”

  “Max,” she said patiently, “I am not going to sit back for nine-rather, eight… perhaps seven-months and do nothing.”

  She heard the grinding of his teeth from where she stood, several feet away. She narrowed her eyes in delight. Max speechless?

  “This is going to be an ongoing argument, isn’t it?” he said at last.

  “Max, really. I’m not like other women.”

  He snorted. “Is that so?” Then he was across the room, pulling her into his arms. “I am delighted. But there’s one thing you’ll need to understand.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “The child will have Gardella blood. But it will also have my name. Do you understand?”

  For once, she was in complete agreement.

  Epilogue

  Wherein We Are Assured That Though Nothing Will Change, All Will Be Well

  Lady Winnie and Lady Nilly gushed over Victoria, smoothing her hair-which had grown nearly to her shoulders-and fussing with her skirts.

  “You couldn’t look lovelier, my dear,” Lady Winnie said, backing away to look fondly at Victoria. There might have been the gleam of a tear in her eye, or it may simply have been the fact that she spied the new tray of biscuits that Verbena had carried in. Chocolate iced pumpkin. One of her favorites.

  “Indeed,” sniffled Nilly, under no pretense whatsoever. Her handkerchief was damp, and her narrow shoulders shuddered a bit as she tried to hold back the tears from pink-rimmed eyes. “I just adore weddings.” She burst into renewed tears as Winnie patted her back while continuing to eye the biscuits. “And babies.”

  Victoria, for her part, felt like an ungainly sort of cow. The size of her belly, fortunately hidden beneath the yards and yards of sea green fabric, couldn’t possibly grow any larger… but she had been assured that she had several more months to expand. The very thought was inconceivable.

  It was a very good thing that the vampires seemed to have remained out of London since Lilith’s death. Victoria couldn’t imagine trying to wield a stake, or kick, or even run in this sort of condition. In fact, the last time she’d tried to train with Kritanu in the kalari, Max had walked in, taken one look at her front-heavy figure and uncomfortable pose with a kadhara blade, and immediately backed out.

  She thought she might have heard the rare sound of his laughter, but decided it was in both of their best interests to decline to investigate. After all, she still did wear two vis bullae, and she might hurt him.

  “And here is the bride!” squealed Nilly, her tears momentarily forgotten.

  Victoria looked up as the door to her mother’s dressing room opened and Lady Melly stepped into the small adjoining parlor.

  She beamed and glowed like any bride would-particularly one who’d managed to snare one of the most eligible bachelors in all of London. For a moment, Victoria felt a bit envious of her mother’s slender figure… but not the least bit put out by the fact that Lady Melly would be taking over the title of Marchioness of Rockley, and her daughter would merely remain the dowager.

  This was an odd happenstance that had been remarked on over and over in the on dit section of the papers, but other than feeling a bit sorry for the poor rejected Lord Jellington, Victoria felt nothing but happiness about her mother’s new match.

  She might have felt a pang of remorse for the delight in knowing that Lady Melly’s maternal attentions would now be divided among three daughters-two of whom had come with the widowed Rockley when he returned to claim his title-but that was to be forgiven.

  “Why, Mama,” Victoria said, eyeing her parent’s intricate hairstyle as she bent to hug Winnie. “Your coiffure… it is most unusual.”

  “Do you not like it?” Melly said, her face shining with joy. “I particularly asked your maid-Violet, is it? No, Verbena-if she would do it. I have always loved the way she arranged those little sticks in your hair.”

  That was another thing about Melly’s newfound love match. Her memory of certain instances seemed to have softened or even completely altered. And Victoria was so delighted for her mother that she wasn’t about to remind her of her previous criticisms of the feathered or decorated stakes that Verbena had secreted in her own curls on more than one occasion.

  Instead, she merely admired the pearly white ones that gleamed amid Melly’s similar dark curls, complete with flimsy feathers and diamonds.

  “It looks lovely,” she said, catching Verbena’s eye as the maid came in to admire her handiwork.

  Verbena, who’d always been a lusciously stout woman, had become a bit more stout in the last few months herself. Since she and Oliver, the gro
om-cum-footman, had gone to Vauxhall Gardens on the evening Victoria had come to think of as the Night of the Frothy Pink Night Rail, they had been inseparable. By the time Victoria and Max had returned from Romania, Verbena and Oliver had needed a wedding themselves.

  Speaking of Max… Victoria turned to the twittering ladies and excused herself under the pretense of not wanting to ruin the bride’s entrance by slogging awkwardly down the stairs in front of her.

  Nilly and Winnie patted her stomach several more times, and allowed Victoria to escape as they fussed and pecked and picked at their friend’s hair and skirts and jewels.

  “I hate weddings,” Max murmured when Victoria found him skulking at the back of the chapel at St. Heath’s Row, the Rockley estate. A garden wedding had been out of the question in January, and despite the fact that it was out of Season, Melly and her fiancй had been so besotted, they didn’t care about the timing of the nuptials. “They could simply have eloped and put an end to this.”

  “My mother was traumatized enough by our elopement,” Victoria reminded him. “It was only the fact that she had her own wedding to plan, and the promise of two more in her new stepdaughters’, that we remained unscathed.”

  “I would have remained unscathed regardless,” Max reminded her. “I do believe your mother is still a bit intimidated by me.”

  Victoria smiled. “A bit? The way you looked at her when she suggested naming the baby Ermintrude? I was surprised she didn’t faint dead away right then.”

  “A ridiculous name. And I’m-we’re-perfectly capable of naming our own child.” He shifted, leaning back against the stone wall of the chapel and eased her so that she rested her weight against his hip. “When is this bloody thing going to start?”

  “Soon, I expect.”

  “Not soon enough,” he grumbled. “The last time I was at a wedding was yours, and it started late as well, as I recall.”

  She looked up at him. “I’d forgotten about that. You were just as annoyed as you are now.”

  “You’d invited me to stand guard for vampires,” he reminded her. “I didn’t want to be there in the first place, and then you had the effrontery to ask me to watch for undead while you married yourself off to-someone else.”

 

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