Gardella Vampires - Rises The Night Part 22

His mouth caught at one side. "It appears you might be able to see at least some shade of gray, unlike your dear friend Max, who sees only black and white." He turned and walked across the room, twitched the curtains to look out.

The movement allowed a bit of light into the room; it was lighter than it had been when she last remembered being in the carriage. She must have been here overnight.

That meant that tonight at midnight would begin the Day of the Dead. If she were going to have any chance of stopping Nedas, of attempting to kill him, she had to get away from Sebastian and the vampires that lurked somewhere nearby. Her neck was still chilled.

Victoria pulled on her arms, fixed above her head, elbows bent. "How long are you going to keep me like this?" she asked.

He turned, half-shadowed by the sunlight streaming in from the window, reminding her that no one was completely shadowed or lit; no one was wholly good or wholly evil. Even, if he were to be believed, vampires. "Since I rather relish seeing you in such a helpless position, I'm not motivated to make any changes to the current arrangement." His smile was back, but it showed the signs of strain.

She tugged at her wrists again. "My arms are hurting."

"I'm certain I can find a way to take your mind off the pain."

"You might find it more enjoyable if I were able to partic.i.p.ate."

One of his brows lifted. "Your idea of partic.i.p.ating would probably not be what I had in mind. I think I'll leave you just the way you are."

"Where are the vampires? I know they are here. Friends of your grandfather's, I presume?"

"Just as a bit of added insurance," he said. "Outside the door there. You should be flattered that I felt the need to have additional a.s.sistance."

He walked toward her and stood, looking down. "When this is all over-tomorrow, perhaps-I'll release you and then you can start to pick up the pieces. For now, though, I bid you au revoir."

He bent, gave her a gentle kiss next to the corner of her lips, where he was far from her angry teeth, and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Victoria started to look about for an opportunity to escape; but no sooner had the door closed behind Sebastian than it opened again and another man came in. A vampire.

His eyes glowed red and his fangs were out, and for one horrible moment she thought he meant to attack her. Surely Sebastian wouldn't allow it. But Sebastian was gone.

As the vampire walked over and stood next to her, her vision swirled and her stomach fluttered.

"Quite a shame that we must leave you untouched. I've never had a Venator before." The implication was clear, and she felt her panic begin to subside.

But then the vampire traced a cold finger over her neck, using his sharp nail, and she felt the p.r.i.c.k of its point, surely deep enough to draw blood. He bent toward her and she stiffened, pulling at the ropes beyond her head, feeling them jolt something above her, but he did not bite. Instead he dragged his wide, cold tongue over the place he'd cut. Victoria turned her head away, her stomach pitching, her back arching, hoping that whatever protections Sebastian had put in place for her would be enough once the vampire had smelled and tasted her blood.

Her veins surged, her blood pulsing through them as though shooting to the place on her neck where he'd scratched her.

Victoria's breathing became trapped, slow, sluggish. The world funneled into a whirl of sensation: the cold moisture of his tongue, long and slow on her flesh; the sc.r.a.pe of his teeth; the sharp-nailed fingers that now dug into her scalp, beneath her heavy hair; the beat of her heart racing, pounding through her limbs as she struggled to free them.When he pulled back he smiled, and his eyes were glowing deep bloodred. Hunger glistened there, and she smelled blood on his breath. "That was lovely," he murmured, tracing a long nail gently down her neck and to her breast. "I am so very tempted."

His nail paused, pressing into the tender skin that swelled over her bodice.

The mad thumping of her heart pounded so harshly that her breast jolted in rhythm as she scarcely dared to breathe.

The vampire's eyes glowed red, then redder, then softer again as he seemed to contemplate his options.

But at last he pulled away. "It is fortunate for you, Venator, that I value my own existence more than what delights you offer,"

he said, looking down at her. "Perhaps later, when Vioget tires of you... but for now... I must regretfully decline." He said this last over his shoulder as he walked away; and she relaxed, watching as he went back out the door.

If it hadn't been for Sebastian-and possibly his grandfather's influence-she would have been in trouble. The vampire's actions put quite a damper on Sebastian's arguments: the vampire was clearly ready to take from a helpless woman, and only fear for his own safety stopped him.

But now... now she must attend to finding a way out.

When she'd pulled hard on the bonds of her wrists, she'd felt something move above her. Giving her attention more closely to her environment, she recognized that she was bound to a bed and that the headboard had become loosened by her struggles.

Perhaps she could break it free.

She didn't know if the noise would bring the vampire guards in, but she had to attempt it. Trying to keep the banging to a minimum, she pulled on her wrists, felt the ropes sc.r.a.pe over her skin, and jerked around, trying to see if she could get the top of the bed loose. She wasn't even certain what it was made of; it sounded like metal of some sort.

Victoria struggled, then began to tug on her feet in the same way, causing low, deep creaking sounds to emanate from below- hopefully low enough that it wouldn't alarm the vampires. If she could loosen those ropes, she could bring herself closer to the headboard and perhaps be able to use her hands instead of just pulling on her bounds.

The end of the bed gave way first, and when she finally flipped her feet up, the whole iron footboard came too, and crashed onto her legs. Groaning with pain, she scooted up closer to the headboard and was able to feel around with her fingers, trying to get a grip on the metal.

But then she found something better. The wrought iron was rough and ornate, and the back of her hand sc.r.a.ped against part of it that was rather sharp. If she could position herself and move her wrists to saw the ropes against the edge...

It took a long time. Her arms were already sore from being held in such a position and from pulling; but she wasn't a Venator for nothing. At last the ropes loosened enough that she was able to pull them apart.

Her arms free, Victoria sat up, shook them out, and began to work on her ankles. Soon she was on the floor, hurrying to the window, carrying the rope that had been around her legs. It was still daylight-past noon, if she were to judge by the position of the sun. She had less than twelve hours to get from wherever she was back to the opera theater to try to kill Nedas.

She could go out the door and fight the vampires; there would be a certain satisfaction in plunging a stake into the one who'd sampled her blood. But that would take time and there was the chance that she'd get captured again. Not a good chance, but one nevertheless.

The window was four stories above the ground, however, which was why she was going to put Sebastian's rope to good use.

And once she was outside the window, climbing down, the vampires would be helpless to follow her in the full suns.h.i.+ne.

And then she saw it: the silhouette of San Pietro's Basilica. She was still in Rome! That, at least, was in her favor.

When she looked down, she swore and stepped back from the window. But it was too late-Sebastian, who'd just alighted from a carriage, had seen her looking down from the window. He gave her a mocking salute as if to say, Nice try, and hurried up the steps below.

So he didn't think she'd go out the window, did he? She thought he knew her better than that!

Her filmy skirt swirling about, Victoria grabbed the metal footboard that still lay on the bed and smashed it through the window, which had been painted shut. She could hear the pounding of feet on the steps below, and knew she had little time. Swiftly she tied the rope to the stone railing just outside the narrow window ledge at the edge of a balcony the size of a mere pillow.

The door to the room flew open and the vampires rushed in, but she was already out in the pool of sunlight, climbing over the rail, rope in hand. Victoria could hear Sebastian's curses when he came into the room, but she was halfway past the third floor, her skirt gusting in the slight breeze and obscuring her view below. The plaster wall in front of her was scrubbed with a dark orange color that flaked off when she tried to brush her foot against it for a toehold.

Fortunately, the building backed into a small rust-walled courtyard instead of a street, so there was less chance of an alarm being raised about a woman lowering herself down from a window. Nettle bushes grew along in the insides, thrusting up and obstructing the steps and half of the windows. She would have to take care not to land on one of them.

The rope ended just below the third-floor window, and Victoria glanced up. Sebastian was no longer looking down at her; he must have gone back in and was coming down the stairs to stop her below. She had a decision to make: Climb in through that window and try to sneak out another way, or drop down and hope she landed on the second-floor window's tiny balcony.

Going back into the building would put her in danger of running into the vampires again, but dropping down was also dangerous-and might not give her time to escape before Sebastian got to the bottom.

She had to make the choice.

Looking down past her skirt, which partially blocked her view, she focused on the window ledge below. It was no more than a man's height away in distance. The pointed arch at the top of the window was just out of reach; but by s.h.i.+fting lower on the rope and reaching out with one hand, she was able to grasp it and hold it to steady herself. Clamping her fingers over it, Victoria s.h.i.+fted her weight toward the building, half leaning on the arch, and let go of the rope.

She fell, using her grip on the slender arch to direct her fall, and she landed on the small edge of the window, barely wide enough for her feet. With nary a moment's thought, she vaulted over the same stone railing as on the fourth-floor window ledge, her skirts tangling and billowing, and dangled from the ledge for a moment before dropping, fortunately, next to a nettle bush on the ground.

She dashed toward the narrow entrance of the courtyard, frightening two cats that had been sunning themselves, and she heard the door slam open behind her and Sebastian calling for her. Rounding the corner, she found herself on a narrow street lined with the same kind of buildings she'd just escaped from. He was right behind her; she could hear his footfalls coming closer.

Victoria was not about to be caught now, when she'd come so far. She dashed across the street, down another alley, and ran and ran, around corners and up streets, past chair weavers and tailors and bakers, until the sound of footfalls were lost amid the noise of midday Rome.

The Quirinale clock tower bonged in the distance: two o'clock.

She had ten hours.

Chapter 22.

In Which Mr. Starca.s.set Fills in a Number of Details The ruins of the opera theater were still smoking when Victoria arrived at nearly half past three on November first, the day before the Day of the Dead, or All Souls' Day, as it was commonly called. The curious stood nearby and gawked. The busy strode past as if nothing had happened.

The fire had destroyed only about one-third of the front of the building, but it was obviously unusable as it was. Victoria wondered how many people had died-either from the fire and smoke, or the fangs of the vampires.

Despite her conversation with Sebastian, she could not accept the idea that vampires were not all evil. It went against everything she'd been taught for the last year and a half, and her own interactions with the creatures.

Victoria pulled her cloak closely about her shoulders in an attempt to cover her unusual garb. She'd dressed to fight, to hide, to run and climb, in loose black trousers and a matching tunic. Her shoes were soled with leather, thick enough for protection and supple enough to allow the same ease of movement as slippers. Her long hair had been braided in one long plait, and stuffed down the back of her s.h.i.+rt so that the tail brushed the base of her back, under her garments. She had holy water, stakes, and a knife secreted in various locations under her clothing. Miro, the weapons master from the Consilium, had given her another weapon that would be of use in this particular situation: a small bow that would allow her to fire a specially carved wooden arrow-a stake-from a distance.

She already knew she would never get close enough to Nedas to stab him; so the bow and wooden arrow-stakes would be her only chance to succeed. She wasn't an expert archer, but she could hit her target. She had three stakes, and her plan was to kill him and then, in what she hoped would be ensuing chaos, steal Akvan's Obelisk. At the very least, a.s.sa.s.sinating Nedas would put a stop-albeit a temporary one-to the activation of the obelisk, giving the Venators more time if Victoria did not succeed.

Verbena had been more curious than worried when Victoria appeared at the villa; she'd known her mistress had gone off with Sebastian and had not been overly concerned when she did not return that evening. "After all, I seen the way ye two looked at each other-like ye coulden wait to get b'neath each other's clothes. Ye're young and ye've been mourn'n the marquess for more'n a year, so 'twas time to get ye'self a little slap an' tickle, if ye ask me."

What could Victoria say to that? Her maid's a.s.sessment had, as usual, been accurate; how would she have known that Sebastian had other plans besides seducing her?

It had not taken long for Verbena to dress her mistress and prepare her to go. Oliver had brought a message over to Aunt Eustacia's villa, to inform her that Victoria was back-of course, she didn't even know her niece had gone missing, since Verbena had not thought anything of it-and of her plans to go to the theater and try to stop Nedas.

Oliver had returned, but with the news that Aunt Eustacia had not been at home. He had left the message, of course, but Victoria could wait no longer; time was slipping away.

Now, at the theater, her biggest difficulty was to gain entrance to the destroyed building without being noticed by a bystander, or, worse, a member of the Tutela. Once she was inside, her plan was to find her way in and attack Nedas by stealth and from a distance.

Victoria waited until she rounded the backside of the theater, where there were fewer witnesses, and moved nonchalantly toward the building. She spied a small entrance, half-hidden by a hillock, likely for use by servants and merchants. As she came closer to the building, a faint coolness at the nape of her neck began to build.

She'd stepped three paces off the walkway toward the door, past a trio of trees, when she felt someone behind her. Before she could turn to see who'd stepped out from the shade of the oaks, something poked her in the side of her hip: round and hard.

And small.

Previous Top Next"So it is you, Victoria. I'd begun to wonder. No, don't stop, just keep moving nice and easily toward the door. I'd expected Pesaro to bring you himself, but this will work just as well." George Starca.s.set was prodding her along with a pistol to her kidney, low enough that it wouldn't be noticed by any pa.s.sersby and would instead appear to be a solicitous arm about her waist.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about," Victoria replied calmly, despite the fact that she'd been caught unawares.

At least they were going in the direction she wanted to go.

"We weren't certain about you; we had our suspicions, of course, which was why I invited you to come to Claythorne and made certain Vioget and Polidori were there to draw the vampires. You see, at the time, I did not know what good friends"- he poked her hard in the back-"you were. But since I didn't actually see you in action, or observe what occurred, I couldn't be certain. Come along this way, then." A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that he'd lost the smiling, boyish look he usually had, and it had been replaced by a more fanatic, disturbing expression, albeit in a youthful face.

"What is it that you weren't certain about, George?" she asked as they reached the door. She could hardly believe this was her close friend's brother! A member of the Tutela, from the sound of it. He jabbed her with the gun, and she took that to mean she should open the door. She complied, hoping there was no one else about. If she was going to escape from him, she needed as few witnesses as possible. Preferably none.

"That you are a Venator, of course. Don't try to deny it, my lovely," he said, pulling the door closed behind them, allowing the pistol to drop away as he did. "We'd had suspicions for a while, but since Lilith left London and took all of her people with her, how could we be certain?"

It was lucky for her that he had been three sheets to the wind that night of the vampire attack at Claythorne; he'd slept through the whole flurry of events. She wondered if he'd been mortified that he'd had to report to the Tutela that he was unable to determine whether she was a Venator because he'd been too foxed to observe her. The thought made a smile tickle her lips. It would have served him right.

"Lilith? Of course she would have known. How amusing that you had to trick me all the way to Italy in order to find out." She turned slightly so that she was half facing him in the small pa.s.sageway, and noticed that he was carrying a satchel over his shoulder.

"Perhaps she did, but there is no love lost between her and her son Nedas, so why would she tell him something that could protect him? They would as soon see the other sent to h.e.l.l than to help each other. This way, my dear." He pointed the gun and directed her off to the right. "They will be pleased you have arrived already."

Victoria strained to listen; the longer they were alone, the better. The back of her neck had turned cold and p.r.i.c.kly. There were many vampires nearby. Somewhere.

Her fingers itched for her stakes because they were the most familiar weapon to her, but of course they would do no good against George. And besides... she could kill a vampire without qualm, but there was still that pesky detail of what to do with a mortal being who stood in her way. Especially one who was her best friend's brother, regardless of his own potential violent tendencies. She would have to find a bloodless way to stop him.

It was fortunate that she was still wearing her cloak, with the small bow slung over her shoulder under it, or he might have relieved her of that. As it was, it was apparent George Starca.s.set was not the most experienced person when it came to holding one at gunpoint and forcing him or her to do his will. The gun slipped and dropped haphazardly, and he tended to use the hand holding it to gesture when he talked.

"In here," he said, gesturing to a small door. "We have some time before we must be down below." The smile he gave her would have sent s.h.i.+vers down her spine if someone more threatening had offered it to her.

Inside the small room, he pushed her away so that she was standing a few paces from him, keeping the gun trained on her as he locked the door. "Now, I don't want you to scream, or I'll be forced to use this. And I would hate to do that, for that would bring the vampires running as soon as they smell the blood. Take off your cloak."

Victoria slipped the bow off when she removed the cloak, and tucked it inside the bundle when she dropped it on the floor.

There was only a chair in the room; whatever he had in mind-and she rather thought she knew-would not be comfortable in more than one way.

"Were you really that foxed when you came into my room at Claythorne?" she asked.

To her surprise, he appeared to flush slightly. The gun waved as he brushed off the experience. "I did not realize what he was up to until Vioget had induced me to drink nearly a bottle of brandy... but he suggested that you would welcome a visit from me, and I was not averse to following the suggestion once he led me up to your room and urged me on."

Victoria felt a spurt of annoyance. So Sebastian had actually brought George to her room? He'd led her to believe it was George's own idea, with a bit of encouragement from himself!

"Well, he was not so far off with that suggestion," she told George, wondering if he were as gullible when he wasn't pickled but was carrying a weapon that gave him a sense of control. She waited to see his reaction to her statement.

The gun drooped a bit lower, and his mouth relaxed. "I thought I had read the signs, but one can't be too sure when dealing with demure Society ladies. That was the other reason I invited you to Claythorne, you know. I had noticed the way you looked at me whenever we were at the same party or dinner. Even when you were married."

Victoria had to hold back the bark of a laugh that statement provoked. When she and Phillip were married-the brief time they were-she had had eyes only for him. And certainly not for this young, flimsy man before her. "When you invited me to Claythorne I was newly out of mourning, so I did not feel it appropriate to be... obvious." She gave him that smile... the one she'd learned from being married, and had used successfully on Sebastian little more than a week ago. "But the fact is, you would not have needed to get foxed to sneak into my room."

His expression turned hungry, and he stepped toward her. She held firm, even when he b.u.mped the metal-scented gun barrel into the soft underside of her chin, pressing it there as he lowered his face for a kiss.

She expected it to be as inexperienced and uncouth as he appeared to be in other things, but the kiss wasn't. If she hadn't been thoroughly disgusted by him, and distracted by the other things she had to tend to, she might have possibly enjoyed it. Possibly, but by no means certainly.

And therein lay the difference between him and Sebastian. Even when she was angry with Sebastian, she still enjoyed his kiss.

d.a.m.n him.

As it was, she kissed George back with some enthusiasm in hopes of disarming him. When his free hand began to get a bit friendly, she pulled away from his mouth and asked, "Are you part of the Tutela, then?"

"I am, of course! I have attained the Third Level," he replied, sliding his hand over the front of her tunic and tracing her breast through the cloth. Any lower and he'd find her stakes... She didn't want anything to throw him off his stride and remind him that she wasn't an average Society woman.

"I would love to see your mark," she asked coyly, making it clear that that wasn't the only thing she wished to see.

"Would you now? And I would be most happy to show it to you. But first..." He reached into the satchel he was carrying and pulled out a coil of rope. "I hate to do this to you, my lovely, but I mustn't take any chances."