Gardella Vampires - Rises The Night Part 24

Max's betrayal.

She opened her eyes when she felt the hands pull away, the chaos slip into silence. She was looking up into the face of Nedas.

Up close he was more terrifying, more intensely repugnant than he'd seemed from a distance. She smelled something raw and dusty about him that brought to mind burning bones and butchered meat, and her stomach wanted to heave.

But she would not let it. Her aunt had been brave; so brave and strong as she walked to what she had to have known was her death. Victoria's body was shaking with exhaustion and shock, and she had a mult.i.tude of hurts that pounded along with her slamming heartbeat.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Victoria pulled her energy about her, refused to think of what had happened, and what her life would be like without her mentor, without Ilia Gardella, and called on her strength and her wit.

And most of all, she drew upon her rage and loathing of the man she'd once fought beside and trusted with her life, and channeled it into potency.

"The other female Venator, I must presume," Nedas said, toeing her with his leather boot. His fangs were out now, and obviously her wooden bolt had missed its mark and let him live. "This one is much prettier and livelier than the last."

Victoria looked away from the compelling eyes that had begun to glow with bright red rings around the same blue irises of his mother-which indicated the power she'd invested in him. She found Max.

For the brief moment when their eyes met, she saw his stone exterior slip; saw something agonized waver there; but then it was gone and he straightened his posture, giving her that cool, mocking look she'd become used to. "She is no real threat," he said.

"Why do you think I chose the other?""d.a.m.n you to h.e.l.l," Victoria said to Max, as if they were the only two people in the room-softly, as a lover might murmur a soul-deep secret.

He met her gaze without flinching, without distancing himself from the rage she knew was there; even Nedas's presence faded away from the periphery of her awareness. For Victoria, it was just the two Venators.

Then she was whipped to her feet by a strong, dark hand, and she found herself chest-to-chest with, and less than an arm's length away from, Lilith's son.

"No real threat," Nedas commented, perusing her face as if he were reading the pages of the London Times and it was devoid of any articles of interest. "No, not the woman who fought and killed two of my Guardians, and an Imperial whom I sent to bring Polidori back. No. No threat.

"And most certainly, not the woman who escaped from five vampires, even as they fought over feeding on her, during a Tutela meeting. No." He looked over at Max. "This one is no real threat."

Max arched a brow. "She must have made much improvement in the last year."

Nedas looked at her, and she remembered to keep her vision from getting trapped by his gaze. She focused her eyes on his eyelashes, noticing how thick and black they were, how they brushed his thick, wiry brows when his eyes were fully open.

She and Nedas were nearly of a height, and he barely had to tilt his face toward her. One hand held her arm; she made no move to shake it loose. It would be a superficial, short-lived victory. Better that he think she was frozen in fright. Or held in his thrall.

"I could kill her now-or have you do it, Max, as your first duty in my inner circle... but perhaps I will, instead, take a page from the book of my dear mother. Claiming a Venator of my own, most particularly such an attractive one, would not be such a hards.h.i.+p. And after tonight... well, she will have little to do, won't she? The rise of Akvan's Obelisk will make the Venators inconsequential." He smiled at her again. "And won't you be pleased to be one of the protected, like your colleague here?"

Victoria did not grace him with a reply. It was useless, and she had more to think about than to exchange repartee with the vampire prince.

That thought reminded her that Sebastian had disappeared sometime during the altercation. But before she could make sense of it, Nedas, apparently annoyed that she would not engage with him in a war of words, commanded, "Disarm her."

Thank G.o.d Max wasn't part of it-part of the pairs of hands that held her immobile as others felt around and removed the stakes and holy water, and the knife she wore in various locations on her body. She bucked and kicked and twisted futilely, but she could not remain still with those ugly, repulsive fingers on her. They even found the vial of holy water tied to the underside of her thick braid, along with the stake looped beneath it as well.

Her tunic s.h.i.+rt was lifted before she knew what was happening, and then the sudden, rending pain at her navel as one of them-surely a Tutela-tore the vis bulla from her skin.

She cried out, a low moan as she felt the instant evaporation of her energy and strength, and the surge of weakness overwhelmed her. The pain was great enough that this time she did succ.u.mb to the black void where there was no pain and no grief.

Chapter 24.

In Which Lady Rockley Attempts to Draw Blood When she awoke, Victoria found herself alone in the dark.

She drew in a deep breath, surprised at how much she hurt everywhere; she was not used to such intense, debilitating pain. Her arms were too weak to prop herself up, so she remained p.r.o.ne for a long moment, measuring her breaths, trying to discern shadows in the darkness.

The memory waited before it came upon her; then it flashed in, overwhelming her mind with all its blood and death. The whistling arc of the blade. The hands groping and pulling and punching at her. The red-rimmed blue eyes of inhumanity. The tearing pain at her navel.

It was no surprise she was weak and hurting. Without her vis bulla, she was as helpless as a woman.

It had been a bit more than a year, and already she'd forgotten how much she relied on the strength amulet, how much it ruled her life, and what freedom it gave her. Yes, she had removed it herself, but that had been voluntary, and temporary, and she'd been sequestered and safe.

This was terrifying.

She breathed and tried again to move her arms, and was surprised to find that she could. She was not restrained. Her legs, too, were free to s.h.i.+ft and allow her feet to move around enough that she determined she had been deposited on the floor in some kind of room.

But why would they restrain her? She was no threat to them now.

No threat.

According to Max, she hadn't been even before they took her vis bulla.

The renewal of her rage set her breathing off balance and her stomach feeling like a cannonball rested on it. Victoria had to stop and make herself consciously push away the venom.

She would deal with Max in time.

The first thing she must do was find a way out of here.

What time was it? Were they even now with Akvan's Obelisk, releasing the full impact of its evil? The event that would, as Nedas had said, make Venators inconsequential?

Gingerly getting to her feet, using the wall for balance, Victoria tried to stand, but her knees and head would not cooperate.

She sagged back to the floor, sc.r.a.ping her hand down the rough wall. It was as dark as it could get, and once she felt the stone wall and the cement beneath, she presumed she was in a cellar beneath the opera theater.

She crawled around the perimeter, b.u.mping into something that she recognized belatedly as a cot or large chair, and determined that two of the walls were stone and the other two wood, one of them with a door.

No sooner had she reached up to blindly locate the door handle and jiggle it in vain, than she heard what sounded like descending footsteps over her head, and she realized she was in a cubby under a staircase.

She didn't have time to wonder whether the steps portended someone coming for her, for moments after they reached the Previous Top Nextbottom of the stairs, a cast of light glowed from underneath the door; then something jolted it, making a soft thump. And then the door opened.

Max slipped in and shut it behind him.

"You!" Weak though she was, Victoria launched herself at his feet, pulling up using his body and the wall for balance, the fury she'd held in check at his audacity in seeking her out bursting forth, giving her a wave of strength.

He held the lantern well away from himself, as though expecting her attack, and he let her land a few ineffective blows to his chest and face before s.n.a.t.c.hing one of her arms in midair. "That's enough, and for G.o.d's sake, keep quiet," he said, and bent to put the lantern down. "You're wasting time and energy." He grabbed her other wrist when she would have flailed it at him, knocking one of her kicking feet out from under her so that she lost her balance and remained upright only because he had her wrists in hand.

"How long have you been Tutela?" she hissed. "You are a traitor and a murderer."

His face was expressionless. "You heard Nedas. I was Tutela before I was a Venator."

"Will you murder me now?" she asked, ignoring the black spots that danced before her eyes and the way her body throbbed in pain. Weakness and fear s.h.i.+vered through her, but she would not allow him to see it. Her muscles trembled and she had to work to form the words. "What reward will Nedas give you for killing another Venator?"

He gave her a little shake that bobbled her head; then as if to collect himself, thrust her from him and stood away, looking down at her as she stumbled back onto the cot. "I have exactly ten minutes to get you the h.e.l.l out of here, or you will find yourself in a much less appetizing situation than your aunt. For Christ's sake, you can't even stand, can you?"

This last comment was provoked by her attempt to do just that, pulling herself off the thin cot and using her hand to hold herself upright. He reached for her, and she twisted away, tipping back onto the floor in an ignominious heap. "Don't touch me."

He ignored her and unceremoniously yanked her to her feet, pus.h.i.+ng her toward the cot. "Victoria, you have to get out of here.

There is no time to play the woman scorned."

"After I kill you, and Nedas too, I'll be happy to leave this place."

"Despite the fact that you can't even stand, let alone kill anyone, you can't slay Nedas. Not now," he told her sharply. "There will be another time, but not now." Long fingers were unb.u.t.toning his white s.h.i.+rt, and Victoria gawked, trying to focus around the black dots that obscured her vision.

"What are you doing?"

"He's already begun to activate the obelisk; he cannot be stopped. You will be needed afterward, Victoria. Think about that and not your need for vengeance, for it will soon be moot." He moved toward her, and she shrank back from his tall, looming figure. She'd never been afraid of Max, but something in his expression, the determined, settled line of his mouth and the angry black eyes, made her want to scoot away.

But she was a Venator. d.a.m.n it, even without her vis bulla, she was a Venator.

She didn't know what she'd expected when he sat next to her on the cot, but it wasn't for him to take her wrist and force her hand toward him. He moved her reluctant fingers under his unb.u.t.toned s.h.i.+rt, palm open, sliding over warm skin, soft hair, and then brus.h.i.+ng against his nipple, and something hard. Metal. He pushed her hand flush against it.

An instant before she realized it was his vu bulla, hanging from the areola on his muscular chest, Victoria felt a wave of strength course through her. Light filled her vision, chasing away the black spots. The pain melted into puddles of annoyance. Even the injury at her navel, where her own strength amulet had been torn away, ceased to throb. Her head felt clearer.And as her pain and confusion disappeared, Victoria became aware of the fact that her hand was splayed over Max's bare skin. She felt the brush of his linen s.h.i.+rt over the back of her wrist with the rhythm of his breathing, felt the steady, strong pounding of his heart under her palm and the strength of his fingers around her hand. He was warm and solid, and a brief peek at the opening of his s.h.i.+rt told her there was a lot of black hair on his chest.

Another glance at his face told her he was unmoved: His eyes were closed, his mouth still settled and firm. She wondered if the flow of energy she felt weakened him at all. She looked up again and his jaw s.h.i.+fted, once, twice, and as if he knew she was watching, he opened his eyes. She looked away, suddenly conscious of their positions on the cot, him half turned toward her, his knee brus.h.i.+ng hers, his strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. Her hand on his flesh suddenly felt as if it were burning.

Her throat was dry.

"Feel better?" he asked, not solicitously, not as if he cared, but as if he couldn't wait to be away from her.

"Strong enough to fight you now." She pulled her hand away and immediately felt the loss of the energy.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at her as he fastened his s.h.i.+rt. "Stand up."

She stood; she managed that. Even without the power from his vis bulla, she still felt much better. The room didn't spin, and her vision was clear. Her injuries began to hurt again, but not so bad as before.

"When you leave this room, go to the right. Three doors down the long pa.s.sage you will find stairs leading back to the main floor of what's left of the theater." He produced a stake and a gun and tossed them on the cot. "Take these and get out of here.

I have to get back before I'm missed, and I trust, G.o.d knows why, that you will go now that I've given you the chance. Again."

"I hate you, Max. You must know that." Victoria picked up the gun, c.o.c.ked it, and pointed it at his chest. She'd become much more familiar with firearms since she'd been forced to use one in her escape from Lilith last year. "I would do nothing to benefit you." The gun was heavy, but she didn't allow it to shake in her grip. Moments ago she would have fired without hesitation.

"It no longer matters what you think of me," he replied. Weariness and impatience laced his voice. "Go, now, Victoria. Killing me now will benefit no one. And if you pull that trigger, they'll all be down here faster than you would imagine." A mocking grin flashed. "Why do you think I gave you a gun and not a knife?"

"Why did you do it?" To her horror, her eyes began to sting.

"It was either her, or you." Max turned and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft thunk.

Brus.h.i.+ng away the surprised tears, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up the stake and started after him, hearing his footsteps above her once more, but the door wouldn't open. She pulled again, and it came loose, opening into a dark hallway. Max had left the lantern, so Victoria grabbed it up from the floor and started out.

She didn't go right, as he'd directed. She went up the stairs in his wake, shadowing the lantern as much as she could, listening for his footsteps to follow them. She would remain out of sight, safe... but she had to see what was happening. She had to find out if what Max said was true. And... there might be something she could do.

She couldn't leave.

A soft creak in the distance sent her along a pa.s.sage at the top of the stairs. She didn't need the lantern any longer; it was not the pitch-black of the room she'd left, but shadowy, and her eyes were becoming accustomed to the shapes and shades of gray, so she blew out the lantern and left it. She pa.s.sed a door that hung ajar, and a quick peek as she went by showed racks of clothing, probably costumes, hanging inside. The scent of smoke permeated the area as she rushed along on silent feet, trying to catch up to Max.

After a time, she realized she'd lost him. Everything was silent and still.Frustrated and feeling weak again, Victoria retraced her steps, taking more time to explore the area. She was definitely in the lower level of the theater, obviously used for storage. Costumes, props, chairs, instruments, music... the rooms were neatly ordered with all of these items.

Victoria found another staircase, a wider one, that seemed designed for heavier traffic, and took the steps up slowly, listening.

The back of her neck had never ceased being chilled, but now it was becoming colder, and so she took greater care with her explorations. She gripped the stake in one hand and had tucked the gun in the waist of her trousers. It was heavy and dragged on them as she walked, but she wanted to keep her other hand free.

At the top of the stairs she found herself in a hallway, and beyond it she could see behind the stage. This was not the stage on which Aunt Eustacia had been executed hours before; this was the larger, taller performance stage, where she'd watched the opera only two nights ago. Scorched backdrops hung, one in front of the other, and tables sat in the wings, holding smoke- laden props and costumes. And she heard voices.

Someone was on the stage. She hoped it was Nedas.

Victoria crept forward, straining her ears, and nearly b.u.mped into a wooden ladder. She looked up, her skin p.r.i.c.kling with an idea. It seemed to lead up into infinite darkness, to the same place where the ropes that held the backdrops and curtains went.

She climbed up the ladder, taking care that the gun didn't slip from her waistband and tumble to the floor below. She resorted to sticking her stake in the other side of her trousers in order to free both of her hands, and wished she still had her bow and wooden bolts.

Thirty feet above the stage the steps continued on, but she found a catwalk that led into the shadows beyond the wings, where she was, and presumably over the stage. The smell of smoke was stronger up here, and she saw patches of black at the tops of the backdrops, and even on the catwalk and the ropes that acted as railings. It was amazing that the theater hadn't burned to the ground. There was illumination coming from the stage, and it helped her find her way more easily.

As she crept silently along the narrow wooden bridge that had a tendency to s.h.i.+mmy, the voices grew louder and more distinct.

The back of her neck became colder, and she felt that same repulsive, oozing feeling she'd had earlier, when Nedas had come into view.

At last she moved beyond the black curtains that blocked the backstage wings from the audience, and found herself above the main part of the stage.

The first thing she saw was Akvan's Obelisk.

It sat on a waist-high round table in the center of the stage and looked exactly as she'd pictured it: an obsidian object, glinting blue and black in the light of five lanterns that were arranged in a circle around it. Narrow, with a pointed top, it was approximately the thickness of a man's arm, and perhaps as tall as his leg. It speared up at a slight angle, long and s.h.i.+ny and evil.

The stage itself was a bit worse for wear from the fire. One side near the audience was charred and burned and had fallen away, leaving a jagged black pit below. A swath of burned-out chairs cut through the same side of the theater, and the boxes above them-the one in which Victoria had seen the Imperial-were scorched. Yet, the other two-thirds of the arena was merely covered with ash and smoke stains and showed no other damage. Half of those seats were filled with vampires and members of the Tutela.

At five stations around the stage, with the obelisk and its table in the center, sat some kind of bowllike containers. Smoke wafted up from the small fires in them, bringing the sweet smell that reminded Victoria unpleasantly of the Tutela meeting. The theater was so large that the incense would not engulf the room as it had then; but she could still smell the essence; and along with it came the memory of being nearly helpless under the hands and fangs of the vampires.Victoria closed her eyes and shook her head, clearing away the reminder that she was even more helpless now, tonight.

Bringing her attention back to the stage, she examined the people there.

Standing next to the table with the obelisk were five men. Nedas she recognized because of his lesser height and darker skin, and because of the way her entire body felt ill when she focused her attention on him. Max was the tallest, with his too-long hair clubbed back, and his white s.h.i.+rt standing out among the sea of black clothing and dark hair. Regalado's bald head shone like a flesh-colored skull, and his thick beard bushed out so far that Victoria could see it even when he stood directly below her. The other two men, whom she thought were vampires, she did not recognize.

It appeared that Max had indeed become one of the trusted inner circle of Nedas, so that he was directly involved in what was about to occur. Victoria's stomach pitched at the thought of what price had been paid for him to align himself with Nedas. Aunt Eustacia.

And why was he so determined she not be there? Why did he even care?

It was either her, or you.

But why either of them? Why would he forsake the Venators?