by Колин Глисон
She turned and walked back to her throne as casually as if she were entertaining a guest. “I meant to destroy you… but there’s no need. If I let nature take its course… not only will you become despicable to him, but you’ll become bound to me.”
“I’m no vampire.”
Lilith looked at her again, her full blue-gray lips curling into a smile. “I see it in your eyes. You know that I speak the truth. Already you feel it, don’t you? You’ve been fighting it, likely for months now. And it’s getting stronger.” She shook her head, the smile tickling her mouth like that of a coquette. “But how could it be?” she murmured, almost to herself.
“I’m too strong for it.”
The laugh surprised her-eerie, high, and yet, like smoke. It curled and disseminated itself through the room, chasing away any other sound for the moment. Filling Victoria’s ears, and her consciousness. It echoed there, and settled itself in place as if to confirm her own deep-seated fears.
Eighteen:
Wherein Our Heroine Conducts an Unsuccessful Interrogation
Settled in her massive stone chair, Lilith seemed to feel far more companionable toward Victoria now. Her odd eyes lit with unholy humor and anticipation, and she seemed almost relaxed.
As though they were having tea.
Seeing the vampire queen in such a state unsettled Victoria. Her veins were still humming, though not as violently. But her breathing and heartbeat had eased into a more normal rhythm.
Could Lilith be right?
She drew in a deep breath, the scent of roses and wood smoke filtering into her nostrils and lungs, and calm crept slowly over her. She was obviously in no danger at this moment, nor did Lilith seem inclined to release her… so, at the very least, Victoria felt that the situation should be used to its advantage regardless of what was to come.
Boldly, she walked over to one of the heavy wooden chairs that lined the wall and sat. Lilith’s chin lifted, but with a nod of acceptance rather than condemnation. “Of course… do make yourself comfortable.”
“I will indeed. Perhaps while we wait-for whatever it is you await-you’ll assuage some of my curiosity about the vampires that move about in the daylight. Clearly, the formula for the elixir found its way from Beauregard into your hands… but I’m mystified as to how that happened.”
The queen slanted her an arrogant look. “It was brought to me by that blonde Regalado girl. She obtained it from one of Beauregard’s followers, who meant it as a token to her as the new leader of the Tutela. Apparently you killed her father?”
“Is she drinking the elixir then? And what about you, Lilith? Don’t you wish to see the sunlight again?”
Now the creature laughed again, this time more contemptuously. “I? Drink of that poison? Of course not.”
“Poison?”
“My, how naive you are, Victoria Gardella. I shall quite enjoy watching your innocent veneer crack and dull.” Lilith sat upright in her chair, her bony wrist resting on the curved arm. “The plant which makes up a large portion of the formula is very rare, and grows only once or twice per century. It also happens to be poisonous to the undead.”
“It doesn’t kill them.”
“Not immediately… but the benefits of the potion last for only a short time-no more than a few hours. The daytime vampires, as you so quaintly call them, drink it as needed-whenever they wish to move about in the sun, or to remain undetected by you and your comrades. But for every use of the elixir, those who consume it age one year, perhaps more… it is not an exact- science, so to speak. If one uses it enough, one ages, and eventually cannot stop the aging process, even if the elixir is stopped… and the undead dies quite rapidly and unexpectedly. Without the unpleasantness of your stake or sword.” She smiled, her fangs dipping gently into her lower lip. “Of course, I did not tell them of the hazards… for, as you can see, I had use for undead that could move about in the day. And the elixir is more addictive than opium.”
“Them? Sara and George?”
“The elixir would do Sara no good,” Lilith admitted. “She has not turned undead. And as for the others… well, I do not feel like being charitable. If you do not know, then I don’t care to enlighten you.”
“But why not? If I am soon to join your ranks.”
Lilith made a sound almost like a giggle… but more ominous. “Ah, you are a clever one. But, no. I’ll divulge no more. I will be amused watching you attempt to figure it out.”
Victoria was not about to give up her chance to extricate more information from the vampire queen, even as the back of her mind formulated possible ways of escape. If she could get away, she would send for Wayren and tell her of Lilith’s awful prediction. She’d find some way to stop it.
“And so you have come to London for what purpose? Do you not recall how you fled the last time you were here and believed you had me in your power?” Victoria asked with great condescension in her voice.
The creature’s face mottled blue and gray, but she responded evenly. “Oh, do not think that it was only you, or Maximilian, who drew me to this cold city. I was not even certain he was here until Sara discovered him at that masquerade party. The two of you are only added little trinkets to this business.” Her expression challenged Victoria to ask more.
“Was it you who set Bemis Goodwin onto me?”
“It was not that I made the request, but that I gave him leave to do it. He is a valuable member of the Tutela, and though I haven’t all that much use for them-mortals, I’ve found, are not as predictable as undead, to my great dismay-I saw no reason to disallow it. He has kept you busy, and distracted… and nearly incarcerated,” she added with a pale smile. “That has left me free to put my other plans in place.”
“You dare not tell me, for fear that your prediction doesn’t come to pass,” Victoria said dismissively.
Lilith narrowed her eyes, then they lit with malicious humor. “You already feel the tug of consciencelessness, Venator. The seed of everything evil begins with self. When one places oneself before every and all, evil sprouts, and spreads, taking over. And already, you’ve done so, even when you knew it was wrong… have you not?”
Suddenly, the door behind Victoria opened. She turned to see a pair of vampires dragging in two struggling, crying young women.
Her heart began to race, and she tightened the grip on her stake as Lilith stood.
“Ah, how lovely,” said the vampire queen. She inclined her head regally and one of the undead prodded his burden forward.
Victoria knew what was to happen, and braced herself. There was nothing she could do to save the victims… it was as if she were at the horrific Tutela meeting in Venice again, watching the starving, thirsty undead feast and ravage several young women. She gripped her stake… she could get one vampire, maybe two… but then what? There were five, including Lilith.
The smell of blood permeated the chamber, and Victoria felt her head began to swim as the heavy, iron essence filled her senses. As saliva pooled in her mouth, she swallowed,shook her head, felt her limbs growing loose and weighty.
The girl’s screaming subsided into soft gurgles and gasps of breath, and Victoria found herself struggling to stay in her chair, to sit upright. Lilith lifted her head from the distended vein of her victim’s neck, looking at Victoria. She ate daintily, and even when she smiled a knowing, horrible smile, her teeth gleamed pure white.
“You fight it even now,” Lilith said to Victoria, then waved her hand in dismissal. Her vampire minion dragged away the unconscious girl, and the second one moved forward into her place. As before, the servant held his mistress’s meal steady while she fed. This time, Victoria couldn’t tear her eyes away from the long, slender teeth sliding into the whimpering girl’s neck.
She hardly felt the stake in her hand any longer; all of her attention and focus were gathered up in a net of bloodscent and need. Blood racing, bounding through her… her vision blossoming red… her fingers trembling as she curled them around the edges of he
r chair. Only that death-tight grip kept her in her seat.
Lilith finished eating, and the unfortunate girls were taken away. Now the vampire queen looked at her remaining captive with relish. “Perhaps I should taste you again, my dear. I see that the bloodscent has set your own veins to singing… it could certainly help the process along. And I do like the taste of a Venator… even if it is swamped with Beauregard’s blood.”
Victoria tried to fight them off, even brandishing her stake. But it was knocked from her fingers, clattering hollowly to the floor and rolling quietly away as the two Guardians dragged her to stand once more in front of their mistress.
“Think about how much easier it will be when you give in,” Lilith sighed like a lover against Victoria’s cheek.
She strained to break free, but her vision was still colored and the scent of blood and roses from the queen’s mouth beckoned and teased.
“Think of how much easier when you have only to think of yourself. Only to do what is right for you.”
This time, she bit into the top of Victoria’s shoulder, at the juncture of neck and collarbone. It was painful, but pleasure seeped into her almost immediately. Liquid, hot, coursing pleasure… the delicate touch of lip to flesh… the brush of skeletal hands over her hair…
Victoria felt dizzy, the words of Lilith piling into her mind, crushing reality, destroying her conscience… she felt her body weakening, the bloodscent filling her awareness… and the release of pressure against her skin.
The last thing she knew was a pair of blood-soaked lips covering hers… and then she tipped into a hot, red oblivion.
When she awoke, Victoria found herself sprawled once again on the floor. She dragged herself up, her head light, but, blessedly, her vision had cleared of all but the faintest pink tinge.
Slowly, she climbed up onto her hands, then her knees, using the wall for support. As she became more upright, the room shimmered less, her head felt more stable, and her strength returned. The cloying smell of blood had faded to a bare essence, weak enough for her to ignore.
Turning slowly, she faced the chamber, expecting to see Lilith seated on her throne, watching with those laughing eyes.
But the throne was empty.
The room was empty but for a single Guardian vampire, who stood at the door. He looked at her, his eyes ruby pink, his fangs exposed in a lascivious smile.
Victoria scanned the chamber quickly, spotting her stake not far from the chair on which she’d been sitting. She pretended not to notice the vampire; her mind was working now, and she’d keep it straight and focused in order to make her escape.
Feigning a weakened state and staggering heavily, she made her way toward the forgotten stake, tumbling to the ground on top of it. The slender wood in her hand made her feel powerful again, and she waited, breathing long and deep like Kritanu had taught her… long and deep… long… deep.
She felt for the vis bullae that, so far, had brought her greater strength than anyone could expect. The cool silver, warmed on one side by her flesh, sent a wave of power radiating through her and Victoria knew she was ready. Keeping the stake hidden in the folds of her gown, she put her plan into action.
Pulling slowly to her feet again, as if in great pain, she staggered more, slowly, randomly, but deliberately toward the Guardian vampire. She saw through her lashes that he watched her, but with amusement rather than wariness.
All the more fool he.
When she drew near enough and nearly fell at his feet, sliding against the cold, rough wall next to him, he gave a short chuckle. He’d barely wheezed his breath back in when she surged to her feet, stake in hand.
He had enough time to raise his arm and open his mouth in surprise before the lethal weapon drove into his chest. The stake was a slender thing, but powerful enough to force through the heavy shirt he wore.
His ruby eyes froze wide before he shattered into ash and dust.
Victoria stealthily tried the door-who knew what or who was on the other side-but it didn’t move. She dared not try to force it, for there could be too many to fight on the other side-Lilith included.
Besides, she had another plan.
She rushed toward the throne, moving quickly for fear that someone would return before she was able to hide away. Quickly, she unbolted it from the floor and moved it out of the way to reveal the hidden door behind it-a door that she was certain Lilith knew nothing about… for she would have retrieved her copper ring if she had.
Unsure what lay behind the door, Victoria hoped she could at least hide there, giving the impression of an escape… and, perhaps if she were lucky, there would be another way out.
As she worked, Lilith’s taunts echoed in her mind… almost as if they were attempting to slow her movements and distract her mind.
You already feel the tug of consciencelessness. The seed of everything evil begins with self.
When one places oneself before every and all, evil spreads.
Already, you’ve done so, even when you knew it was wrong… have you not?
Involuntarily, as she climbed through the hidden door, Victoria thought of leaving Bemis Goodwin to the vampires -so that she could be free of the disruption he caused; of drugging Max-so that she didn’t need to worry over him or protect him; of early on in her visit to London, speaking with Gwendolyn in her private parlor, and the fury that bubbled deep inside… and how she didn’t care to listen or hear about her friend’s plans.
But… those events didn’t mean that she was turning evil. Did they?
Leaving Bemis Goodwin and his companion to die… perhaps. Incapacitating Max? Not evil, no… how could it be evil to protect someone else?
Even when she knew it would destroy him.
Because it would be easier for her.
Forcing those dark thoughts away, she huddled in the small space and looked out at the dislodged chair. She had to pull it back into place or her hideaway would be revealed immediately. Then her eyes fell on a metal rod near the door. It had a hook on the end, like a shepherd’s crook. In the narrow slit of light from the room, she also saw a piece of marble; it looked just like the top of the ornate bolt that fastened the throne to the floor. Only, there was no bolt. It would easily sit atop the claw-foot of the chair so that once she pulled it back into position, it would look as though it were bolted down.
Apparently this door had been used as a hiding place more than once, and the tools were there to assist. The fake bolt in its spot, Victoria squeezed back into the small doorway and used the metal rod to tug the chair back into place. As it moved, the door was forced closed until only a narrow opening was left-just enough to draw the hook back into the room.
Satisfied that the room would appear untouched, she closed the door and turned to feel her way around the pitch-black area. Working her way along the wall, she was forced to duck to keep from banging her head-a tactic she discovered after having scraped against rough stone above. She quickly discovered that the chamber was not a chamber, but a passageway.
And one that, from the faint brush of cool air, she believed would lead to freedom.
Nineteen:
Wherein the Marquess Receives a Visitor
The passage did indeed lead to freedom, and Victoria was able to find her way out of the sewers without confronting any other undead… but for one, whom she surprised when he (or she; she didn’t even have the chance to see) came around a bend in the underground tunnel. She staked the vampire and continued on, realizing, to her consternation, that she was able to see better than she should be able to in the darkness.
A chill that had nothing to do with the portent of an undead crept over her shoulders and trailed down her spine. Vampires could see very well in the dark.
She slogged through the stream of waste as quickly and silently as possible, and soon found her way to the surface. The dawn was just breaking, which would explain why she’d met a vampire on his way back to the place they obviously gathered. It was a miracle she hadn’t met a
ny others.
Once out of the sewers, she hurried through the streets, looking for a familiar landmark. As she wandered, she realizedthat she had no idea how long she’d been gone. Was this the dawn that had come after the carriage ride in the park… or the next one? Or the next?
Victoria arrived at her town house when the bottom edge of the sun rested on the horizon. She raised her fist to knock on the door, but it was drawn wide before she had the chance.
“Kritanu,” she said in relief. He was alive and well.
“Victoria!” He was as pleased to see her, if the wide spread of white teeth was any indication. But his delight faded almost immediately.
“Before I tell you my story,” she said, moving into the house and closing the door behind her, “is Max well? Is he still… here? How long have I been gone? Did anyone- George and Sara-anyone try to attack?”
“This is the second morning after you left. There were no attacks here,” Kritanu replied. His face had sobered when she mentioned Max, and she felt a thrill of apprehension. “Max is… the same.”
“The same?” Victoria went cold. “He is unconscious? For two days?” She started to dash off, but the older man grabbed her arm.
“No, no, he is awake. Has been. I meant to say that he is where you left him.” The accusation in his face was unmistakable. “As you ordered. Victoria,” he said, his voice turning harder than she’d ever heard it, “you are Illa Gardella… but never ask me to do such a thing again.”
“You didn’t release him.” She wasn’t certain if she was relieved or terrified that Max was still safely where she’d put him.
“I was prepared to do so if you had not returned today.” His eyes carried concern and admonishment. “You should never have done that.”
“I’ll release him now,” she said, turning away. It had been for the best. She didn’t expect Kritanu to understand; he didn’t carry the same burdens she did.
