Bleeding Dusk gvc-3

by Колин Глисон

  When she rested the little candle on the narrow sill of the window, Victoria could see into the yard in front of the opening. “Yes, I see a small thing—it looks like a grate. It’s very small, though, Max…”

  “As I thought. You can come down now.”

  She carefully handed down the candle, and found Sebastian to be exceedingly helpful in assisting her to get down from the window, his hands groping about and assisting in areas that weren’t off balance in the least.

  When Victoria got back on the ground and extricated herself from Sebastian’s questing fingers, she saw Max on the floor by the wall.

  “Max? Are you all right?”

  “Stop blocking the light,” he snapped.

  “What are you doing?”

  She crouched next to him, aware that Sebastian was standing behind, likely watching the areas he’d recently had occasion to caress.

  “That iron grate is just outside of the Magic Door,” Max told her. “I saw it earlier tonight.” She could see that he was moving the candle around the floor near the wall. “It confirmed what Ylito and I had suspected—that this wall is next to Palombara’s laboratory.” He looked up for a moment, his eyes faint with wry humor. “I, unlike you, have an excellent sense of direction when inside a building.”

  “Whatever it is you’re doing,” Sebastian said from his pose against the wall, “I suggest you do it quickly, for I expect our hosts to be returning shortly. I’d prefer not to be here when they return, if we can arrange it otherwise. I’m certain my relationship to Beauregard will hold me in good stead only long enough for Akvan to ask me a few pointed questions about my grandfather before he makes use of my head and its contents.”

  “Then perhaps,” Max said between obviously clenched teeth, “you might bestir yourself to assist. I have reason to believe there must be a way from the laboratory to this chamber.” He must have heard Victoria draw in her breath, for he added, “Don’t waste time asking. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong—but there is no other way out of this room. But…” And he paused, then continued, “Apparently I’m not wrong, for here it is.”

  He pushed back onto his knees. Through the streaks of dirt and blood on his face, the hollowness in his cheeks, Victoria saw satisfaction. “A door?” she asked dubiously.

  “A drop of gold. Melted gold. Going under the wall here…see this brick…here.”

  Victoria needed no further instruction or information. She began to work with Max, feeling around with her fingers to fit them into the groove under the brick.

  But then, as a familiar, portending chill scuttled over the back of her neck, Victoria turned and met Max’s gaze only inches away.

  “Damn,” was all he said.

  “They’ll be coming for me,” Victoria said. “Most likely.”

  “Or to find out what the grandson of Beauregard might know that would be helpful to Akvan,” Max said, a hint of relish in his voice. “Or for any of us.”

  “We’ll make it look like we’re still tied up,” Victoria said. “Then we can take them by surprise when they come in. Max, you can still be unconscious.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “Sebastian, if you can manage to do so without getting distracted, tie my wrists again. Quickly. Wait.” She turned and slid her hand up under her skirt to the side of her corset opposite where the knife had been hidden and quickly slid out the slender but deadly stake that was hidden in the same way the stiletto had been.

  Slipping it into one of the small loops at the back of her gown (ones Verbena had insisted upon adding for just such an emergency), she allowed Sebastian to bind her wrists loosely enough that it would be no problem for her to slip free. Then, awkwardly, she did the same to him.

  Max arranged himself on the floor where he’d been before, and Victoria slumped against the wall near his feet. Then she stomped her foot on the last of the burning satin flower.

  Only the faintest smell of smoke hung in the air now, and the room became silent.

  The back of her neck was colder, and her heart thumped faster as she felt the undead coming closer.

  “Max? Do you have the knife?”

  “Yes. And a stake hidden in my boot. Don’t attack until we’re out of the room.”

  “Seb—”

  But a rattle at the door silenced her, and Victoria closed her mouth and waited.

  When the door burst open, Victoria watched again through slitted eyes. There were only three of them. Three!

  They were tall and had red eyes, and she could see their fangs gleaming, even through the tiny slit of her gaze.

  Two of them stayed at the door. Max was right; they couldn’t make a move to escape until they were safely out of the chamber, for fear they’d get locked back in. The third vampire, a tall woman, stepped farther in, and Victoria saw the glint of a pistol in her hand as she strode toward them.

  She opened her eyes fully and looked up into the gaunt face of the female. Her eyelids were dark, her chin narrow and pointed. Long blond hair fell in ugly hanks over her shoulders, and it swayed as she slammed her boot into Max’s side so hard he jolted closer to Victoria.

  He didn’t move, nor make a sound; even his breathing remained silent.

  Now the vampire moved toward Victoria, looking down, pointing the gun directly at her. “Akvan is waiting for you,” she hissed, sliding a tongue over her fangs.

  Dressed in the convenience of men’s clothing, she wore a jacket and a shirt that had possibly once been white, or some color close to it. When she bent toward Victoria, a leather thong around her neck fell from the opening of her shirt, knocked out by the weight of the short, black object that hung from it. Victoria caught her breath—the slender pendant was shiny, sharp, and glinted blue-black. She recognized it—a splinter, like the shard from Akvan’s Obelisk that she herself had locked away in the Consilium.

  With effort Victoria drew her eyes away from the glistening black fragment. The vampire was so close, breathing so heavily, she could smell the blood on her breath and knew she’d just fed.

  Victoria drew in a deep breath and grieved for the mortals who’d obviously been her meal. The mortals who hadn’t had a Zavier or a Sebastian to help get them out of the villa.

  “Tell your friends not to move,” said the female. “Or I’ll shoot you. Now get up slowly.”

  As Victoria shifted to struggle to her feet, keeping the stake hidden, hands bound behind her—albeit loosely—she brushed against Max and felt his fingers fumble against hers. In that instant she slowed her movements, made them more awkward so that he could slip something slender and smooth into her hands.

  The vial he’d been drinking from.

  Victoria closed her fingers around the tiny bottle and pulled to her feet, and this time her awkwardness wasn’t feigned. Her right leg was still aching, but she was able to walk on it. When she started toward the door, the female vampire followed close behind.

  A quick glance behind told Victoria that the gun was still trained on her. There was no chance for Max—or Sebastian, should he be willing to risk it—to jump to her assistance without getting her shot.

  She wondered, as she stepped out of the chamber and heard the door close and its lock clang behind the three vampires, whether she would return.

  And if she did, whether Max and Sebastian would even be there.

  Flanked by the two silent vampires, Victoria walked down the hall, the presence of the female with the gun—and what could only be a piece of Akvan’s Obelisk around her neck—slightly behind her.

  They were taking her to Akvan, but she wouldn’t go quietly. The female had foolishly allowed the pistol to sag away from Victoria’s person as soon as the door closed. She seemed distracted and was walking faster, almost as if she were in a hurry to return.

  Victoria had other ideas. She walked as slowly as possible, exaggerating her limp so as to give herself time to flip the cork from the small vial Max had given her. She’d started fiddling with it as soon as she’d risen to her feet,
back in the chamber.

  She wasn’t sure what the liquid inside was, but at the very least it would give her an element of surprise. Max wouldn’t have pressed it into her hands unless it would be useful, and he certainly didn’t expect her to drink from it.

  When the tiny cork popped free, Victoria carefully twisted her wrists, trying to keep from alerting the vampires to her acrobatics. But the female was muttering indistinctly—and with annoyance—to the vampire on the left, and the other appeared to be intent only on watching the placement of his feet as they strode down the gray-stoned passage. The female was obviously the leader, and her companions merely empty-headed guards of exceedingly large proportion.

  Fortunately for Victoria, stakes were equally effective on all sizes and shapes of vampires, and unfortunately for them, she had a more than adequate one up her sleeve. Figuratively speaking.

  Now she lifted one arm slightly, so that the ropes that had appeared to be tight around her wrists when they were crossed were now loose enough for her to free her hands.

  They’d walked perhaps only a dozen paces and were still within sight of the chamber door they’d left when Victoria sprang into action.

  She held the vial in one hand and the newly released stake that she’d slipped from its loop in the other. As the rope dropped away she flung the contents of the vial at the two vampires on her left. As they screamed she spun, stake in hand, to jam its slender point into the heart of the undead on her right. He poofed into dust before he realized what happened to him, and Victoria pivoted back just as quickly to face the other two.

  Whatever was in the vial had splashed fully on the vampire closest to her, but some must have gotten on the female with the gun as well, for both of them shrieked in surprise and pain.

  The one with the wet face clawed desperately at his skin and eyes, stumbling away, but Victoria caught him by his shirt and shoved him at the female just as she raised her pistol.

  The crack of the shot snapped much too loudly in the hall. The vampire under her hands jerked as the bullet went through him, and then pain streaked along Victoria’s side. As she staggered back in surprise, she saw the female fall under the weight of her agonized companion.

  Pushing herself away from the wall there in the narrow passage, Victoria gripped her stake tighter and yanked the screaming vampire away from the female, tossing him aside for the time being.

  The pistol had done its job but was no longer a threat, even when the female flung it at Victoria’s head. She easily ducked and, despite the burning along her hip and the tangling weight of her skirts, she dove back toward the female.

  Stringy hair plastered to both of their faces as they grappled on the floor. Victoria felt the wetness of her blood seeping through her gown, and the slam as the vampire landed a blow on her wound.

  Smothering her cry of pain, Victoria grabbed the vampire by the shoulders and smashed her head back into the wall behind her, sending the female’s red eyes rolling frantically. Her attention caught again by the leather thong and the obsidian chip that hung there, Victoria reached for it, yanking on the leather, and the necklace snapped free.

  The vampire gasped, coming back to awareness, but Victoria gave her no time to recuperate. She slammed the stake down into the filthy white shirt, feeling immense satisfaction as the wood pierced flesh and bone as easily as if she’d shoved it into an egg: the slightest of hesitation whilst it broke through the outermost shell, then eased in slickly and easily. Poof!

  The female’s dust had barely begun to settle when Victoria turned toward the third vampire. She was just about to stake him when she noticed the clanking of keys at his waist. Reaching down she felt the throbbing pain at her hip more strongly and plucked the keys away before putting the stake through his heart.

  It was an odd thing about staking a vampire: Not only did the creature’s flesh and person disintegrate, but also all of his personal belongings—clothing or anything else on his body. The only exception appeared to be items made of copper—which was how the Venators had been able to acquire one of the five special rings Lilith had made for her closest Guardians.

  Wayren had described it as a sort of imploding that happened to the undead; but even she didn’t have a real explanation for it. Instead she suggested, in a rare moment of levity, that perhaps it was merely Providence’s way of making the Venators’ duty that much easier: no remains, bodies, or personal effects to dispose of or explain away.

  Whatever the reason, Victoria was glad she’d seen the keys and snatched them up before staking the vampire. As she stood, breathing heavily and now feeling pain on both sides of her body—in her leg and her opposite hip—she saw the female’s necklace where she’d dropped it moments earlier. Picking it up, she felt a sharp tingle as she stuffed it into one of the pockets Verbena had sewn inside the skirt of her gown.

  Again she could feel pure malevolence permeate the splinter from the obelisk, and was relieved that she’d found it after losing it in the battle. It would be much safer with her, and in the Consilium with the other, larger shard.

  Now…she had a ring of keys that she presumed would open the chamber door if she could get back there before anyone came to see what was delaying the delivery of the Venator to the demon. Victoria paused a moment to listen but heard nothing. Apparently no alarm had been given, and no one had heard the brief, volatile battle here in the passageway.

  The demon and his court must be farther away than she’d imagined.

  The third key worked to open the heavy lock on the chamber door, and Victoria called out softly as she entered. Light from the passageway behind her spilled into the room.

  “Back at last,” Max said from his position against the wall, but his eyes were sharp. “It’s unfortunate you couldn’t manage it without getting yourself shot.”

  “Shot? Victoria.” Sebastian was already moving toward her, his loose ropes in a bundle on the floor behind him. He didn’t pull her into an embrace, for which she was simultaneously grateful and annoyed, but he did brush his hand over the huge splotch of blood flowering like an oversize rose over her waist. She was going to have a devil of a time explaining that to her mother. That and the missing rosettes.

  “You can play nursemaid later, Vioget. Perhaps there will even be a carriage handy.”

  “I got the door open, so you can lead the way,” Victoria told Max, ignoring his comments, watching as he moved carefully toward the entrance. Obviously his pain was back. “Since you have the direction of a pigeon. And I don’t.”

  Just before Max led the way into the passage, she saw him tip a small vial to his lips again and sip from it. “I thought you gave me—”

  “Quiet.” And Max stepped cautiously out of the room. She noticed he held the stiletto in one hand and a stake in the other.

  Curious. Perhaps he’d had two tiny bottles—one of holy water, which he’d given her, and this other one. She would find out later…and also find out about the bites on his neck.

  She had a suspicion she knew from whom they’d come, and the thought made her stomach shudder.

  To her relief, Max did not take the hallway where the vampires had led her, but turned in the opposite direction and set a surprisingly rapid pace down the hall. For all his injuries, he still moved with the grace of the hunter he was.

  With an impatient gesture he motioned for Sebastian to close the door behind them, but didn’t wait while he locked it again.

  Apparently Max did have the directional sense of a bird, for he led them unerringly down the passage and through a door that opened to a flight of ascending stairs. Just as she stepped onto the first one Victoria heard shouts of alarm behind them, and felt the sudden wave of increased chill over the back of her neck. The door closed after them, and she followed Max up the stairs, hearing Sebastian pounding along in her wake.

  At the top Max turned left and hurried off down another passage. Victoria realized he was stumbling a bit at about the same time she felt her breath drawing in more sha
rply, and the increased dampness at her hip. The edges of her vision were shaky, and her knee nearly buckled once as they turned a quick corner, but if Max could move like that with two more serious bullet wounds, she, with dual vis bullae, would keep up with him.

  At last they came around another corner and up a second flight of steps and into the hallway that looked familiar to her…the room just beyond the ballroom, where all the people had been gathered.

  She stopped, and Sebastian nearly plowed into her. “We can’t go without the others.” She dug into her pocket, her fingers tangling in the leather thong necklace and receiving a shock from its smooth pendant before finding the wooden stake.

  “Victoria, no,” he began, but Max had heard them and he spun around.

  His normally swarthy face was tinged with gray. “They’re all dead. The vampires fed on them—didn’t you smell it? There’s no one here to save but us. For now.”

  “Much as it pains me to say it, he’s right,” Sebastian said. “Most of the guests made it safely from the villa, but the ones who didn’t…they were dead long before we were even untied.”

  Victoria wanted to argue. She wanted to snap at them and tell them they were wrong. The sudden wave of black fury was so surprising that her breath caught and she coughed on the malignant words she’d wanted to speak.

  Max looked at her strangely; then he grabbed her arm and began to pull her after him. Not the least bit gently.

  She remembered little of the next few moments, and then suddenly they were out of the villa, out into the crisp dawn air where the faint yellow in the sky brought texture and shape to the unkempt gardens.

  Max whirled her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders as his eyes blazed down into hers as if trying to find something that was missing. As if he wanted to shake her. Victoria dragged in a breath of clean air, and the dull fog slid away taking with it that frightening anger. She blinked.

  He released her abruptly, muttering something she couldn’t hear, and turned to Sebastian, who’d stood there watching. “Go back to Beauregard,” he told him shortly. And then something else, low and staccato.