The Rest Falls Away gvc-1

by Колин Глисон

  "If you are speaking of Lord Rockley, I'm sure it will delight you to learn that I did not."

  "Pity."

  Victoria considered the stake for a brief, delicious moment, then regretfully rested it on the table. She had four new polished ash stakes, each to be painted a different color so that they could complement her various gowns. Verbena had suggested ivory, pink, pale green, and blue, and was advocating further decoration using flowers, feathers, and beads.

  "I didn't dance with him because we attended a musicale, and there was no dancing. But he has asked to call on me." She didn't care if she sounded like a petulant child.

  For the first time Max looked up at her. His expression was forbidding. "You are playing dangerously, Victoria."

  "Hunting vampires is playing dangerously. Being courted by a rich, handsome man is not. And in either case, I am well able to take care of myself."

  Max's gaze dropped pointedly to the side of her neck, where the four red weals had begun to heal. "Your ability to take care of yourself has yet to be conclusively proven; however, that is not what I meant. You are playing dangerously with the marquess and his attentions."

  "Why do you begrudge me the pleasure of the company of a perfect gentleman?" Victoria asked. They had begun using each other's familiar names almost immediately after the incident with the Guardian vampires. It felt ridiculous to be formal with someone who hunted the undead in tandem with her. "Is it because you never move in the circles of Society, so you look down upon anyone who does?"

  He settled back in his chair and looked at her. The golden liquid in his glass streamed in the light, shifting as he gently moved his wrist in small, circular motions, as if he were thinking how to respond. "Victoria, you completely misunderstand my motivations. I begrudge you nothing. If I had my way, you would have nothing to worry about but the next ball and whether to allow your marquess two dances in one night. But surely you realize that you cannot go on the way you have been."

  "I do not understand what you mean." There was a shift in the air now, and the discomfort that always seemed to snap between them had ebbed into something lethally serious.

  "I see that you do not." He appeared genuinely surprised. "Victoria, you cannot think to marry the marquess, so why do you continue to play with his affections? It is clear that he is smitten with you. Perhaps not in love, but at least smitten."

  "I cannot… Not marry him? I fear it is much too early to be discussing such a possibility, but should it come to pass, there is no reason I could not accept his proposal. I realize that, coming from Italy, you may not understand the machinations of Society here in England, but—"

  "It has nothing to do with your position in Society." The level tone was gone from his voice; now he merely sounded angry. "Do not be obtuse, Victoria. You are a Venator. You cannot marry. You cannot even take a lover!"

  Though she later berated herself for it, Victoria could not stop her gasp at his words. Warmth billowed up her neck and into her cheeks as she responded, "You needn't be crude!"

  "Crude? As if being bitten by a vampire isn't the greatest form of crudeness. Victoria, you are a hunter of violent creatures. You cannot allow yourself to be divided or distracted by something so mundane as a husband or family."

  Victoria could hear the return of footfalls. She spoke quickly and quietly. "If I choose to love or marry a man, I will do just that. And I'll continue to kill vampires while I do it."

  The door opened and Kritanu strode in, carrying a very large tray. He glanced curiously at Victoria, and then Max, likely noticing the tension in their faces, but he said nothing. Placing the tray on the sideboard near Max, he gestured to the teapot and cups. "Please, Miss Victoria, you may pour your tea and perhaps help yourself to a biscuit."

  At Aunt Eustacia's home, it was an informal affair, as they were all treated as equals in the fight against Lilith.

  "Eustacia will return momentarily. Our guest has arrived."

  "Guest?" Victoria asked, assessing Max. Yes, he'd known—just as he knew the purpose for this meeting, and she did not. Why did everyone appear to know everything except for her?

  As she poured her tea, adding a dollop of cream, Victoria stewed. Certainly she was the newest Venator, but Aunt Eustacia had made it clear that she was an instrumental part of the group. Why, then, did the rest of them talk about things that she knew nothing about? Keep information from her?

  It was Max. He'd said it earlier—if he had his way, she wouldn't be a Venator; she would have turned away the opportunity to wear the vis bulla and help rid the world of vampires. Why was he so set against her? Merely because she was a woman? And young?

  Were they testing her? Keeping things from her until she proved herself?

  All of the Venators were equally skilled, and all had the innate skills and sensitivities to fulfill the Legacy once they received their vis bullae. Did Max truly believe she thought of nothing but balls and gowns and beaux? When she knew that there were hideously evil creatures wanting to take over the world?

  True, many young women her age did think of little but finding a husband; after all, that was what had been drummed into their heads since the moment they were out of leading strings. But surely he'd seen by now that she was more than just another debutante. After all, she'd staked a Guardian vampire as he was biting her!

  The door to the room opened and in walked Eustacia, followed by a tall, sapling-slender woman. She appeared to be several decades younger than Eustacia, but older than Max by a decade or more, and she brought with her an unusual, earthy scent. Her pale blond hair, as fine as the most delicate of silk threads, was gathered away from her face in a decidedly unstylish tail that hung down the center of her back. She wore a flaxen gown that looked more like a night rail; it was floor-length and fell straight from her shoulders to her feet, yet still managed to portray the shape of her body. Her gray-blue eyes glinted intelligently in a pale, serious face, and her lips were a surprisingly vibrant color of pink. She looked ethereal and clear-sighted, as if she could see things that others could not.

  "You are Victoria?"

  "I am, but I am afraid you have the advantage of me." Victoria didn't know whether to stand and curtsy, or remain seated with her cup of tea as the woman moved to stand in front of her. The earthy scent, which was not unpleasing, followed her.

  "Victoria, this is Wayren. She is not a Venator, but she is a valuable help to our cause," Eustacia explained. "She has deep knowledge of ancient cultures, legends, and mysticism through her extensive library. She acts as a resource to us when we need her assistance."

  "I'm very pleased to meet you," said Victoria, meaning it.

  "Hello, Max," Wayren said, turning. Max stood, and although she was a tall woman, he loomed fully a head taller than she.

  He took her hand and raised it to his face, gently brushing it with his cheek instead of his lips, then releasing it. "Wayren, how wonderful to see you again. You look well."

  "And so do you, Max," she replied with a smile that transformed her face into one of delight and humor. "It has been well over three years since the last time we worked together. Apparently you are no worse for wear."

  Max laughed gently and Victoria stared. It was the first time she had ever heard him laugh with real delight. "Indeed not. Now, you are here to tell us about the Book of Anwarth."

  Aunt Eustacia gestured to a chair, and when Wayren took her seat, Victoria noticed that she carried a large satchel that appeared to be quite heavy. It thumped awkwardly when she let it slump to the floor.

  "Yes, and also to determine what Lilith wants from it. Eustacia contacted me as soon as she learned that she was trying to obtain the book. It took me some days of travel to arrive." Wayren looked at Victoria. "I come from a long distance."

  "Did you find anything in your library that might help?" asked Eustacia, taking a seat herself in the chair that was always reserved for her, next to the piecrust table.

  Wayren leaned down toward her satchel and, flipp
ing it open, pulled out a sheaf of paper and a battered book. "My library is organized in such a way that it is simple to locate nearly anything by following a number system by topic. I found several mentions of something called the Book of Antwartha; Max, is it possible that you misunderstood the word and that it is Antwartha instead of Anwarth?"

  He nodded. "I would say. I was in a situation that did not provide a perfect environment for listening."

  "I am not surprised to hear that." Wayren smiled. "That makes things easier, as I wasn't able to find anything referencing 'Anwarth.' Apparently…" She paused, and dug back into her satchel. When she straightened, she was wearing a pair of square-shaped spectacles that gave her face a completely different look. More austere than fey, Victoria thought. "The story behind this book has its origins in the Indus Valley, in the country of your ancestors." At this she nodded at Kritanu, who had taken a chair next to Eustacia. "You were correct that there is a connection with the goddess Kali."

  "Kali… yes, she is known in India as the Queen of the Dead. She rules over death, but she is not an evil goddess, as death is a state that we all must encounter. Legend has it that she bore a child who was half demon and half god. This child was known as Antwartha." Kritanu's shiny hair, pulled into a short club at the back of his neck, gleamed blue-black as he nodded at Wayren, as if passing the tale back to her to continue.

  "It is this demonic child of Kali who legend says gave his early followers the so-called wisdom in the Book of Antwartha. The book contains rituals and rites for utilizing the blood of the living as sustenance for the immortal followers of Antwartha—known as hantus, or, in your language, vampires."

  "Lilith believes this ancient book is in London; that is why she's here, isn't it?" Victoria said. "How did an ancient manuscript get here? From India?"

  "Likely in some manner of trade between England and her colony of India," replied Max. "Ships back and forth between London and Calcutta could easily have carried it here."

  "Yes, I can see that. But why now? How did it happen that Lilith just now found it?"

  Wayren shook her head. "I do not know; Max, do you?"

  He frowned. "My… source wasn't as willing to give information as I was to receive it, unfortunately, and at some point I had to put her out of her misery. All she told me was the name of the object Lilith is seeking, and even then I did not hear her properly. It is fortunate that Wayren was able to translate my miscommunication."

  "If the book is indeed in London, our first course of business, whilst Wayren continues to study her resources, is to locate the book before Lilith or her Guardians do," Eustacia spoke. Victoria noticed that Kritanu had closed his fingers over her hand as if to provide support.

  "That is imperative." Wayren pulled her spectacles away and looked at each of them in turn, including Victoria. "According to my information, the Book of Antwartha contains powerful spells and incantations utilizing malevolent power. If Lilith obtains this book, she will have the ability to raise demons at will by the legion. There will be no way to keep her at bay, even if we call all Venators here. She will overcome the world of mortals and we will all become her slaves… or worse."

  Chapter Seven

  The Marquess of Rockley Presses His Suit

  "Now, then, don't you look pretty as a picture!" Verbena gushed, leaning in toward Victoria and adjusting a curl that had fallen from her hairstyle. "The feathers are just the touch!"

  Victoria had to agree. Her maid was truly a genius! She'd slipped the pale blue stake straight into the thickest part of her hair, after affixing three soft feathers to the dull end. Thus, from the front, it gave the appearance of gentle white decoration shifting and flowing at the back of her crown. The beauty of the arrangement was that she could remove the stake from her coiffure easily and quickly, without disrupting the style.

  "Wonderful, Verbena! It looks lovely." Rockley was to pick her up for a drive in the park, and she was pleased that her hairstyle looked demure yet flirtatious.

  "And now that your bite is near healed, well, tucking this light scarf around your neck will do just fine. Though I know you won't need the stake during daylight hours, 'cause them creatures don't come out then."

  Victoria turned. "Oh, no, Verbena, that is not exactly true. Some of them do come out in daylight hours."

  Verbena's eyes turned into large circles and she sat on the bed suddenly, as if her knees had given out. "No, my lady! You're funning me!"

  Rather pleased to know something about vampires that her maid didn't, Victoria hurried to assure her that she was indeed correct. "It's true. There are some rare powerful vampires, very few of them, who have lived for centuries and who have become somewhat accustomed to the daylight. They can actually move about in the sun, as long as they are covered or shaded, although they cannot remain in the light for very long, or allow the sunlight to touch them directly. If it does, they begin to burn."

  "My gracious word!" Verbena's round cheeks had turned furious red, and her flyaway peach-colored hair seemed to vibrate with her anxiety. "Me cousin Barth is goin' to have to start carry in' his crucifix during the day too? I don't know how he's goin' to get his work done, havin' to hold that thing up in front of himself all the time, and drivin' the hackney as he does! My lady, are you quite certain about this?"

  "Aunt Eustacia told me so, and I believe she would be one person who would know!" Then a thought struck her. "Verbena, did you say that Barth lives in St. Giles? And he sees vampires there?"

  "Yes, my lady, he sees more'n he wants to, that's for sure. But they leave him alone, because of his crucifix and the garlic he hangs from his neck."

  "Can you take me there?"

  "Take you there?" If Verbena was horrified at the thought of vampires in the daylight, she was utterly traumatized at this request. "St. Giles is no place for a lady, my lady!"

  Victoria stood, and felt the feathers waft in the air. "Verbena, I am no lady. At least, I am not so much of a lady as I am a Venator. We have to find the Book of Antwartha before Lilith does, and if there are vampires in St. Giles, it is possible that I might learn something from them. I wear a vis bulla, don't you forget. Max is not the only Venator who can hunt down vampires and make them tell him their secrets."

  Verbena opened her mouth to say something, and Victoria braced for another round of defense; but it was unnecessary. "If yer going to St. Giles, I'm going with you. And you're not wearing a gown, my lady. You'll dress as a man."

  "Of course. Thank you, and no need to worry. You will be safe with me. There is no time to waste, so we'll go tonight."

  "Tonight?" Verbena's eyes goggled. "At night? Oh, my lady—"

  "Tonight, Verbena. And you say your cousin drives a hackney? That is perfect. Can you arrange for him to pick us up at midnight?"

  "Midnight?"

  Victoria could actually see the rampant pulse racing in her maid's throat. "Midnight tonight, Verbena, when the vampires are on the prowl."

  Phillip de Lacy, Marquess of Rockley, settled into the seat next to his companion. "Miss Grantworth, you look utterly charming," he told her as they set out for the park. His tiger and her maid were seated on the small raised seat in the back of the cabriolet, leaving Phillip and Victoria in the front.

  "I might say the same about you, Lord Rockley."

  "You say? It must be due to the company I am keeping." He glanced over again, just for the pleasure of looking at her. Her fair skin had the faintest pink tinge that he hoped was due to the delight of his company. And how did her slender neck hold the weight of all that dark hair? He imagined what it would look like if it weren't piled at the top of her head. How long was it? He remembered from that day in the meadow, when she had lectured him, how it billowed and blew in a mass of dark curls around her shoulders and arms, in ringlets from one end to the other.

  "It is a beautiful day." She sounded a little breathless, uncertain. Perhaps this was the first time she'd ever been alone—or nearly alone—with a man.

  He
smiled at the thought, pleased about it, then looked up at the sky and laughed. "A beautiful day is it, Miss Grantworth? With those puffed gray clouds, laden with rain? Despite the sun peeking through occasionally, I had the concern that you might decline to ride out with me today for fear the rains would come and ruin your gown."

  He watched as she looked up to see what he'd seen: pillowlike gray-and-white clouds filling the sky, making it colorless rather than blue.

  "I rather like the rain," she replied stoutly, but with a hint of smile. "It makes me appreciate the sunny days more."

  Phillip continued to grin. "Nice save, my lady, and honest as always. And here I thought for a moment there that you were going to slip into the convention of talking about the weather instead of other, more interesting things. Can you smell the moisture in the air?"

  "I never noticed it before, Lord Rockley, but the breeze does carry a scent that portends the rain shower."

  "Never believe that I have forgotten my promise to take you riding across the fields and meadows… but I feared for the weather to drown out our ride, and knew that the carriage would protect you better."

  "Lord Rockley, it is my turn to make a bit of a confession."

  He turned to her with interest, noticing that she was alternating between looking at her fingers, then ahead of them, and then at him. Where was his bold lady now? "I am most intrigued. Please, confess what you will."

  And then the thought struck him that perhaps he would not appreciate her confession. What if she felt the need to divulge the name of another beau?

  "I'm certain you recall the day after you fell from your horse, meeting up with me in the same meadow. I had gone there hoping to see you again, but not at all certain you would be there, of course."

  He smiled, relief lightening his grip on the reins. "You would likely have found some other way to track me down and apologize for your harsh words, right, Miss Grantworth?"