by Колин Глисон
"Victor Grant… son. Victor Grantson," she repeated more smoothly. His fingers closed around hers, swallowing them tightly for longer than she thought necessary. Or perhaps it was just the discomfort of knowing that her slender hand, even cased in black gloves, must feel much more fragile than most hands he'd shaken.
"And what kind of information might you be looking for… here?" His attention did not lessen in intensity; Victoria felt as though he were looking deep into her mind. The only thing that kept her from being apprehensive was the knowledge that he wasn't a vampire.
He most definitely wasn't a vampire… yet that did not explain the odd pull he had for her. It was not unlike the sensation she'd felt just before the Guardian vampire sank his fangs into her neck.
Victoria resisted the urge to shake her head; but she did shift slightly away from Sebastian Vioget under the guise of reaching for her mug of ale. Should she come right out and tell him what she was looking for?
Why not? Boldness in words and actions were the hallmarks of a successful Venator; although there were times when one must sit back and plan, she assumed. "I am looking for the Book of Antwartha."
Apparently her boldness was the right tack. "And why would you think to find information about such a thing here? An old book would be found at Hatchard's or Mason's. You have come to the wrong place." He leaned toward her, so close she could see the dark flecks in his golden eyes, and so near she could feel some kind of energy heavy in the air between them.
"I did not say it was an old book," Victoria replied, "though it is apparent that, despite your admonishments, I have indeed come to the right place."
He laughed then, a low, rumbling, self-deprecatory chuckle. "Indeed. In fact, I may be able to help you in your quest… but first, may I make a suggestion?"
She nodded, wary now that the glint of humor in his eyes seemed to have become focused on her.
"Wearing ill-fitting trousers and a hat does nothing to obscure your gender, and in fact calls attention to it. You have fooled no one."
Chapter Eight
In Which an Unexpected Visitor Throws a Wrench in Miss Grantworth's Plans
"Perhaps it wasn't my intent to fool anyone," Victoria replied. "Perhaps I've come to the conclusion that trousers are much more comfortable than skirts."
He laughed again, and under the table his leg shifted against hers. It was warm and heavy, and Victoria moved away. He looked at her and smiled knowingly, but fortunately did not comment.
"Since we've covered the niceties regarding my choice of clothing," she said, feeling more confident now that she didn't have to maintain the unfamiliar guise of a gentleman, "will you tell me who can help me find the Book of Antwartha?"
"If you would be so kind as to keep your voice more… temperate… I may be able to be of assistance. No, as I can see that won't be possible, we must go somewhere we can speak more comfortably."
The thought of going anywhere with this man made Victoria uncomfortable… in a warm, improper sort of way. Perhaps it was just because Phillip had kissed her today that she kept noticing how Sebastian Vioget's mouth moved, and its shape. And noticing how close it was to her.
Just then someone turned the corner from the bottom of the same staircase she and Verbena had descended, and paused, standing a short distance from their table. Even though he was not facing them, she recognized his tall, dark figure, perhaps because she'd half expected to see it anyway.
Max.
Victoria swiftly turned away to hide her face. "Do you have a place in mind?"
"Excuse me for a moment," he said, standing abruptly. "If you would be so kind as to walk through that door, I will join you shortly." He drew her attention to a narrow door that Victoria had not noticed earlier; it was quite obscured to the casual observer, as it was nudged into the corner of an alcove. "It is unlocked."
Victoria watched as Sebastian moved easily, quickly, but without appearing to hurry, directly toward Max. An uneasy feeling churned in her stomach, but she stood as directed, hoping to slip out before Max saw her. If Sebastian was right, and her disguise was so patently false anyone would see through it, it would ruin all of her plans if Max merely looked in her direction.
Something tugged at her sleeve as she stood, and Victoria pivoted. She had completely forgotten about Verbena! How could the girl have so easily slipped her mind, sitting there next to her?
The answer was clear when she turned and saw that during her conversation with Sebastian, her maid had adjusted her chair closer to another nearby table and appeared to be quite companionably sitting with three other people, including the vampiric piano player.
"Is that not your cousin Max, speaking with Mr. Vioget?" asked Verbena. Her breath smelled like the ale she'd ordered, and the sparkle in her eyes told Victoria she'd been having a grand time.
"Yes, it is, though he is not really my cousin. I must leave before he recognizes me. Tell your friends farewell and come with me." Victoria stood, gripping her cane-stake, and moved quickly through the door Sebastian had pointed out. Verbena followed.
Even as she curved her fingers around its rough edge to pull it closed behind them, Victoria paused to look back. Sebastian and Max stood talking in the same place Max had been standing since he came into the room.
Their conversation consisted of short bursts of speech shifting from one to the other, with little animation or expression on the part of either man, Max being the taller of the two. Neither appeared to be on the offensive, yet neither appeared to be particularly agreeable toward the other.
As the two men moved apart with curt nods and without handshakes, she slipped back behind the door. Closing it after her, she turned to look, for the first time, to where Sebastian had directed them.
Verbena stood, leaning against one gray brick wall, still holding her tankard of ale. Or was it Victoria's mug? It was full enough that it appeared not to have been touched.
They were in a hallway with a curved brick ceiling and sconces studded every fifteen paces or so. Before Victoria had the chance to explore further, the door opened again and in came Sebastian.
"Your friend can wait without," he said, glancing at Verbena. "She will be quite safe with Amelie and Claude."
Victoria would have declined, but Verbena was already starting toward the door. "I would prefer it, my la—lord," she said quickly. "Amelie is the piano player and she has already fed tonight, so I am not afeared of her."
"No harm will come to her if she is with Amelie," Sebastian repeated. "And what I am about to tell you is meant only for the ears of a Venator."
Victoria started, then quickly recovered. Had Max seen her after all, and told him who she was?
"I will be safe as a bug," Verbena told her with a bright smile, and against her better judgment Victoria nodded her assent.
Verbena nearly slammed the door after her in her enthusiasm to return to her newfound friends, and Victoria was suddenly quite alone with Sebastian Vioget.
He reached toward her, and it was all she could do to keep from flinching; then she felt the top of her head cool and lighten as he swept her hat away.
"I have been wanting to do that since I first saw you," he told her, dropping it carelessly. "Now, if only…" He reached behind her, and this time she moved, just as his fingers touched one of the pins at the back of her head. She wasn't quick enough, for as she shifted the pin stayed in his grasp and pulled from her hair.
Sebastian tsked. "I am one of those who thinks it a shame that women must hide the beauty of their hair."
Victoria felt the pistol in her pocket and pulled it out. She didn't aim it at him, just pulled it out so that he could see it. "That may be well and good, but I am no longer interested in your commendations regarding my clothing and coiffure. If you cannot help me with my quest, I will excuse myself from your presence and find someone who can."
Sebastian laughed and dropped the hairpin. Victoria felt the heavy mass of hair slip at the back of her head, and she had to resi
st the need to touch it, to push it back into place. "You are worthy of your legacy, my dear. Now, before we continue, I should like to know your real name."
She saw no harm in telling him. "Victoria. And I should like to know what makes you think I am a Venator."
"I know quite a lot about everything. Including the fact that you… Ah, yes, indeed, it is true." He was reaching toward her again, and before she could stop him he'd pulled back the high, starched collar of her man's shirt. His hand was not gloved, and it brushed warm against her bare neck.
Victoria took a measured step back. She was not going to react the way her body wanted to: quickly, jerkily, in panic. She would not let him know how he affected her with his insouciant way of touching her.
She was a Venator, and she was stronger than he. Whoever he was.
"Are you going to help me, or shall I just leave?"
"And risk your cohort out there recognizing you? Without your hat, you look like a delicate young woman wearing her brother's clothing. Ridiculous, and an affront to your beauty. At least its brim hid some of that flawless skin and the line of your jaw." He offered her his arm, turning toward the hall that stretched before them. "I'm sure you aren't willing to take that chance. Why, I wonder, did you not want him to see you?"
Victoria did not take his arm, but she turned to walk along with him. The passage was wide enough that they could stroll shoulder-to-shoulder without brushing against each other, and for that she was grateful. As she walked, the unstable mass of her hair bobbed with the rhythm of each step. "Do you know him?" She purposely did not say his name.
"Maximilian? Of course I do. He comes in here occasionally, and I have told him he may patronize the place as long as he does not cause a disturbance or hunt my clientele. Just as I have warned my other clients not to hunt their prey in my establishment. See? We all get along famously."
They walked along the hallway, Victoria holding her cane-stake in one hand and the pistol in the other. She felt confident that she was prepared for whatever threat might come her way.
"In here, my dear," he said, stopping in front of a door near the end of the hall. There was another option across from this entrance. Both doors appeared to be identical.
Victoria tightened her fingers on the stake as she stepped over the threshold into a well-furnished room that appeared to be an office. Bookshelves lined one wall; on another was a desk. To one side was a settee and two chairs clustered around a low table, near a fireplace. The wooden floor was covered with a rug. The only disconcerting thing about the chamber was the fact that there were no windows—and only one exit.
"I see that my study meets with your approval," Sebastian said. "Please, have a seat."
"You brought me here for what purpose? Surely the Book of Antwartha isn't sitting on the shelf there."
"No, of course not. But it truly was important that we are not overheard in our conversation. Because"—he held up his hand to stop her furious response—"I can tell you exactly where the Book of Antwartha is. And how to get it."
Victoria closed her mouth and sat down. She rested her cane next to her and slid the pistol beside her on the cushion.
"Very good." He smiled and chose a seat next to her on the settee. "Now, then, if I give you this information, what will you give to me in return?"
Prickles erupted over her skin. "What would be of value to you?"
"Two things. Two very simple things, Victoria Gardella. Ah, yes, I know exactly who you are." Sebastian smiled and he looked at her with the gold-orange eyes of a tiger. "The first requirement is… you cannot tell anyone where and how you obtained the information. You cannot tell your cohort Maximilian; you cannot tell your aunt. If you do, I will know. And it will go very badly for you. You see, no one else at the inn knows who you are. No one would know we have met. No one would know how you came upon this information unless you divulged it."
Victoria nodded. "I promise."
"And I should trust you?"
"The same way I trusted you when you told me my maid would be safe. And the same way I've trusted you, bringing me back here."
He chuckled again, that knowing laugh. "Ah, yes, as a Venator you are in such jeopardy from me." His words were mocking, yet there was an edge to them that told Victoria they weren't as careless as they sounded. "But you were right to trust me regarding the safety of your maid. She is truly in no danger. As I told you, I do not allow preying on the unwilling in my establishment."
"What is the other requirement?" The prickles on her arms rose in anticipation of his response.
"I wish to see your vis bulla."
Victoria's throat went dry. Not what she had expected. But much, much worse.
"Would not a kiss suffice?" she asked boldly, a red haze clouding the edges of her vision. After all, she'd already kissed one man today. She could not imagine… opening her man's shirt and showing this stranger her middle.
"Are you offering me an additional favor? If so, I will gladly take it. In addition to my original request, of course."
"Not in addition, but instead."
"It is a tempting thought, as I have never kissed a Venator… but no. I wish to see your vis bulla" The expression on his face told her he hadn't even considered making the change. "And then I will tell you all you need to know."
"How do I know what you tell me will be the truth?"
"You will have to trust me."
It was Victoria's turn to laugh. "And why should I trust you for something of that nature? And why should you help me?"
"As for helping you… I of course have my reasons, but sharing them with you is not part of the bargain. It is of no matter to you why I should help a Venator. And… if the information is wrong—which it is not, I assure you—what will you have lost by merely showing me your vis bulla?" His voice dropped to a disturbing low at the end, a deep almost-whisper.
"Or…" His voice was stronger now, steadier. "I can simply give Maximilian the information. I am sure he would be appreciative."
"He wouldn't show you his vis bulla," Victoria responded, suddenly realizing that Max had one just like hers, dangling from his navel.
"I don't wish to see his."
Victoria felt the harsh thumping in her chest. It was just modesty that prevented her from showing him. Just modesty. And if she did, she could return to Aunt Eustacia and Max with valuable information… or even the book itself.
Sebastian was watching her from a relaxed position in the corner of the settee, but she felt the tension as he waited for her response. And suddenly, as if giving up under his intense contemplation, gravity won out over Verbena's work, and her hair slid down from the back of her head into a loose mass around her shoulders. He smiled in satisfaction. "Just as I had envisioned it."
"Tell me something and I will decide if the information is worth a kiss… or the sight of my vis bulla? Her own voice sounded rusty.
"Lilith knows where the book is. She will be sending her Guardians for it tomorrow night when the moon is high. Either you will stop them, or Lilith will succeed and have it in her possession. Now, will you play this game or will you not?"
Victoria angled back slightly against the arm of the settee, her torso turned toward Sebastian while her feet remained planted on the floor. The pistol was an uncomfortable lump under her hip, but she didn't care—she rather preferred knowing exactly where it was. She took off her gloves. Spreading the edges of her jacket, she pulled it away from the crisp white shirt that hung from the collar nearly to her knees.
Her fingers rested on the cloth at the center of her belly, and she paused to look up at Sebastian. He hadn't moved, but rested quietly, watching her. His chest rose and fell under his own coffee-colored jacket and pale shirt.
Victoria's fingers moved deftly as she pulled the shirt loose from her trousers. She could not look at him as she drew the edges of her shirt up, felt the cool shift of air over her suddenly bare skin.
The holy silver gleamed against the white of her flesh, ne
stled in the shadowed hollow of her navel. She heard Sebastian draw in his breath slowly, and then free it slowly.
He moved just as carefully, and although Victoria wanted to, she couldn't release the cloth she held open, couldn't pull it down. He reached toward her for the third time that night, and though her stomach shrank and dipped away, his fingers found the silver cross and caressed it… then slid to touch the gentle rounding of her belly, circling in an echo around her navel.
Warm, heavy, intense… his palm covered her skin.
The red haze at the edge of her vision turned dark and she could barely breathe.
Chapter Nine
Miss Grantworth Becomes Frightfully Chilled at a Most Inconvenient Moment
When Victoria opened her eyes, Sebastian was still looking down at his hand on her stomach. Blinking, trying to clear her head, she realized he hadn't even noticed she'd… what? Fainted?
Only a moment had passed—she was sure of it—since everything went dark. A brief second. An anomaly.
But whatever had caused it—whether it was her own sensitivities or some other weakness—she didn't want to chance that it would be repeated. She grasped Sebastian's hand by the wrist and removed it from her lifted shirt. He looked at her then, his eyes the rich color of strong-brewed tea, all remnants of the golden color gone.
"You wanted to look. You said nothing about touching." If she weren't so wary, she would have been jubilant that her voice came out strong and sure, with a hint of the mockery Max often carried in his tones.
He bowed his head in gentle acknowledgment and drew away.
"I will be grateful to you if, now that I have upheld more than my share of our bargain, you will tell me what I need to know."
"Indeed I will, Victoria." He clasped his hands over his chest, relaxing back into his position at the opposite end of the settee, and seemed to gather his thoughts.
