The Rest Falls Away gvc-1

by Колин Глисон

  That was fine with Victoria, for she wasn't sure she would be able to hear or remember anything he might say over the rush of wind in her ears and the pounding of her heart.

  At last he spoke, and when he did it was brief and to the point, as if he, too, felt uncomfortable continuing to be in her presence. "The book is currently in the possession of a man recently returned from travels in India. While there he purchased an old castle, and the book was included in the estate's library. A protection was placed on it centuries ago, and the book cannot be opened until the protection is broken. It also cannot be removed from the possession of its owner by a mortal human."

  "But an undead could steal it?"

  "Yes, that is the case. You must thus wait for Lilith to send her accomplices to take the book, and that is when you must apprehend them, after they have already stolen it. Else, if you attempt to take the book on your own, you will die as soon as you touch it."

  Victoria looked at him, considering. "But I am to believe that once a vampire removes the book from the owner, it is safe for a mortal to touch."

  "Indeed."

  "And… how is a vampire to steal it from this man if it cannot cross the threshold of a home uninvited?" Skepticism laced her voice.

  Sebastian gave a bare nod, as if acknowledging her cynicism. "That is why it will happen two nights from now. The owner of the house will leave on his travels, and the person staying there in his absence will invite the undead into the home."

  "This person who will invite the vampires in… is he aware that they are vampires? And the purpose of their visit? Will this person be harmed?"

  Sebastian's shoulders moved in a careless shrug. "That is all the information you will need, Victoria. You may act on it or choose not to."

  "And if you are lying to me, or mistaken in your information, I will suffer the consequences."

  Sebastian stirred, sitting up and leaning toward her, his eyes dark slits. "Victoria, I intend this to be only the first of many times for us to meet. Thus, I assure you, I am not lying. And when it comes to matters such as these, I am never mistaken."

  Victoria and Verbena did not arrive home until the sun was peeking over the eastern edge of London's profile. Weary, exhilarated, and unbalanced by the events of the night, Victoria did not speak during the ride home, and instead contemplated her next course of action.

  Sebastian had given her the direction of the man who had the Book of Antwartha. He also reiterated that the vampires were to steal it in two nights, which was now the very next night, because the owner would be away. If his information was accurate, Victoria had visited the Silver Chalice none too soon. Perhaps that was why Max had been there last night.

  Should she tell Aunt Eustacia and, by telling her, inform Max, so that they could work together to obtain the book? Or should she lie in wait for Lilith's men herself, in the event that the information Sebastian gave her was false?

  At Grantworth House the hackney pulled up at the curb by a yawning Barth, and Victoria and Verbena slipped down and onto the walk. Hustling toward the servants' entrance, Victoria followed Verbena through the back way, which had been left open by prearrangement, and managed to slink into her room without being noticed by any of the servants. Lady Melly would sleep until after noon, and to her knowledge, Victoria had come home from a dinner party with the headache.

  Verbena helped her undress, and Victoria fell gratefully onto her feather bed. Just as she was drifting off to sleep she remembered: Tonight she was to see Phillip at the Madagascar' ball. Perhaps there would be an opportunity for him to kiss her again.

  She smiled into her pillow.

  "Why is it," Phillip murmured as he drew Victoria close to his side, "that I must always beat a path through a throng of bucks if I wish to dance with you?"

  Her wrist tucked betwixt his arm and his side, she allowed her hip to sway against his as they strolled away. "They were not there to speak only to me," she replied, turning up her face to smile at him. "Gwendolyn Starcasset has quite a following as well."

  "That may be so, but most of them were panting over your hand, not hers."

  "You are too kind, sir," she replied with a coy smile.

  His arm tightened hers against his side. "I am not kind whatsoever," Phillip replied. "In fact, I have not one whit of kindness toward those fops."

  "And what of the mamas and belles who moon over your handsome face and bulging purse?"

  "I am soon to put them out of their misery. Would you care for something to drink, Victoria?"

  She could only nod and try not to stare up at him. Soon to put them out of their misery? Could he mean what she thought he meant? Her skin flushed warm and she was grateful for the cup of punch in which she could bury her face.

  It was only yesterday that he'd kissed her in the park, and despite her unsettling experience at the Silver Chalice, Victoria had awakened late in the day today remembering the taste of his lips. Wondering if tonight he would take the opportunity again.

  A proper lady wasn't supposed to think about kissing a man to whom she was not married, or at least betrothed. But since she'd received her vis bulla, Victoria had moved far beyond being a proper lady. Killing vampires. Wearing trousers. Walking the streets at night.

  Showing her navel to strange men.

  What would Phillip think if he saw her vis bulla!

  Her face grew hotter than ever, and Phillip must have noticed, for he said, "Are you feeling quite all right, Victoria? Shall we step outside for some air?"

  "Yes, I would like that."

  Just outside the ballroom's grand French doors, Victoria and Phillip paused on the terrace. Two other couples stood at the waist-high railing, looking down over the weaving pathways and clusters of hedge that made up the Madagascars' walking garden. A gentle sweep of steps led from the center of the stone terrace down into the vegetation below.

  Phillip released Victoria's arm and slid his around the back of her waist, guiding her along the railing. A gardenia tree, laden with creamy white blossoms, grew up from below and was near enough that he could choose a flower and offer it to her.

  "For my lady," he said, holding it out to her. "I wanted to bring forget-me-nots, but they are out of season."

  Victoria smiled as she accepted the gardenia, amazed as always by the intense fragrance that came from a single flower. She noticed that Phillip had moved them along the terrace to a more private corner, still within the bounds of propriety as they stood out in the open in a well-lit area, but away from the wide-flung doors and chatter of the ballroom. The other couples lingering in the night air appeared not to notice their presence. She recognized one of them as Lord Truscott of the inept feet and Miss Emily Colton.

  Phillip turned to face her, crowding her gently toward the railing, and she tipped her face up. His dark hair rose well above his forehead, not one lock daring to fall from its high-brushed moorings even when he looked down at her. The look in his half-mast eyes made her hands damp, and she smiled nervously.

  "Victoria," he said in a rumbling voice that carried to only her ears. "You must know that I have never forgotten you, and my regard for you has grown since we have renewed our acquaintance."

  At that moment Victoria felt a prickle of cold air over the back of her neck. She started, so sudden was the sensation, and so unexpected. Why now?

  Phillip was looking at her in concern. "Victoria?"

  "Go on, please. You… were saying?" She smiled. Perhaps it was only a chill spring breeze.

  He took both of her hands then, and drew each of them, one at a time, to his lips, pressing a brief kiss onto the back and then the palms of each one. "When I made the decision to look for a bride, I anticipated that it would take me nearly as long to settle on one as it had taken me to decide to look."

  It was not a breeze. The chill had become harsher, more intense. Victoria, who stood with the railing behind her and the light of the ballroom spilling out in front of her, tried to keep her attention on Phillip. She smi
led up at her suitor, even as it became clear that the vampire was not in the ballroom.

  He or she was here, outside. Likely with a chosen victim.

  She had to do something. Her fingers tightened in Phillip's grasp, and she looked back up at him. "Phillip… I feel a bit of a chill."

  He stopped, as her words had interrupted his, and looked down at her. "Could we… I should like to speak with you on something before we go back inside. I have something I wish to ask you." He released her hands and boldly placed his fingers around her bare arms, gently moving his hands up and down as if to warm her.

  Victoria swallowed. She wanted to hear what he was going to say… but how could she listen now?

  "Victoria," Phillip had continued to speak, "as I said, I expected it to take me a long time to find the right woman to marry… so imagine my surprise and delight when I realized I'd found her… only weeks after beginning my search. Because, in truth, I had found you long ago."

  The cold at the back of her neck was unbearable; it was all she could do to keep from pulling her arms from Phillip's grip and rubbing her nape while dashing off into the gardens below.

  For that was where the vampire was.

  And how was she going to get away to get there?

  "Victoria, will you be my marchioness?"

  "Yes, Phillip! Yes, I will… but would you please get my wrap? I am frightfully chilled!" She couldn't help that her voice came out with a panicked note; she had to stop the vampire.

  He looked down at her, surprise stamped on his face, as if he didn't quite know how to react.

  Victoria had to think: She had accepted his proposal, hadn't she?

  "Yes, of course, my lady," he replied slowly, formally. Victoria felt a pit in the bottom of her stomach.

  He started to turn away, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She flung her arms around his neck and pulled his face down for a kiss, murmuring, "Yes, I will marry you, Phillip. I want to marry you." A great burst of joy flooded her. She was in love, and she was going to marry Phillip!

  He kissed her in return, and then she pulled away, the frigidity at the nape of her neck calling her back to duty. "My wrap, please, Phillip, so that we can stay out here for a bit?" She smiled, biting the inside of her lip, silently entreating him to go now so she could slip down into the gardens.

  He was smiling too, now, not so formal, and she knew she'd saved that moment… now if only she could save the victim. Go now!

  He did, striding quickly from the terrace back into the ballroom, and Victoria barely waited until he was inside before hurrying down the steps into the dark gardens below.

  Chapter Ten

  Wherein Miss Grantworth Takes Herself Out of Training

  When Phillip returned to the terrace carrying Victoria's filmy wrap, she was gone.

  He stood in the pie-shaped wedge of light that spilled over the stones and looked around to be certain she hadn't moved into a more shadowy corner… but she was nowhere to be seen. The other couples had disappeared. The patio was empty.

  Just then he heard a faint scream from down below, in the gardens.

  He ran down the steps, her shawl fluttering in his hand, his feet crunching on the pebble-stoned path, spewing up a scattering of stones with each step.

  "Victoria!" he called, dashing to the left, where he was sure he'd heard the scream—a sound so faint that if he'd been inside the building for one more moment, he would not have heard it.

  Why had she left the terrace? What had happened?

  Had someone taken her?

  As he rounded a bend in the path, he nearly collided with a figure in skirts. She was staggering, half bent, sobbing, clutching at her gown. Without thinking about impropriety, he grabbed the woman's shoulders. "Victoria?" he said, giving her a soft shake.

  She looked up. It was not Victoria but Miss Emily Colton, who had been standing with Frederick Truscott on the terrace only moments before. Her face was a terrified mask, and something dark, like a scratch, marked her neck. She was babbling something incoherent, clutching at him as if she were drowning and he was pulling her from the water.

  Phillip was torn. Victoria was still out there, but Miss Colton needed him too. And what had happened to Truscott?

  "Come," he said, pulling her after him, back toward the house, calling for help along the way. Over her muffled sobs, he listened fearfully for another cry from the dark.

  "Did you see anyone else?" he demanded urgently. "Another woman? Miss Grantworth?"

  She seemed to nod, to give an affirmation, but he wasn't certain what she was saying between her sobs and trembling. When they came in sight of the terrace, he gave the woman a gentle push and called for help, then turned and dashed back into the darkness.

  "Victoria!" he called. "Victoria!"

  He rounded another corner, and nearly ran into her.

  "Victoria!" he exclaimed, grasping her shoulders and pulling her to his chest, crushing her there in gratitude that she wasn't the one sobbing, frightened. "What happened? Are you all right?"

  She seemed to be breathing hard, but she did not appear to be in any distress, and she disengaged herself from his death grip more easily than she should have been able to. She was looking at him, surprise and something else…

  intense… in her beautiful face. For a moment he forgot his worry and just enjoyed the perfection of her countenance—and wondered why her eyes carried such a predatory glint.

  "Phillip? I am fine. I am not hurt at all. What is wrong?"

  "I heard someone scream, and I thought it was you! You weren't on the terrace when I came back." He realized he'd dropped her wrap somewhere along the way, and he slipped his arm around her waist. After all, she had accepted his proposal. Although it wasn't official, they were engaged. It was proper enough.

  "I dropped my indispensable from the terrace, and when I went down to get it, I heard a woman… talking, arguing—she sounded as if she were in danger."

  "So you went after her to help?" Phillip wanted to shake her, his fragile love. "You could have been hurt!"

  "But I was not… it was Emily Colton. She ran past me. Did you see her?"

  "Yes; she is frightened, but appeared to be unharmed. Foolish girl," he said, squeezing her close to him with his arm around her waist. He should have expected nothing less of one who would dress down a young man half again as tall as she was when she was only twelve—her beauty and her boldness, her charm and her tendency to think for herself and not as Society would dictate. No wonder he loved her. "You were brave to go to her aid, but you could have been hurt yourself! You should have called for assistance."

  Victoria nodded against him. They were walking up the steps of the terrace, and Phillip was pleased to see that the terrace was still empty. Miss Colton would be taken care of after her fright, whatever it had been—perhaps something as simple as a branch catching at her or an argument with Truscott, wherever he had gone off to—and he and Victoria could stand on the patio alone.

  And start again where they had left off.

  He looked down, ready to gather her back into his arms. "Victoria, what is that in your hand?"

  He saw even in the half-light that her cheeks flushed light pink. She looked down at the slender piece of wood she held as if wondering how it got there. "I… it was falling from my hair as I hurried to help Miss Colton. I'll just put it in my indispensable, for only my maid knows how to repair my hair."

  Phillip thought that the stick looked rather large and unwieldy to be part of such an intricate coiffure, but what did he know about how women dressed their hair? He appreciated the results, but had little interest in the mechanics.

  He was just pulling her close to him, tipping her chin up with a gentle nudge of his thumb, when he realized she was looking over his shoulder into the ballroom. "Phillip… I really must go check on Miss Colton and make certain she is unhurt."

  Disappointment rolled over him. "I am certain she is being cared for. Although I do not know what became o
f Lord Truscott."

  She pulled easily from what he thought was a firm grip. "Phillip, I promise… I will return in just a moment. I feel responsible for her. Won't you come inside with me?" She smiled so prettily, and hugged his arm so close to the length of her body, brushing against the side of her bosom, that he couldn't refuse.

  Back inside the Madagascar home, Victoria quickly excused herself from Phillip. Frantic with the delay he'd caused by catching her in the gardens, she hurried through the throngs of people, knowing that she would have to offer more explanation to him later.

  She was relieved that there didn't seem to be a massive sense of panic or outrage from the party goers; more clusters of people were talking than dancing, but they did not seem to be upset. It appeared that possibly Miss Colton had made her way to the ladies' changing room without causing too much of a commotion about the vampire attack that had happened only yards away from the merrymaking.

  Victoria prayed that was the case, and hoped that Miss Colton was in no frame of mind to speak of what had happened… or ask about the whereabouts of Lord Truscott. She wasn't sure how she was going to explain that he'd poofed into a cloud of ashes.

  It was perhaps too much to hope that Emily Colton hadn't realized what was happening before Victoria arrived upon the scene; but she did indeed hope. It had happened quickly; Lord Truscott was just bending his face to her neck when Victoria burst upon them.

  Emily escaped, disappearing into the brush with a shriek, before Victoria had come face-to-face with Truscott and plunged the stake into his chest.

  Now she hurried down the hall and reached the ladies' retiring room. Pausing to collect her breath and pat down her hair, Victoria eased the door open and found a small cluster of women around a white-faced Emily Colton.

  "Emily," Victoria said, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. "How are you?"

  "Oh!" shrieked Emily, leaping to her feet and throwing herself at Victoria. "You are unhurt! I was so frightened for you!"