by Колин Глисон
Max recognized an unanswerable question when he heard one, and swiftly changed the subject. "Victoria recognized Sebastian Vioget. How does she know who he is?"
Eustacia lifted an eyebrow. "That is interesting. My assumption would be that wherever and however she learned about the book and its protection was where and how she learned who Sebastian Vioget is. And it concerns me that he was there at Redfield Manor."
"It concerns me that he would have allowed me to pick up the book," Max replied with sarcasm. "He was nearly salivating at the thought."
"It's too bad you cannot see to form an alliance with him. It might be to our benefit. Perhaps that is something Victoria should consider." Before Max could speak, Eustacia brought up another unpleasant topic. "How is your neck?"
He caught himself reaching to touch the old bite. It had indeed been paining him in the last day, throbbing with a constant dull tic. "I felt no need to mention it has been hurting; it would be no surprise to you, considering the events of the last few days."
"No, but I could give you more salve," Eustacia replied gently, as though speaking to a young child. "There is no need for you to endure the pain."
"It is nothing." Perhaps he would have said more, but at that moment Kritanu opened the door from the hall and Wayren glided in.
"Felicitations, Eustacia and Maximilian," the blond librarian beamed. Her long medieval sleeves would drag the floor when her arms hung at her sides; but now, as she had them raised in delight, the flowing cuffs served only to wrap themselves around Eustacia and then Max, in turn, as Wayren embraced each of them. "You have succeeded in retrieving the book! And so quickly!"
"Yes, it was quite fortuitous," replied Max as she stepped back.
"And your bite?" asked Wayren, giving him the same assessing look Eustacia had.
"It is tender," he admitted.
The door opened again, and Kritanu ushered in the second guest—Victoria, of course. Max looked over and said, "Ah, there she is. And… alone? You did not bring your better half, Victoria?"
"Oh, no, Phillip sends his regrets. He is much too busy trying to decide which way to tie his neckcloth for the wedding," she replied sweetly.
Max had to bite his lip to keep back his surprised delight at her smart rejoinder. She was quick. He couldn't fault her there.
As he sat down in his favorite chair next to the highboy where Kritanu kept the brandy, he looked blandly at Eustacia, who had given him a less than pleased look at his sarcastic comment.
"Your better half?" asked Wayren, settling next to Max but speaking to Victoria.
"Max is speaking of my betrothed husband, the Marquess of Rockley. He—Max—appears to be under the impression that when I take my vows I will forget those I have already made to the Gardella Legacy."
Victoria, whose hair was dressed in a way that Max had never seen, pressed a kiss to her aunt's cheek, and then one to Kritanu's, before selecting a chair directly opposite Max. Instead of being piled high on her head, with every black curl stuck in place and intertwined with gems and ribbons, her hair fell in a simple, long plait down the back of her dress. She had to move the braid out of the way or she would have sat on it.
Max noticed that she was carrying a leather bag, and as she settled in her chair, she drew it onto her lap.
"That is the book?" he asked, desirous of getting their discussion onto more important things than the impending wedding.
"It is." Victoria drew it out and held it for a moment before offering it to Eustacia. "What shall we do with it now that we have it? Is there anything in it that could help us?"
Wayren watched the battered leather tome with the same avidity Max's old dog watched the table for a bone or other scrap to fall—or be pushed—to the floor. She sounded almost breathless when she spoke. "I will have to study it to know for certain… but I would venture to say that there is little in there that would promote living in the light. It is the book of Kali's evil child, and as such has only recipes for promoting evil. Still, knowing what value it has for Lilith may help us to understand her next move."
"Indeed," Eustacia agreed. "Merely having it in our possession is the greatest of advantages. And in fact, I have been thinking long and hard about where we should hide the book until we have decided what to do with it."
"Won't you keep it here, Aunt Eustacia?" asked Victoria, surprise lighting her face.
Max did little to disguise his snort of disgust. "Eustacia's home, or mine, would be the first place Lilith would look for it. Or yours." He was not disappointed; a jolt of enlightenment changed her face. Ah, perhaps she did understand the severity of the situation. That the game was not quite over yet… and, in fact, would not be over until Lilith was annihilated. "She knows who foiled her plan, and I can only imagine her fury with us." Actually, he could imagine it quite well. Better, in fact, than he wished.
"Wherever it is kept, you must place it out of direct sunlight, especially while transporting it," Wayren said, "or it will crumble into dust. It is an evil book, and therefore it thrives in the dark… and disintegrates in the light. And before you take it, I would like to reverse the protection on it as well, in order to give us additional security."
"Reverse the protection?" asked Victoria. "You can do that?"
"That is part of Wayren's charm," Max interjected. "No pun intended."
Wayren tinkled a laugh at his jest, and he was partially mollified when Victoria narrowed her eyes as if not sure what to believe. He felt a perverse pleasure in keeping himself one step ahead of her.
"I would like to destroy the book," Wayren added, "and then we need not fear Lilith finding it and retrieving it, but before we do that I want to do a bit more investigation in order to make sure there will be no adverse effects if we do. Or whether there is anything in the book that we might find advantageous. So if there is a place that it can be kept safely for a bit longer…"
"I have come to the conclusion," Eustacia interrupted pointedly, "that the best place is to hide it away in a church or holy place of some sort. She can't go there if it is protected enough, and she cannot send her minions."
"If you do not have a place in mind, I have a suggestion," Victoria spoke. "There is a small chapel on the grounds at St. Heath's Row—Rockley's estate," she added, looking pointedly at Max. "I could hide the book there, and make certain that there are enough holy relics and images to keep them away, even if they were to determine it was there. I will be becoming quite familiar with the entire chapel, including its decor, as that is where we are to be married."
The way her lips curved in a mocking smile made Max's blood pressure rise. He gave no indication, however; just picked up his black stake and slapped it against his palm. It was time to leave.
He stood. "Well, then, since we have settled that, I must be on my way. Lilith will have sent her people out to gather victims for her feeding, and I've a mind to put her on a restricted diet."
He expected Victoria to leap up and insist upon going with him, and he had a rigidly polite response ready to sally off to her… but she didn't. She just looked up at him with those clear hazel eyes in a delicate, creamy face that should not belong to a woman who'd killed eight vampires two nights earlier.
"Take care, Max," she said, surprising him again this evening.
"I will." And he left, glad to be out in the night doing what he was bora to do. At least he would have no distractions.
Victoria wanted to make another visit to the Silver Chalice, but that was easier conceived than actually realized.
Her retrieval of the Book of Antwartha had happened six days ago, and since then she had been balancing the requirements of being the future Marchioness of Rockley, duties to her mother, who was milking her new status for all she could, and meetings with Aunt Eustacia, Kritanu, the waiflike Wayren, and, of course, Max.
As promised, she had taken the book and hidden it under the altar at the chapel at St. Heath's Row, which was the extensive Rockley estate that sat on the very edge of
town. Wayren had been given leave to visit the chapel at any time so that she could study it in safety; Phillip had been told that she was a distant relative of Victoria's who was offering a novena in her name for the success of their marriage, and wished to spend time in the chapel.
Max was not so easily managed. He had tried several times to bring up the fact that she'd mentioned Sebastian's name during the events at Redfield Manor, but Victoria had been stubbornly closemouthed. She was furious with herself for such a blunder, but as long as she continued to sidestep Max's inquisition, she could keep the damage to a minimum. In fact, she found it a pleasure to see the annoyance on his face when she sweetly dodged his queries.
It was when Aunt Eustacia began to ask questions that Victoria had more difficulty.
"Max tells me you have met Sebastian Vioget," her aunt commented one afternoon when Victoria had managed to slip away from Grantworth House before Melly dragged her off to another tea. It wasn't that she didn't like sharing biscuits and gossip with her peers; it was that she'd done so much of it in the last week that Victoria felt ill at the thought of more lemon curd and clotted cream slathered on various baked goods. Not to mention the fact that her stays were feeling uncomfortably tight.
And how was she going to fit into a wedding gown if she kept eating five or six rounds of tea during daily visits?
"What makes Max think I've met him?" countered Victoria innocently.
Aunt Eustacia gave her an indulgent look that told her she would allow her to play the game of splitting hairs. "You recognized him at Rudolph Caulfield's home, so Max assumed you knew him."
"I did recognize him, but that doesn't mean that I have met him. What do you think he was doing there?"
Her aunt clasped lace-edged hands in her lap and looked directly at Victoria. "I thought perhaps you would have the answer to that." The indulgent look had vanished.
"I truly don't know why he was there. I was as surprised as Max must have been. Unless Max had expected him… ?"
Her aunt watched her for a moment as if to gauge the veracity of her statement, then seemed to make a decision—obviously in Victoria's favor, for she said, "Sebastian Vioget is very powerful and he could be a valuable ally to our cause. If we could trust him." Aunt Eustacia was looking at her with such scrutiny that Victoria felt her face grow warm. She felt as though her aunt was waiting for her to say something, but Victoria did not know what… and she knew that anything she said at that point would be inadvisable.
But Victoria, at least, had no reason not to trust Sebastian. The information he had given her had been correct—as far as she could ascertain.
It wasn't that she did trust him. It was that she didn't not trust him. That splitting-hairs problem.
"Why don't you trust him? He's not a vampire."
Eustacia swept at her a look that reminded her of the sharp swipe that Max had used to behead the Imperials. "No, he is not a vampire. But the mere fact that he was at Rudolph Caulfield's home, in the midst of this transferal of the Book of Antwartha, has given both Max and myself reason to wonder at his involvement. Victoria, what do you know about Sebastian Vioget? Have you had any interaction with him?"
Victoria opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Sebastian had warned her about divulging where she'd gotten her information… but how could she keep such information from Aunt Eustacia? Especially when asked so directly?
She struggled, knowing that her aunt was watching her, and knowing that the fact that she'd delayed answering her question had already given her aunt the information she sought. So she made the decision.
"I visited the Silver Chalice to try to find information about the Book of Antwartha, and I met him at that time. He made it clear to me that I was not to tell anyone we'd spoken, so I did not."
Aunt Eustacia nodded once. To Victoria's relief, she asked for no further details. Instead she commented, "If you should have occasion to meet him again, it would not be remiss if you were to attempt to establish some level of cooperation. It could be to our benefit."
With that, Victoria knew she needn't put off visiting the Silver Chalice any longer.
She would go tonight.
Chapter Fifteen
Miss Grantworth Acquires the Headache
It wasn't quite as easy getting to the Silver Chalice as Victoria had envisioned it.
She'd forgotten that her fiance was taking her to the theater that evening. And she'd rather been looking forward to seeing the latest rendition of Master Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew.
She told herself that the odd squirming feeling in her middle had nothing to do with the fact that she would see Sebastian again… it was because she hoped Phillip wouldn't question her when she claimed the headache immediately at the end of the play.
That way she could see the program, but then be required to return home immediately instead of arriving late at a posttheater ball or taking a stroll through Covent Gardens. The curtain rose at seven thirty and the theater normally let out by eleven.
If Barth were there with his hackney by midnight, that would give Victoria plenty of opportunity to pay a visit to the Silver Chalice and return home in time to get several hours of sleep before her wedding gown fitting.
Perfect.
And it actually worked according to plan. There weren't even any vampires at the Drury Lane Theatre, nor did even the slightest chill skitter across Victoria's neck during the trip there and back. In fact, there had been a dearth of vampires since the fights at Redfield Manor, and Victoria began to wonder if she and Max had fairly cleared out a good portion of Lilith's army. Perhaps the vampire queen had gone into hiding and was licking her wounds, or, better yet, perhaps she'd left the country.
"Are you certain there is nothing I can do for you?" asked Phillip as he led her up the walk to Grantworth House. He was clearly disappointed at having their evening cut short, but he'd handled it with grace and concern, as she'd known he would.
"Thank you, darling, but a bit of rest and Verbena's peppermint tea is all I need. I am sure to be fresh as a daisy tomorrow," she told him. "And I had best be so, for Madame LeClaire is attending me for a gown fitting."
Jimmons had opened the door for them, and Phillip followed Victoria over the threshold. "Now that, my lovely, is something I would pay dearly to see." His smile, warm and crooked, told her that he knew it was only a matter of time before he would have his desire fulfilled.
Glancing about as if to assure himself that Jimmons had retreated, Phillip took her shoulders, and under the gentle pressure of his fingers she stepped toward him. Her breasts brushed the buttons of his coat, the folds of her skirt jutted around and between his trousers, and one foot slid between his.
Another guiding movement from his fingers, and she came closer and had to draw in her breath because they were close, touching at hip, thigh, and foot. And then mouth. Warm, slick, tender, he kissed her.
If she'd truly been suffering from a headache, Victoria was sure it would have flown as easily from her head as all other thought actually did.
"I know you aren't feeling quite the thing," he murmured near her lips when they paused, foreheads heavy against each other, "but I can't resist." His nose slid against hers as he dipped to kiss her again.
When he finally set her away from him, just as carefully as he'd drawn her near, Victoria opened her eyes. She had to blink in order to focus, and was deliciously pleased to see that his normally half-lidded eyes were even droopier. He looked as though he wanted to slip back into her arms with the same ease and comfort of sliding into a feather bed. But warmer. More inviting.
"Good night, Phillip," she heard herself say as he stepped away, still holding her hand. Her palm, then fingers, then the very tips of them, slid through his grip as he released her. The door was behind him. Still looking at her with those half-closed eyes, meaningful and determined, he reached for the knob, turned it, and slipped out into the night.
"Well, if that wasn't a kiss of true love, I don't kn
ow what is."
Victoria spurt to see Verbena standing at the bottom of the staircase—lud, she hadn't even heard her approach!—with a decidedly wistful expression on her face. "Love's not necessary to a well-matched marriage," Victoria said firmly, "but it certainly doesn't hurt. Now, is Barth here?"
"He's been waiting just around the corner for the marquess to leave," Verbena replied. "Are you certain I cannot go with you tonight?"
"No, I thank you, Verbena, but I will go alone. Barth will deliver me safely and I'll be home before dawn. You'll need to be here in case my mother asks for me. She was concerned when I left the theater, as I told her I wasn't feeling well. Now, I had best be on my way if I hope to get any sleep tonight."
"Barth will wait while you change your gown."
"No, but I will take my dark red cloak. Its hood will help to hide my face." In the event that Max was also at the Silver Chalice.
When she alighted from Barth's hackney forty minutes later, Big Ben had just struck half past midnight. Under the heavy cloak, Victoria held the pistol she'd remembered to bring this time—there would be no Verbena to come to the rescue tonight. She also had three stakes in various locations on her person; her indispensable, which held a vial of salted holy water; and a large crucifix tucked into her relatively high bodice. That last had been at Verbena's insistence, for if she was not allowed to go, she would ensure that her mistress was well protected.
Well protected she would be from vampires. And armed with the pistol, she would be safe from other predators.
But for some reason, when she thought about Sebastian Vioget, she was not altogether certain how secure she would be.
The Silver Chalice had more empty tables than it had the last time Victoria had been there; but since there'd been only one at that time, and there were three this time, she did not think it was any indication of a dearth of business.
Under the cloak's hood and the low coil of her hair, Victoria's neck bristled with chill as though an arctic wind blasted it. At the bottom of the steep stairs she paused to glance around, looking for anyone she knew.
