The Rest Falls Away gvc-1

by Колин Глисон

She threw the note on her dresser and called for Verbena to help her change. A visit to the Silver Chalice required some preparation.

  But when Victoria arrived at the Chalice, or what had been the Chalice, it became clear that no preparation could have readied her for the scene that faced her.

  It was three o'clock in the morning, and where the bar should have been overflowing with customers coming and going on the steps, it was silent. The acrid smell of burned wood, spilled blood, and fear assailed her as she hurried down the steps.

  The place was in shambles. Tables, cups, chairs, bottles… even bodies, the piano… everything was strewn all over the floor. Half of it was burned; the place stank of ash and oil.

  Victoria walked into the room, hoping to find something… anything to tell her what had happened.

  Max was supposed to be here, she remembered suddenly.

  Had he been caught in this? Was he dead?

  And Phillip? Sebastian had promised to keep him safe...

  Cold settled over her, a deep, penetrating, final iciness.

  Max. Phillip. Sebastian.

  They had all been there.

  Max opened his eyes.

  The room was hot and shadowed, the only illumination from flames licking one long wall. At first he thought he was in hell… but then he realized he wasn't so lucky.

  "Maximilian." He tried to block her voice… but he was too weary. His strength sapped away, he had little resistance. Especially to her.

  "Look at me, Maximilian," she crooned, her words bumping over him like a gentle hand.

  He closed his eyes.

  "Why do you turn away? You know you cannot deny yourself."

  He pulled himself up from his sprawled position on the floor. His hands were not restrained, but she would have no need to do that. He was powerless in many ways in her presence.

  "It has been so long since you have come to me, Maximilian."

  The way she said his name made him feel as though a thousand centipedes scuttled over his skin… yet… it lingered on the air, his name from her lips. A chain that bound them together.

  "I did not come to you, Lilith." It took all he had to make those words easy, smooth. To say her name to her face.

  Her laugh, low like barely a breath, curled around him. "You always did need a bit of persuasion. Come here, Maximilian. Come to me."

  He stood, then forced his limbs to do his bidding and not hers… and leaned against the wall, settling one of his hands over his left nipple, touching his vis bulla. Thank God even she could not touch that.

  A wave of strength flowed through him and he concentrated on it, pulled the force from the holy silver he wore.

  And he turned, then, against the wall to look at her.

  She lounged on a long white chaise. Her eyes—he could meet them for only a moment—were almond-shaped, beautifully lashed, deep-set… and blue ringed with red.

  "Ah, you are more yourself now, aren't you, Maximilian? I much prefer you in your alpha state than that mass of weakness my servants dumped here last night."

  "Last night?"

  She nodded once, regally.

  "Is Rockley dead?"

  "Rockley? Oh, no… no, my dear, I have other uses for him."

  Max closed his eyes. If the man had kept his mouth shut, and never told the vampire his name, he would be dead. And safe.

  The connection to Victoria wouldn't have been made.

  "Now, Max, my dear, it has been too long. You must come to me." The liquid summons in her voice pulled at him. His hands and feet began to tremble with the effort of keeping them motionless, under his control.

  Sweat gathered at his frozen nape, dripped down beneath his shirt. The scars on his neck burned and throbbed, responding to her call. >

  Still he resisted. He rolled along the wall, away from her.

  He felt her move; his eyes were closed in concentration, but he felt her come toward him. He steeled himself, felt the wall under his hands and cheek, and tried to grip it. It was too smooth.

  Tall as a man, she breathed on him from behind. Her presence cloaked him, smothering and stifling… and she was not yet touching him. One of her hands reached up—he felt the air move—and she touched his hair, smoothed it, stroked it, while she drew in her breath in a long, languorous caress… and exhaled.

  She tipped his head to the side gently. He let her.

  She stepped closer and now he felt her breasts and the curve of her mound pressing into his spine and his rear. He moved his hand between himself and the wall, touching the vis bulla, and breathed.

  His neck was open to her; she was tall, tall enough to press her lips, one cold, one hot, to the skin there. He shuddered when she touched him. Closed his eyes. Waited.

  She toyed with him. Laughed against his skin, breathed on its moisture, scraped him with one sharp incisor. Her heartbeat became one with his. She melted into him from behind. His shirt was wet everywhere; he could hear nothing but her pulse.

  When she ran her long, sharp nails from his shoulder to the base of his back, he felt his shirt give under them. It fell away under her hands, and when she pressed up behind him again, touching his bare back, he wanted to let go. Stop fighting.

  The smell of his blood from her scoring nails filled his nostrils… she closed her lips over the edge of his shoulder, where the cuts had begun, and where they were the deepest, and he felt her tongue slip through the wetness.

  She sighed, and her lips curved with pleasure against him. "Maximilian… you taste like no one else."

  He marshaled his strength. "I do not consider that a compliment."

  Laughing in delight, she sucked hard at his shoulder. "Taste." She pulled his head back at an impossible angle, and covered his mouth with her blooded lips.

  He tasted it, the heavy iron flavor, her cold, slick tongue. He took her kiss and wanted more. Damn it. He wanted more.

  Her hands slipped around under his arms, over his belly. They curled up over the center of his chest, raising the hair that grew there. He arched back, lifting his chest, tipping his head back at the command of her hands. They slipped apart, to the sides and over his nipples, and she jerked, startled, and removed them. Laughing.

  "That is another thing about you, Maximilian… you are the only one to give me pleasure and pain, rolled into one." And then she pulled away, stepped back; he felt the coolness of her absence on his bare skin.

  He breathed deeply, resting his forehead against the wall. When she brushed his vis bulla, her pain had given him a needed jolt of strength. It had been like that every time before… she craved that combination of pleasure and the unexpected zaps of pain when she came near the holy silver cross. She liked the power it gave him, too, the added strength that allowed him to fight her when he touched it.

  Because she knew she would always win.

  Max became aware that she was speaking to someone, and he turned, focusing, in time to see Lilith's gleaming white smile. "I'm afraid you will have to wait a bit longer, dear Maximilian. My guest has arrived, and they are showing her in."

  Max turned from the wall, the fog and rapture sliding away. Things had gone from worse to unimaginable. The guest could only be Victoria.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Marchioness Is Received

  Victoria shifted the heavy satchel over one shoulder, holding its heavy bulk against her hip as she followed the two Imperials into a large room. She had to blink to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark room after being in the morning sunshine.

  The Imperials, swathed in black from head to toe, had led her from the meeting place Lilith had specified into the cavernous room of a ruined estate ten miles outside of London. Kritanu and Briyani, who had accompanied her, had been ordered to remain with the carriage—an order, Victoria knew, they would ignore as soon as the vampires had taken her within.

  The windows were painted black and covered with boards to keep the dangerous sun from filtering in. Inside, the cool, damp air and low light made her sk
in feel clammy, but when they rounded the corner into what appeared to be a receiving room, there were blazing fires in large fireplaces at every corner.

  Sunlight burned the undead; fire did not. A vampire could walk through a blaze and be unscathed.

  At one end of the chamber was a low dais that made her think of a throne room, or a great hall in a medieval castle. In fact, this room, with tall windows boarded over and a ceiling that stretched into a large black-painted dome likely was the hall at one time. Vampires of all types were in the room, perhaps two dozen of them all told: regular undead, Guardians, and several Imperials. To the side of the dais was a large shallow dish that held a tall, roaring blaze, giving heat and illumination to the woman who sat on a massive chair in the center of the dais.

  Lilith, of course.

  Victoria looked at the vampire queen, meeting her blue-red eyes for only a brief moment, as Aunt Eustacia had warned, and then letting her attention skitter over the rest of her figure, which was slender, almost emaciated. Her skin was the blue-white hue Victoria had expected… but her hair, long and rippling down either side of her shoulders and over her breasts, was brilliant copper. It burned the eye, it was so bright.

  She must have been older than Victoria when she was turned undead; her immortal age was near thirty. She was not beautiful, but horribly elegant. The lids of her eyes were so thin and cold they were purple; her cheekbones jutted out, forming the same colored hollows below.

  Her lips curved in a welcome smile, the gray-blue of them plump and sensual. Her hands, gathered in her lap, boasted long, pointed nails. And she had five dark marks that, even from her distance, Victoria could see formed the span of a half-moon from the top of her cheekbone to the side of her chin.

  Lilith the Dark was not so much dark as she was burning and frigid at the same time—ethereal, with her fair skin and narrow wrists, sinewy neck, and long, elegantly crossed legs.

  "Victoria Gardella. How pleased I am that you have joined us."

  "Where is my husband?" Her voice came out strong and bold.

  "Where are your manners, Marchioness?"

  "I am here to make an exchange, not to have tea."

  "Well, then let us get on with it. You have interrupted my pleasure."

  Victoria followed Lilith's gesture and stopped breathing. Max. That was Max.

  He stood to one side of the dais, having been in the shadows until Lilith's gesture caused someone from behind to jab him forward. His shirt hung in shreds about his waist; his arms hung at his sides. Blood streaked his shoulders, and his bare torso was covered with dark hair, slashing scars, and sweat. Her attention focused on the glint of silver that pierced one flat nipple. As she gaped, he raised his face and looked at her. His eyes were flat and chill.

  Rattled and suddenly terrified, Victoria turned her attention away and back onto Lilith, who had been watching with interest. "Two Venators as guests at one time. I have never been so fortunate."

  "Now, where is my husband?"

  Then she heard him. "Victoria!"

  She spun and saw that he was being brought in the room, chained—as if poor Phillip could do any damage to the creatures in this room!—but alive. And walking on his own.

  Victoria turned back to Lilith. "He does not need to be chained. Let him loose and we will discuss our exchange."

  "Discuss? There is nothing to discuss. If you wish to have your husband back, you will provide me with the Book of Antwartha."

  Victoria smiled at her. Wayren had been at Aunt Eustacia's when the message came from Lilith. "I will provide you with the book when you have met my requirements. The protection has changed, and the book must be given to you freely, or it will do you no good. You cannot take it from me or it will crumple into ash."

  Lilith returned the smile, and Victoria did not like the expression in her eyes that accompanied it. "Ah, a formidable negotiator, and one who plans well. I would have expected nothing less from Eustacia's blood." She whipped her hand and the Guardian holding Phillip dropped the chains from his wrists. "Of course, that assumes that you really have changed the protection and aren't merely bluffing."

  "Is Sebastian Vioget here as well?"

  Lilith raised her copper-orange brows. "He is not. I sent for him, but he did not see fit to accept my invitation." Her eyes narrowed. "I suspected he was the reason you were able to come by the Book of Antwartha so easily."

  Victoria didn't think the events of that evening could be called easy, but she said nothing.

  "He told you how to get the book, did he not?"

  "Do you think I would be foolish enough to believe a man like Sebastian Vioget?"

  Lilith leaned back in her chair, laughing in delight. It was like smoke—delicate, penetrating, and stifling. "Ah, I have missed matching wits with a woman. Your aunt was a formidable opponent during her time as well. As for him"—she glanced at Max—"he is a man, and has certain weaknesses that are a pleasure to exploit."

  Her attention returned to Victoria contemplatively.

  Victoria's hair rose along her arms, and she knew she must keep control of the conversation. Now she would have to get both Max and Phillip to safety. "I have the book here, Lilith, but my terms are different from the ones you offered in your message."

  "Indeed. Why does that not surprise me." Lilith made a slight movement, and Max moved forward as if he had lost his will. She closed her fingers around his wrist, barely fitting them there, and manipulated him so that he knelt in front of her, on the far side of the fire. "Let me guess. You want to guarantee the Venator's safety as well."

  Victoria nodded.

  Then Lilith's eyes changed. Not color… no, they stayed sapphire blue, encircled with a thick red ring… but something else in their depths moved. Victoria could not look away. She was trapped, felt soft and foggy. The floor slogged beneath her. The air billowed, pushing in on her.

  "What is it that you really want, Victoria Gardella?" Lilith's voice came from far away, yet it was in her ear, for her alone. Her mouth didn't move. Her eyes did not blink. "Your husband?"

  Phillip moved next to her, a puppet responding to her cue, and Victoria touched his arm. He was cold, chilled; she wanted to pull him to her and keep him safe. They bumped against each other, and through the fog Lilith had wisped around her, Victoria felt a heavy weight in his pocket.

  Victoria raised her hand and pressed her eyelids closed, breaking the connection with Lilith. A tremor passed through her as Lilith struggled, then surrendered. Momentarily. Victoria must not look at her again… but it was impossible when those eyes seemed to be able to catch her gaze at will.

  "Why do you want the book so badly?" Victoria asked, slipping her hand into Phillip's pocket and closing her fingers around the pistol. Foolish of the vampires not to have relieved him of it, even if it was harmless to them.

  "There are many secrets within," Lilith told her conversationally. She stroked Max's dark hair, clutching a handful and pulling so that he rose to his knees. "I am particularly interested in the spell that will enable me to raise an army of demons on the night of any full moon. And then there is the decoction that I can drink and give to my servants so that a Venator cannot detect our presence. That would be most helpful, I am sure you realize."

  Without warning, she yanked Max's head aside and sank her teeth into his skin.

  Victoria watched in horror as she drank from the distended veins, her needle teeth sliding in like a knife through butter. Max closed his eyes; she could see him struggle to breathe, watched his chest rise and fall, the silver vis bulla trembling with his efforts. His hands closed in on each other; his throat convulsed.

  Next to her Phillip stirred, his breathing deepening, becoming ragged as his eyes fixed on the scene. Victoria tore away to look at him, saw the feral gleam in his gaze and the unconscious gaping of his jaw… and she knew. Horror sank into her even before she saw the gleam of his fangs… the glint of red in his eyes.

  "No!" she screamed.

  Lilith r
eleased Max and he sagged to the floor. She smiled, her white teeth gleaming. She'd fed elegantly; not a drop of red anywhere.

  Phillip had fallen to his knees, panting, next to Victoria.

  His eyes were wild, tinted red, for he was still newly undead, and need burned off him. Victoria could smell it, and it sickened her. Her stomach heaved; her head spun.

  She clutched the satchel and forced her fingers to still from their trembling.

  "You do not like my little surprise? I am sorry that I did not allow him to finish feeding before you arrived. I only allowed him to sample me in order to take the edge off his appetite. He will still enjoy you when I give him the word." She gestured at Phillip. "Rise! You will have what you need when the time is right."

  Phillip obeyed and stood next to Victoria, and she realized what Lilith intended when he smoothed a hand possessively down her arm. Her stomach pitched.

  "Now we will negotiate, my dear. Although I don't know that there is much room for that; as you can see, I hold all of the cards."

  "I still have the book." Although what good it did her, Victoria did not know. Phillip. What had she done to him? By marrying him, by giving in to her selfish needs… she'd brought him here.

  Grief numbed her. He was gone, and she could not get him back. He was damned. Evil. Immortal.

  "Yes, but the book is worth more to you if you give it to me than if you keep it."

  Victoria struggled to turn her attention from the shock and horror of her husband's condition and focused on Lilith. "What do you mean?"

  "With the book I can give you what you want, Victoria." Lilith's eyelids sank lower, and she pierced Victoria with her intent. Red glowed, beaming from her blue irises. "I can give you back your husband. Whole. Pure. Mortal, for he has not yet fed on a mortal being."

  "How?"

  Lilith rose for the first time, and stepped down one step. Her slender hands clasped in earnest at her middle, the long, fitted gown she wore trailed down the steps after her. "It is in the book."

  "Why should I believe you?" Victoria's mind worked frantically. She could save Phillip! It was worth it to save a life, to give Lilith the book.