The Rest Falls Away gvc-1
Page 29
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In Which Eustacia Makes a Confession
"We saw the black dome break," Kritanu explained when they had returned to Aunt Eustacia's home. "And recognized that something was happening in that portion of the mansion. And then the smoke came out." He shrugged. "We knew."
"You could not have appeared any more fortuitously," Max replied.
Victoria looked at the ugly red welts at his neck. The bleeding had stopped, and she'd had the pleasure of pouring salted holy water on his bite during their drive back into London. She had said very little since they left Lilith's hideout, leaving Max to explain what he could.
"Venators do holy work," Eustacia said from her chair. "The most miraculous things happen when we are fighting evil."
Miraculous? Victoria closed her eyes. She could not dismiss Phillip's face from her memory, the deep hunger… the pleading… the curve of his lips and the line of his nose. The beloved face, turned desperate and vacant.
You cannot save him.
Max's angry words reverberated in her mind. She could not save him; indeed, she had condemned him.
"The book was destroyed?" Eustacia's question brought Victoria back, and she looked up to see all eyes focused on her.
"I never intended to give it to her." She looked at Max.
He bowed his head in acknowledgment, but said nothing. He'd been uncharacteristically kind to her since they'd climbed down off the roof of the mansion and sat in the carriage, watching the house burn. Lilith's stronghold was destroyed, but there was no reason to believe that she was. Or Phillip.
There would be more battles in the future. Lilith would rise to power again, and they would face her.
And as Aunt Eustacia told her, the vampire queen would never forget Victoria's role in her downfall.
"Do you know what happened to Sebastian?" she asked suddenly, looking at Max.
"No. I presume he either perished in the fire or was killed by the Imperials. He would have preferred it, rather than face Lilith."
She did not miss the disdain in his voice, and she did not begrudge him that. She'd seen firsthand the power Lilith had, and had felt the inexorable allure of a vampire's complete hold. Perhaps death was better than being unable to control one's own actions and desires.
But not for her.
"Aunt Eustacia, may I speak with you?"
"I have been waiting for you to ask."
When they were alone, her aunt spoke before she did. "I have no words for how sorry I am about Phillip, Victoria." Her jet eyes held grief and remorse, and her soft, knobby hands reached for those of her niece. "If I had known—"
"But you didn't. You couldn't. And you—and Max—tried to stop me." Victoria gripped her aunt's fingers and blinked back the tears. "Is there nothing that could be done to save him?"
Eustacia shook her head. "If a vampire has fed on a mortal, he is damned for all eternity. Perhaps prayer or great sacrifice might save his soul, but there is no guarantee."
Victoria closed her eyes. "It was my selfishness that caused it. I should never have married him. I loved him, and I should have loved him enough to release him." She raised her face, wiping away the tears. "He told me that his destiny was to love me—whether we were together or not. Now he cannot do even that."
"It is hard, Victoria. I know. It is beyond anything you ever imagined. You have given your life for this cause, and never forget that it is the right and true thing. You help to rid the world of evil, to keep it at bay. If you and Max and I and the others were not here, giving up our lives, this earth would have been overrun by evil long ago. In return for our extraordinary powers and protections, we sacrifice." She hesitated, then said, "Lilith offered to release you, did she not?"
Victoria nodded, her wet face hot and sticky. "I wanted it, Aunt Eustacia. I wanted it. She would have given me Phillip… or she said she would have. Could she have?"
"Perhaps. I do not know." Eustacia drew in a long, long breath. Exhaled. "Victoria, I have not been fully honest with you. About the choices and vocations of a Venator.
"Some Venators are born, as you were. Some choose, as you know, through great danger and sacrifice, to take on the role. Once the decision is made to accept the responsibility, there is only one way a Venator can cease being—"
"No." Victoria stopped her, shaking her head, certain. "No. Do not say it."
Her aunt paused, looking at her. "I know it is too late for you and Phillip, but, if you wish it, I will. Your sacrifice has been great."
Victoria stood, walking over to the cabinet where the Gardella Bible was locked in safety like a host in a sacristy. "No. It is no longer an option for me, if it ever was. When I first accepted the Legacy, I did so innocently—but I did not understand.
"I thought it was fun—to be strong, to be able to walk the streets alone at night, and know that I could defend myself better than any man could. It gave me freedom that I had never imagined a woman could have!
"With the freedom, with the strength and power, comes pain and sacrifice. The impossibility of having a normal life. Responsibility.
"I can never go back, Aunt Eustacia, even if you gave me that chance. I cannot, because it's no longer a game for me. It's no longer merely a task—to hunt evil and send it to hell. Lilith has made it most personal."
Epilogue
A Farewell
He moved through the silent house like smoke—quick, dark, noiseless. His house. His home he could enter uninvited.
If one of the servants saw him, they would think nothing of it. Nothing but that the master had returned home at last.
But no one saw him as he moved silently up the stairs. Need pulsed through him, and as he thought of the taste of her, of being sated at last, he felt her heartbeat moving with his. Even from that distance.
He smelled her, and his hands trembled at the relief that would soon be his. The awful need would dissolve, and he could think again. Breathe on his own. Rest. Feel something beyond hunger.
He would take her with him, be with her… forever. Make her like him, immortal. She was his destiny… had been, always would be.
He stood in the doorway of her chamber. Not hesitating… savoring. Experiencing the pull, her draw… and the stronger bond that he controlled. He knew it was strong enough. Their love was deep enough. He could do it… Powerful as she was, he could turn her.
She lay on her side, covered by nothing but a filmy white gown that left her arms and bosom bare, and the blue filter of moonlight through the open window. Her dark hair curled over the pillow. Her eyes were closed, deep in shadows.
He stepped in, his heart—no, her heart—pounding in his chest, his temples, his belly, his cock. His breathing deepened, slowed, as he thought of the relief he would have, sinking into her. His eternal love.
Victoria was waiting. She'd known he would come, had been expecting him since she returned home, refusing Max or Eustacia to accompany her. She sent Verbena away, gave the servants the night off.
She wanted to be alone when he came.
As he brushed against the side of the bed, she felt her breathing change. It was no longer hers. They drew in together, exhaled together. She opened her eyes and looked at him.
He was Phillip… beloved Phillip. She reached for him, and he fell onto the bed.
He kissed her, touched her, pulled the gown from her shoulders, and she let him. She allowed herself the desire, the comfort.
She felt it when he changed: the edge to his breath, the harshness of his pulse storming through her. The slip of his control. His eyes glinted rosy, and when he raised his face, his fangs glinted dull white and lethal.
But his voice was Phillip's. Unchanged. Familiar. Loving. "Let me, Victoria, my wife," he murmured… as he had done before. "I will be very gentle… and soon you will feel only pleasure. We will be together forever. My destiny."
When his incisors scraped over her flesh, at the tender joint of neck and shoulder, readying to sink in, she stiffened… sighed. Closed h
er eyes. Tears leaked from them.
She groped in the sheets, closed her fingers around the smooth wood. "I will always love you, Phillip." And she stabbed him.
When she opened her wet eyes, she saw someone standing in the door of her chamber.
Max. His stake was outlined by the moonlight.
"I followed him."
"I knew he would come."
He bowed his head, then looked up at her. "You saved him. You stopped him in time."
"I hope." She drew in her breath. "You were right about it all, Max."
"For that, and for this, I am sorry."
"You were right about me—I am a foolish woman."
"No. You are a Venator."
About the Author
Colleen Gleason lives near Ann Arbor with her husband and children. She has an English degree and an MBA from the University of Michigan. Before writing full-time, she worked in the sales and marketing side of health care and insurance products. She has managed large sales forces, worked in start-up companies, and owned her own business.
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