Page 42
Seventeen
Wherein the Merits of Italian Desserts Are Discussed After an Eventful Evening
Pulling the stake out of her pocket, Victoria edged along the wall in the direction of the villa.
The chill on the back of her neck wasn’t alarming in its intensity; she guessed there were no more than three undead in the vicinity. Whether one of them was Regalado, with Lady Melly, she would soon find out. She prayed, firmly keeping her thoughts from worrying that one of them was…and terrified that it wouldn’t be. Stake gripped comfortably, she slipped between some sort of prickly bush and the old stone wall, peering around its corner. The light had grown very dim, so she could see little more than shapes of blue and black and gray. But then she noticed a faint red glow in the distance: vampire eyes.
They disappeared. Either the creature had turned away or was now hiding. In either case, Victoria was not about to let the undead get away. She moved quickly and as quietly as the sagging branches and soggy grass would allow, peering into the darkness and wishing, once again, that one of the Venator powers was night vision.
A woman screamed in the distance—or tried to, before it was quickly muffled—and that set Victoria off more rapidly and carelessly through the brush. It didn’t sound like Melly…but, then again, Victoria had heard her mother scream only once, when a mouse had the audacity to scamper across her dressing room table.
She moved toward the sounds of struggles ahead, refusing to let herself contemplate what she might—or might not—find.
One step at a time. One battle at a time.
She ran along the side of the sprawling villa, between it and the tall enclosing wall that ran around the entire estate, toward the front, along overgrown paths and beneath unpruned trees. More screams and shouts from beyond gave her a burst of speed, and when she came near the front of the building, Victoria nearly ran into a bench that had been hidden in the lengthening shadows.
Swerving just in time to avoid cracking her leg against it, she paused, breathing heavily, and saw the cluster of moving shadows ahead. They were anonymous; she couldn’t tell if one of the struggling figures was her mother. She could see six of them: three pairs of red eyes—pure red, none of them the pink of Guardians or the magenta of Imperials, fortunately—and the three pale, frightened faces of their victims, thrashing about as they were dragged toward the front entrance of the villa as if they’d just arrived.
Victoria burst from the darkness and rushed one of the red-eyed vampires. The undead looked up in surprise, then delight, then shock as she saw the stake in Victoria’s hand. The female undead released her victim and roared forward, blocking the stake’s downward stroke with her forearm and grasping Victoria’s wrist.
Cursing herself for getting stopped by such an unoriginal move, Victoria lobbed the stake to her free hand, jerked forcefully with her other, and yanked the vampire toward her as she reached around to stab the undead’s heart through the back.
The vampire poofed, blasting dust over Victoria’s arm, and she spun slickly in the mud to face the others. Her foot slipped, but she caught herself in time to duck a blow from a male undead and again swiveled around to come at her target from behind, slamming the stake into the center of his back.
Just as he disintegrated into dust, the third vampire released his victim, shoving the sobbing woman to the side so hard that she tumbled to the ground. He faced Victoria, and she saw that he had a large, broken branch in his hand. With a mighty swipe he flung it whistling through the air, and it slammed into her shoulder hard enough to send her staggering back.
But she wasn’t down, and Victoria caught herself against a wet, prickly bush just as Verbena and Lady Winnie burst onto the scene. What came next happened so rapidly that Victoria wasn’t certain exactly how the events unfolded…but the next thing she knew, her target was blocked by the wide skirts covering the behind of the Duchess of Farnham…there was a sudden shriek of pain from the vampire…a flurry of activity, a splash, and then…suddenly…the satisfying poof! of the undead imploding into dust and ash.
And then there was nothing but the quiet sobbing of the woman—who, horribly, wasn’t Lady Melly—and the gasping of breaths from the other would-be victims, a man and a second woman, who, from the looks of their clothing, were returning from an evening out.
Victoria stalked over to the scene of the last vampire’s death and found Lady Winnie clutching the hand-size cross to her pillowlike bosom. “I…he…” She wheezed, her little pig eyes goggling like shiny marbles.
“I tol’ ye, ye got to stab ’em in the heart, not the eye!” Verbena was lecturing the duchess, hands on her hips, chin raised high in the air. “Was a good thin’ ’e saw your cross an’ I had the chance t’ throw this on ’im!” She produced a small bottle Victoria knew had held holy water.
A convenient substance, of course, and one that Victoria tended to forget to take with her more often than not, unless her maid reminded her of it.
“Now you must go,” Victoria said firmly. “I have to find Lady Melly if she’s here, and you can finish your good deeds”—she looked reproachfully at Verbena—“and help these poor people get home safely. ”
“But you cannot stay here alone,” Lady Winnie argued. She had regained control of her breathing and, along with it, her stubbornness. “It’s much too dangerous! And although it really isn’t difficult at all to stake the monsters, I cannot in good conscience leave you here alone. ”
Victoria’s annoyance was growing by the moment, along with the rising frantic need to get away from the babbling women and search for her mother.
She wished for her aunt Eustacia’s special golden disk, which helped to remove unwanted memories from people who shouldn’t have them—such as would-be vampire hunters or near victims of the undead. Such an item would have come in handy now, although it would have taken time that she didn’t have.
No time. She had no time to waste.
“You must go,” Victoria insisted, much more harshly than she’d ever spoken to the ladies. “Take these people and go before you get hurt yourself. ”
“Victoria!” Winnie sounded perfectly righteous and angry. “How dare you speak—”
“I dare because I must!” A blaze of frustration, fear, and anger blew through her, and she rounded on the plump duchess, her entire mind focused on where her mother was and what Regalado was doing to her. The back of her neck was no longer cold—which meant nothing good, in her mind, for that meant there were no vampires in the vicinity—so Regalado was either not at the villa, or was so deeply inside it that she couldn’t sense his presence.
Victoria started to tell her again that they had to leave, when she suddenly realized Lady Nilly wasn’t there. Anywhere. She whirled away from the slack-jawed duchess, scanning the area and seeing nothing of the stick-figured Lady Petronilla.
“Lady Nilly!” she said, streaking back into the darkness. Her neck wasn’t cold, so she couldn’t be…
Lady Winnie and Verbena crashed along behind Victoria, sounding like an entire coach and four tearing through a forest. Victoria was thankful she didn’t have to go far, for several yards into the brush back toward the Door of Alchemy she found Lady Nilly walking toward her. The older woman was glowing, thin and pale, like a moon in the darkness, for by now the air was charcoal gray decorated with black shadows everywhere.
“Nilly!” shrieked Winnie, barreling past Victoria, stake in hand. “How dare you frighten us like that!”
But there was something wrong. Victoria’s hands went cold as she came closer to Nilly and saw the dark streaks on her neck.
“She’s been bitten,” Verbena exclaimed before Victoria had a chance to say anything.
Nilly’s eyes were wide and glassy, and a faint smile curved her mouth. Her hair, which was normally kept in a strictly smooth bun at the back of her crown, with two precise curls hanging from her temples, was loose and full and
falling about her shoulders and past them.
“Nilly!” Before Victoria could get to her, Lady Winnie took her friend by the arms and gave her a rough shake, and to the relief of everyone, Lady Nilly’s eyes fluttered.
Her lips parted, lifted at the corners, and she sighed. “Yes. ” She smiled. “I’m sorry, Winnie,” she added, reaching for her friend.
“Don’t,” Victoria said sharply. A mortal couldn’t be turned to a vampire that quickly…as far as she knew. The vampire had to drain most of the victim’s blood, and then offer their tainted blood for the victim to drink to replace the loss of her own. And then the victim would fall into unconsciousness and awaken as an undead. Clearly not enough time had elapsed for that to have occurred with Lady Nilly.
Nevertheless, Victoria was taking no chances. And before she could speak, Verbena had already pulled out another vial of holy water. If, when she poured it on Lady Nilly’s flesh, she screamed in agony, Victoria knew it was too late for her mother’s friend.
Her mother. Dear God.
Victoria snatched the holy water from Verbena and splashed it over the older woman’s wounded neck. She shrieked in surprise and indignance, but not in pain. Not in pain.
Thank Heaven.
“Take her home. Now. ” She looked at Verbena and then at Lady Winnie, and they both seemed to realize there would be no arguing. “Is Oliver here?”
“I told ’im t’wait in th’ carriage,” Verbena replied as they started walking back toward the house. “He wanted to come wi’us, but I told him someone had to wait there—’ specially if we ’ad to leave quick. ”
Fortunately Victoria’s neck still wasn’t cold when they approached the front of the deserted villa. The three others she’d rescued from the vampires were huddled against the gate, backed into a corner. One of the women gasped as Victoria and her companions came into view, but Victoria ignored her.
“The gate’s locked,” said Verbena, stopping there.
The Bleeding Dusk Page 42
