The Bleeding Dusk

Page 28

She opened her eyes fully and looked up into the gaunt face of the female. Her eyelids were dark, her chin narrow and pointed. Long blond hair fell in ugly hanks over her shoulders, and it swayed as she slammed her boot into Max’s side so hard he jolted closer to Victoria.
He didn’t move, nor make a sound; even his breathing remained silent.
Now the vampire moved toward Victoria, looking down, pointing the gun directly at her. “Akvan is waiting for you,” she hissed, sliding a tongue over her fangs.
Dressed in the convenience of men’s clothing, she wore a jacket and a shirt that had possibly once been white, or some color close to it. When she bent toward Victoria, a leather thong around her neck fell from the opening of her shirt, knocked out by the weight of the short, black object that hung from it. Victoria caught her breath—the slender pendant was shiny, sharp, and glinted blue-black. She recognized it—a splinter, like the shard from Akvan’s Obelisk that she herself had locked away in the Consilium.
With effort Victoria drew her eyes away from the glistening black fragment. The vampire was so close, breathing so heavily, she could smell the blood on her breath and knew she’d just fed.
Victoria drew in a deep breath and grieved for the mortals who’d obviously been her meal. The mortals who hadn’t had a Zavier or a Sebastian to help get them out of the villa.
“Tell your friends not to move,” said the female. “Or I’ll shoot you. Now get up slowly.”
As Victoria shifted to struggle to her feet, keeping the stake hidden, hands bound behind her—albeit loosely—she brushed against Max and felt his fingers fumble against hers. In that instant she slowed her movements, made them more awkward so that he could slip something slender and smooth into her hands.
The vial he’d been drinking from.
Victoria closed her fingers around the tiny bottle and pulled to her feet, and this time her awkwardness wasn’t feigned. Her right leg was still aching, but she was able to walk on it. When she started toward the door, the female vampire followed close behind.
A quick glance behind told Victoria that the gun was still trained on her. There was no chance for Max—or Sebastian, should he be willing to risk it—to jump to her assistance without getting her shot.
She wondered, as she stepped out of the chamber and heard the door close and its lock clang behind the three vampires, whether she would return.
And if she did, whether Max and Sebastian would even be there.
Flanked by the two silent vampires, Victoria walked down the hall, the presence of the female with the gun—and what could only be a piece of Akvan’s Obelisk around her neck—slightly behind her.
They were taking her to Akvan, but she wouldn’t go quietly. The female had foolishly allowed the pistol to sag away from Victoria’s person as soon as the door closed. She seemed distracted and was walking faster, almost as if she were in a hurry to return.
Victoria had other ideas. She walked as slowly as possible, exaggerating her limp so as to give herself time to flip the cork from the small vial Max had given her. She’d started fiddling with it as soon as she’d risen to her feet, back in the chamber.
She wasn’t sure what the liquid inside was, but at the very least it would give her an element of surprise. Max wouldn’t have pressed it into her hands unless it would be useful, and he certainly didn’t expect her to drink from it.
When the tiny cork popped free, Victoria carefully twisted her wrists, trying to keep from alerting the vampires to her acrobatics. But the female was muttering indistinctly—and with annoyance—to the vampire on the left, and the other appeared to be intent only on watching the placement of his feet as they strode down the gray-stoned passage. The female was obviously the leader, and her companions merely empty-headed guards of exceedingly large proportion.
Fortunately for Victoria, stakes were equally effective on all sizes and shapes of vampires, and unfortunately for them, she had a more than adequate one up her sleeve. Figuratively speaking.
Now she lifted one arm slightly, so that the ropes that had appeared to be tight around her wrists when they were crossed were now loose enough for her to free her hands.
They’d walked perhaps only a dozen paces and were still within sight of the chamber door they’d left when Victoria sprang into action.
She held the vial in one hand and the newly released stake that she’d slipped from its loop in the other. As the rope dropped away she flung the contents of the vial at the two vampires on her left. As they screamed she spun, stake in hand, to jam its slender point into the heart of the undead on her right. He poofed into dust before he realized what happened to him, and Victoria pivoted back just as quickly to face the other two.
Whatever was in the vial had splashed fully on the vampire closest to her, but some must have gotten on the female with the gun as well, for both of them shrieked in surprise and pain.
The one with the wet face clawed desperately at his skin and eyes, stumbling away, but Victoria caught him by his shirt and shoved him at the female just as she raised her pistol.
The crack of the shot snapped much too loudly in the hall. The vampire under her hands jerked as the bullet went through him, and then pain streaked along Victoria’s side. As she staggered back in surprise, she saw the female fall under the weight of her agonized companion.
Pushing herself away from the wall there in the narrow passage, Victoria gripped her stake tighter and yanked the screaming vampire away from the female, tossing him aside for the time being.
The pistol had done its job but was no longer a threat, even when the female flung it at Victoria’s head. She easily ducked and, despite the burning along her hip and the tangling weight of her skirts, she dove back toward the female.
Stringy hair plastered to both of their faces as they grappled on the floor. Victoria felt the wetness of her blood seeping through her gown, and the slam as the vampire landed a blow on her wound.
Smothering her cry of pain, Victoria grabbed the vampire by the shoulders and smashed her head back into the wall behind her, sending the female’s red eyes rolling frantically. Her attention caught again by the leather thong and the obsidian chip that hung there, Victoria reached for it, yanking on the leather, and the necklace snapped free.
The vampire gasped, coming back to awareness, but Victoria gave her no time to recuperate. She slammed the stake down into the filthy white shirt, feeling immense satisfaction as the wood pierced flesh and bone as easily as if she’d shoved it into an egg: the slightest of hesitation whilst it broke through the outermost shell, then eased in slickly and easily. Poof!
The female’s dust had barely begun to settle when Victoria turned toward the third vampire. She was just about to stake him when she noticed the clanking of keys at his waist. Reaching down she felt the throbbing pain at her hip more strongly and plucked the keys away before putting the stake through his heart.
It was an odd thing about staking a vampire: Not only did the creature’s flesh and person disintegrate, but also all of his personal belongings—clothing or anything else on his body. The only exception appeared to be items made of copper—which was how the Venators had been able to acquire one of the five special rings Lilith had made for her closest Guardians.
Wayren had described it as a sort of imploding that happened to the undead; but even she didn’t have a real explanation for it. Instead she suggested, in a rare moment of levity, that perhaps it was merely Providence’s way of making the Venators’ duty that much easier: no remains, bodies, or personal effects to dispose of or explain away.
Whatever the reason, Victoria was glad she’d seen the keys and snatched them up before staking the vampire. As she stood, breathing heavily and now feeling pain on both sides of her body—in her leg and her opposite hip—she saw the female’s necklace where she’d dropped it moments earlier. Picking it up, she felt a sharp tingle as she stuffed it into one of the pockets Verbena had sewn inside the skirt of her gown.
Again she could feel pure malevolence permeate the splinter from the obelisk, and was relieved that she’d found it after losing it in the battle. It would be much safer with her, and in the Consilium with the other, larger shard.
Now…she had a ring of keys that she presumed would open the chamber door if she could get back there before anyone came to see what was delaying the delivery of the Venator to the demon. Victoria paused a moment to listen but heard nothing. Apparently no alarm had been given, and no one had heard the brief, volatile battle here in the passageway.
The demon and his court must be farther away than she’d imagined.
The third key worked to open the heavy lock on the chamber door, and Victoria called out softly as she entered. Light from the passageway behind her spilled into the room.
“Back at last,” Max said from his position against the wall, but his eyes were sharp. “It’s unfortunate you couldn’t manage it without getting yourself shot.”
“Shot? Victoria.” Sebastian was already moving toward her, his loose ropes in a bundle on the floor behind him. He didn’t pull her into an embrace, for which she was simultaneously grateful and annoyed, but he did brush his hand over the huge splotch of blood flowering like an oversize rose over her waist. She was going to have a devil of a time explaining that to her mother. That and the missing rosettes.
“You can play nursemaid later, Vioget. Perhaps there will even be a carriage handy.”
“I got the door open, so you can lead the way,” Victoria told Max, ignoring his comments, watching as he moved carefully toward the entrance. Obviously his pain was back. “Since you have the direction of a pigeon. And I don’t.”
Just before Max led the way into the passage, she saw him tip a small vial to his lips again and sip from it. “I thought you gave me—”
“Quiet.” And Max stepped cautiously out of the room. She noticed he held the stiletto in one hand and a stake in the other.
Curious. Perhaps he’d had two tiny bottles—one of holy water, which he’d given her, and this other one. She would find out later…and also find out about the bites on his neck.