And that wry thought, of course, brought to mind the man himself and set her stomach to spinning and twisting as it had every night when she tried to sleep. Or anytime she allowed herself to think along that path-which was more often than she wanted.
Her fury with him for leaving her and putting himself in danger had settled into a deep, dark, clutching panic. She’d tried to hold on to the rage, knowing it would help keep the terror tempered if she had that strong emotion on which to focus, but that didn’t last.
She knew that if-when , God, please-she saw him again, she’d have no problem dredging up that anger and skinning him alive with it… but for now, all she wanted was for him to be safe.
But how could he be safe, in the hands of Lilith? Wouldn’t her first task be to turn him undead, now that she had him again?
Victoria shook her head mentally. Max would never allow that to happen. She knew that much, and knew that if he’d gone willingly to her in order to get the rings, he’d be thus prepared.
Didn’t he know she’d come after him? He must know that.
But he’d also know… want… expect her to take care of the portal first. It would be a travesty for his sacrifice to have been in vain, for her to waste his willingness to exchange himself for the rings in order to close the portal… and then not to ensure that it happened.
Oh, Max.
Tears burning her eyes, Victoria shifted in her seat near the smoke-frosted tavern window and in doing so, glanced outside onto the street.
A man caught her attention as he walked along the road, passing several other pedestrians. He was extremely well dressed, at the height of Parisian fashion in fact-an oddity certain to draw attention in a small town in the mountains, hundreds of miles from any city. Yet no one seemed to notice him in his curly-brimmed hat, with a knobby cane, and wearing straight, pressed pantaloons. In fact, he brushed past a woman and her child, nearly knocking into her, and she didn’t even seem to notice.
Victoria couldn’t take her eyes from him and watched as he crossed the street, approaching the tavern, then passed in front of the window through which she stared.
As he strolled by, he looked through the grimy glass. His eyes met Victoria’s for an instant, and she felt a cold, sharp spear thrust through her body, paralyzing her, freezing her breath.
Those eyes… blank and black, fathomless and yet burning… they trapped her for that moment, until he walked on past and released her gaze.
She was out of her chair the moment she could move. Her heart slamming in her chest, she slapped a hand on the table in front of Michalas and said, “Did you see him?”
“Who?” Both of her companions looked where she gestured, even going so far as to open the window and peer out-but the sinister man was gone.
She explained, finding it difficult to describe exactly how it had felt when he looked at her. Before she could finish, however, she lost patience and said, “I’ll be back.”
She rushed out the door, leaving them scrambling to dig out a few coins for the meal and drinks.
By the time she got onto the street, the man had long since disappeared. And even though she, Brim, and Michalas asked everyone they passed whether they’d seen a man of that description, no one appeared to recall seeing the man with the curly-brimmed hat and dapper clothing.
Frustrated, Victoria sent Michalas and Brim toward the tavern, directing them to search along that end of the street. She followed a bit more slowly, looking between and around the clustered buildings.
Just as she was about to give up, she glanced between a bakery and butcher shop. And there he was.
He sat on a bench in a small courtyard, as if he’d been waiting for her. Victoria didn’t hesitate.
As she approached, he removed his hat in a clearly ironic gesture, revealing pure white hair combed smooth to the shape of his skull. His skin was a darker hue, that of tea with a generous portion of milk, and his eyes… those eyes that weren’t red and didn’t burn, but nevertheless fastened on her with an odd, empty, inhuman light.
“Victoria Gardella,” he said in a smooth, dark voice that raised uncomfortable prickles over her skin.
“Who are you?” she asked, leaving the stake in her pocket. She knew whoever or whatever this creature was, a stake would be useless against him.
“Please. Won’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the space on the bench next to him, but she made no move to sit.
“Very well, then,” he said, and looked up at her with those awful eyes. That, along with the subtle scent of death in the air, decided her: He must be a demon. A very powerful one. “You may certainly stand if that’s your preference. I am Adolphus.”
She didn’t recognize the name, but was more convinced than ever that he was a demon. She could smell it, but very subtly. Which implied to her that he must be a particularly powerful one, if he could mask himself so well.
Victoria remained standing, but silent. Waiting. To demand to know what he wanted would give him the advantage. He’d tell her what he wanted when he chose. For now, she remained quiet, knowing the power of patience.
And, as if recognizing her tactic, the demon gave her a shrewd nod and spoke. Again, his voice sounded dark and yet smooth, lulling and coaxing. “We both have a similar objective, Victoria Gardella. I have information that you might find interesting… that you might find useful or valuable.”
Again she waited, and again, after a moment, he continued. “Lilith is leaving her mountain hideaway. If you wish to have your chance to stop her, the time is now.”
Victoria’s heart skipped offbeat for a moment. “Where is she going?”
He gave a negligent shrug. “Somewhere she can’t be found. It’s too dangerous for her now, and she must bury herself deeply in hiding. I do not know where she’s going, only that she is leaving. Tomorrow.”
Max. Of course she’d take him with her.
“Why should I believe what you tell me?” True, he was a demon, and demons were the immortal enemies of vampires. But they were also enemies of mortals, especially Venators.
“Because my hatred for Lilith is as deep as yours.”
Once more, she merely looked at him, waiting for more… even as she wondered and worried and felt her palms grow slick with panic. If Lilith disappeared with Max, she’d never find them again.
“You know what she’s doing to him,” he said, his voice burrowing into her mind. His lips barely moved, but she heard the words as if he spoke them into her ear. “You can imagine it, because you’ve felt it yourself. It’s all pleasure and pain rolled into one, isn’t it, Victoria Gardella?
“You’ve never admitted to anyone what happened when you were with Beauregard, drinking his blood. Letting him feed from you. You prefer to think that it was a dream, that it never happened… how you moaned and cried and drank and writhed. Yet you can imagine what’s happening to your lover now, with her hands on him, and the power of her eyes burning into him. You can imagine it, because you’ve felt the same, haven’t you?”
“No,” she whispered. But the memories assailed her, red and hot and liquid. For a moment, she smelled the sharp, rust scent and tasted the heavy iron of blood on her tongue, in her mouth… sliding thickly down her throat. She gagged, swallowing hard, and realized her breathing had grown deeper, rougher.
“Think about it… Imagine it. And it’s so much worse for him. His cries and groans, those long, sleek muscles scored by her nails, punctured by those animal fangs… Think about it, Victoria Gardella. You know the torture. You know what’s happening to him.” His voice was a lullaby, compelling and rhythmic, as he described in detail what Lilith was doing to Max.
The images played out in her mind as if she were watching them. Her awareness of the demon faded away, leaving only his deep, lulling descriptions, using words and phrases that pulled up sharp, frightening scenes so real she could hear the sounds and smell the scent.
“You can save him, and you can kill her in the process. Isn’t that what you want to do? What you need to do?” he continued in that lovely, sensual voice. “And I can help you.”
“How?”
He smiled, just a bit, showing perfect white teeth. “I know a secret about Lilith that will help you send her to Hell. Others have tried… but they didn’t know the secret.”
“What is it?” she forced herself to say, battling through the images of Max under the hands of Lilith, her blue-ringed red eyes glowing with depravity as she drove her fangs into him.
Victoria fought the image of his writhing, stretching, convulsing body under skeletal white hands that shouldn’t have the power to hold him, but somehow could. His eyes, filled with pain… and pleasure. She blinked hard, gave her head a little shake, and found herself looking deep into the eyes of the demon.
“You must use a stake of virgin ash,” he said, his eyes gleaming with life. “White virgin ash, freshly cut so that there is green just beneath the bark. Stab her anywhere with it, and she will be paralyzed, allowing you to ready for the final blow.”
“No,” she managed to say, her word sounding soggy. “No.”
“Yes indeed… Listen to me, Victoria Gardella. Do you think you are the first Venator to want to kill her? And to attempt it? How do you think she has lived all these millennia?” He stood, moving closer to her. “Few know the secret. You can go and kill her now. She’ll be leaving and riding under the moon tomorrow night… You can reach her as she leaves her mountain, surprise her. Ash trees grow abundantly on Fagaras… She will send her army west to fool her enemies, but she and a small contingent of her closest companions will secretly go north.”
Victoria felt as though she’d plunged underwater. The world slowed, became murky, and she struggled to think. She could. Save Max.
She could.
“You can go now, on this cloudy night, and be there tomorrow… and then return here, when the moon is ready. Quickly and easily,” he said. “Simple. And you can free him.”
