When Twilight Burns gvc-4 Read online

  “Thus, the most prudent thing,” Vioget said, his voice smooth, “would be to stay very close to Victoria and keep her under observation. And protected.”

  Max smothered a snort. Victoria, protected? She’d sooner cut off her hands and give up the vis bulla than allow someone else to protect her.

  “Apparently, that task is going to fall to me,” Vioget continued in his rich tone. “Never fear, Wayren… I will make certain to stick very close to her. Day and night.”

  Two:

  Wherein the Stench of Sewage Is Preferred to Lily of the Valley

  Victoria hadn’t missed London in the least.

  It held too many unpleasant memories. Beyond the sewage-lined streets and odiferous air, the swell of carriages and their nonstop clatter, there simmered the rest of it: Regents Park, where she’d ridden with Phillip, the Marquess of Rockley, and where he’d first kissed her. The grand residences, where she’d danced with him, fallen in love with him. The theater near Covent Garden, into which she’d sent him to fetch her supposedly lost shawl-so she could secretly stake a vampire.

  The Silver Chalice, a pub patronized by the undead and owned by Sebastian, into which Phillip had followed her. And where, after they’d married, he had been captured by vampires.

  St. Heath’s Row, the grand London Town estate of the Marquess and Marchioness of Rockley, where she and Phillip had lived in marital harmony for little more than four weeks before he made that fateful visit to the Silver Chalice.

  And where, in her bedchamber, she’d slain the vampire he’d become.

  No. Victoria had not missed London at all.

  Yet, she was back at St. Heath’s Row after more than six months spent in Rome, for it was time for her to remove all of her belongings from the residence. The Rockley heir had been found at last, in a place called Kentucky, and he would soon take over the properties, leaving Victoria to return permanently to Rome-or wherever else the Venators needed her.

  Thus, eighteen months after Phillip’s death, here she sat: surrounded by his essence, stifled by the memories- and awash in thick, cream-colored, engraved invitations that she cared not a blasted fig for.

  “But what do you expect, Victoria dear? You hadn’t even come fully out of mourning for Rockley when you left for Venice,” said her mother, Lady Melisande Grantworth. There was clear reproach in her voice even as the calculating gleam in her eyes boded no good for Victoria’s solitude. She’d been rifling through the invitations as if they were her own, and her daughter still an unwed miss ready to debut into Society. “The ton is holding its collective breath, waiting to see who will be the first to host the Marchioness of Rockley in a year and a half. After the romantic tragedy of your short-lived marriage and Rockley dying at sea-”

  “Stop it,” Victoria said sharply. She caught herself, pulled back on the deep-seated anger that always seemed to be with her now, and closed her eyes. “Mother, I am not here to reenter Society in any manner. Except for Gwendolyn’s wedding, I intend to make as few appearances as possible.”

  “But-”

  “Please,” she said between gritted teeth. Her head pounded and her fingers ached from being curled so tightly. “I’ve only just arrived yesterday.”

  “And look how quickly all of the invitations have begun to pour in.”

  Victoria opened her eyes to see Lady Melly looking at her. The gleam had ebbed from her gaze, yet she didn’t appear affronted by her daughter’s edgy voice.

  “I know that Winnie would dearly love to be the one to introduce you back into Society before Miss Starcasset’s wedding. Please do think about how happy it would make her if you were to attend her fete on Friday.”

  “I’ll consider it, Mama.”

  Barely a week later, Victoria found herself slogging through ankle-deep sewage deep beneath London. Stake in hand, she ducked to keep from scraping her head on a low dip of the tunnel ceiling. What had once been a small river tributary flowing south to the Thames had been enclosed by the City’s construction during the last six centuries. The sluggish water now oozed with sewage, and only God and the toshers knew what else.

  She considered herself quite hardened to repugnant images by now, but even she didn’t particularly relish the thought of what her boots were crushing as she stepped through the muck.

  Victoria knew that she could have been dancing at the Bridgertons’ soiree, in a less damp-but just as odiferous-environment if she’d listened to her mother instead of Sebastian. (Lady Bridgerton was known for her exceedingly strong lily of the valley eau de toilette.) She hadn’t yet concluded which was the better choice, although despite the obvious drawbacks, she was leaning toward vampire hunting in the sewers.

  At least here she could eliminate any creature that accostedher with the slam of a stake. It wouldn’t be quite that easy to dissuade the gossipmongers and fortune-hunting bachelors of the ton.

  “I don’t sense any undead,” she told Sebastian as she stepped on something horribly squishy. A rank odor squelched afresh into the air, and with her next step she felt something hard and cylindrical roll beneath her boot. A bone. Hopefully a canine one.

  “Do you not?” he asked, his voice smooth and echoing over the quiet splashing made by their stout leather boots. “Perhaps there are no vampires about, then. Only the harmless toshermen, which we may come upon if they venture this far.”

  “Or perhaps you lured me down here for another reason.”

  She could see the wickedness of his smile in the torch’s uneasy light. “Why should I ruin a perfectly good pair of breeches-not to mention boots-by coaxing you here, when I’d much prefer to have you… elsewhere.”

  His frank words caused a sudden swirl of pleasure in her belly, and Victoria gave an unladylike snort to diffuse the warm feeling-which had the added result of filling her nostrils with putrid stench. She wondered how the toshers could make a living, working down here day after day, collecting copper, bones, rags, and anything else of value to sell on the streets above. And how vampires could stand to live among the odor when the mere smell of garlic took them aback.

  “Of course,” Sebastian continued, “it’s not as if you’ll be clutching at me and crying for protection, even in a place as revolting as this. Much to my great regret.” He brandished a torch that cast sporadic shadows to break the darkness, but Victoria found that she could see surprisingly well even outside the glow.

  She was just about to make a wry rejoinder when she became aware of a new sound-that of rushing or falling water. Then she felt a faint prickle at the back of her neck. Her disgust with the dark, viscous environment slid away, replaced by the familiar rush of readiness and a cold smile.

  “Ah,” he said, cocking his head as if to hear better. “At last. Just when I thought we were well and truly lost.”

  “We’re not alone,” Victoria murmured, the prickle flushing into a full-blown chill.

  “Undead?” His voice dropped to match hers.

  She looked up at him. “Do you not sense them?”

  “I do now that you say it,” he said. “And it’s no surprise, as we’re near the place I was looking for.”

  A sudden splash behind them had Victoria spinning to meet the red-eyed vampire who’d come from nowhere. Presumably, he’d been expecting a slow-moving, malnourished tosherman, for the half demon had taken a moment to roll up the sleeves of his dull shirt, and that attention to grooming was his undoing.

  “You should have worn cuff links,” Victoria said conversationally the instant before she staked him into undead dust. She blew off the tip of her stake and turned back to Sebastian, who was watching her with an odd sort of smile.

  But before she could wonder what it meant, his expression smoothed and he lifted the torch higher. “Take care,” he said, gesturing ahead of them.

  When she stepped further in the sloshing damp, she saw why. The filthy water fell away, only a few paces ahead of them, cascading into nothingness. A wall loomed beyond the falls, a clear dead end. “What now
?”

  “There.” He gestured with the torch, and she saw a crude ledge slanting up from the sludge.

  Carved into the wall, it was easily wide enough for a man to ascend into… “Is that an entrance?” Victoria peered up at the dark wall rising in front of them.

  “You can see it from here?” Sebastian raised the torch, illuminating it more clearly.

  “What’s up there?” Victoria had already started to hike up the inclining ledge, keeping her stake at the ready. Water dripped from her boots at every step, splattering quietly on the rock beneath.

  “Something that I’m certain you’ll be fascinated to see,” he said from behind her, suddenly very close. “Perhaps you’ll even wish to reward me for showing you.” His breath was warm on the side of her neck, which was exposed by the long, single braid she wore tucked into her coat.

  “Unless it’s Lilith’s dust, I highly doubt that,” she replied. Her heart beat a bit off as he moved behind her. “But you can certainly continue to hope.”

  Since they’d left Rome, Sebastian had made it abundantly clear that he’d be delighted to return to her bed- not that he’d really ever been there, for they’d only been intimate twice, and neither occasion had been in anyone’s bedchamber.

  And she wasn’t quite ready to let him, for a variety of reasons-not least of which was that she still wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of trusting him.

  At the top of the ledge, which was perhaps six feet above the tumbling waterfall, Victoria reached the opening. The entrance, camouflaged by the shiny darkness of the damp walls, and difficult to breach due to its position over the falls, was also at an angle. No one would notice it in this unpleasant, inky environment unless they were looking for it, or unless it was a vampire who could see in the dark.

  Victoria wasn’t certain what she was expecting when she stepped through the crevice, but it wasn’t the narrow space she beheld. After her initial survey to ensure no one was waiting for them in the darkness-no chill at the back of her neck heralding the undead, nor the faint, putrid death-smell of a demon, nor even the presence of another human-she stepped in and looked around.

  With its stone walls and single flickering torch, the chamber reminded her immediately of the Consilium, the subterranean warren of chambers and corridors in Rome that served as the center of knowledge, history, and communication for the Venators. Created among the catacombs of the old city, where the first Venator had been called to serve in the fight against the undead, its location had been kept secret for centuries. This place, though much darker and colder, was similar in that it was obviously man-made, and not a natural cavern. And somehow, even the stench of the sewage below was filtered out. Or perhaps Victoria was simply becoming used to the smell.

  Sebastian stepped in behind her, and then brushed past as he started further into the darkness where Victoria could see an archway of stone and the outline of a door. “As you can see, this was built long ago, around the time my gran-Beauregard was turned undead. It was originally beneath a Carmelite abbey, if you can believe the irony-although monks never actually lived down here. That’s a story in itself.”

  “Which I’m certain your grandfather told you as he dandled you in your leading strings on his knee. What a terrible choice for bedtime storytelling.”

  “Bedtime story? Now that you mention it, I have a few I’d like to share with you.”

  Victoria heard his soft chuckle as she followed him across the small antechamber, her lips twitching in spite of herself. At a solid stone door, he paused. Although his body blocked her view, she heard the faint clunks of something tumbling into place. “You know the way to unlock the door to a vampire lair. It is a vampire lair, I presume. Why should that not surprise me.”

  “Well, dash it all. My plan to fascinate and mystify you into a more accommodating mood is obviously not working. And yes, it is a vampire lair. One of the oldest in England.” He turned to look at her, their faces close in the small yellow light. His eyes glowed like a hungry cat’s. “No vampires around?”

  “None that I can feel,” she replied.

  “Good.” Before she could wonder why he had to ask, he grasped her by the shoulders, pushing her back against the rough wall. He followed the momentum of her movement, lining his warm body against hers as he lowered his face.

  She met his mouth, her body pressed between Sebastian and the wall as their kiss eased into a long, loose tangle of lips and tongue. Heat seeped through her clothing, into breasts and belly and thighs as he pressed against her, just as the cold ooze from behind chilled her. She closed her eyes, let her knees give a little. It was good… good to be held, good to feel the spiral of desire curling through her, good to know that she was still alive. Still human and able to feel her own heartbeat lift and pound.

  But the kiss dug up memories, frightening and dark images that threatened to overwhelm the pleasure of the moment… of needle-sharp fangs piercing her skin, the chill and warmth of the undead’s lips as they mauled at her flesh, seducing and culling her consciousness… luring her into a funnel of malevolence and darkness…

  She nudged the unpleasant images away and delved more fiercely into the taste of Sebastian, reveling in his smoky, lemony smell and the heat-heat, uninterrupted by chill or pain.

  He pulled away, tugging her lower lip gently between his teeth in a little nick of surprise, then surging back to fully cover her mouth again, leaving her breathless. And then he eased back, releasing her from the kiss. She felt the curve of his lips as he smiled faintly against her, and the soft whisk of his clove-scented breath.

  “Ah, then,” he murmured, loosening his hold on her shoulders. “You haven’t forgotten.”

  “No, of course not.” Her voice was too husky, and, by God, her knees felt much too unsteady. She straightened them and stepped away from the supporting wall.

  “I’d begun to wonder.” He moved back, looked down at her. She hadn’t even noticed when he slid the torch into a holder near the door, and now its light embraced them and their uneven breaths. His smile was crooked and his eyes burned amber, leaving no mistake about what he wanted.

  “What’s behind the door?” she asked briskly, to break the mood. “What are you looking for? Although it wouldn’t surprise me to learn I was wrong, I’m fairly certain you didn’t bring me here merely for seduction purposes.”

  “Of course not, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity. You’ve kept me at such arm’s length these last two months, since… since you woke up.” His voice faltered in a rather un-Sebastian-like manner. She felt him draw in a breath and then he cautiously pushed the door inward. “And you’re right, of course-I am looking for something,” he said over his shoulder.

  “And you needed me to help you.” She followed him, shifting out of his way when he reached to close the door behind them.

  “Well, it might get a bit messy, and you know how I deplore drawing blood or exploding ash.”

  Her lips quirked in a smile as she looked around the room. There were no torches in here but she was able to discern more than shadows and shapes in the darkness before a tiny light flared to life in Sebastian’s hands.

  “Using the little light sticks Miro created, I see,” she commented. “Do you carry them in your boot heel as Max did?”

  “If I had,” he replied, lighting a sconce near the door, “they’d be wet and sloppy after slogging through that mess. I did have the foresight to keep them in a dry place, my dear Victoria. Much as it might surprise you that I think ahead-”

  “Oh, there’s no doubt that you think ahead, Sebastian- usually about where to disappear to when things get dangerous.” And that was why, even though she knew he was a Venator, Victoria couldn’t quite trust him. He’d been too unreliable in the past.

  As Victoria scanned the dark chamber, she saw the influence of the monks in the simplicity of what must have been some sort of main hall. The floor was uneven beneath her feet, and she could see some old furnishings- broken chairs, an upend
ed table-near one end, as though they’d been tossed there during a bout of cleaning. Other than that, the room was empty but for a few tattered tapestries hanging from the wall, and a dozen scattered stones. The walls were the same charcoal and black shade as the sewer tunnel, slate discolored by years of dirt and smoke. There were, of course, no windows, and only a small fireplace that must have some sort of chimney. There was only a single door, this one made of stout wood, beyond the one through which they’d come.

  She followed him as he made his way across the abandoned room toward the door. And just then, the ruffle of a chill slipped over the back of her neck. Victoria readied her stake. Perhaps the place wasn’t as abandoned as it appeared.

  Sebastian didn’t have to unlock this door and, when it cracked open, Victoria wasn’t surprised to see a warm glow of light bleeding through. The chill on her neck had intensified slightly, yet she didn’t think the undead- perhaps one or two of them-were in close proximity.

  “Are you going to tell me what you’re looking for before the vampires appear?” she asked.

  “Perhaps. It may take a few moments. I’m not sure exactly…” Sebastian said this as he prodded the door open further, and Victoria saw a much more inviting setting than the chamber behind them. Though it might not be as comfortable as a parlor in St. James, with its upright chairs, tables covered with a variety of objects, and several torches, this smaller space was obviously occupied. Or had been recently, if the bundles of clothing and blankets littering the room were any indication.

  Victoria followed Sebastian in, closing the door behind her to act as a warning for new arrivals-undead or mortal-as much as to keep the warmth and light contained within. Now that she had stepped inside, the first thing that struck her about the chamber was the smell permeating the air.

  Blood.

  Sharp, thick. Like iron.

  Something hitched at the back of her throat, and her stomach lurched as she remembered being inundated with it-the taste, the odor, the heaviness on her tongue, the thick slide down her throat. Victoria gagged; yet even as she did so, her nostrils flared as though to drag in the smell, and saliva pooled in her mouth.