The Vampire Voss (Regency Draculia 1)

Instead of launching himself at Voss, as he had half expected, Dimitri turned toward the French doors leading to the balcony. White shirt in shreds, flapping from his shoulders, the earl went outside. Before Voss could react, he was back, carrying a struggling figure draped in heavy cloth and followed by an angel carrying her own wings.

Voss would have choked on a derisive laugh at the extent to which Corvindale had gone to keep Maia Woodmore from showing herself and getting captured by Belial if he hadn’t noticed the man’s back. The destroyed shirt clearly exposed the rear of Corvindale’s left shoulder, and the sight of the rootlike pattern similar to that on Voss’s skin made his own tighten and ache. For, unlike Voss’s Mark, which occasionally throbbed and reminded him to whom he belonged, Corvindale’s threads rose in heavy, pulsing welts, shiny with what had to be agonizing pain.

6

IN WHICH THE EARL OF CORVINDALE RUNS THE BLOCKADE

Angelica did what Voss told her to do: she stayed hidden in the shadowy corner.

Later, she would ask herself why she’d done so. If she’d come forward when the red-haired leader called for her, could she have helped? Could she have saved the life of Felicity Chapman, the butterfly? Could she have prevented the death of Mr. Dudley Hoosman, the Roman emperor?

She’d almost done it. Almost left the confines of the vine-shrouded corner, nearly shouted her presence and brushed past Voss out into the open. Anything to stop the screams and the violence. Anything to put an end to the awful, evil tension.

But when she saw Mr. Hoosman, dragged out into the space by the glowing-eyed, ferocious men, everything slowed. The world stopped, centering into a pinhole of a vision: that of Mr. Hoosman, on the floor, his neck and chest shredded to ribbons, the brooch that had held his toga in place over the shoulder glistening with his blood, the red stain saturating the white cloth and the floor beneath it.

She’d seen that image before, once, after she’d picked up the man’s handkerchief he’d dropped.

And only moments later, her mouth open in a silent gasp, she saw the image in reality.

Angelica might have fainted if the wall hadn’t been behind her and if Voss hadn’t been standing so nearby. She tried to tell him, tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come…and he rounded on her, fierce and dark, grasping her arms so tightly. Don’t move. There is nothing you can do. Stay here until I come for you.

She listened. Angelica was no fool.

Whatever was happening out there on the dance floor, whatever Voss was doing or saying to the attackers, she didn’t know. But the man with the glowing red eyes, the one whom she’d stabbed with her shears, was there, standing next to the leader. Who also had burning eyes.

And then she understood. He was what they called a vampir. Creatures who drank blood. Legends, tall tales. The stuff of Granny Grapes’s ghost stories.

Or so she’d thought.

But now she knew…they were real. And they were all vampirs, all of those animalistic men, dragging people out into the middle of the room and feasting on them, tearing into them with claws and long, pointed teeth. Mauling their flesh and draining them of life. The smell of blood floated heavy in the air, and she remembered what Voss had said earlier, about smelling blood on her.

Was this what he meant?

It could have been her, out in the garden. It could have been her.

Chills and nausea took over Angelica in the same way they had when she had learned her parents were dead. The same empty, awful feeling she’d had the first time she realized what her visions meant. As if life would never be good again. As if she’d never smile again.

The fountain was there, a handy receptacle for the contents of her stomach. She managed to hold it back until the vampirs left the room.

They left. They left. A miracle?

Somehow, somehow Voss had managed to talk them into leaving. How? How did he know them? What had he said?

Frozen, weak, her throat burning from the vomit and her head weightless, Angelica sagged against the wall, trying to sort through the thoughts and memories, visions and fear that pummeled her.

If she’d seen Mr. Hoosman earlier tonight in his Roman emperor costume, and had recognized he was dressed the way he was when he died in her vision…could she have prevented it? How?

Her head was pounding, her belly felt raw and tight. She tried to pull what she remembered of the vision back into her mind, but it was no use. She couldn’t think about that any longer.

Because there was a much more important factor to consider. More terrifying than anything she’d seen, and try as she might to banish it, she couldn’t.

What had those men wanted from her and Maia?

And… Oh, God, where was Maia?

That thought had Angelica stumbling from her sanctuary at last, tearing through the vines and bumping into the fountain on her way. She had to find her sister.

Blood was slick on the floor, and she vaguely registered reddish-brown footprints on the scuffed wood. Someone had moved the bodies, and most of the party attendees had fled the room. Masks, canes, reticules and other accessories were scattered about, testament to the confusion of fear and terror.

Angelica didn’t even know where to look for Maia, but she didn’t get far before a hand reached out from nowhere and clamped on her arm.

She stifled a startled shriek and spun to see Voss. Relief battled with urgency and she tried to pull away. “I have to find Maia,” she said. “I have to—”

“She’s safe,” he told her. “She’s all right. Corvindale hid her.”

“She’s safe?” Angelica said. “I want to—”

“She’s safe,” he said again, turning her around firmly. “Come. We have to leave, now, before they come back.”

Angelica didn’t argue. She didn’t have the strength, and aside of that, she wanted nothing more than to leave this horrible place, the scene of a terrifying evening. She wanted to be home, safe, and to see for herself that Maia was safe. And being in Voss’s company on the way there was even better.

“This way,” he said when she would have started toward the main entrance. “The carriage is here.” His arm was strong and solid, sliding around her waist in gentle support as he hurried her away from the ballroom and out through the deserted kitchens to a servants’ entrance.

It wasn’t until they were outside and had walked beyond the drive leading to Sterlinghouse that she realized that the carriage to which he’d led her was not the one she’d arrived in with Maia and the others. Angelica stopped and looked at Voss. “What’s this?”