She'd been wrong. They were not evenly matched.
Max had the disadvantage. The skin of her palms dampened. While his weapon would kill only if he got a clear slice through the chest, the sword wielded by the Imperial was lethal in any manner.
And if he drew blood, its smell would attract the other Imperials and Guardians from inside Redfield Manor… and any that lurked on the streets.
They moved as if choreographed, seeming to leap and almost glide through the air at times, blocking and thrusting, each with their staff of death, spinning, leaping, banking off a nearby tree one time; gliding up the side of the house and down another time. Almost as if they were puppets on strings, lifting into the air and careening back toward each other in lethal ballet movements.
She watched, amazed, as Max seemed to skim and glide on the air in the graceful movements of an art form she had not yet learned. She kept her eyes trained on them, praying she would know when to step from the shadows and come to his aid. Praying she would be quick enough.
And then the constant ice at the back of her neck changed, pulling her attention from the battle. She felt something behind her and turned just in time, her stake at waist height. With a quick thrust she jabbed it up and into the chest of the very ordinary vampire who'd had the foolishness to come up behind a tense Venator, a woman who he'd thought would be easy pickings.
That would be his last street hunt.
Victoria turned back around, realizing that her movement would have alerted the Imperial to her presence, just in time to see his long metal blade arc through the air and tumble to the ground. In a move that took her breath away, Max vaulted from the vampire and snatched up the blade. Straightening, he turned and, with one clean swipe, cleaved the Imperial's head from his neck.
The vampire poofed.
All was still.
Except for Victoria's ramming heart and dragging breaths.
Max turned as she came across the grass toward him.
"One down. Two to go," he said, meeting her halfway. To her great annoyance, he was barely out of breath. "We're better matched now. You take that side. I'll take this one. " He gestured to the boxwoods that flanked the stoop of the house.
"You were flying. "
He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "In a manner of speaking, yes. As much as you might think you know, you still have much to learn, Victoria. Now take your place. "
"Wait. " She grabbed his arm, her breathing steadier now. Something shiny dampened his sleeve, and she saw that it had been sliced open and blood spilled. "He got you. "
"Of course he did," Max snapped, pulling his arm back to his side and stepping into the protective shadow of another tree. "How else was I to distract him to twist the sword from his grip? One quick flip of my stake at that angle and he had to drop it. " Under his annoyance there was an air of satisfaction and smugness.
"Congratulations," Victoria replied just as briskly. "But if we don't bind it up and stanch the bleeding, it'll attract every other undead in the vicinity… not to mention the ones inside with Sebastian. "
She could have bitten her tongue, but that would have meant more blood scent on the air. And Max wasn't about to allow it to slip by.
"How do you know his name?" He rounded on her.
Victoria refused to be cowed. "Later, Max. First, let's take care of—"
But she never finished her sentence. The door beyond them opened and two Imperi
al vampires stood at the top of the stoop.
The vampires had to step out of the house, carrying the book, before it would be safe for Victoria and Max to take it from them.
They exchanged looks under shadow of the boxwoods, satisfying themselves that the other understood this.
Although the first Imperial paused at the door's threshold, he did not wait long; the one behind him appeared just at his shoulder and they both stepped out. Their hands were empty but for the swords they still carried.
They looked around as if searching for their missing colleague; since he'd popped into ash, they would see no sign of him. But perhaps they would smell the lingering dust in the air.
The Imperials strode down the steps, only feet away from Max and Victoria—they must smell them, Max's blood, too, for certain—looking around, the nostrils of one flaring as if testing the air for scent.
Just as one turned toward the bushy, shoulder-high boxwood that sheltered them, Max leaped from behind it, brandishing the sword, and beheaded the vampire in another clean stroke.
As the third and last Imperial whirled about, holding his own silver blade, another face peered around the doorway. Victoria saw him and crashed from behind the shrub, dashing up the steps before he could close the door.