Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 2)

True to his word, four nights later Count Alvisi sent a cryptic note to Victoria.

“‘I shall call for you in one half hour,’” she read aloud. Sending the note wafting onto her dressing table, she looked up at Verbena. “It appears I will be attending a meeting of the Tutela very shortly.” She looked at the small clock on her dressing table. “At ten o’clock tonight.”

“I’ll have Oliver bring word ’round t’ your aunt whilst we get you ready,” the maid said, bustling toward the door. “The man’s been frayin’ each one o’ my nerves for the last day, lookin’ for somethin’ t’ do. After I ’splained they’re afraid o’ silver, ’e got himself so worked up he locked hisself in his room, says he’s gonna make a new weapon for fightin’ vampires with.” She snorted, shaking her head as she slipped out of Victoria’s chamber, then poked back in to add, “The man’s never seen a vampire, so I don’ know how he’s gonna invent a way to kill one. He’ll take one look at those red eyes and he’ll be runnin’ back to Cornwall wi’ wet britches, where ’e belongs.”

The door closed behind her, and Victoria picked up the note again. Over the last several days she’d considered the best way to approach the invitation extended by the count. At one point she’d thought of having him followed so she could learn where he went, and possibly discover the Tutela’s meeting place on her own. She would have preferred going in on her own terms, possibly sneaking in, rather than having to wait to be escorted.

If she were escorted, she would have to play the role of the widowed Mrs. Withers and to remain with Alvisi during the entire time. If she could go alone, she might simply be able to watch unobserved.

But in the end she’d decided to wait for his invitation and accompany the count. He would certainly be aware of the process, and if there were anything special one must do in order to gain entrance, he would know. Once she learned the location of the meeting, and how to get in, she could investigate on her own. After all, her goal was to find and assassinate Nedas.

Against her better judgment, she allowed Verbena to coif and dress her as though she were going to a social event. Her maid had protested when Victoria originally opted to dress in her loose split skirt and braid her hair in a simple braid.

“You should look as if you’re goin’ to a party,” she told her. “Ye can’t dress as if ye’re huntin’ vampires. And besides…the count prob’ly wants to show you off to the vampires! I’m sure ye’er prettier than any of the other women in the Tutela!”

“More dangerous too,” Victoria added, and succumbed to her maid’s ministrations. She was certain half the reason Verbena insisted on dressing and coiffing her so particularly even when the event didn’t call for it was because her sister was the lady’s maid for the daughter of a duchess…and they were always comparing notes about their mistresses’ gowns and jewels. She wondered idly whether the sister knew as much about vampires and Venators as Verbena did.

When Victoria came down the stairs a half hour after receiving the note from Alvisi, two stakes in her hair and another one affixed to the garter under her skirt, salted holy water in her reticule and in a small vessel attached to her other garter, along with a sheathed dagger, and a large crucifix tucked deep down betwixt her breasts where it would not be seen unless she wished it to, she interrupted a fierce, whispered conversation between Verbena and Oliver in the front parlor.

It was comic: The maid barely reached to his collarbones, but she appeared to be doing all the talking, with him nodding silently but energetically down at her. Her carrot-red hair, frizzy and bushy, bobbed with her every movement, his darker, more auburn hair following in a slower rhythm. Her hands slapped together in some sort of emphasis, back hand into her palm with a loud crack; then she shifted into a single pointing finger.

“Has the count arrived?” Victoria asked innocently.

“Not yet, my lady,” Verbena responded, stepping away from her counterpart with one last glare. Perhaps she’d been lecturing him on using a cross or crucifix instead of garlic for the best vampire repellent. “But Oliver here will, I’m certain, be pleased to look out for you.”

Just then, the Italian servant who acted as butler for the small house they were renting slipped into the room and announced, “The Count Alvisi, signora.”

It was apparent as soon as the count stepped into the small parlor that he had not brushed too close to a woman who had bathed in lavender the other night, but that he had been the one to douse himself. And as though he were trying to extend the scent in some sort of stylistic pattern, his silk shirtwaist was a lavender color…and the cravat tied neatly, if blandly, at his throat was lavender. And the gem that glittered in the center of it was…yes…a clear, pale amethyst.

“You look lovely this evening, Mrs. Withers,” the count told her, honest appreciation beaming in his dark eyes. “In fact, you look lovely enough to eat!” He winked and gave a loud guffaw as he stepped forward to take her hand.

Victoria remembered he

rself, and that she had to play the role of a bold, crass woman—instead of a fearsome Venator or a perfect Society woman—and managed a hearty enough laugh that her mother would have been mortified. She would remember that for the evening: If she did something that would cause her mother’s jaw to drop in askance or her lips to purse in annoyance, she would be acting just as she should—just as she imagined a woman who would be interested in meeting vampires because she found them fascinating and attractive would act.

“Shall we go?” asked Victoria.

“Indeed, signora. The carriage awaits.” He took her arm and they swept out of the room, shoulder-to-shoulder, elbow-to-elbow.

“I cannot believe I shall meet a real vampire tonight,” Victoria said once they were settled in the carriage. No sooner had the door closed than she wished fervently to crack a window in order to allow some of the lavender to escape.

Alvisi sat across from her, not as Sebastian would have, relaxing in the corner with an arm extended along the back of the seat, but on the edge of the bench, stiffly upright, hands clasped in his lap. He looked as though he might be ready to bolt at any moment. “Er…si, signora. We may not see an actual vampire tonight. I have seen one myself only one time.”

Victoria sagged back, stifling her disappointment and budding annoyance. Was this simply a ploy to get her in a carriage alone?

If it were Sebastian, she would believe it without a doubt. But this man did not send ripples of apprehension through her. He seemed harmless and easily managed—except for the powerful weapon of his cologne. “Where are we going if not to see a vampire?”

“We are to attend the meeting of a secret society, the Tutela, whose purpose is to protect and care for vampires. But I do not know if we shall be graced with the presence of the immortals.” That glitter she had seen in his eyes at Byron’s villa was back, accompanied by a slight sheen on his rounded forehead. “They do not attend every meeting at this level.”

“Level?” Victoria looked around; the carriage had stopped. “Have we arrived?”

“No, no. We must make our way on foot for a short distance. The streets are too narrow and curved for a carriage to pass. Come, signora, hurry, or we shall arrive too late and the doors will be barred. It is already after half past ten.”

They climbed out of the carriage and Victoria allowed Alvisi to guide her through the dim, narrow streets. The route curved like a snake, widening enough that a horse might pass through in some places, or even a small carriage, then back to little more than a passageway. Despite the darkness and narrowness of the streets, there were many other pedestrians making their way about—to or from the evening’s entertainments, perhaps.

At last, Victoria and Alvisi emerged from the labyrinthine streets at a bridge that rose gently over a narrow canal.

“Signora,” said Alvisi, gesturing for her to precede him into a waiting gondola .The vessel dipped and pitched when he tried to find a comfortable seat.