Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 2)

She was out of breath, weak and unsteady, but under it all there was a wave of satisfaction. She’d killed the vampire prince without her vis bulla, using only her meager woman strength, her agile mind—and what Kritanu would have to consider the most unpredictable fighting move she’d ever executed.

Satisfaction, yes, it simmered through her.

But when she looked at Max it fizzled away into a mass of uncertain emotion: nausea, grief, and shock.

Surely he saw the anger that still burned in her eyes. Surely he knew she didn’t know how to look at him, how to feel toward him. How could she? He’d spent a year living with the Tutela, pretending to be one of them so skillfully that even she’d questioned his loyalty…yet in the end he’d destroyed the obelisk and saved them all.

Except Aunt Eustacia. Could she ever forgive him for that?

“What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?”

His words—not the humble ones she’d expected—startled her, but when she looked back at him, the rage in his dark eyes was enough to make her take a step away.

He was angry with her?

“I was saving your miserable life!” she shot back, her trembling hand tightening on the latch. “You destroyed the obelisk, and I wanted—”

“You wanted? Yes, it was all about you, wasn’t it?” he snarled. “You gave no thought to anything but what youwanted. Revenge—on me, on Nedas, on whoever got in your way. Never mind the fact that you’re helpless as a child now, that I risked my bloody neck to get you out of here, nearly lost the one chance I had to stop Nedas. If you don’t survive, everything we’ve accomplished tonight will be in jeopardy.”

He stood tall and threatening over her, dark hair falling over his face, bloodshot eyes flashing anger, and fingers planted on the wall next to her as though to keep himself from throttling her. “You are The Gardella now, Victoria. You have an obligation to the Consilium and the rest of the Venators. You can no longer think only of yourself, of your needs and desires, but of the far-reaching consequences of your actions. Or inactions.” He pulled away, straightening, as the sounds of shouts and dashing feet sounded again in the distance. “It’s time you learned to sacrifice.”

“As my aunt sacrificed?” Victoria spat, anger, grief, shock, all barreling through her, making her weak and disoriented. Her animosity grew, burning along her nerves. “You made that choice for her, Max. I made the choice to save your life when you would have died back there.”

“And by doing so, you forced me to live with what I’ve done. You’ve done me no favor, and done nothing for the Consilium.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you planned to destroy the obelisk?”

“Hmm. Could it have been because you either would have demanded to know how, and every single detail, and insisted on assisting, or you wouldn't have believed me? I told you in every way possible you needed to leave, and apparently even blatant rudeness didn’t work.”

“So you had Sebastian kidnap me. But why didn’t you tell me when you came to release me? You could have told me then.”

“Yes, and you would have left, wouldn’t you? You would have trotted out the door with the stake and pistol like a good chit and that would have been that.”

“I didn’t anyway, did I? You could have told me more when you came.”

“Victoria, they were waiting for anything—any hint or breath or anything from me that would give them reason not to trust me. I couldn’t take the chance they thought something else was going on other than…other than the fact that I didn’t want you killed. For whatever reason,” he added sharply. “I let them think it, for it was better than the alternative. I suspected they even gave me the opportunity to free you in hopes of hearing me tell you something to confirm their suspicions. I didn’t dare. I couldn’t risk it.”

The vampires were almost upon them. There was no time to linger any longer. It would either be sunrise or starlight, certain freedom or more running. Victoria whipped the latch open.

The door flew open into a dark night. The stars spread across the sky in a wide diamond scarf that, normally, Victoria would have found beautiful, but tonight found disappointing. She had been hoping for pinks and oranges.

Her body gave a sudden lurch as Max shoved her through, and she tumbled out onto the dirt-worn area outside the door. She heard the door close behind her, and she twisted around on the ground.

But no, he was there, standing at the door, looking past her. Still.

Victoria swiveled back around, there on her knees, sword grasped in her hand, panting. A pair of boots stepped out of the shadows and stopped in front of her.

She looked up and saw the shadow of an elegant chin, with silver-tipped hair curling in a moonlit halo around it.

“Sebastian.” The accusation in her voice was unmistakable. “Once again, your timing is impeccable.”

The boots stepped closer, and his shadow fell across her hand grasping the sword. “I see you are quite familiar with my grandson’s penchant for disappearing at the most inopportune—or, in his case, fortuitous—moments.”

Victoria stretched her neck to look all the way up at him, and noticed several other pairs of booted feet moving out of the shadows. Her neck was frigid again, but she still held a blessed weapon. She pulled to her feet, as slowly and smoothly as she could. Her trousers still clung to her knees where the cold, damp earth had pressed into them. “Beauregard, I presume. I’d begun to wonder if you were merely a figment of your grandson’s imagination.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Max was still standing there, the door to the theater closed behind him.

The elder vampire laughed, reminding her uncomfortably of Sebastian. “I’m rather surprised he would have even told you about me. Now. Since you’re here, am I to assume you were unsuccessful in your task this evening? Has Nedas activated Akvan’s Obelisk?”

Now that he’d moved, and the stars and moon illuminated him, she could see that it was obvious he wasn’t Sebastian. There was a resemblance—their hair the same unruly mass of curls, although Beauregard’s was lighter blond in comparison to his grandson’s honey-colored ones. He was older, too, but not elderly. Perhaps he had been in his late forties when he’d been turned by the female vampire who’d tricked him. His face bore the same trace of patrician elegance Sebastian wore, but his nose was wider and his lips not quite as inviting as his grandson’s. His eyes were completely different; even though they weren’t glowing red, it was obvious they were darker than Sebastian’s, and set deeply into his skull, giving him a closed-lidded look that reminded her of Phillip. Still, indeed, he was a attractive enough man for being a centuries-old vampire, and a grandfather to boot.