“So, will you tell me what is so important about that page?” Victoria kept her tone easy, unconcerned, even as she divided her attention between the details of the room, any potential weapons, and the undead himself.
His eyes were pink when they looked at her, and she turned her gaze firmly away.
“I think you can guess, if you put your mind to it. ” His voice was soft and seductive, and she felt the tendrils of his thrall reach out gently and brush over her skin as if he’d actually touched her.
“It’s a plant. It must have something to do with your immortality…or your destroyed soul, if Sebastian was willing to help,” Victoria replied. She heard her voice as though it were in a tunnel, far away and hollow, and she blinked and took a step. Her fogged ears cleared, and she felt steadier.
She couldn’t forget the image of blood soaking Sebastian’s shirt. Blood she’d drawn.
“It’s a very useful flower,” Beauregard told her, “to the undead, in particular, and, if one believes the work of the alchemist pilgrim who came to Palombara, to mortals as well. But it grows rarely only once or twice per century. I needed the page to identify it, for this year is a year it’s expected to bloom. And with your aunt’s death, I knew the key to the workshop would be more readily available. ”
He smiled. “You must appreciate my brilliance. It was my intent all the while to divert your attention to Akvan as he and his worthless followers tried to find the keys. I made sure he knew about the journals and about the keys, and I even made certain the key Palombara had kept—which I, of course, had stolen from him that last night—was found by one of Akvan’s servants. I knew once the door was opened I could retrieve my armband—one way or the other. ”
Victoria kept her gaze far away from him and his pink eyes. She moved so that the desk remained between them and she was a good distance away. She wasn’t frightened; she’d been in worse situations before, much more overmatched. But if he called for help again, as he’d obviously done when he moved behind his desk earlier, she would find herself in the same situation as Sebastian.
Or worse.
“You wanted Sebastian to steal the key, didn’t you?”
He inclined his head. “He didn’t realize he’d actually had the key in his possession until much later, when you described it to him. ”
“But you allowed me to use it. ”
“He refused to steal it, if that is what you’re asking. But it didn’t matter to me—once you got the door open I could get what I needed. Except that you and that bloody Pesaro were too quick and he went off with it. ”
“And you actually thought that by mutilating and nearly killing one of my men that you would get what you wanted from me?”
“You’re here, are you not?”
She didn’t like his smile. Didn’t like the way she suddenly remembered his mouth covering hers, sucking the warm flow of blood from her lip.
“Of course you would come to avenge your friend. Your fellow warrior. What else would you do?” he said, his voice alluring and coaxing, as if he were trying to lull her. “You are a Venator. ”
What else would you do?
It was as if he’d read her mind and her private thoughts earlier. She was a Venator—only, wholly, and without reservation. Of course she would come to avenge the death—or near death—of one of her own.
What else would she do?
Nothing.
“I want my armband. ” He’d moved closer to her, and she tensed.
“I don’t have it with me. ”
He smiled. His fangs were long and sharp and brushed his lower lip. His silvery-blond hair curled becomingly about his handsome face, and his pink eyes gleamed. “Of course you do. I can sense it. ”
She dodged and spun away, scooping her lost stake off the floor. “Come and get it. ” She bared her teeth and crouched, waiting. She’d finish him now.
He looked at her, then turned back to the desk, his back toward her.
And that challenge, that careless dismissal, was her ultimate undoing.
Victoria, bold and angry, ready to end the standoff, launched herself at him, stake outthrust in her hand, poised to drive it into his chest. He turned, caught her wrist, and with a snapping movement used her momentum to jerk it behind her, slamming her body full-force into his.
He looked down at her with burning eyes, and she closed hers, turning her face away, tilting her head back, and then bashing her forehead into his chin before trying to spin away.
He was strong, and she barely pulled free of his grip, but he was after her in an instant, grabbing at the hem of her man’s coat and hauling her back. She pulled, twisting, and its three buttons burst off, scattering to the floor. For a moment she was trapped, the sleeves capturing her hands behind her as Beauregard pulled the coat off. But she shrugged quickly out, spinning away, leaving the length of coat in his hands, and managing to keep the stake in hers.