Until Victoria came along.
And, as far as he was concerned, it was Vioget’s fault that Max had had to carry a bloody, unconscious Victoria from Beauregard’s bedchamber. If Vioget hadn’t been balancing both sides of his loyalty—to the Venators and his grandfather—for years, Victoria would never have been caught between him and Beauregard.
The other man elected to ignore Max’s comment, focusing his attention on Wayren. “The two vis bullae seem to have saved her from being turned,” he said.
“A miraculous occurrence,” she replied. “Completely unexpected. But, since I’ve never known of a Venator to wear two, there was no way to predict such a recovery. And who’s to say another such event would have the same result. At least some of her recovery must be attributed to her own strength and determination. Who she is. ”
“Yes. But . . . how did she come to have two of them? I am fully aware of their rarity—that each vis is cast of precious silver from the Holy Land, and blessed only for its recipient,” Vioget continued. “Victoria’s was lost during the battle with Nedas last November, and I was able to retrieve Eustacia’s and send it to Victoria to replace hers. . . . But where did the second one come from?”
Max settled back in his chair and bared his teeth in a condescending smile. “It’s mine. ”
He was a bit annoyed it had taken him so long to figure it out, for, after all, it was imperially logical. He’d given his vis bulla to Victoria after the battle with Nedas, when he thought he was leaving the Venators for good. The irony was that, unbeknownst to Victoria, he had recovered the vis bulla that she’d lost when Nedas’s creatures had torn it from her navel.
And it was her amulet that hung, now useless to him, from his areola. Max’s moment of satisfaction evaporated.
“I see. ” Vioget’s jaw shifted, and he turned once again to Wayren. “Then may I assume you’ve already discussed the situation? Is it possible it’s merely a residual effect?”
Wayren looked at him with a slight frown. “Situation? I’m not certain what you mean, Sebastian. ”
“When Victoria awoke, she didn’t react to the holy water splashed on her face, as any vampire would. She seems completely normal. Except . . . ” Vioget looked at him. “Don’t you feel it? The vampire chill at the back of your neck, or however you sense the presence of the undead?”
Vioget didn’t know about him? Max shrugged off his surprise in order to focus on Sebastian’s disturbing question. “What are you saying?”
“I still feel cold at the back of my neck in Victoria’s presence. ” Venators could sense the presence of the undead by a chill that prickled the napes of their necks.
For the first time since he’d seen her sprawled on Beauregard’s bed, blood trickling from her lips, Max was unable to breathe. Yet he kept his reply cool. “No. I don’t feel anything. ”
Vioget looked relieved. “Well, that’s promising. Perhaps it’s only because Beauregard attempted to turn her, and I knew him so well, that I continue to sense his presence. After all, she did ingest his blood. It must be some residual effect. ” He looked as though he was ready to leave the room.
“You misunderstand me,” Max was compelled to say. He would have rather let Sebastian go, let everything go, and accept the simple explanation. But. “I cannot feel anything. Any longer. ”
Vioget turned, his hand on the door. “Did you ever, Pesaro? Feel anything?”
Max’s jaw tightened, but he plunged on. It had to be said. “I am no longer a Venator. ” But he was damned if he’d give Vioget the whole story, the reasons and the trials and the burdens. The fact that he’d had no choice but to give up his powers—not in order to be freed from Lilith; no, he would have continued to bear that burden as long as he had to. But because, in order to kill the demon Akvan, who’d threatened to take over the city of Roma, he’d had to become merely a man once again.
“When did this happen?”
“Yesterday. ”
Vioget’s gaze sharpened with calculation. “That was why you were leaving the Consilium, when I came to ask you for help with Victoria. ” Max inclined his head, and Vioget looked startled, and grudgingly impressed. “You came with us unprotected by the vis bulla. ”
“I did what had to be done,” Max replied. Unlike you. He left the words unspoken, but from the tightening of Vioget’s expression, he knew they were understood.
In clear dismissal, the blond man turned his attention to Wayren, who’d remained silent throughout their exchange. Her smooth brow was furrowed and her eyes worried as he asked, “What do you think? Can it merely be a residual effect of the near turning?”
She lifted her shoulders gracefully. “I do not know. As you’re aware, I cannot sense the presence of an undead as you can, nor could Ylito or Hannever, as they aren’t Venators themselves. There was no one else in the room with us, and . . . methinks it would accomplish no good at this time if the other Venators were to be told what happened. Perhaps”—she glanced at Max—“the effect will subside as she grows stronger. ”
“Thus, the most prudent thing,” Vioget said, his voice smooth, “would be to stay very close to Victoria and keep her under observation. And protected. ”
Max smothered a snort. Victoria, protected? She’d sooner cut off her hands and give up the vis bulla than allow someone else to protect her.
“Apparently, that task is going to fall to me,” Vioget continued in his rich tone. “Never fear, Wayren . . . I will make certain to stick very close to her. Day and night. ”
Two
Wherein the Stench of Sewage Is Preferred to Lily of the Valley
Victoria hadn’t missed London in the least.