As Shadows Fade (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 5)

“In the front of the book are listed all of those called Illa Gardella,” Wayren continued. “And in the back are named all of the Venators. Your name is there, as well as Max’s. ”

And in between, Sebastian found, were faded pages of cramped medieval text of the New and Old Testaments, many of which were decorated with large illustrations, their colors long since washed out. These pages had been bound and rebound, and bound again into this much newer leather cover.

Beyond those crackling medieval texts, he found, were more pages of cramped writing in a different hand. Each one signed with a large, ornate R .

Here Sebastian paused. His hands hovered over the page, and he felt compelled to stop and read.

Feeling Wayren’s interested gaze on him, he looked up and saw understanding there. “Rosamunde’s writings. Of course. Would you like a copy of your own?” she asked.

Sebastian watched as Wayren reached into her ever-present rugged leather satchel and shuffled around inside. At last, she withdrew a sheaf of papers. Not nearly as aged as those he held on his lap, but crinkling and loosely bound with a leather thong stitched up one side.

“Perhaps you will find what you are looking for in here,” she said, offering them to him.

Sebastian carefully closed the Bible and reached for the papers. When he touched Wayren’s hand, a peaceful warmth slipped along his arm and settled inside him.

“Perhaps I shall. ”

Victoria slept alone the night before they left for Prague, and, of necessity, the nights following.

The journey left little time for sleep. Once they crossed the Channel, she, Max, and Sebastian sat a-saddle from sunrise until past sunset. Wayren did not ride, but she had her own methods of travel and would join Brim and Michalas in Rome and then the rest of them in Prague.

In fact, Victoria was relieved that Wayren would not be traveling with them. Knowing that she’d been a target of the demons once before left her uneasy, and she thought it would be best if Wayren were safely in the Consilium.

“But I will be there in Prague for Max’s Trial,” the blond woman told Victoria, after agreeing to go to Rome as quickly as possible. “I must be there to ensure that all goes well, and to make certain that he is well prepared. ”

Victoria had no reason nor desire to argue. She felt confident that Wayren would be safe now that she was on her guard against the demons, and until they could meet again in Prague. She wanted Max to be ready for the life-or-death task ahead of him as well, and she vacillated between begging him not to take the chance and understanding why he must. He felt it would help to protect her-as well as himself. She couldn’t argue with that logic or sentiment.

In fact, after her conversation with Max in the carriage back in London, Victoria had little time to speak with him privately. His bleakness and underlying anger left her cold and uncertain… and frightened.

It wasn’t a matter of him not caring for her, loving her.

It was a matter of him caring for, and loving, her too much. So much that he could be tempted away from his duty if her life was at risk.

At last she understood why he resisted being with her. Making her a part of his life. He was afraid she would affect his decisions, his honor, his duty.

And perhaps… perhaps she should be as thoughtful and hesitant.

But she could not. She’d found what she wanted, and if she had to live the life of Illa Gardella-a life of sacrifice and danger, duty and necessity-she wanted Max to be part of it.

The night before they left for Prague, after she left Sebastian in the small sitting room with Wayren, she’d had one last private moment with Max in the kalari room.

The broad, mat-carpeted chamber housed a variety of weaponry as well as piles of cushions and pillows. Kritanu used them for protection when he worked with Victoria, training her in the martial art of kalaripayattu and on the Chinese fighting method of qinggong , the half-flying, half-gliding ability that Max had mastered.

Victoria and Max had used the generous cushions for a wholly different purpose only a few weeks ago.

When she opened the door, Victoria found Max standing at the slender weapons cabinet that held Kritanu’s extensive collection of blades.

Despite the fact that she moved silently, he turned when she came into the room. He held an odd-looking sword that curved from blade through hilt, and with his bare feet, thick dark hair, and swarthy skin, he reminded her of a fearsome pirate. His expression supported the comparison.

“Three days of fasting?” she asked, imitating his habit of getting immediately to the point as she walked across the room to him. “And then what?”

“Three days of fasting and prayer, while you and Vioget obtain the Ring of Jubai,” he corrected her. “I know time is of the essence, but the process is not unlike that of the knights of old when they were ready to take their vows. Three days on my knees, and then locked in a room with an undead. Only one of us will survive that meeting. ”

Victoria felt the ground shift beneath her feet and the walls tip.

She’d heard about the Trial before, but never having had occasion to witness it, she hadn’t known the details other than that it was a life-or-death proposition. Max would never have spoken of it, and no one had attempted the Trial since she became a Venator. It was an exercise that Wayren, not Illa Gardella, managed-and now that Victoria understood who Wayren really was, it made even more sense.

“You have to fight a vampire after no food or sleep for three days? In a closed room?” Even she, with her two vis bullae , would be hard-pressed to succeed in that.