o be Called. "
"I. . . " Her eyes were huge and her lips slightly parted. "Yes. But that doesn't mean I'm a Venator. I was reading that book and it put me in mind of the vampires. " She glanced at Chas, who, for once, actually seemed interested in something other than his own bloody needs.
"You are a Venator," Sebastian told her again, holding her with his eyes-but without his thrall. "There is no doubt. You look so much like Victoria Gardella, there can be no denying it-even if I wasn't already certain. " She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued, "Do you know what happened to your parents?"
Those deep, dark eyes fastened on him. "You wouldn't ask if you weren't aware they're both dead. So you must know my mother died of a blood disease when I was a baby, and I-my father sent me away. " Her voice became clipped and flat. "Then died in the war. "
"I knew your father. He was the infamous Max Denton, my darling. Known throughout Europe as a fearless Venator of great skill, named after his great-grandfather. He certainly did perish in the Great War, but not on the battlefield, regardless of what you might have been led to believe. He was an assassinator of vampires and was quite instrumental in bringing about an end to the war. Unfortunately, that was his final mission. And as for your mother. . . " Sebastian reached over and closed his fingers over her slender hand. "A blood disease was a kind way of saying Felicia Denton died at the hands of a team of vampires, bent on avenging the work of your father. They kidnapped her and. . . well, I'll spare you the details. But suffice to say, your father was devastated. I've never seen a man so destroyed, yet still alive. He was never the same after, and he did indeed send you away-to protect you. "
She stared at him, her mouth half open, her eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. The pulse drummed in her slender neck, her skin a soft, dusky rose. Sebastian swallowed hard and forced his attention from the temptation of her throat and the delicate blue vein therein. Her expression hardened, and she pressed her lush lips into a hard line. "To protect me? If he was an-what did you call him?-'infamous vampire hunter,' why didn't he protect me himself?"
Sebastian hesitated, uncertain whether to explain and attempt to heal what was obviously a deep wound. "Max Denton was no fool. He knew you must be well hidden, and he dared not visit or have any contact with you for fear the undead would find you. It took me more than ten years searching throughout Europe and America to find you, and I was aware of your existence. "
Her hard, skeptical expression didn't ease, and Sebastian felt as if his chance was slipping away the slightest bit of encouragement. She was shaking her head. "I don't believe any of this. It's. . . I'd say you were completely looney if I hadn't seen a-" She glanced over at Chas and drew in a deep breath. Then exhaled. "Vampire. Last night. "
"Get used to it. You're going to see a lot more of them. " He handed her a glass, leaning his hip against the sofa behind her. "You'll become intimately acquainted with every aspect of the undead. The smell of musty, putrid ash will permeate your clothes and hair, and you'll have to determine how to keep a stake hidden on your person at all times. " Chas's eyes glinted as they skimmed over her slim-fitting skirt and blouse. "Unless, of course, you elect to refuse your Calling. "
By God. It took great effort for Sebastian to keep from taking the man by his neck and giving it a good, sharp twist. Damn him. Macey Gardella couldn't refuse her Calling. It wasn't an option. Not for him. Not for his soul, and not for Giulia's. And God damn Chas Woodmore for bringing it up.
Instead of hurting the man, Sebastian sipped calmly from the golden liquid. Yet, as warm and lush and smooth as it tasted, whiskey was a poor substitute for what he truly wanted. He closed his eyes and swallowed, touching the vis bulla through his fine linen shirt. The answering sizzle calmed him.
"My Calling. You mean. . . to be a Venator?" Macey looked up at Chas, who loomed over her like a dark shadow. "You can't be serious. I'm not a vampire hunter. "
"You slayed one last night, without any training-and without the protection of a vis bulla. " Sebastian kept his voice steady and easy, allowed his eyes to soften warmly. He was very skillful at coaxing a woman to do what he wished-even without his thrall.
"Vis bulla. That was mentioned in the book-the strength amulet the Venators wear. Was George Starcasset a Venator too?"
"Good God, no. Which is why, incidentally, there are many incorrect assumptions and missing facts in the book. I don't believe your great-great-grandmother is even mentioned. In fact, Starcasset barely escaped with his life when Max Pesaro found out he'd written the treatise and meant to reveal the secrets of the Venators and vampires. That's why there are so few copies of it. They were all destroyed-or so we believed. Until Chas acquired one-and I'm not precisely certain how that happened. He's never felt obligated to share that minor detail. "
Chas flickered a glance at him and lifted his glass in acknowledgement.
"Are you both Venators?"
"Of course. " Chas leaned closer, his hand shifting on the sofa behind her shoulder as his voice dropped low and suggestive. "Would you like to see my vis bulla, Macey?" great-great-granddaughter of Victoriapa blood
Sebastian was familiar with that technique: if she were wearing a low-cut gown, he'd have an excellent view down the front. As it was, her buttoned blouse was a shallow vee-neck that showed only a hint of healthy cleavage.
"I. . . "
"Perhaps another time, Woodmore," Sebastian cut in. "And Macey will soon receive her own vis. "
Chapter SIX
~ Revelations of a Family History ~
Macey's breath caught. Hunt vampires.
"I can't hunt vampires," she managed to say, shaking her head. "That's ridiculous. I'm a library assistant. I'm a. . . I'm a woman. And look at me-I'm not big or strong or tall, and I have no idea how to. . . do that. This is the silliest thing I've ever heard. "
Yet, even as she said the words, Macey felt a little tingle inside. Almost like a sizzle, a zing.
Confused, frightened and-yes-curious, she lifted her glass to drink and froze with it halfway to her mouth. Its scent was sharp and pungent. "This is-this is whiskey. "
The man named Chas laughed softly. He'd removed his fedora, finally, and now she could see his eyes. They were emotionless and gray, set in a surprisingly handsome countenance. She'd imagined him to be as craggy and sharp in appearance as he was in personality, but he looked like an exotic Gypsy, with jet-black hair and swarthy skin. "Indeed it is. And an excellent vintage if I do say so. One thing about Vioget-he always has the best. "
For some reason, she remembered Grady tossing back a gulp of the same cider-colored liquor last night at The Gyro. Guilt nudged her for leaving him at the diner. She hoped he wasn't too worried about her. She hoped he didn't have reason to be. "Whiskey's illegal. I can't-"
"I beg to differ, ma cherie," Sebastian Vioget said mildly. "The sale, production, and distribution of spirits is explicitly prohibited by Volstead. But not the actual imbibing of it. "