The Rest Falls Away (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 1)

The walkway was crowded, more with carriage grooms and hackney drivers than theatergoers. Victoria wasn't certain where the vampire was, but she followed her instinct and hurried around the corner. The street was darker here, and not so busy—but when she approached the third hackney in the row, she knew she'd come to the right place.

A deep, muffled groan came from inside, and seeing that the driver was missing, Victoria flung open the door.

The vampire was a woman and, from the looks of it, had just finished feeding—or, at least, had already started. She was dressed in a dark cloak, and her brown hair was arranged quite prettily in an intricate coiffure, complete with gemstones and ribbons. In fact, if it weren't for the bright red blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and the odd-colored eyes, she would have looked like an innocent society miss.

"How nice of you to join us," she greeted Victoria. Quick as a flash she lunged forward and grabbed at her. It took little effort for her to draw Victoria into the hackney—mainly because Victoria did not resist.

But once Victoria was sprawled, half in, half out of the carriage, she took matters into her own hands and scrambled to a seat on the opposite side.

That was when the vampire saw the stake.

She drew back in fear, and her red eyes widened. "Venator!"

"Pleased to meet you," Victoria told her as she slammed the stake into her chest.

Poof! She was gone, and Victoria was alone with the man she presumed was the driver of the hackney, based on the less than elegant clothing he wore.

She shifted his body to examine the bite and determine whether he was still alive and able to be saved. The bite was deep and still running with bright red blood. She felt the other side of his neck, trying to find a pulse… but her hand came away wet. The vampire had already been there too.

If they had come out of the theater a few moments earlier, she might have sensed the vampire sooner, in time to stop this.

But there was nothing she could do for the man. He was already dead.

When Victoria opened the hackney door, she froze, then quickly shut it. Phillip was standing on the street, calling for her.

Damn and blast!

She peered out the window, waiting for him to pass by so she could sneak out and hurry back to their carriage.

As soon as he went beyond the hackney, she did slip out and rush back… but just as she rounded the corner, she realized she was leaving Phillip alone—where another vampire could easily appear.

The back of her neck remained warm, but she still paused at the corner, peering around to watch for him.

To her relief he came back into view, striding along as if to hurry back and search in a different direction. She made her way to the carriage, where Tom, the groom, rushed up to her in relief.

"My lady! Where did you go?"

She did not answer, for at that moment Phillip came around the corner and caught sight of her.

"Victoria! Where did you go? And what is that on your gown? Is that blood?" He stared at her, appalled.

"Let us get in the carriage and I will tell you." It was nearly eleven, and if she was going to be ready for Max, they needed to get started.

Phillip helped her into the carriage, and Victoria took her seat, thinking quickly. "Did you find my indispensable?"

"No, there was nothing in the box. Victoria—"

"Oh, my dear, here it is! It was under the cushion all along!" she said, retrieving her little pouch. "I am so sorry for sending you on such a goose chase."

"Yes, just as you were last week when you thought you left your shawl at the inn where we dined."

"I can't imagine how I've become so fiddle-minded!" Victoria said, and because she recognized that he was only so patient and able to be distracted for so long, she said, "I did not mean to give you a fright, Phillip, but I saw an acquaintance of my mother's and hurried out to greet her. I walked with her and her husband to their carriage—just a few down from ours—and she bade me come in and greet her daughter, and as we climbed in, the door of the carriage slammed into her husband's nose, and it began to bleed quite dreadfully. He was so embarrassed that he bled on my skirt. I couldn't just rush off… so I stayed until I was certain he did not feel at fault. I am so sorry I did not tell Tom that I was leaving!"

"Well, I hope that you don't just hie off again without telling someone. First, it is not safe—there are many miscreants lurking about, waiting for an opportunity to rob an unsuspecting straggler… and second, you are a marchioness now and not only have a position to uphold, but you are very valuable and worth quite a bit of money to someone nefarious—and much more to me. I want you to be safe."

"Of course, Phillip. I won't do such a thing again." And she meant it. Next time she'd plan better.

They snuggled together, during the rest of the way home, as newlyweds were wont to do. Victoria plotting how she would slip the salvi to Phillip, and Phillip thinking about how he was going to slip something into Victoria.

It was a quarter past midnight when Victoria rapped lightly on Max's coach.

The door swung open and she climbed in without help. To her surprise Max, who lounged in the corner of one seat, didn't say anything about her tardiness.

Instead, he knocked on the ceiling for Briyani to go, and the carriage started off.

Victoria sat silently across from him, trying not to think about how she'd betrayed her husband.

She'd added the salvi, which Max had assured her was tasteless and odorless, to Phillip's glass of scotch, then brought it to him after they made love.

Curling up in the large feather bed next to him, Victoria pretended to fall asleep whilst waiting for the drug to take effect.

"Did you use the salvi?" Max's question snapped her back to the present… but not away from the guilt.

"Yes. I had no other choice to ensure his safety, did I?"

He looked at her. "You did have a choice, Victoria… and you know that I believe you made the wrong one."

Anger boiled inside her, topping off the simmering of guilt. "And you know that your opinion means little to me."

"A fact which wounds me deeply."

"Do you know what I think?"

Max inclined his head, and in the low light she could see one eyebrow lift. "I am certain you are about to tell me."

She continued. "I think you are jealous. Purely, simply jealous, and that is why you have nothing nice to say."

"Jealous?"

"Yes, jealous of what I have with Phillip. What you don't have and never will because you are so cold and cruel." The words tumbled out, almost as if she didn't know what she was saying—but she did know, and she knew she wanted to wound him, just as he'd wounded her by rubbing salt in her already tender heart. Her guilty, tender heart.