Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 2)

"Get back!" Sebastian shouted, turning toward them. "You don't understand what is happening here. Get back in your rooms and lock the doors! You will only endanger yourselves!"

"Lady Rockley, what is going on? You must come to safety! What is it?" Mr. Berkley, still looking rumpled, but a bit more clear-eyed, ignored Sebastian.

Loath to take the time, Victoria nevertheless turned and faced him and the others. She spoke calmly, strongly. She knew they had to see the honesty and earnestness in her face. "You cannot help. You must listen to me. Save yourselves and do as I say. Lock the doors to your rooms and do not come out until it is safe. There are vampires in this house, and pistols will do little to protect you." Victoria yanked the crucifix from over her head. "This will protect you," she said, tossing the heavy amulet to Gwendolyn, who hovered behind the men. "Now lock yourself away."

"Vampires?" Mr. Berkley backed up, his eyes wide. Another man holding a pistol like a shield took a step toward her as though to argue. Before he could speak, a door slammed open and a tall, glowing-eyed vampire strode out.

Screams echoed through the hall as Gwendolyn and some of the more fainthearted of the men turned and scrambled away.

The sight of the Imperial, with his magenta eyes and long silvery hair, was enough to deflate any argument from the bold man with the pistol. He goggled at the evil-eyed undead and backed away, pointing a shaking firearm at him.

Victoria and Sebastian did not move.

"Where is Polidori?" snarled the Imperial, surging toward them as his companions flowed into the narrow corridor behind him. Through the open doorway, Victoria caught a glimpse of an overturned bed, shattered bedposts, and a splintered dressing table. Shreds of bedding and other fabric scattered the floor, which glittered by lantern light with tiles of glass.

Victoria stepped forward, keeping her stake hidden in the folds of her night rail and careful to keep her eyes averted. "He's not here." She wanted to add, What a shame that you'll have to report to Lilith how you've lost your prey, but she was hoping to keep the fact that she was a Venator a secret for a bit longer. Just long enough to find an opening for the stake that itched in her hand.

"You lie," the Guardian said, pushing his way between the two Imperials. His breath hissed like a kettle of evil steam. "I can smell the dog. Tell me where he is or you die."

Sebastian shifted beside her, but Victoria took a step to the side and gestured behind her at the long hallway stretching back toward the stairs. Distractions. She had to create distractions. And she had to get him close enough so she could stab him. One chance was all she would get.

"What do you want Polidori for? Is there not enough fresh blood right here?" taunted Victoria.

The other two vampires crowded in the hall behind their leader. In some deep part of her mind—the part that was not focused on the large hand from the Guardian that was reaching toward her—Victoria was glad that the corridor was barely wide enough for three men to walk abreast. The Guardian, by virtue of his stocky body, effectively blocked his companions from moving forward to attack.

Now if she could just get them to move down the hall, away from the room where Polidori was, perhaps Sebastian could help him escape. Somehow. While she attempted the divide and conquer strategy that was her only option.

All other thoughts disintegrated as the Guardian's hand closed over the top of her shoulder and squeezed. Just where she wanted him… close enough to strike. Don't look at him, she reminded herself. It would be much too easy to be caught by his enthralling gaze.

Sharp nails dug into her tender shoulder, and she focused away from the discomfort as he bent closer and hissed in his low, menacing voice, "Right here is some fragrant fresh blood. Shall I feast on your lovely neck right now?"

She was tipped off balance by the thrust of his hand as it jolted her shoulder, or the stake might have found its mark when Victoria reared back and propelled it forward.

Instead, the pointed ash stick slammed into his arm as though she were driving it against a brick wall. The shock of the sudden impediment stunned her, numbed her arm, and she felt an ugly click in her wrist. And pain. Shooting, sharp pain in her awkwardly bent wrist. Victoria gasped and stumbled back, dark spots whirling in her vision before she shook them away.

"What have we here?" growled the Guardian, his burning eyes narrowing as he looked down at Victoria, whose head reached only to his shoulders. He still had a strong hold on her shoulder, but she twisted away when he would have drawn her near.

Don't look at him.

"A bold little girl. Perhaps she will be my reward for a job well-done."

Victoria had blinked away the black spots in her vision, but now as she tried to focus again, she was caught in the vampire's gaze as though he'd yanked her back from a dead run.

The effect of the thrall was instant. She felt as though she were falling into a soft pool of pink velvet folds. Her breath shifted, slowed; her limbs felt like feather pillows. The pulse in her neck surged. She could feel the blood vibrate, yearning for the smooth, sharp bite that would release it.

It was warm in her veins, warm, hot, tingling. It leaped and lapped as though the vampire called the liquid of her life to him, ebbed and surged with each breath. Her body became aware… alive, yet dull… tantalized, yet sleepy… as though she were turning to Phillip's body in the night, half-awake, half-aroused.

Faintly, trying to claw to the surface, to break the spell, her consciousness fought. She had to stop the tug. But the pull… it enwrapped her, like the flow of water suddenly undammed and rushing to drown her. She struggled… if she could blink, make her dry, open eyes close, even for a moment… Dimly she felt and heard movement, shouts… but she could not respond. Couldn't identify them.

Her arms clunked against each other as though someone was moving them, the stake fell from loose fingers; something hard bumped into her sore wrist… something curving and hard that was out of place… Her head tipped to one side, the heat of her shoulder warming one side of her neck, the other damp and cool and vulnerable.

Her hands fluttered as though to fight him away, but he was too close… too strong. Burning pink and ruby filled her world. Hot breath came close, fangs, alluring and promising relief, glistened yellow-gray in the dim light.

Victoria felt the hard, slender thing under her sleeve again as her arms were pushed up against her body, helpless, and she suddenly had a burst of clarity. It was the vial of holy water.