The Bleeding Dusk (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 3)

The third key worked to open the heavy lock on the chamber door, and Victoria called out softly as she entered. Light from the passageway behind her spilled into the room.

“Back at last,” Max said from his position against the wall, but his eyes were sharp. “It’s unfortunate you couldn’t manage it without getting yourself shot.”

“Shot? Victoria.” Sebastian was already moving toward her, his loose ropes in a bundle on the floor behind him. He didn’t pull her into an embrace, for which she was simultaneously grateful and annoyed, but he did brush his hand over the huge splotch of blood flowering like an oversize rose over her waist. She was going to have a devil of a time explaining that to her mother. That and the missing rosettes.

“You can play nursemaid later, Vioget. Perhaps there will even be a carriage handy.”

“I got the door open, so you can lead the way,” Victoria told Max, ignoring his comments, watching as he moved carefully toward the entrance. Obviously his pain was back. “Since you have the direction of a pigeon. And I don’t.”

Just before Max led the way into the passage, she saw him tip a small vial to his lips again and sip from it. “I thought you gave me—”

“Quiet.” And Max stepped cautiously out of the room. She noticed he held the stiletto in one hand and a stake in the other.

Curious. Perhaps he’d had two tiny bottles—one of holy water, which he’d given her, and this other one. She would find out later…and also find out about the bites on his neck.

She had a suspicion she knew from whom they’d come, and the thought made her stomach shudder.

To her relief, Max did not take the hallway where the vampires had led her, but turned in the opposite direction and set a surprisingly rapid pace down the hall. For all his injuries, he still moved with the grace of the hunter he was.

With an impatient gesture he motioned for Sebastian to close the door behind them, but didn’t wait while he locked it again.

Apparently Max did have the directional sense of a bird, for he led them unerringly down the passage and through a door that opened to a flight of ascending stairs. Just as she stepped onto the first one Victoria heard shouts of alarm behind them, and felt the sudden wave of increased chill over the back of her neck. The door closed after them, and she followed Max up the stairs, hearing Sebastian pounding along in her wake.

At the top Max turned left and hurried off down another passage. Victoria realized he was stumbling a bit at about the same time she felt her breath drawing in more sharply, and the increased dampness at her hip. The edges of her vision were shaky, and her knee nearly buckled once as they turned a quick corner, but if Max could move like that with two more serious bullet wounds, she, with dual vis bullae, would keep up with him.

At last they came around another corner and up a second flight of steps and into the hallway that looked familiar to her…the room just beyond the ballroom, where all the people had been gathered.

She stopped, and Sebastian nearly plowed into her. “We can’t go without the others.” She dug into her pocket, her fingers tangling in the leather thong necklace and receiving a shock from its smooth pendant before finding the wooden stake.

“Victoria, no,” he began, but Max had heard them and he spun around.

His normally swarthy face was tinged with gray. “They’re all dead. The vampires fed on them—didn’t you smell it? There’s no one here to save but us. For now.”

“Much as it pains me to say it, he’s right,” Sebastian said. “Most of the guests made it safely from the villa, but the ones who didn’t…they were dead long before we were even untied.”

Victoria wanted to argue. She wanted to snap at them and tell them they were wrong. The sudden wave of black fury was so surprising that her breath caught and she coughed on the malignant words she’d wanted to speak.

Max looked at her strangely; then he grabbed her arm and began to pull her after him. Not the least bit gently.

She remembered little of the next few moments, and then suddenly they were out of the villa, out into the crisp dawn air where the faint yellow in the sky brought texture and shape to the unkempt gardens.

Max whirled her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders as his eyes blazed down into hers as if trying to find something that was missing. As if he wanted to shake her. Victoria dragged in a breath of clean air, and the dull fog slid away taking with it that frightening anger. She blinked.

He released her abruptly, muttering something she couldn’t hear, and turned to Sebastian, who’d stood there watching. “Go back to Beauregard,” he told him shortly. And then something else, low and staccato.

“No,” Sebastian said quietly, and with unusual brevity. Then he turned away. He looked at Victoria, and she realized they’d all begun walking and were approaching the wall of the villa’s grounds. Beyond it was the street, and perhaps even Oliver, waiting with the carriage.

Or—Victoria’s thoughts flew away as she was caught up in Sebastian’s strong hands and pushed against the stone wall. He’d surprised her, and before she could shove him away, he was holding her shoulders there, pinned under his fingers as he leaned close. She drew in her breath, half wanting him to kiss her and half wanting to send him spinning away for his effrontery.

But before she could make her decision, he spoke. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but stay away from my grandfather.”

“He deserves to be staked,” she replied smartly, just before he bent to kiss her, catching her off guard again. When, moments later, he released her, Victoria opened her eyes to see both Zavier and Max standing there.

Sebastian was gone.

Max looked bored.

And Zavier looked as though she’d just turned into a demon herself.

Twelve

Lord Jellington Acquires a Rival

Victoria clawed her way out of the dream and came back to reality, panting as though she’d been running.

Her skin was slick and her fingers fisted so tightly she could barely pry them open. The images stayed with her, even as she tried to focus her gaze on the familiarity of her bedchamber. But all she could see were the vestiges of glowing red eyes, glittering black shards, an ebony face with twisted green horns and an evil smile. Max, Sebastian, Aunt Eustacia…even Phillip…all with drawn, elastic faces in horrific expressions, and claws, and streaming blood.She made herself sit up, shake off the terror of the nightmare, and tried to slow the rampant pounding of her heart. She reached for the bellpull to call for Verbena.