The Bleeding Dusk (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 3)

Michalas brought up the rear. He was as silent as fog, and thin and tall and quick. Wayren had chosen well for the team, but it was all up to Max. He led the way through the brush and between the unpruned trees, hurrying with nary a glance past the wall against which he’d kissed Victoria.

They reached the Door of Alchemy without incident, and with much dryer clothing and boots than last night. Max had the door open quickly and easily. When he was here with Victoria he’d found the traces of an opening that led to the cell in which they’d been imprisoned. Although he hadn’t opened it, he decided it was the best way to gain unnoticed access to the place where Akvan lived.

Akvan. Thanks to Wayren’s studies, and assistance from Ylito and Miro, Max felt as prepared as he could be.

“The trick with Akvan,” Wayren had told him, “is to remember his great weakness: He will always do the exact opposite of what he thinks you want him to do. Use this against him, and you will outsmart him.”

Ylito had added, “But you must make certain that there are no remnants of the obelisk left. They must be destroyed in order for Akvan to be destroyed. Remember the prophecy.”

The prophecy. “…’tis only a mortal man shall send him permanently to the bowels of Hell, using his own strength against him.”

A mortal man.

Closing the Door of Alchemy behind them, Max and his companions worked quickly to locate the mechanism that opened the door to the cell. Either the marchese hadn’t known about it—which was absurd, since it was his laboratory—or he hadn’t had the opportunity to use it that night he’d disappeared.

Briyani had excellent hearing and nimble fingers, and he was the one who located the lever behind one of the stones. Max was at his side in an instant, and they peered through the narrow opening and saw only darkness.

Michalas brought one of the sconces over, which illuminated the cell in which he, Victoria, and Sebastian had been imprisoned. And when he looked at the floor, he saw the same telltale splotches of melted gold spattered on the stones beneath his feet.

This had been the simplest part; now he had to move forward.

But before he did, Max slipped quickly back into the laboratory and retrieved the long shard from Akvan’s Obelisk that Victoria had found. His hands were gloved for protection from its power, and he slid it into a hidden pocket Miro had sewn inside the leg of his trousers. When he lifted it, he saw the leather thong with a small splinter of the obelisk he’d seen fall from Victoria’s coat yesterday. He’d placed it in there for safekeeping as well, but now he snatched it up and stuffed it in his pocket.

Max had had two reasons for accompanying Victoria when she came yesterday afternoon to open the Door of Alchemy. First, to confirm that there was a way into the villa, and second, to ensure that she left the shard there, for it was crucial to his plan for destroying Akvan.

“Come,” he said, and led the way into the cell.

After testing to make certain they could reopen the door back into the laboratory—the process of which wasn’t at all instinctive—they closed it behind them and made their way across the small cell.

Max had explained the first part of his plan to Briyani and Michalas, and so when they stepped out of the unlocked chamber into the corridor they paused for a moment. Max looked at Michalas, who shook his head that he didn’t sense the nearby presence of any undead.

But as he took a few steps, Michalas tilted his head, closed his eyes, and pointed. Silent, they moved along the passageway in the direction he’d indicated, Max taking the lead. As they approached a corner, he felt Michalas touch his sleeve. When he looked back, the Venator gave him a nod.

Max continued around the corner, filled with sudden anger. His neck felt the same—no prickling or tingling to announce the presence of the undead that Michalas could sense as easily as taking a breath. It was true: His abilities were gone.

Lilith had succeeded in taking everything from him.

The vampire was there, probably meant to be guarding the hallway in which she stood, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. But when Max came into view she straightened, her eyes gleaming red with interest.

He remained relaxed. He’d been bitten both before and after becoming a Venator…and he’d slain undead both before and after as well. Still, it nagged at him that he’d had to bring Briyani and Michalas as support. Doing so was smart and logical—and by God if he hadn’t told Victoria more than once that their duty was to do what was right, not what they wanted.

So, when he faced the vampire, he let her come toward him, let her grab at his shoulders, let her eyes attempt to enthrall him. She wasn’t very powerful, which was not surprising, since Regalado’s followers were young and inexperienced. Her breath was clean—she’d not fed recently—which made it easier for him to entice her to bite his neck by tipping his head and baring it suggestively, pretending to be completely under her power.

Perhaps the vampire guards were supposed to bring any potential victims to Akvan or Regalado, but since she hadn’t fed, and since he’d offered his flesh to her so openly, the female undead didn’t hesitate.

Her fangs ripped into his neck with none of the easy, seductive slide of Lilith’s, and Max jerked a little in surprise. Or perhaps it was because he was weaker now. Weak and lost. He was weak, and the world was dimming.

He fumbled for his stake, feeling the familiar weight in his hand, and pulled it out from under his coat as the blood pulsed from him. She sucked roughly, greedily, and if he didn’t act soon he’d lose consciousness or, worse, need to be saved by the others.

It wasn’t the most powerful thrust, nor the smoothest, but Max felt the echo of satisfaction slam through him as he staked the vampire, driving the ash pike into her back.

The world was spinning, and his neck ached and dripped, but he was still on his feet when he blinked back the darkness and found Briyani there, stake in hand, as if he’d just come around the corner. Michalas was right behind, his stake at the ready as well.

Max bristled at the concern in their faces, and he turned to start off somewhere—in any direction, he didn’t bloody care—but Briyani stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait.”

The gentleness in his voice and touch caused Max to tighten his jaw in annoyance, but Briyani was right.

The flush of salted holy water over the open wounds was a painful but necessary shock, and Max was glad his friend had acted. It would slow the bleeding and, once the initial pain had eased, would help to stop the wound’s incessant throbbing.