And the look in his eyes told her that he was none too pleased with that.

+ + +

“When,” grunted Victoria as she whipped her leg around, slamming it into the heavily padded shield her trainer wore, “will you teach me qinggong?”Her momentum did not lessen as she lunged forward with the follow-up of a chest-high blow of fist.

However, Kritanu was too agile, and he ducked, then returned with his own powerful kick. “You must master this kalaripayattu with the sword before I teach you how to glide in the air and leap while fighting,” he replied. “And that, Victoria, was a very predictable maneuver.”

Kritanu was one of the Comitators: experts in martial arts who were sent as protectors and assistants, as well as trainers, for the Venator to which they were assigned. He had been assigned to Eustacia for decades, and had been acting as Victoria’s trainer as well.

Victoria, who pivoted to miss his blow, was more than mildly annoyed that he could speak a whole long sentence with ease while she was grunting and breathing heavily. The man was over seventy, and she was twenty. And she wasn’t even wearing a corset, though her breasts were bound.

Not to mention the fact that she did not want to be thought of as predictable…in battle or with mysterious, charming men.

“Then when will we begin training with the sword?” she asked, coming at him fast with her palms slamming in powerful, rapid staccato on his chest.

She and Eustacia had returned to London from Claythorne the day before, and Victoria had insisted on a much-needed training session with Kritanu the very next day. If she’d been

faster, stronger, more prepared, she might not have the four thin scratches on her neck where the Guardian had been ready to sink his fangs…nor would she have the aching wrist or deep slice along her hip and thigh from the Imperial.

Her injuries had already begun to heal, of course. In a week, the gash on her thigh would be little more than a scar. But facing an Imperial alone—despite the fact that Sebastian was there, she had been, for all intents and purposes, alone—had made her realize how much more she had to learn, and how much a year of not fighting vampires had cost her.

“We shall start with the sword tomorrow,” he replied. She was pleased to note that this time, his words came out a bit more raggedly.

“Good.” She punctuated her satisfaction with a quick swivel on one foot, followed by a low blow to his solar plexus.

Kritanu oofed softly behind the shield, doubling over. But when he looked back up, he was smiling. “That was not predictable.” Then he looked toward the doorway and stopped.

Victoria turned and saw her aunt standing there.

“Very nice, cara,”Eustacia told her, nodding. “It is difficult to surprise Kritanu as you did. Vero, I have been trying for years. Now, Wayren has arrived. Will the two of you join us in the parlor?”

Wayren was a tall, slender woman who reminded Victoria of a medieval gentlewoman. She had pale blond hair that she wore unbound, falling in gentle waves over her shoulders and nearly to her waist. The two times Victoria had met her, she’d worn the same unfashionable gown: long, loosely gathered at the waist with an intricately tied hemp cord, and wrist-length sleeves that fell in points nearly to her knees. The color of her garment was cream, as though the linen had been woven without adding any dyes or bleach.

She rose when Victoria entered the room and, to her surprise, enfolded Victoria in a gentle, firm hug that sent strong waves of comfort through her body. “I am very happy to see you again, my dear. I congratulate you on your work with the Book of Antwartha. I understand from Max you were the reason everything turned out as it did.” The woman, who was of an indeterminate age, and seemed to be older than Victoria but younger than Eustacia, had such a slender build that Victoria was surprised at the strength of her embrace. “But most of all, I am so very sorry about Phillip.”

Victoria knew little about her, except that Wayren and Eustacia had known and trusted each other for a long time. She always felt that if she learned that Wayren lived like a sylph among the forest trees, she would not be surprised.

“This life you live is difficult enough without having to lose someone you love because of it.” Wayren set Victoria back away from her, but kept her hands on the tops of her shoulders, taking a moment to gaze into her eyes as though trying to read her emotions. Wayren’s eyes were light gray-blue, and when she was entrapped by them, Victoria felt calm and soothed, and overwhelmed by the sense that Wayren truly cared about her.

At last, the woman released her, sending her to a seat on the sofa with a fond smile. Victoria turned shyly away, surprised at how moved she was by the caring greeting from a woman she barely knew.

Eustacia had taken her regular seat next to the piecrust table, with Kritanu in the armchair next to her, and now she spoke as though she were calling a meeting to order. “I have told Wayren about the events at Claythorne, and that together with Sebastian Vioget, we were able to obstruct the reason and cause of Polidori’s death from the other house-guests. Some will say he died from poison, and some will say he died from an accident. The conflicting stories, along with the erasure of the memories of those at the house party, will help to keep the tragedy from the rest of the ton. Victoria, will you please explain to Wayren what Sebastian found.” Eustacia lifted a delicate teacup and sipped. “I have told her about the amulet and how you came upon it at The Silver Chalice.”

“When Sebastian was preparing Polidori’s body, he found a small leather packet of papers. They were notes about the Tutela and its leader, Nedas. Sebastian had already told me the amulet was a new symbol of the revival of the Tutela, which is likely why Aunt Eustacia didn’t recognize it.”

Wayren looked at Kritanu. “As always, your instinct was close on. I received the message from Eustacia that you had connected the hound on the amulet with the hantu saburos, although not with the Tutela itself. But, of course, the hantu saburos are vampires who trained dogs to bring human prey to them for nourishment…and what is the Tutela but humans acting as bitches trained by Nedas and his followers?” Her pale eyes narrowed in dislike. “An appropriate symbol, the meaning of which is likely lost on the members who wear it…but certainly now recognized by all of us.”

Kritanu bowed his head in acknowledgment of her compliment, and turned to Victoria as though to bring the conversation back on track and away from him. “The notes?”

“Apparently this revival of the Tutela is under the leadership of the vampire Nedas, who, according to Sebastian, is Lilith’s son.”

“Ach!” Aunt Eustacia’s hands rose. “Of course. Lilith’s son Nedas. I knew I had heard the name before.”

“How could she have a son?” asked Victoria. “Did she…breed?” A warmth suffused her face at the crudeness of the queation, but she had to ask. She needed to understand.

“Not in this case, although it is possible, though not common, for a vampire to breed. No, I believe…I believe she turned the boy’s father some centuries back, and made him her concubine. He at that time had a wife, whom Lilith did not allow to live, and a babe with her. Lilith had the child raised with her, and when he became an age satisfactory to her, she turned him as well, and now calls him her son. She has endowed him with great powers, of course, similar to her own.”

Her question answered, Victoria continued. “According to Polidori’s notes, Nedas has obtained something called Akvan’s Obelisk, which constitutes some threat that frightened Polidori so greatly he left Italy.” Victoria looked at Wayren apologetically. “His notes were rather difficult to read and wandered all over the scraps of paper, as though he wrote them down wherever he could find space.”

Tags: Colleen Gleason The Gardella Vampire Hunters Vampires
Source: readsnovelonline.net