Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 2)

At five stations around the stage, with the obelisk and its table in the center, were bowllike containers. Smoke wafted up from the small fires in them, bringing the sweet smell that reminded Victoria unpleasantly of the Tutela meeting. The theater was so large the incense would not engulf the room as it had then, but she could still smell the essence—and along with it came the memory of being nearly hel

pless under the hands and fangs of the vampires.

Victoria closed her eyes and shook her head, clearing away the reminder that she was even more helpless now, tonight. Bringing her attention back to the stage, she examined the people there.

Standing next to the table with the obelisk were five men. Nedas she recognized because of his lesser height and darker skin, and because of the way her entire body felt ill when she focused her attention on him. Max was the tallest, with his too-long hair clubbed back, and his white shirt standing out among the sea of black clothing and dark hair. Regalado’s bald head shone like a flesh-colored skull, and his thick beard bushed out so far that Victoria could see it even when he stood directly below her. The other two men, whom she thought were vampires, she did not recognize.

It appeared Max had indeed become one of the trusted inner circle of Nedas, so that he was directly involved in what was about to occur. Victoria’s stomach pitched at the thought of what price had been paid for him to align himself with Nedas. Aunt Eustacia.

And why was he so determined she not be there? Why did he even care?

It was either her, or you.

But why either of them? Why would he forsake the Venators?

Tutela to Venator to Tutela.

Had his years of being a Venator been a ploy for only one thing, to this one end? To gain her aunt’s trust and bring her to her death?

But why?

Had they had possession of Akvan’s Obelisk that long ago?

The thoughts swirled in Victoria’s head. She was feeling weak again, and it seemed as though the incense from the pots was going straight to her nose, weaving through her senses and making them as murky as London fog. Perhaps without her vis bulla she was more susceptible to the essence. Or perhaps it was because her injuries simply made her weaker and more easily confused.

She became aware of some sort of chanting below. It came from the vampires who sat in the audience, far enough away that they could see what was to happen, but could not be involved or interfere.

A thought came to mind, and Victoria spent a few long moments scanning the viewers in the seats, looking for Sebastian. She should be as angry with him as she was with Max, but she wasn’t.

Yes, he had kidnapped her and taken the opportunity to make love to her. It was fortunate she hadn’t expected more from him, for she was bound to be disappointed if she had.

Yes, he had disappeared at a most fortuitous moment—for him. And yes, he had left her to battle the vampires on her own. But at least he had been truthful with her. He was not a man of violence, and would not strike and kill. Not even a vampire. And he certainly didn’t have the powers of a Venator to protect himself.

Of course, that meant it was necessary for him to make himself scarce at such dangerous moments—and if he had not, he likely would have been captured too.

But they wouldn’t have hurt him, if all he’d told her about Beauregard was true. Would they?

Or perhaps they would have, if Beauregard and Nedas were rivals.

Victoria’s head was swimming and her body was pounding with pain again. She couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling around her mind, clogging it, softening it from any clear judgment.

The chanting had grown louder and deeper, and the incense did not disperse, but seemed to continue to swirl straight up.

Its smoke was colored, she noticed vaguely. Black and blue curls and coils, braiding together as they wove up into the catwalk, insinuating themselves into her nostrils and into her lungs. Stifling a cough, she held the sleeve of her tunic over her nose and mouth and tried to breathe the filtered air.

How was she going to stop them?

He cannot be stopped.

There had to be a way. She had to clear her mind.

Victoria took a deep breath and spewed it out, long and slow and silent, from between pursed lips, trying to send the smoke away from her, to send it dissipating far from where she breathed.

The backdrops hung from heavy wooden poles. She could loosen one, cause it to crash down on them. At least that would stop them momentarily. She might be able to take them by surprise and jump down to stake a vampire or two. Nedas would be her first target. And Max her second.

But…there would be little to no chance she could get the obelisk away, even if Nedas was dead. She didn’t know how long it would take, or what would have to occur in order for the obelisk’s powers to transfer to another being.

And…she no longer wore the vis. She couldn’t jump down without injuring herself. She would be fortunate to have enough strength in her battered body to drive the stake into a normal, red-eyed vampire, not the son of Lilith.