He looked at her. “Again. ”
“Without saying good-bye. ”
“I see no need to belabor things. ”
“Zavier is dying. ”
“I know. I’m sorry for it, too. He is a good man. ”
Wayren nodded. Then she looked at him again with those sharp, pale blue eyes. “Will you leave Victoria’s vis bulla?”
Max’s hand tightened, but he didn’t allow it to rise to his chest and touch the amulet beneath his shirt. “She doesn’t need two. ” He knew it was an equivocation, but it didn’t matter.
“She already wears two vis bullae. ” Wayren was looking at him, her head tilted to one side like a wren.
“Then she doesn’t bloody well need three,” he snapped. He wanted to leave this blasted place before Victoria came back from wherever she was. Before he had to talk to anyone else. “Good-bye, Wayren. I will be in touch. Essere con Dio. ”
He closed the door behind him and hurried away before he saw anyone else, or before Wayren tried to stop him with another of her blasted cryptic comments or knowing looks. The hidden entrance near the library was closer and less noticeable. He wouldn’t have to walk through the fountain room and chance running into anyone.
Moments later he ascended the dark, narrow stairs that opened into a small cellar in an abandoned building blocks away from Santo Quirinus. As he stepped out of the rickety structure, he realized he might very well be doing so for the last time.
He ducked out of the small opening at the rear of the building and then moved silently through what passed as a courtyard, but was really no more than a gap five paces wide and filled with rubble and dirt. The sun had begun to rise, sending a soft glow over the ramshackle buildings, and Max drew in a deep breath of chill air, this first full day of his bloody, detestable freedom.
He was free, yet still trapped by his memories and knowledge. He should have had Wayren use the golden disk to capture them again and take them away. At least then he would have some peace.
But he kept going, walking away from the Consilium and the world that had been his life for more than a decade.
Fast footfalls from behind drew his attention, and he reached automatically for his stake before realizing he had no way of telling whether whoever approached was friend or foe.
“Pesaro!”
“What the hell do you want, Vioget?” Max released the stake and kept walking, head high, shoulders straight. He was acutely aware of his lack of power, the weakness that seemed to pervade every step he now took.
“Victoria. It’s Victoria. ”
Max stopped, but he didn’t turn around. There was something in the bastard’s voice….
“Beauregard has her. ”
Now he turned back, and what he saw made his spine turn to ice. The blasted fop’s face wasn’t so pretty any longer, and he limped, but it was the expression in his eyes that made Max cold.
“Has he…” The word dried in his mouth, but Vioget knew what he meant.
“Not yet. But he will if we don’t stop him. ”
Max looked at him, every bit of antipathy he felt for the other man rising to the surface. He knew precisely where to place the blame for this travesty.
But instead he turned to start back toward the Consilium. If Vioget had lowered himself to ask Max for assistance, Victoria’s situation must be bad, very bad indeed. They would need others. “Have you seen Wayren?”
“Yes. She sent me after you; the Venators are waiting. ”
So Sebastian knew.
Max closed his mind off from that path and gave a short nod. And he said words he never thought he’d say to Sebastian Vioget: “I’ll follow you. ”
Sebastian gritted his teeth. “Yes, I am aware that Beauregard will be expecting us. ” Although he was a man who avoided violence, he thought he might just forget about it for a moment and plow a fist into…something. But that would mean he’d have to stop, and it would waste time he already didn’t have. They had no time. No time. Thank God they were nearly to the house where he and Beauregard lived, albeit in separate quarters, the five men half running as he explained the situation.
It was early morning, perhaps an hour since he’d stumbled out of the underground lair, and the sun was high enough in the sky that the undead would be safely below—sleeping or otherwise. The slowest-moving carriage ever had dropped them off near their destination, but not close enough to be seen by those who stood watch over their master’s domain from dark buildings or underground nooks. Sebastian knew how to get there without being seen by them, but it necessitated traveling on foot.