As Shadows Fade

Eleven In Which a Vampire Is Taken in by a Pretty Face

Max found it infuriating that he couldn’t shake the dreams. Nearly every morning, the remnants lingered throughout his first waking hours, leaving his stomach tight and hands shaky, and the images swimming in his memory.

One would think that sleeping only four or five hours each night after a grueling day of riding, and then bedding down in small, rented rooms with Vioget and Victoria-one too close, and the other too damn far away-that he would be too exhausted to dream.

But, alas, no.

He staggered awake from the nightmare, his hand still gripping the sword to slice off Eustacia’s head-and the image, not of hers, but of Victoria’s face, turned toward him, awaiting the fatal blow.

Max rolled off the thin bed and pulled slowly to his feet, heart still pounding, fingers still shaking. When he turned groggily and slammed his temple against a low beam in the dingy little room, he didn’t bother to hold back a bellowed curse. At least the blow helped to knock the nocturnal wisps from his mind.

Victoria looked at him curiously, but had better sense than to say anything. They’d fallen into a bit of a routine in the morning, the three of them. Max and Sebastian dressed quickly, then left to saddle the horses and find something to break their fast while Victoria prepared to leave.

Of necessity, for both riding astride and sharing a room with two men, Victoria had dressed in men’s clothing since crossing the Channel.

And she’d cut her hair.

Rather, Max had cut her hair.

They’d argued about it on the first morning, in Normandy.

“You’ll need to hide your hair better if you think to pass as a man,” Max had told her. Breeches and a shirt and coat were all good, but they’d been fashioned for the sharp angles of a man’s body, not the curves of a woman’s.

“Cut it off, then,” Victoria told him, lifting the rope of a braid and letting it flop against her shoulder. “You’ve already told me I should.”

“But no, you needn’t go to such an extreme. Tuck it inside your hat or coat,” said Vioget from across the room. “It would be a shame to cut such lovely curls. Why, when they’re unbound, they reach nearly to your-”

“Waist. How crude to mention it,” Max cut him off. Their eyes locked and antipathy flared.

“I’ll do it myself,” Victoria snapped, yanking the braid taut with one hand, and reaching to her waist for the knife. The blade glinted suddenly in the early dawn. “Bloody damn fools.”

“No, wait,” Max said, grasping her wrist. He hesitated… but in the end, it had to be done. “Let me. You’ll cut yourself.”

A bloody weak excuse, but she relaxed her arm and allowed him to remove the knife from her fingers. His hand settled on the top of her warm head. Before he could think twice, reconsider, he sliced the long, thick plait right at the base of her neck.

The braid fell away, sagging in his hand, and he watched dark curls spring up softly around the tender skin of her neck and shoulders. She turned, tipping and tilting her head as though loosened from some great burden and smiled at him. “It feels so light.”

“A bit safer, too,” he said, unable to keep from staring at Victoria with the mass of soft, rumpled tresses that fell into her eyes and face and made her look as though she’d just risen from bed.

“And very, very lovely,” interjected Vioget. “Not boyish at all.”

“Then what was the point?” laughed Victoria.

None too gently, Max smoothed what was left of her hair back into a low tail. “This,” he said, fastening around it the leather cord he would have used for his own hair. “Wear a hat, and you’ll look like nothing more than a young man.”

“A very pretty one at that,” agreed Vioget. Who always seemed to need the last word.

Now, after more than a week of rapid travel, Prague loomed ahead. The orange-red roofs of close-set buildings burned bright in the lowering August sun behind him, and the wicked-looking black spire of the unfinished St. Vitus’s Cathedral jutted above the sea of terra-cotta roofs. Beyond, across the sparkling Vltava, Max could barely see the dual towers of Tэn Church.

“I presume you know where to find Katerina,” he said, turning to Vioget.

“Most assuredly.”

Max nodded and gathered up the reins to his horse. “I will leave that to both of you, then. You’ll find me at Tэn Church on the evening of the day after tomorrow.” He’d already begun his fast this morning, and would be on his knees in the cathedral before the sun completely set. That would suffice as his first day of fasting, according to Wayren.

Vioget looked as though he meant to say something, but for once held his tongue. Max glanced at Victoria but couldn’t allow his attention to linger. “Be safe,” was all he said, and urged his mount forward.

Whatever she replied was lost in the scattering of rock and rubble beneath his horse’s hooves as they leapt forward.

Max didn’t look back.

Victoria watched him go and resisted the urge to kick her own horse into a gallop after him. She’d see Max again in three days, and before then, she and Sebastian had to find the vampire Katerina. She couldn’t afford to be distracted or worried. There would be time for that later, she told herself. Nevertheless, she watched him grow smaller on the road ahead of them with a pervading sense of loss.

She and Sebastian rode in silence for a time, and the city’s features became clearer even as the lowering sun cast longer shadows in front of them. Through the trees she caught glimpses of the single bridge crossing the Vlatava River, and Victoria watched closely for a sign of Max’s tall figure. But it was growing dark, and the riders all looked the same to her.

Victoria shook herself mentally and tightened her resolve. There were important matters to be dealt with, ones that could have far-reaching impact if she didn’t succeed. She looked at Sebastian and asked, “You’re quite certain this Katerina has the Ring of Jubai?”

He looked at her, a grin tipping the sides of his mouth. “It would have been a waste of time to bring us here if I weren’t, would it not?” He shrugged. “According to my grandfather, once Katerina obtained that ring from Germintrude, she never took it off. It was her way of spiting Lilith, I think.”

He pointed to the snaking river and the single span over it. “The Stone Bridge,” he told her. “Katerina was turned because of that bridge.”

“You did claim to know the story,” Victoria said, glad for the conversation to keep her mind off Max. Why did he have to ride ahead of them? They were still going to the same place.

“I do know the story, perhaps better than any other mortal,” he told her. “Perhaps if I tell you, it will distract you a bit-hmm, Victoria?”

His sidewise look made her heart pang quietly, for he wasn’t completely successful in hiding his own hurt.

“It’s a beautiful bridge, is it not?” he asked with a gallant sweep of his hand. “When the sun rises, it casts a lovely burnished glow over it.”

She could see people and carriages moving across the bridge, which stood in the river on ten arches that made it look like a graceful centipede. At the leg of every arch, statues rose on either side of the bridge. Other than that, the span was unfettered by wall or decoration. Simple, clean, elegant.

They drew nearer, and Victoria looked up at a single ornate spire that rose atop a hill above them. “Prague Castle is there,” Sebastian told her. “And that is St. Vitus’s Cathedral, which they have been building off and on since the thirteen hundreds. It’s still not completed.”

“And what of Katerina?”

“You’re not interested in the history of Praha, as the natives call it?” Sebastian asked. “I’m merely attempting to fill your mind with something other than worry.”

“I’m not worried. Not at this moment.”

Sebastian looked at her. She realized how dark it was getting, for she couldn’t see the details of his face, or the gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps you should be, Victoria.”

“What do you mean?” Fear seized her. What did he know? Something about Max going off alone?

And then she stopped herself. She very nearly stopped her horse, too, there in the middle of the road. What a fool. What a fool!

She was doing exactly what Max had warned about, had worried about. She was allowing her fear for him, her thoughts of him, to overtake everything else.

There were demons to fight. A horrible, unfamiliar malevolence that she’d never faced before… that had dared to abduct Wayren.

And Max… Max was more than capable of taking care of himself. She shook her head and felt the hair loosen from its tie at her neck. A chin-length strand fell into her face, and she brushed it back impatiently.

“Now there’s the Victoria I know,” said Sebastian airily, as though he’d watched her pull herself together.

She saw that they were just at the approach of the bridge. Great statues guarded the arched entrance tower.

“As I’d begun to tell you,” he continued as their mounts clopped onto cobblestones, “when the bridge was built, the masons added egg yolk to the mortar to make it stronger. People from all over the country sent eggs here to Praha in order to assist. And,” he added with a smile as their horses took the first steps onto the bridge, “one particularly helpful town thought to hard-boil the eggs before sending them in order to keep them from breaking during the journey.”

Victoria saw the glitter of lights ahead and along the bridge, but the orange roofs and cream-colored buildings had turned gray in the low light. She looked over at Sebastian. “They hard-boiled them?”

“Ah, so you were listening,” he said. “I thought perhaps I’d lost you. Yes, indeed. According to the tale I heard, the eggs weren’t so helpful for the mortar, but they were a fine snack for the builders.”

She gave a short laugh and at the same moment felt a familiar chill over the back of her neck. A vampire, perhaps two.

A surge of energy swept through her as she reached for the stake she kept inside her boot. When she rose upright in her saddle, she caught Sebastian’s eye and saw that he’d armed himself similarly.

With a quick sweep of her gaze, she identified the undead as a handsome young man near one of the statues. He rode on a large horse and smiled down at a woman who lugged a heavy basket on wide leather straps over her shoulder. She was well past Victoria’s age and, in the lantern light, looked haggard and tired. She’d be no match for a superhuman undead, but, given the option, the vampire would probably prefer fresh, younger blood.

Such as Victoria’s.

With a telling glance at Sebastian, she pulled the tie from her hair and yanked the edge of her cloak down over to hide her breech-clad legs. Then, urging her mount forward, she brushed past the vampire and his intended victim.

“Pardon me, sir,” she said, looking at the vampire, pulling his attention from the older woman. She saw and felt the spark of interest when she stopped just beyond him and turned as if in need of help. Her English speech identified her as a stranger, and Sebastian had stayed far enough back that it wasn’t evident that they were traveling together.

The vampire, fickle as she expected him to be, directed his horse away from the older woman and toward this more attractive prey. Victoria watched beyond him as Sebastian moved toward the woman and alighted from his saddle. He’d make certain she got safely away.

“May I help you?” he asked, in accented English.

“Yes, oh, thank you for speaking English,” Victoria stammered. “I’m a bit lost, you see, and I was hoping you might help me to find an inn for the night.”

From her perspective, it seemed that any self-respecting vampire with a dram of common sense might question how such a ripe plum of a victim would fall into his lap… but this particular undead appeared to have no suspicions about the serendipity of the situation. In fact, his eyes lit with unholy glee, seemingly unaware that his other prey had begun to walk along.

“But of course,” he replied. “Let us cross the bridge and get to the Town Square. There are many rooms for let there.”

And many dark corners into which a victim could be dragged and sucked bone-dry.

“Oh, thank you,” Victoria replied, wishing that she could simply slam the stake into him right here. But it would be rather difficult to explain how a man suddenly disappeared from his saddle and turned into a puff of musty ash. Too many people wandered about.

But the moment they reached a dark corner-and, ironically, they would both be intent on reaching such a locale-Victoria’s stake would find its home if he wasn’t able to tell them where Katerina was. And even if he was.

“You’re lost, you say? Where are you going?” he asked, keeping his horse next to hers along one side of the bridge as though to block her from any other passersby.

Victoria turned away coyly. “For tonight, I wish only to find a place to sleep. In the morning… well, in the morning, I shall meet my friend.” Not her best lie, but the vampire seemed patently uninterested in anything but guiding her into a dark corner.

In fact, he didn’t flicker an eyelash over her vague, rather silly story. This undead was definitely one of the less capable vampires she’d ever met. It just went to show what Aunt Eustacia had always told her. There were smart vampires and foolish ones, silly ones and frightening ones… but regardless of their personalities, every one of them was evil and bent on one thing: drinking human blood.

By now they’d crossed the bridge, walking their horses under the gateway toward Old Town.

Victoria found the area on the eastern bank of the Vlatava much closer and darker than the west side, from which she and Sebastian had approached the city. Connected buildings, creamy white ones with the familiar orange roofs, butted up along narrow, twisting cobble streets. Row after row of houses connected ten or twelve in a row of varying heights and widths. Many had lights burning in the windows, but they were obscured by curtains or shutters, and the illumination gave little to the shadowy streets.

When Victoria and the undead moved far enough from the bridge, she eased her horse into a particularly shadowy corner and stopped. “Oh dear,” she said, pretending to fuss with the bag attached to the back of her saddle. The vampire moved closer, and when she looked up, she found red eyes burning next to her face.

“I don’t think you’re going to need a place to sleep tonight,” he said, reaching for her arm. “But if you insist, I can certainly provide accommodations.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Victoria said calmly. “I seek Katerina. Where is she?”

“Who are you?” he asked. But he didn’t move away.

“I’m looking for the Ring of Jubai. Does she have it?”

“Who are you?” Now he pulled back, his eyes fading a bit in surprise.

Impatient with his repetitive response, she grabbed the front of his coat. And then Sebastian appeared just behind the vampire, blocking his horse into the corner with her.

The vampire, who was, in the end, too foolish to look more than a bit alarmed-but not truly frightened-turned at this new presence.

“Ah, I thought that was you, Antonнn,” Sebastian said in a liquid-smooth voice. “I suggest you remove your hands from her if you wish to see another sunrise. Or… pardon me. I meant to say… sunset.”

Antonнn released Victoria, his eyes definitely no longer as pink. “Vioget?”

“Alas, but you don’t seem pleased to see me at all.”

“No, I should say not. And Katerina… I don’t believe she would welcome you either, considering the last time you were here.” Then he swiveled back to Victoria, and she could see calculation in his face. “And who is this that you protect her so vehemently?”

“This is Illa Gardella. I don’t think she is in need of my protection, Antonнn.” Sebastian’s voice held a wave of humor.

“Illa Gardella. The woman Venator.” He shifted in his saddle. “But I thought she was dead. Killed in Rome last year.”

“You have faulty information, for as you can see, I am alive and well. If you take me to Katerina… or, better yet, obtain the Ring of Jubai for me, I may perhaps allow you to see another… What was it, Sebastian? Sunset?” She leaned closer and got a whiff of undeadness. “Or perhaps I will not.”

“Is she at the tavern?” asked Sebastian.

“Not at night,” Antonнn replied. When Sebastian made a face of disbelief, he continued. “I’ve no reason to lie! Her quarrel is with you, and most likely I’d be rewarded if I brought you to her. But I can’t get the ring for you. She’s never removed it since Germintrude gave it to her. She thinks it will help bring her husband back to her someday.” He wrapped his reins in preparation to go. “Katerina is a bit… mad.”

“That is an understatement,” Sebastian muttered.

Victoria glanced at him, wondering exactly what he hadn’t told her. It wouldn’t be the first time Sebastian hadn’t been completely forthcoming. Nevertheless, they’d find Katerina and retrieve the ring. And if the vampire was slain in the process, Victoria would locate another undead for Max’s Trial.

Perhaps even this unfortunate one here. In fact… that might not be a bad idea after all, she thought, looking at the vampire in a new light. Why should Max meet a more powerful vampire like Katerina when this one would suit just fine?

“Follow me to Josevof, the Jewish Quarter,” said Antonнn, backing his horse up.

“Mmm… perhaps you would be so kind as to allow me,” said Sebastian without moving from his path. He reached over and grabbed up the reins from the vampire, wrapping them loosely around his wrist. “I do hope you aren’t offended, Antonнn, but I don’t trust you one whit.”

The undead gave a bit of a chuckle, and Victoria saw the flare of pink again in his eyes. The tips of his fangs touched his lower lip. “Of course not. Now shall we be off?”

Sebastian and Antonнn led the way with Victoria close behind them in the narrow warren of streets. They passed by the famous astrological clock that looked down on the Town Square, a relatively wide-open area that offered relief from the close streets blocked by three-story buildings. As it was only ten o’clock on a pleasant summer evening, people were scattered about, walking and talking. Victoria noticed Antonнn’s wistful glance at more than one isolated couple.

He was probably wishing he hadn’t been so easily distracted from the simple woman on the bridge.

Her own gaze lingered on the ornate entrance to Our Lady Before Tэn, the cathedral in which Max was presumably on his knees. She hoped. Victoria felt Sebastian watching her as she looked toward the grand building, which reared up over the square and could be seen throughout the city. Brushing the sky, two ornate spires lifted in dual points.

“One tower represents the masculine of our world, and the other, the feminine,” Sebastian said in her ear. He still held the reins of Antonнn’s horse. Victoria realized that she’d stopped, and was looking up at the asymmetrical towers. “That’s why they’re different. Do you wish to look inside?”

“No.” Yes. “Let’s get the ring.”

“As my lady wishes.”

They left the Old Town Square behind them, Victoria riding past the church without another glance. The unencumbered area gave way again to the winding, narrow streets, which became quieter and darker as they left the city center behind. The back of Victoria’s neck shifted with chill, and she knew that undead lurked about. But though she and Sebastian exchanged measured, meaningful glances, they didn’t detour to investigate.

“Klausen Synagogue,” said Antonнn at last, flourishing his hand toward a simply facaded building. After the detail of the cathedrals and other structures in the Town Square, this gleamed like smooth cream under the moonlight. “Behind it is the old cemetery. Katerina usually stays within, waiting for the odd mortal to venture through the graveyard.”

“You will show us where,” Sebastian said, dismounting from his horse while holding both sets of reins.

Victoria and Sebastian remained close to Antonнn as he led them past the synagogue and beyond the gate of the cemetery. She’d never seen anything like this dark, shadowy space jumbled with tombstones.

The headstones erupted from the earth as though pushed up by some great internal force, so close together there was very little space to walk between them. Off-kilter, tipping, broken, the thousands of headstones clumped in a small space reminded Victoria of the hair on a cat’s back, rising in all directions.

She found it nearly impossible to navigate between them without stepping on graves, lifting her foot over a grave marker, or even finding grass on which to trod. The space held an eeriness, yet an overriding sense of peace as well.

“Twelve thousand people buried here,” Sebastian said quietly. “Most of them on top of each other, in layers upon layers.” He stood near her, occasionally offering a gentlemanly hand to help her over a jutting stone.

“Where is Katerina?” Victoria asked, realizing the back of her neck hadn’t changed in temperature-as it would if there were another vampire nearby.

“I don’t know. She should be here,” Antonнn insisted, leading them on, deeper into the center of the cemetery. Victoria saw a grave that looked like a large stone bed, complete with head and foot, and at about that moment, she realized the air had begun to stir.

Not a breeze… no, not even the chill that lifted hair at the back of her neck when she sensed the undead. Victoria lifted her face, flaring her nostrils to draw in the scent on the air.

A blast of chill swept over her as she smelled it… and felt the air’s movement grow stronger. She looked at Sebastian, read the recognition in his eyes, and turned back to their vampire companion. “What is it? Why have you brought us here?” she demanded, her hand falling to the sword at her side.

But he seemed just as shocked as they, his red eyes wide and frightened. “I… What is this?” he cried, stumbling backward over a jumble of headstones.

He tried to run away, but Sebastian caught him by the arm, slamming him into a nearby headstone. The vampire fell as Victoria’s hair lifted and swirled in the rising breeze. “What is it?” Sebastian demanded.

“I don’t know! On Lucifer ’s sword, I swear it… I don’t know!”

Victoria drew her sword, looking up to see that the scattering of stars and the half-moon had become little more than a dull glow behind a billowing black cloud.

Again. No, not again.

Chill that had little to do with undead presence battled through her body, freezing her fingers and slowing her reflexes. One look at Antonнn’s face told her that no matter what trap he’d led them to, he hadn’t expected this.

“Stand up, you bloody fool,” Sebastian roared, yanking the vampire to his feet. “You’ll stand with us or see the end of my stake.”

“But they’re… demons,” he said, his voice distorted by the rising wind. The horribly familiar black clouds stewed above them, wind tossing Victoria’s short hair wildly. “They’ll kill us.”

“Or I will,” Victoria muttered, turning away from the ridiculous undead as the first swipe from the black-clawed, red-eyed creatures scored over her scalp.

She cried out and swung up with the sword. The blade sliced through, and ice shivered along her weapon, through her arms, and up into her body.

Staggering, Victoria stumbled into a tombstone and fell, crashing into another nearby stone. She screamed in rage and arced the blade up again. Fallen leaves and old sticks lifted from the ground, battering against her like pummeling fists. She pulled to her feet, using the point of her sword against a moss-covered stone, felt it scrape metal against rock, and battled back at the black demon.

Another swipe, and she slowed further, slicing the wraith’s head while accepting the paralyzing cold that trammeled through her body. Sebastian bumped into her and their backs came together. His warmth bled into her, and she was able to move again.

“Idiot,” he shouted at Antonнn, who cowered down between the cluster of stone markers. Sebastian swiped up with his own blade.

Digging beneath her coat, Victoria ducked as another black creature swooped close again. A small jug hung at her side, protected by a snug leather holder and a strap that went over her shoulder. She pulled it out, feeling Sebastian struggling against the demons above her, protecting her as she worked the cork free.

“Ready,” she called over the rising gale, turning toward Sebastian. He struggled for a moment, pulling out his own store of holy water as she sliced at one of the black creatures. Again the unbearable cold shocked her, staggering her.

Sebastian caught her arm before she lost her balance on the unsteady ground and spilled her holy water. They looked at each other for a moment, barely able to discern the other’s features in the maelstrom of leaves and fog, gauging the moment.

“Go!” shouted Victoria, and they both whirled, winging the holy water from their bottles up and around into the hurricane about them.

Sizzling sounds, fizzing and even a scream of rage… The winds settled as the water spewed into the clouds and onto Antonнn, who’d remained huddled against one of the taller gravestones.

Victoria considered leaving him, but instead, she grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him haphazardly behind her as they dashed around and through the cluster of headstones. She had to swing up with her sword only once more before they found the cemetery entrance. The cold wasn’t as daunting as before, but it slowed her enough that she gasped in pain.

Once they were out of the cemetery, as before, the demonic cloud lost its strength and remained behind them, rumbling and gurgling wickedly. Then, as Victoria watched, it swirled into itself and settled into the darkness below.

“Did you have to do that?” Antonнn cried.

Victoria turned and saw that the holy water had caught him straight in the face. His skin had peeled away, leaving one of his eyes sagging in its socket. He held a hand to his destroyed flesh, but seemed less concerned over that than the mass of evil they’d left behind.

And indeed, as before in London, they’d left it behind, weakened by the holy water.

Or it had chosen not to follow.

Victoria wasn’t sure which.

She shivered and whirled at the vampire. Before he realized what had happened, her stake was poised over his chest and a great handful of his shirt was clumped in her fist. “What kind of trick was that?”

“No trick, no trick!” he cried. “I swear it! Do you think I would have gone into that if I had known?”

“If you don’t take us to Katerina-” Sebastian began, but Victoria interrupted.

“No, he’ll come with us now, and we’ll find Katerina in the morning. When the sun is risen.” She bared her teeth at the vampire, furious. “We’re in need of undead blood, and he looks more than willing to share.”

Sebastian nodded and helped Victoria bind the undead’s hands together behind him.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” he whined. “I’ve never seen it. I swear it. I heard something… Just let me go, and I’ll take you to Katerina.”

“You heard something?” Victoria repeated as they climbed back onto their horses. She glanced back over the cemetery and saw that the angry cloud had all but dissipated. She hadn’t noticed the malingering fog when they’d arrived at the cemetery, although she’d been more distracted, having expected an ambush of undead… not one of the frightening demons. “What do you mean, you heard something?”

“Recently,” Antonнn said, “there have been incidents… I’ve heard about them. And Katerina seemed to be a bit worried about her cemetery. I didn’t lie about that,” he added defensively. “She usually is there at night. But I didn’t know. It was horrible.” He shuddered. His vampire countenance twisted with fear, made all the more grotesque by the ragged flesh near the one side of his mouth.

Victoria ignored his last statement and looked at Sebastian. Her rising worry was reflected in his set face, even though she couldn’t see the details of his expression.

More demons-demons that even frightened the undead.

Demons that had driven a powerful vampire from her cemetery lair.

That realization as much as anything else worried her. Vampires hated demons, but they didn’t fear them.

At least, they never had before.