As Shadows Fade

Twenty The Visitation

The fact that the Midiverse Portal was situated in the ruin of an old cemetery didn’t surprise Victoria in the least.

In fact, the closer they came to the black-stoned graveyard tucked deep in a rocky valley, the more uncomfortable she became. The air was putrid and heavy and smelled of demons. A decrepit gate and stone wall surrounded the cemetery, having crumbled into little more than a narrow pile of rock over the years.

A bare strain of sunlight filtered from behind a haze of gray clouds, giving the area an unfriendly, melancholy appearance. It felt colder as they approached and halted their mounts on a low hill rise just south of the cemetery. Victoria noticed that the area contained nothing but the gravestones blackened by moss and mildew. There were no trees or grass or any type of greenery.

In the center of the graveyard squatted a low, square building with a flat, overhanging roof not much larger than a gatehouse. Brim pointed to it and said, “According to Wayren, the portal is next to that building.”

In order to close the portal, moonlight had to shine through Tached’s Orb onto the opening, according to Wayren’s research. Obviously, they would have to come back tonight and hope that the quarter moon was strong enough and bright enough to do the job.

But for now, Victoria wanted to examine the place in the daylight. Unsure of what to expect as they drew closer, she urged her mount forward, the orb jolting heavily in her trouser pocket with every cantering step. She gestured for Michalas to remain on guard, and for Brim to join her, wishing that they numbered more than three.

Who knew what awaited them beyond the stone enclosure.

Her horse didn’t like the area, and as they drew nearer, at first he balked and then began to fight Victoria’s commands. Taking pity on the beast, she dismounted and sent the horses back to Michalas, moving forward on foot with Brim.

She understood the horse’s reluctance as they approached a stone wall that would require nothing more than a few steps to breach. Her hair felt as though it had frozen on end, standing straight up all over her body.

With a look at Brim, she clambered up over the low pile of stone and landed on the other side with a sure-footed jump. Pausing for a moment to see if anything changed, she looked around.

The place was silent. Even though Victoria felt the whisper of a breeze over her cheek, tufting her hair, she heard nothing rustling or moving. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brim climb over the rocks. When one rolled soundlessly down the low pile and onto the ground, it was an uncomfortable sight because she could see it, but she heard nothing.

An eerie chill tightened her muscles, pulling her skin taut and ready. She felt for her stake automatically, even though such a weapon would be useless against demons. Her sword hung from its place at her belt, and she had a dagger sheathed against her calf, as well as several small bottles of holy water in various locations.

As she and Brim walked between the gravestones, she noticed that none of them had words or symbols carved on them. Plain, flat stones in row after neat row, without the names of the dead they represented. Other than the growth of mildew and moss, there was nothing to indicate their age, for all stood whole and straight without cracks or breaks or the shifting that came with the movement of earth over time.

The ugly feeling in her belly made her tense and on edge, ready for something unexpected to happen. Yet Victoria didn’t hesitate, and moved quickly to the building in the center of the graveyard. As she came closer, she saw that it was windowless and doorless. No chimney, and a flat roof. Circling it from a distance, she found nothing that allowed entrance. The building seemed to have no purpose other than to take up space. Unless it was the portal itself?

Wayren had given little detail-either she didn’t have it, or she presumed it would be self-evident. All she had told them was that the portal was near this structure. It took Victoria two circular routes around it, moving closer each time, before she found a slender crack in the black earth.

Was this the portal?

Victoria stood away from it, looking down, wondering if somehow they’d been misled or otherwise mistaken. The crevice ran jagged perhaps as long as a man was tall, and no wider than Aunt Eustacia’s walking stick.

Somehow she’d expected to find demons streaming from the portal-which, incidentally, she’d envisioned as an actual doorway. But other than the odd soundlessness of the area, and the pervading scent of musty death, the place felt little different from any other cemetery.

Victoria turned to Brim, who’d continued his circle around the building.

“Anything?” she asked. Her voice sounded hollow and empty in the air.

“No. Is this it?” he replied, beside her now. She could hear him… but it was as if they were in a soundless windstorm. His words came to her ears distorted and dull, but audible.

“It could be,” echoed her voice. Victoria stepped closer to the crevice, an uncorked bottle of holy water at the ready. She peered down and saw nothing threatening about the crack.

Not a breeze stirred now, and every bit of sound seemed to have been sucked out of her ears. Even her own breathing, faster than usual, had no sound. She tipped the bottle of water, allowing a tiny stream to trickle down into the crevice.

Immediately, a curl of smoke puffed up, angry and black and putrid, exploding in a little poof-not unlike the reaction of a vampire that had just been staked. Victoria jumped back, ready for the onslaught, her eyes fastened on the crevice. But all remained quiet.

Still. Now she knew-at least there was something here.

She looked over at Brim, who’d unsheathed his sword. “Let’s go,” she said. “Come back tonight.”

He gave a short nod, and they turned to make their way back.

Victoria kept watch over her shoulder as they navigated around the gravestones, a simpler process than picking through the piles upon piles of stones in the cemetery in Prague. But though she looked back as they walked away, she saw nothing to disturb the eerie quiet of the plot of graves. No more smoke, no puffs of cloud, no disturbances.

It was that silence, that lingering darkness that bothered her the most.

There was nothing for them to do but wait for the sun to go down, so Victoria and her companions rode back to the small village through which they’d passed on their way to the cemetery. The quaint town consisted of approximately two dozen houses, one inn, and the shops of perhaps four or five tradesmen located directly on the road that wound through it. They settled at the tavern to eat and rest and wait for moonrise-if it came from behind the clouds.

Unfortunately, this time of leisure did nothing but give her the chance to think and worry and stew. While Michalas and Brim sat in the tavern, Victoria brooded so darkly and incessantly, she would have made Max proud.

And that wry thought, of course, brought to mind the man himself and set her stomach to spinning and twisting as it had every night when she tried to sleep. Or anytime she allowed herself to think along that path-which was more often than she wanted.

Her fury with him for leaving her and putting himself in danger had settled into a deep, dark, clutching panic. She’d tried to hold on to the rage, knowing it would help keep the terror tempered if she had that strong emotion on which to focus, but that didn’t last.

She knew that if-when, God, please-she saw him again, she’d have no problem dredging up that anger and skinning him alive with it… but for now, all she wanted was for him to be safe.

But how could he be safe, in the hands of Lilith? Wouldn’t her first task be to turn him undead, now that she had him again?

Victoria shook her head mentally. Max would never allow that to happen. She knew that much, and knew that if he’d gone willingly to her in order to get the rings, he’d be thus prepared.

Didn’t he know she’d come after him? He must know that.

But he’d also know… want… expect her to take care of the portal first. It would be a travesty for his sacrifice to have been in vain, for her to waste his willingness to exchange himself for the rings in order to close the portal… and then not to ensure that it happened.

Oh, Max.

Tears burning her eyes, Victoria shifted in her seat near the smoke-frosted tavern window and in doing so, glanced outside onto the street.

A man caught her attention as he walked along the road, passing several other pedestrians. He was extremely well dressed, at the height of Parisian fashion in fact-an oddity certain to draw attention in a small town in the mountains, hundreds of miles from any city. Yet no one seemed to notice him in his curly-brimmed hat, with a knobby cane, and wearing straight, pressed pantaloons. In fact, he brushed past a woman and her child, nearly knocking into her, and she didn’t even seem to notice.

Victoria couldn’t take her eyes from him and watched as he crossed the street, approaching the tavern, then passed in front of the window through which she stared.

As he strolled by, he looked through the grimy glass. His eyes met Victoria’s for an instant, and she felt a cold, sharp spear thrust through her body, paralyzing her, freezing her breath.

Those eyes… blank and black, fathomless and yet burning… they trapped her for that moment, until he walked on past and released her gaze.

She was out of her chair the moment she could move. Her heart slamming in her chest, she slapped a hand on the table in front of Michalas and said, “Did you see him?”

“Who?” Both of her companions looked where she gestured, even going so far as to open the window and peer out-but the sinister man was gone.

She explained, finding it difficult to describe exactly how it had felt when he looked at her. Before she could finish, however, she lost patience and said, “I’ll be back.”

She rushed out the door, leaving them scrambling to dig out a few coins for the meal and drinks.

By the time she got onto the street, the man had long since disappeared. And even though she, Brim, and Michalas asked everyone they passed whether they’d seen a man of that description, no one appeared to recall seeing the man with the curly-brimmed hat and dapper clothing.

Frustrated, Victoria sent Michalas and Brim toward the tavern, directing them to search along that end of the street. She followed a bit more slowly, looking between and around the clustered buildings.

Just as she was about to give up, she glanced between a bakery and butcher shop. And there he was.

He sat on a bench in a small courtyard, as if he’d been waiting for her. Victoria didn’t hesitate.

As she approached, he removed his hat in a clearly ironic gesture, revealing pure white hair combed smooth to the shape of his skull. His skin was a darker hue, that of tea with a generous portion of milk, and his eyes… those eyes that weren’t red and didn’t burn, but nevertheless fastened on her with an odd, empty, inhuman light.

“Victoria Gardella,” he said in a smooth, dark voice that raised uncomfortable prickles over her skin.

“Who are you?” she asked, leaving the stake in her pocket. She knew whoever or whatever this creature was, a stake would be useless against him.

“Please. Won’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the space on the bench next to him, but she made no move to sit.

“Very well, then,” he said, and looked up at her with those awful eyes. That, along with the subtle scent of death in the air, decided her: He must be a demon. A very powerful one. “You may certainly stand if that’s your preference. I am Adolphus.”

She didn’t recognize the name, but was more convinced than ever that he was a demon. She could smell it, but very subtly. Which implied to her that he must be a particularly powerful one, if he could mask himself so well.

Victoria remained standing, but silent. Waiting. To demand to know what he wanted would give him the advantage. He’d tell her what he wanted when he chose. For now, she remained quiet, knowing the power of patience.

And, as if recognizing her tactic, the demon gave her a shrewd nod and spoke. Again, his voice sounded dark and yet smooth, lulling and coaxing. “We both have a similar objective, Victoria Gardella. I have information that you might find interesting… that you might find useful or valuable.”

Again she waited, and again, after a moment, he continued. “Lilith is leaving her mountain hideaway. If you wish to have your chance to stop her, the time is now.”

Victoria’s heart skipped offbeat for a moment. “Where is she going?”

He gave a negligent shrug. “Somewhere she can’t be found. It’s too dangerous for her now, and she must bury herself deeply in hiding. I do not know where she’s going, only that she is leaving. Tomorrow.”

Max. Of course she’d take him with her.

“Why should I believe what you tell me?” True, he was a demon, and demons were the immortal enemies of vampires. But they were also enemies of mortals, especially Venators.

“Because my hatred for Lilith is as deep as yours.”

Once more, she merely looked at him, waiting for more… even as she wondered and worried and felt her palms grow slick with panic. If Lilith disappeared with Max, she’d never find them again.

“You know what she’s doing to him,” he said, his voice burrowing into her mind. His lips barely moved, but she heard the words as if he spoke them into her ear. “You can imagine it, because you’ve felt it yourself. It’s all pleasure and pain rolled into one, isn’t it, Victoria Gardella?

“You’ve never admitted to anyone what happened when you were with Beauregard, drinking his blood. Letting him feed from you. You prefer to think that it was a dream, that it never happened… how you moaned and cried and drank and writhed. Yet you can imagine what’s happening to your lover now, with her hands on him, and the power of her eyes burning into him. You can imagine it, because you’ve felt the same, haven’t you?”

“No,” she whispered. But the memories assailed her, red and hot and liquid. For a moment, she smelled the sharp, rust scent and tasted the heavy iron of blood on her tongue, in her mouth… sliding thickly down her throat. She gagged, swallowing hard, and realized her breathing had grown deeper, rougher.

“Think about it… Imagine it. And it’s so much worse for him. His cries and groans, those long, sleek muscles scored by her nails, punctured by those animal fangs… Think about it, Victoria Gardella. You know the torture. You know what’s happening to him.” His voice was a lullaby, compelling and rhythmic, as he described in detail what Lilith was doing to Max.

The images played out in her mind as if she were watching them. Her awareness of the demon faded away, leaving only his deep, lulling descriptions, using words and phrases that pulled up sharp, frightening scenes so real she could hear the sounds and smell the scent.

“You can save him, and you can kill her in the process. Isn’t that what you want to do? What you need to do?” he continued in that lovely, sensual voice. “And I can help you.”

“How?”

He smiled, just a bit, showing perfect white teeth. “I know a secret about Lilith that will help you send her to Hell. Others have tried… but they didn’t know the secret.”

“What is it?” she forced herself to say, battling through the images of Max under the hands of Lilith, her blue-ringed red eyes glowing with depravity as she drove her fangs into him.

Victoria fought the image of his writhing, stretching, convulsing body under skeletal white hands that shouldn’t have the power to hold him, but somehow could. His eyes, filled with pain… and pleasure. She blinked hard, gave her head a little shake, and found herself looking deep into the eyes of the demon.

“You must use a stake of virgin ash,” he said, his eyes gleaming with life. “White virgin ash, freshly cut so that there is green just beneath the bark. Stab her anywhere with it, and she will be paralyzed, allowing you to ready for the final blow.”

“No,” she managed to say, her word sounding soggy. “No.”

“Yes indeed… Listen to me, Victoria Gardella. Do you think you are the first Venator to want to kill her? And to attempt it? How do you think she has lived all these millennia?” He stood, moving closer to her. “Few know the secret. You can go and kill her now. She’ll be leaving and riding under the moon tomorrow night… You can reach her as she leaves her mountain, surprise her. Ash trees grow abundantly on Fagaras… She will send her army west to fool her enemies, but she and a small contingent of her closest companions will secretly go north.”

Victoria felt as though she’d plunged underwater. The world slowed, became murky, and she struggled to think. She could. Save Max.

She could.

“You can go now, on this cloudy night, and be there tomorrow… and then return here, when the moon is ready. Quickly and easily,” he said. “Simple. And you can free him.”

But… no. She dug through the haunting images, the caress of his voice, the building desire and incessant compulsion to run now. To go now. She dug through the need to act now, and focused on the truth: She had work here, tonight if the moon was free… and if not, then tomorrow night.

“It will be too late if you delay. She’ll be gone for good. She knows of the coming threat.”

Victoria had to work to focus on those words, and she grasped the idea, pulling it out of the muddle of images that her brain had become. “The coming threat?”

“You know of what I speak… The portal is merely cracked now. But when it widens, and the dark ones pour out readily, the vampires will be destroyed. You’re here to try and stop the inevitable.”

Yes. Yes, she was. She had to close the portal.

Victoria blinked and focused on the building behind the demonic man, at last feeling the slog begin to slip away. It felt as though she was slowly awakening. “I’m here to close the portal.”

“You are. But you don’t understand that it’s not the mortals we come for… It’s the undead.” His voice remained beautiful and smooth, lulling. “Those are the ones who battle us for Lucifer’s domain. The battle between us has raged for millennia… and now it will come to your Earth. If you kill Lilith, destroy her stronghold, the battle will not need to be fought. We can retreat to our domain and leave your race free. Do you understand, Victoria Gardella? You can prevent the battle from raging on this Earth if you slay Lilith. If you go today. Tonight.”

She felt the sway of the words as they wrapped around her, cocooning her in their sweetness, their logic and illogic, their temptation.

“And then you can close the portal. We will no longer need it. You have the means, don’t you? Tached’s Orb. Of course it will work, and you will triumph. You have time because you have the orb, the lock. The portal is merely a crack… You saw it today. You saw that no threat comes through there.”

His compelling voice went on. “But he doesn’t have time, Victoria Gardella. He doesn’t have any time at all. You know he doesn’t. You feel the moments slipping away like grains of sand on the ocean shore. But you can save him. The others… they can close the portal while you are gone.”

They could.

Brim and Michalas. They could do it.

But she was Illa Gardella.

She awakened, pushing the cobwebs away.

“But I am Illa Gardella,” she said aloud. “And I will close the portal,” she continued, her voice growing stronger. The images faded away with the strength of her words, and she looked at the demon and said, “I’ll close the portal, and I’ll keep your minions behind it. Begone with you and your temptations. Do you not think I can see how you tempt me?”

She was ready when his lips drew back in a horrible parody of a smile, baring teeth that grew long and pointed in a face that turned cruel and sharp. As he swept his arm, an arm that had become large and powerful, she pulled the bottle of holy water from her pocket, thumbing the cork off.

A blast of wind swept up suddenly, nearly knocking her off her feet with its ferocity. Black fog spun around her, and she was pummeled by the gale as she struggled to draw her sword.

She saw Max suddenly, there before her, and for a moment, she almost believed it. He was real, looking at her through the smoky whirl, his eyes dark and intense.

She steeled herself against the attempt to set her off balance, to distract her. It had happened before-the first time she met a demon. He’d taken the form of Phillip, and the shock and confusion of suddenly coming face-to-face with her dead husband had nearly been her undoing.

But she now knew the tricks demons played, and tore her gaze away, as the blade pulled free of its sheath. She brandished the sword and tossed the blessed water toward the murky shadow of the demon’s face as she battled against the wind.

He cried out, and the battering force lessened enough for Victoria to stumble backward, out of the whirlwind. Feeling a brick wall behind her, she pulled another bottle of water and shoved its contents toward him again, swinging her sword as the liquid sprayed.

Wet splashed in her face, blasted back by the wind, and her sword connected with something thick. Max. Again. This time, with horror on his face.

With a shout, she shoved the sword home, and sliced away, feeling as though she were cutting through a bog.

And then, suddenly, everything stilled.

The wind stopped, the fog was erased, and she was alone, panting, leaning against the wall. The demon was gone-whether she had killed him or merely driven him off, she wasn’t certain.

But she looked up and saw that the sky had darkened. What little light came from a lowering sun was obscured by clouds, leaving only a dull illumination over the small courtyard where she stood.

There would be no chance to use Tached’s Orb tonight, for the moonlight would be blocked. The demon had spoken the truth about that, at least.

Victoria tightened her fingers around the grip of her sword and glanced back toward the south, in the direction of Muntii Fagaras. Where Max was.

She swallowed as the urge to leave, to go after him, clawed through her anew. How much could she believe of Adolphus?

Anything? Anything at all?

He had spoken truthfully when he claimed Lilith was his enemy. It would be to his benefit if Lilith were dead…

Victoria was standing there, trembling, shaking against the need to go, when Michalas found her.

“I’ve seen no sign of him,” he said, looking at her curiously.

“That’s no matter,” she replied soberly, wondering how long she’d been here with the demon. “I found him. He’s gone for now.” She looked up at the clouds. “There’s nothing we can do tonight.”

And she returned reluctantly to the tavern for another night of doing nothing while Max suffered.

And possibly Sebastian with him.