Rises the Night

Chapter 21 In Which Monsieur Vioget Makes an Unflattering Comparison to Our Heroine

When Victoria came back to herself, the first thing she noticed was that the nape of her neck was cold.

Then, that she couldn't move her arms. Or her legs.

She slitted her eyes open in an effort to pretend she was still unconscious, but it obviously didn't work.

"Ah… our lovely Venator has returned to us." Sebastian's voice was very near, and so Victoria opened her eyes all the way and managed a sleepy glare.

He was sitting in a chair next to where she was lying on a narrow bed or sofa; she wasn't quite certain. She was certain that her wrists and ankles were bound, however, and that she was going to kill Sebastian.

A quick dart of eyes around the small room told her they were in some kind of residence: Curtains covered the windows, rugs protected the floor, a table with a wax candle on it sat next to Sebastian's elbow. Nice and homey.

Somewhere there were vampires, though. Not in the room, that she could tell; but somewhere nearby.

"I'm going to kill you," she said behind her teeth.

"Why do you think I took the precaution of confining you?"

"Did you say Beauregard is your grandfather?"

"Well, more precisely, he is my great-great-great-great… some vast number of generations back… grandfather." Sebastian smiled benevolently, as though he'd just announced his relationship to the king. He'd left his jacket off and sat in his shirtsleeves and breeches with a glass of wine next to him on the table.

"He's a vampire."

Sebastian bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"A vampire whose name obviously carries a great amount of weight and influence."

"So you heard me through the fog of their thrall? I wasn't certain what you remembered."

"I heard it all, including the part where you claimed that I belonged to you, like some piece of horseflesh. I had no idea you meant to spirit me off like a primitive and take advantage of me."

He looked at her then with tiger eyes that gleamed warning. "Might I remind you, Victoria, that I did not take anything you did not freely give."

She forced away the blush of fury and mortification and turned the conversation. "Who ordered you to take me away?"

"I was not ordered to do anything. I was asked quite reluctantly, and I readily agreed, knowing that it was to my benefit as well as your own, since it would keep your pretty skin from being caught in the crossfire and myself from being forced to take sides. And, might I clarify, I did so without requiring any compensation. Do you not think that heroic of me?"

"Heroic? Or self-serving? After all, it appears you took great advantage of the situation and got your compensation after all."

"Now, Victoria, you must admit that our lovely intimacies were a long time coming, and in truth, were merely an unexpected benefit of my task. Truly, my only intent was to see you safely out of the way while things progressed the way they will."

"What do you think I am, a helpless female? I am a Venator! I didn't need to be spirited away, you bloody fool! I needed to be there!" She pulled at the ropes around her wrists, causing whatever she was tied to to creak softly. When she saw the interested gleam in his eyes at the reminder of her helplessness, she quickly started up her inquiries again. "Who asked you to take me away? Beauregard?"

He appeared to be enjoying the situation quite immensely, which made Victoria all the more determined to wipe that sardonic grin from his beautiful mouth. "You mean you haven't figured it out yet?" He laughed. "You really don't know? It was Max, of course. Max, who would never have asked such a thing of me if he'd had any other choice—which, of course, he did not. Poor sot."

Victoria stopped. Yes. It made sense. Max had told her to leave Rome, had known she would not listen—which, of course, she wouldn't have—and had taken matters into his own hands.

"Why is there such enmity between you and Max?" she asked.

Sebastian shook his head. "That is not something I wish to discuss with you at this time. But feel free to ask any other questions you might have. Perhaps you will hit upon another topic of interest. We do have some time to kill. Unless you would like to indulge in some other pleasant activities."

"You truly are addled if you think I will ever let you touch me again."

"Now you are beginning to sound like those heroines in Mrs. Radcliffe's novels, not Venatorial at all. Is this what happens when the best has been gotten of you? It's a wonder you made it as far as you have if you fall into those clichéd protestations."

"Why don't you untie me and we'll see how much of a Gothic heroine I am."

"And allow the Venator her full strength?" he replied in mock horror. "I think not. Although…" He moved and was suddenly sitting next to her, his hip touching the side of her waist. "I don't know why I shouldn't take further advantage of the situation; for, as you've pointed out, once you've been set free, I'm not liable to get within a few yards of your lovely person. Which I would find to be quite distressing."

He curled his fingers firmly around her jaw to hold her head in position and bent forward. She expected a rough, controlling kiss, but was surprised when it turned out to be soft and gentle: the antithesis of the forcible way he confined her. She told herself she kissed him back just to lull him into complacency. When, after a moment, she tried to bite his lip, he pulled back, laughing, and released her face. "There's my fighter."

He trailed a finger along her chin, over her neck, and down through the little dip at the base of her throat to the swell of her breasts, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in his wake. "Very tempting, you are, my dear; so much so that I've risked more than I should have since we met. But, then, I am not the first Vioget to allow a woman to influence my better judgment. The men in my family do have their weaknesses."

Sebastian had not moved from his place next to her side, and the warmth of his legs next to her body was becoming unbearable. He'd shifted and was leaning over her, propped up on a palm on the other side of her arm, his cravatless shirt brushing her gown.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of asking the obvious question; just glared and tried not to think about how near he was. She refused to notice the way the pulse beat calmly in his throat, and the way the shallow opening of his shirt exposed just a bit of the golden hair that grew on his chest. And how one of his fingers played gently with the curls near her ear, sending uncomfortable prickles along her neck.

Instead, she focused her attention on the fact that he'd tricked her again. Certainly he claimed it was to keep her safe… but he was the grandson of a powerful vampire. She couldn't trust him, even if he was a delicious lover. Their lovemaking had merely been a way for him to catch her off guard and abscond with her somewhere to keep her safe.

Her! A Venator!

"My great-great-grandfather was deceived into his current predicament by a lovely, conniving female vampire centuries ago. And my father was mauled and killed by a lascivious one. She happened to be the first of the only two vampires I ever killed."

"You claim you are no member of the Tutela."

"I am not a member of the Tutela, Victoria, although there may seem to be similarities between us. The Tutela is interested in protecting vampires as well as attaining their immortality. They wish to see the vampire rise in power and are fascinated by their lives. I have no desire to become an immortal, nor to see mortals destroyed. The price is too high, and I find little to recommend their lifestyle. If one can call it that."

"But if the vampires have taken two members of your family from you… I don't understand how you can ally yourself with them in any fashion."

"My grandfather wasn't taken from me. To me, he is who he is and has always been, and I love him. If he were killed by someone like you, he would be damned for all eternity." He sat upright, looking down at her with an unfamiliar expression. "Damned for eternity, Victoria, with no chance of reconciliation. Do you understand what that means?" She'd never seen him so flat and humorless. "Every vampire was once a person, someone's beloved mother, daughter, father, or son, Victoria. As you have cause to know. Sending one to his death is tantamount to passing judgment."

"The vampire is damned only if he has chosen to feed on a mortal; if he has not done so then he can be saved from that eternal hell. And Venators are called to pass such judgment as part of their calling," Victoria told him fiercely, trying not to think about the man she could have killed back in the streets of St. Giles, when she had passed judgment she'd not been called to do. "We are given that gift and meant to use it to eradicate the evil in this world." She had tried and condemned a mortal being, and she hated that she'd done so.

"And I would refuse that burden of passing judgment. All vampires are not wholly evil, Victoria, as I well know. If they were the arbitrarily bloodthirsty cretins you believe them to be, I would not be here right now. My grandfather would have turned me or mauled me long ago."

"But once a mortal is turned to a vampire, he ceases to be the person we once knew. He becomes a monster, a demon, driven only by his need. I have never met a vampire who hasn't been set on taking from another. I've seen the carnage they leave, the way they mangle and tear and destroy men and women. They are damned for a reason, Sebastian, damned because they take promiscuously, and without need, because they must drain the life of others in order to exist. Knowing that I could prevent it from happening, that I am called to protect mortals, I could never abstain from doing so. I cannot see how you can forgive that evil, even in your own grandfather."

"And that," he said lightly, standing, moving away from her both physically and emotionally, "is what about you attracts me so, to my great regret. Your conviction, your bravery, your sacrifice. Your strength. How, even when presented with an argument, you are not easily swayed. Let me ask you something, Victoria. If my grandfather, Beauregard, walked in this room, and I gave you a stake, would you kill him here in front of me?"

She looked at him, her heart thumping along harshly, audible in the sudden silence. Sebastian was not an evil person; she knew that. He might be an opportunist, he might walk a tightrope and play two sides, but she could not believe he wished evil on anyone. Even her.

Especially her.

"Knowing that with one plunge of the stake, you would send him—or any being—to an eternity of Hell?" Sebastian stood over her.

Knowing what she knew, would she? Would she pass that judgment on the man—no, the immortal, the vampire—whom Sebastian knew and loved?

How could he love a vampire?

"I don't know." Her voice was a whisper; it was the best she could do. "If he… I don't know, Sebastian."

His mouth caught at one side. "It appears you might be able to see at least some shade of gray, unlike your dear friend Max, who sees only black and white." He turned and walked across the room, twitched the curtains to look out.

The movement allowed a bit of light into the room; it was lighter than it had been when she last remembered being in the carriage. She must have been here overnight.

That meant that tonight at midnight would begin the Day of the Dead. If she were going to have any chance of stopping Nedas, of attempting to kill him, she had to get away from Sebastian and the vampires that lurked somewhere nearby. Her neck was still chilled.

Victoria pulled on her arms, fixed above her head, elbows bent. "How long are you going to keep me like this?" she asked.

He turned, half-shadowed by the sunlight streaming in from the window, reminding her that no one was completely shadowed or lit; no one was wholly good or wholly evil. Even, if he were to be believed, vampires. "Since I rather relish seeing you in such a helpless position, I'm not motivated to make any changes to the current arrangement." His smile was back, but it showed the signs of strain.

She tugged at her wrists again. "My arms are hurting."

"I'm certain I can find a way to take your mind off the pain."

"You might find it more enjoyable if I were able to participate."

One of his brows lifted. "Your idea of participating would probably not be what I had in mind. I think I'll leave you just the way you are."

"Where are the vampires? I know they are here. Friends of your grandfather's, I presume?"

"Just as a bit of added insurance," he said. "Outside the door there. You should be flattered that I felt the need to have additional assistance."

He walked toward her and stood, looking down. "When this is all over—tomorrow, perhaps—I'll release you and then you can start to pick up the pieces. For now, though, I bid you au revoir."

He bent, gave her a gentle kiss next to the corner of her lips, where he was far from her angry teeth, and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Victoria started to look about for an opportunity to escape; but no sooner had the door closed behind Sebastian than it opened again and another man came in. A vampire.

His eyes glowed red and his fangs were out, and for one horrible moment she thought he meant to attack her. Surely Sebastian wouldn't allow it. But Sebastian was gone.

As the vampire walked over and stood next to her, her vision swirled and her stomach fluttered.

"Quite a shame that we must leave you untouched. I've never had a Venator before." The implication was clear, and she felt her panic begin to subside.

But then the vampire traced a cold finger over her neck, using his sharp nail, and she felt the prick of its point, surely deep enough to draw blood. He bent toward her and she stiffened, pulling at the ropes beyond her head, feeling them jolt something above her, but he did not bite. Instead he dragged his wide, cold tongue over the place he'd cut. Victoria turned her head away, her stomach pitching, her back arching, hoping that whatever protections Sebastian had put in place for her would be enough once the vampire had smelled and tasted her blood.

Her veins surged, her blood pulsing through them as though shooting to the place on her neck where he'd scratched her. Victoria's breathing became trapped, slow, sluggish. The world funneled into a whirl of sensation: the cold moisture of his tongue, long and slow on her flesh; the scrape of his teeth; the sharp-nailed fingers that now dug into her scalp, beneath her heavy hair; the beat of her heart racing, pounding through her limbs as she struggled to free them.

When he pulled back he smiled, and his eyes were glowing deep bloodred. Hunger glistened there, and she smelled blood on his breath. "That was lovely," he murmured, tracing a long nail gently down her neck and to her breast. "I am so very tempted." His nail paused, pressing into the tender skin that swelled over her bodice.

The mad thumping of her heart pounded so harshly that her breast jolted in rhythm as she scarcely dared to breathe.

The vampire's eyes glowed red, then redder, then softer again as he seemed to contemplate his options.

But at last he pulled away. "It is fortunate for you, Venator, that I value my own existence more than what delights you offer," he said, looking down at her. "Perhaps later, when Vioget tires of you… but for now… I must regretfully decline." He said this last over his shoulder as he walked away; and she relaxed, watching as he went back out the door.

If it hadn't been for Sebastian—and possibly his grandfather's influence—she would have been in trouble. The vampire's actions put quite a damper on Sebastian's arguments: the vampire was clearly ready to take from a helpless woman, and only fear for his own safety stopped him.

But now… now she must attend to finding a way out.

When she'd pulled hard on the bonds of her wrists, she'd felt something move above her. Giving her attention more closely to her environment, she recognized that she was bound to a bed and that the headboard had become loosened by her struggles. Perhaps she could break it free.

She didn't know if the noise would bring the vampire guards in, but she had to attempt it. Trying to keep the banging to a minimum, she pulled on her wrists, felt the ropes scrape over her skin, and jerked around, trying to see if she could get the top of the bed loose. She wasn't even certain what it was made of; it sounded like metal of some sort.

Victoria struggled, then began to tug on her feet in the same way, causing low, deep creaking sounds to emanate from below—hopefully low enough that it wouldn't alarm the vampires. If she could loosen those ropes, she could bring herself closer to the headboard and perhaps be able to use her hands instead of just pulling on her bounds.

The end of the bed gave way first, and when she finally flipped her feet up, the whole iron footboard came too, and crashed onto her legs. Groaning with pain, she scooted up closer to the headboard and was able to feel around with her fingers, trying to get a grip on the metal.

But then she found something better. The wrought iron was rough and ornate, and the back of her hand scraped against part of it that was rather sharp. If she could position herself and move her wrists to saw the ropes against the edge…

It took a long time. Her arms were already sore from being held in such a position and from pulling; but she wasn't a Venator for nothing. At last the ropes loosened enough that she was able to pull them apart.

Her arms free, Victoria sat up, shook them out, and began to work on her ankles. Soon she was on the floor, hurrying to the window, carrying the rope that had been around her legs. It was still daylight—past noon, if she were to judge by the position of the sun. She had less than twelve hours to get from wherever she was back to the opera theater to try to kill Nedas.

She could go out the door and fight the vampires; there would be a certain satisfaction in plunging a stake into the one who'd sampled her blood. But that would take time and there was the chance that she'd get captured again. Not a good chance, but one nevertheless.

The window was four stories above the ground, however, which was why she was going to put Sebastian's rope to good use. And once she was outside the window, climbing down, the vampires would be helpless to follow her in the full sunshine.

And then she saw it: the silhouette of San Pietro's Basilica. She was still in Rome! That, at least, was in her favor.

When she looked down, she swore and stepped back from the window. But it was too late—Sebastian, who'd just alighted from a carriage, had seen her looking down from the window. He gave her a mocking salute as if to say, Nice try, and hurried up the steps below.

So he didn't think she'd go out the window, did he? She thought he knew her better than that!

Her filmy skirt swirling about, Victoria grabbed the metal footboard that still lay on the bed and smashed it through the window, which had been painted shut. She could hear the pounding of feet on the steps below, and knew she had little time. Swiftly she tied the rope to the stone railing just outside the narrow window ledge at the edge of a balcony the size of a mere pillow.

The door to the room flew open and the vampires rushed in, but she was already out in the pool of sunlight, climbing over the rail, rope in hand. Victoria could hear Sebastian's curses when he came into the room, but she was halfway past the third floor, her skirt gusting in the slight breeze and obscuring her view below. The plaster wall in front of her was scrubbed with a dark orange color that flaked off when she tried to brush her foot against it for a toehold.

Fortunately, the building backed into a small rust-walled courtyard instead of a street, so there was less chance of an alarm being raised about a woman lowering herself down from a window. Nettle bushes grew along in the insides, thrusting up and obstructing the steps and half of the windows. She would have to take care not to land on one of them.

The rope ended just below the third-floor window, and Victoria glanced up. Sebastian was no longer looking down at her; he must have gone back in and was coming down the stairs to stop her below. She had a decision to make: Climb in through that window and try to sneak out another way, or drop down and hope she landed on the second-floor window's tiny balcony. Going back into the building would put her in danger of running into the vampires again, but dropping down was also dangerous—and might not give her time to escape before Sebastian got to the bottom.

She had to make the choice.

Looking down past her skirt, which partially blocked her view, she focused on the window ledge below. It was no more than a man's height away in distance. The pointed arch at the top of the window was just out of reach; but by shifting lower on the rope and reaching out with one hand, she was able to grasp it and hold it to steady herself. Clamping her fingers over it, Victoria shifted her weight toward the building, half leaning on the arch, and let go of the rope.

She fell, using her grip on the slender arch to direct her fall, and she landed on the small edge of the window, barely wide enough for her feet. With nary a moment's thought, she vaulted over the same stone railing as on the fourth-floor window ledge, her skirts tangling and billowing, and dangled from the ledge for a moment before dropping, fortunately, next to a nettle bush on the ground.

She dashed toward the narrow entrance of the courtyard, frightening two cats that had been sunning themselves, and she heard the door slam open behind her and Sebastian calling for her. Rounding the corner, she found herself on a narrow street lined with the same kind of buildings she'd just escaped from. He was right behind her; she could hear his footfalls coming closer.

Victoria was not about to be caught now, when she'd come so far. She dashed across the street, down another alley, and ran and ran, around corners and up streets, past chair weavers and tailors and bakers, until the sound of footfalls were lost amid the noise of midday Rome.

The Quirinale clock tower bonged in the distance: two o'clock.

She had ten hours.