Rises the Night

Chapter 22 In Which Mr. Starcasset Fills in a Number of Details

The ruins of the opera theater were still smoking when Victoria arrived at nearly half past three on November first, the day before the Day of the Dead, or All Souls' Day, as it was commonly called. The curious stood nearby and gawked. The busy strode past as if nothing had happened.

The fire had destroyed only about one-third of the front of the building, but it was obviously unusable as it was. Victoria wondered how many people had died—either from the fire and smoke, or the fangs of the vampires.

Despite her conversation with Sebastian, she could not accept the idea that vampires were not all evil. It went against everything she'd been taught for the last year and a half, and her own interactions with the creatures.

Victoria pulled her cloak closely about her shoulders in an attempt to cover her unusual garb. She'd dressed to fight, to hide, to run and climb, in loose black trousers and a matching tunic. Her shoes were soled with leather, thick enough for protection and supple enough to allow the same ease of movement as slippers. Her long hair had been braided in one long plait, and stuffed down the back of her shirt so that the tail brushed the base of her back, under her garments. She had holy water, stakes, and a knife secreted in various locations under her clothing. Miro, the weapons master from the Consilium, had given her another weapon that would be of use in this particular situation: a small bow that would allow her to fire a specially carved wooden arrow—a stake—from a distance.

She already knew she would never get close enough to Nedas to stab him; so the bow and wooden arrow-stakes would be her only chance to succeed. She wasn't an expert archer, but she could hit her target. She had three stakes, and her plan was to kill him and then, in what she hoped would be ensuing chaos, steal Akvan's Obelisk. At the very least, assassinating Nedas would put a stop—albeit a temporary one—to the activation of the obelisk, giving the Venators more time if Victoria did not succeed.

Verbena had been more curious than worried when Victoria appeared at the villa; she'd known her mistress had gone off with Sebastian and had not been overly concerned when she did not return that evening. "After all, I seen the way ye two looked at each other—like ye coulden wait to get b'neath each other's clothes. Ye're young and ye've been mourn'n the marquess for more'n a year, so 'twas time to get ye'self a little slap an' tickle, if ye ask me."

What could Victoria say to that? Her maid's assessment had, as usual, been accurate; how would she have known that Sebastian had other plans besides seducing her?

It had not taken long for Verbena to dress her mistress and prepare her to go. Oliver had brought a message over to Aunt Eustacia's villa, to inform her that Victoria was back—of course, she didn't even know her niece had gone missing, since Verbena had not thought anything of it—and of her plans to go to the theater and try to stop Nedas.

Oliver had returned, but with the news that Aunt Eustacia had not been at home. He had left the message, of course, but Victoria could wait no longer; time was slipping away.

Now, at the theater, her biggest difficulty was to gain entrance to the destroyed building without being noticed by a bystander, or, worse, a member of the Tutela. Once she was inside, her plan was to find her way in and attack Nedas by stealth and from a distance.

Victoria waited until she rounded the backside of the theater, where there were fewer witnesses, and moved nonchalantly toward the building. She spied a small entrance, half-hidden by a hillock, likely for use by servants and merchants. As she came closer to the building, a faint coolness at the nape of her neck began to build.

She'd stepped three paces off the walkway toward the door, past a trio of trees, when she felt someone behind her. Before she could turn to see who'd stepped out from the shade of the oaks, something poked her in the side of her hip: round and hard. And small.

"So it is you, Victoria. I'd begun to wonder. No, don't stop, just keep moving nice and easily toward the door. I'd expected Pesaro to bring you himself, but this will work just as well." George Starcasset was prodding her along with a pistol to her kidney, low enough that it wouldn't be noticed by any passersby and would instead appear to be a solicitous arm about her waist.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about," Victoria replied calmly, despite the fact that she'd been caught unawares. At least they were going in the direction she wanted to go.

"We weren't certain about you; we had our suspicions, of course, which was why I invited you to come to Claythorne and made certain Vioget and Polidori were there to draw the vampires. You see, at the time, I did not know what good friends"—he poked her hard in the back—"you were. But since I didn't actually see you in action, or observe what occurred, I couldn't be certain. Come along this way, then." A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that he'd lost the smiling, boyish look he usually had, and it had been replaced by a more fanatic, disturbing expression, albeit in a youthful face.

"What is it that you weren't certain about, George?" she asked as they reached the door. She could hardly believe this was her close friend's brother! A member of the Tutela, from the sound of it. He jabbed her with the gun, and she took that to mean she should open the door. She complied, hoping there was no one else about. If she was going to escape from him, she needed as few witnesses as possible. Preferably none.

"That you are a Venator, of course. Don't try to deny it, my lovely," he said, pulling the door closed behind them, allowing the pistol to drop away as he did. "We'd had suspicions for a while, but since Lilith left London and took all of her people with her, how could we be certain?"

It was lucky for her that he had been three sheets to the wind that night of the vampire attack at Claythorne; he'd slept through the whole flurry of events. She wondered if he'd been mortified that he'd had to report to the Tutela that he was unable to determine whether she was a Venator because he'd been too foxed to observe her. The thought made a smile tickle her lips. It would have served him right.

"Lilith? Of course she would have known. How amusing that you had to trick me all the way to Italy in order to find out." She turned slightly so that she was half facing him in the small passageway, and noticed that he was carrying a satchel over his shoulder.

"Perhaps she did, but there is no love lost between her and her son Nedas, so why would she tell him something that could protect him? They would as soon see the other sent to Hell than to help each other. This way, my dear." He pointed the gun and directed her off to the right. "They will be pleased you have arrived already."

Victoria strained to listen; the longer they were alone, the better. The back of her neck had turned cold and prickly. There were many vampires nearby. Somewhere.

Her fingers itched for her stakes because they were the most familiar weapon to her, but of course they would do no good against George. And besides… she could kill a vampire without qualm, but there was still that pesky detail of what to do with a mortal being who stood in her way. Especially one who was her best friend's brother, regardless of his own potential violent tendencies. She would have to find a bloodless way to stop him.

It was fortunate that she was still wearing her cloak, with the small bow slung over her shoulder under it, or he might have relieved her of that. As it was, it was apparent George Starcasset was not the most experienced person when it came to holding one at gunpoint and forcing him or her to do his will. The gun slipped and dropped haphazardly, and he tended to use the hand holding it to gesture when he talked.

"In here," he said, gesturing to a small door. "We have some time before we must be down below." The smile he gave her would have sent shivers down her spine if someone more threatening had offered it to her.

Inside the small room, he pushed her away so that she was standing a few paces from him, keeping the gun trained on her as he locked the door. "Now, I don't want you to scream, or I'll be forced to use this. And I would hate to do that, for that would bring the vampires running as soon as they smell the blood. Take off your cloak."

Victoria slipped the bow off when she removed the cloak, and tucked it inside the bundle when she dropped it on the floor. There was only a chair in the room; whatever he had in mind—and she rather thought she knew—would not be comfortable in more than one way.

"Were you really that foxed when you came into my room at Claythorne?" she asked.

To her surprise, he appeared to flush slightly. The gun waved as he brushed off the experience. "I did not realize what he was up to until Vioget had induced me to drink nearly a bottle of brandy… but he suggested that you would welcome a visit from me, and I was not averse to following the suggestion once he led me up to your room and urged me on."

Victoria felt a spurt of annoyance. So Sebastian had actually brought George to her room? He'd led her to believe it was George's own idea, with a bit of encouragement from himself!

"Well, he was not so far off with that suggestion," she told George, wondering if he were as gullible when he wasn't pickled but was carrying a weapon that gave him a sense of control. She waited to see his reaction to her statement.

The gun drooped a bit lower, and his mouth relaxed. "I thought I had read the signs, but one can't be too sure when dealing with demure Society ladies. That was the other reason I invited you to Claythorne, you know. I had noticed the way you looked at me whenever we were at the same party or dinner. Even when you were married."

Victoria had to hold back the bark of a laugh that statement provoked. When she and Phillip were married—the brief time they were—she had had eyes only for him. And certainly not for this young, flimsy man before her. "When you invited me to Claythorne I was newly out of mourning, so I did not feel it appropriate to be… obvious." She gave him that smile… the one she'd learned from being married, and had used successfully on Sebastian little more than a week ago. "But the fact is, you would not have needed to get foxed to sneak into my room."

His expression turned hungry, and he stepped toward her. She held firm, even when he bumped the metal-scented gun barrel into the soft underside of her chin, pressing it there as he lowered his face for a kiss.

She expected it to be as inexperienced and uncouth as he appeared to be in other things, but the kiss wasn't. If she hadn't been thoroughly disgusted by him, and distracted by the other things she had to tend to, she might have possibly enjoyed it. Possibly, but by no means certainly.

And therein lay the difference between him and Sebastian. Even when she was angry with Sebastian, she still enjoyed his kiss. Damn him.

As it was, she kissed George back with some enthusiasm in hopes of disarming him. When his free hand began to get a bit friendly, she pulled away from his mouth and asked, "Are you part of the Tutela, then?"

"I am, of course! I have attained the Third Level," he replied, sliding his hand over the front of her tunic and tracing her breast through the cloth. Any lower and he'd find her stakes… She didn't want anything to throw him off his stride and remind him that she wasn't an average Society woman.

"I would love to see your mark," she asked coyly, making it clear that that wasn't the only thing she wished to see.

"Would you now? And I would be most happy to show it to you. But first…" He reached into the satchel he was carrying and pulled out a coil of rope. "I hate to do this to you, my lovely, but I mustn't take any chances."

That was her opportunity. Victoria moved, quick as a flash, bending then rising up with a great twisting force to slam her head into his chin and her elbow into his abdomen.

The great, loud snap of his teeth coming together, followed by the whoosh of air from his lungs, were the only noises before he tumbled to the ground like a bag of stones: heathen hips.

Victoria pocketed the pistol he'd dropped, then set about tying him up. She bound him tightly; then, instead of leaving him on the floor in the room, where he might make noise and draw attention to himself, thus alerting the vampires to her presence, she slung his inert body over her shoulder and quickly made her way back down the narrow passageway and out the door. She dumped him unceremoniously in the bushes next to the small door by the hillock, hidden from view on all sides, and safely outside of the theater.

He would not gain consciousness in the near future; and if someone found him ahead of time, they would make no connection to her being in the opera theater.

George safely incapacitated, she hurried back inside to the room where she'd left her cloak and bow, knowing that it was past four o'clock and the time was drawing near. The sun would set in two hours.

The only clue she had to where she must go had been George's statement regarding going "down below." But which direction and where and how… she had no better idea than she had when she first arrived.

The creak of the door through which she'd just come, from the outside, snagged her attention, and Victoria peered out from behind the cracked door into the passageway.

A tall, golden-haired man walked casually down the hall toward her. Sebastian.

At last… the opportunity to take a page from his book and appear when he didn't expect it. Victoria stepped out of the room in front of him. "Why, Sebastian, I thought you'd still be searching the streets of Rome for me."

"I regret to inform you, my dear, that if you anticipated sending my heart into fast paces by jumping out in front of me, you sadly mistake my skill. I saw you moments ago, when you brought your… parcel… outside the theater and left it in the bushes. Incidentally, I sent the erstwhile Mr. Starcasset off with my coachman in an effort to keep his interference to a minimum. After that, it was rather convenient to find you so easily."

Blast! Would she never get one up on him?

"I hope you aren't here to stop me. You know how it ended last time you attempted it."

He looked at her steadily, and she was surprised to see acceptance in his gaze. "It is against my better judgment, but I will not attempt to stop you. I will, however, accompany you, if you are certain you wish to do this. Perhaps you are meant to be present for it all."

"Nedas is going to activate Akvan's Obelisk, and I am going to do my best to stop him. What do you expect to happen?"

"I'm not precisely certain, but I fear it is nothing I would choose to witness. Anything Nedas is involved with can only be repulsive."

"Do you know where to go, or would that be too much of an advantage to me?"

He smiled at her; but there was a lack of his old spirit. "I know of something better. A place where you can watch unnoticed."

Victoria thought of her bow and the wooden arrows. Unnoticed meant she might truly have the opportunity she needed. "Then let's be off."

As they started, she added, "Thank you, Sebastian."

He shook his head. "Save your gratitude, for you may well regret it later."

Victoria could hear voices as she crouched and followed Sebastian through a low, narrow opening. When she emerged, she found herself looking through a tiny aperture high in the shadows above a stage.

It was not the stage on which the opera she'd watched two nights ago had been performed; there were no box seats nor velvet-covered chairs arranged in rows in a half circle around it. The decor was not gilt and marble, but raw, rough wood and cracked plaster. A small square window studded one wall, near the ceiling just above her head, which, Victoria noticed, was made of open beams and covered with cobwebs.

"Where are we?" she breathed into Sebastian's ear.

"Second rehearsal stage, below the theater," he replied just as softly.

She looked back down to watch the people—mostly men, and many of them vampires—move about. They seemed to be congregating in a central area near the stage. The cold on the back of her neck had not relented; her skin there was so frigid it burned.

Victoria leaned toward Sebastian again and was just about to speak when he closed his fingers over her arm and pointed down. As he did, something changed in the air; it felt thick and expectant and metallic with evil.

A man was approaching the stage, and the others, Tutela and vampires alike, parted ways for him to pass through. She couldn't get a perfect look at him, but she absorbed the image of shiny black hair, worn short and close to the scalp, and his dark olive skin, much darker than an Italian's, and thick brows. It was hard to tell, but she thought he might be perhaps a few years older than she, in his middle twenties. His lips were thin and pinched, and the whites of his eyes were so white they nearly gleamed.

He looked nothing like his mother, whose skin was nearly translucent it was so pale, and her hair like coils of polished copper and ruby, it was so bright red.

She knew he must be Nedas, the son of Lilith, for no other creature would command such immediate and complete attention from the others. And Victoria felt the evil so strongly, she wanted to brush it off, wipe it away.

She'd been so intent on examining Nedas that at first she completely missed him. But then, as three other men joined Nedas on the stage and stood there in the blush of light coming from a myriad of candled sconces, she recognized Max.

It didn't surprise her. No, surprise was not what she felt when she saw him, his confident, easy figure towering over Nedas and the others next to him. She must have moved or caught her breath, for Sebastian touched her arm as if to comfort her.

Comfort. The last thing she needed—or wanted—was comfort.

She ignored Sebastian and watched Max's harsh, handsome face as it softened into a laugh at something Nedas said, tipping up toward the ceiling, exposing his throat as he basked in hilarity for a moment.

Victoria couldn't imagine for an instant what the evil creature could have said that was so funny.

Focus.

She had to push away the maelstrom of feelings and urges clashing through her and focus on her opportunity. Bless Sebastian; he'd provided her with the perfect location from which to launch her assassination attempt. They were so high up and tucked into the shadows that even Max's sharp eyes wouldn't spot them unless he knew exactly where to look.

The thought crossed her mind, briefly but severely, that it was possible he might. That he and Sebastian had planned this together, knowing that she would do what she wanted to do, and so faked a kidnapping so that she could think they didn't want her there… when in fact, it was all an elaborate ruse to get her here, at this place, at this time. Max was certainly smart enough to do such a thing, and he knew her well.

Wasn't that why George hadn't been surprised at all to see her? He'd thought Max would bring her himself, but it was just as well that she'd arrived alone.

Victoria tensed. Her stomach churned with doubt in spite of herself. No. If Max had wanted harm to come to her, he would not have helped her to escape the theater only two nights ago.

That train of thought gave rise to another, and she began to search the small crowd of vampires for the Imperial she'd met at Claythorne. She didn't see him, but she did recognize Regalado, and to her surprise noticed that his eyes were glowing red. He had been turned.

Victoria noticed his daughter, Sara, who remained unobtrusively in a corner with a hood half-drawn over her head and her eyes hidden, along with another hooded companion next to her. The only reason Victoria recognized Sara was that she'd tipped her face up for a moment to speak to Max, who stood on the stage.

At that point, Victoria realized the meeting, or whatever one would call it, had been called to order and that Nedas was talking. She also noticed that there was nothing in the vicinity that could be construed as being Akvan's Obelisk. She didn't really know what it looked like, but Wayren had given her the impression that it was a large obsidian object, certainly nothing that could easily be secreted in a pocket or under a cloak.

If they were here to activate Akvan's Obelisk, where was it? Was it possible they'd been wrong about everything? Had he already done so?

"Tonight we welcome one of our own back to the fold. A Venator, who has proven his desire to return to us despite my suspicions to the contrary," Nedas was saying. His voice, for all his power, was not so loud… yet it seemed to permeate every corner and cranny of the chamber, insidious as the evil that hung in its tones. Victoria found that she did not have to strain to hear any of his words. "He has but one more task to prove his loyalty, and then he will take his place at my side. The addition of this Venator into my most secret ranks will be instrumental to our success, particularly with the power I will obtain tonight from Akvan's Obelisk."

He turned to Max, who now stood alone with him on the stage, and continued. "Despite the fact that you were once a Tutela member long ago, you turned away from our society and became our enemy, striking at us without regard, making a legend of yourself. When you came to me many months ago and indicated your desire to rejoin our ranks, I would have killed you on the spot." His thin lips stretched in a malicious smile. "But when I saw that you bore the mark of my dear mother, and that she had claimed you for her own, and learned that she had sent you to us, I realized what an opportunity we had.

"A Tutela turned Venator turned Tutela. At last you have come home."

Max stepped forward, gave a brief bow to Nedas, and said in an oily voice that Victoria barely recognized as his, "Great One, I am gratified that you have taken me in and allowed me to prove my loyalty. The tasks you have set forth have not been simple or easy; in fact, I am aware that no one else in your ranks has been called to do what I have done. I realize it is penance for my disloyalty to the Tutela in joining the Venators all those years, and that it is only because of the wishes of your esteemed mother, Her Majesty, Queen Lilith, that I have been given the opportunity to rejoin your society. It is my hope that tonight this last task will remove any doubt from your mind that I am wholly and completely Tutela."

Victoria watched, her emotions moving from horror to disbelief to hope. Surely, surely, this was all playacting—at least on Max's part. He didn't even sound like himself, even as he had been only days ago when they spoke.

But could Lilith really have sent him?

Her fingers were tight; all thoughts of the bow and wooden arrows had fled. A horrified fascination gripped her as she watched the tableau below. Her heart jolted rhythmically in her chest, and her throat was so dry that when she tried to swallow, it creaked.

Max, what are you doing?

A laugh came from below, from Nedas and Max, from some jest shared only between the two of them. And then Nedas, stepping away from the taller man, announced, "It is time! Where is that female Venator of whom you are so fond?"

Victoria's body turned to ice, and her heart stopped beating for a full breath. Her stomach dropped and pitched nauseatingly, and though she knew she shouldn't move, shouldn't attract attention to her location, she turned to look at Sebastian, fury jetting through her. He was staring down at the scene below just as she had been. Fingers closing around the wooden arrow, she looked at him, ready to drive the wood into his human heart in reparation for this last trick of his.

But then she didn't, for there was activity below. It was not directed up where she was hiding; they were not storming the room and dashing about in search of her.

No. For instead a small, slight figure in black had been shoved forward; she'd been standing next to Sara, there in the back of the room, both of them in matching black cloaks with hoods. Now that she came forward into the light, Victoria recognized her immediately.

Aunt Eustacia.

The female Venator they were expecting wasn't Victoria, but her aunt.

She swallowed the gasp of surprise and stared down. Her aunt shook off the hands that had been manhandling her toward the stage, and walked proudly toward it. She moved through the small cluster of vampires and Tutela. Up three steps, onto the stage.

Victoria could hardly breathe; she dared not blink.

Her aunt stood proudly, and as tall as her stature would allow. Her dark hair was pulled into its simple bun at the back of her head, not the ornate dressing she'd worn to the Consilium. The cloak fell away, revealing a black gown, and Victoria saw that her aunt's hands seemed to be bound behind her.

"Nedas. At last we meet," said Aunt Eustacia in a calm voice that carried to every corner of the room.

"At last. Unfortunately, the moment will be altogether too brief." His smile was completely humorless.

"Any moment in your presence is too long for my taste. I pray daily for your demise, and that of your race."

"How unfortunate for you that my desires will be answered long before yours will."

Victoria watched, waiting, her breathing finally coming in short, shallow puffs. What should she do? Could she interfere in whatever was about to occur?

She looked at Max. His face was blank and more unreadable than ever. He stood square, tall and foreboding, facing Aunt Eustacia and Nedas.

Max had a plan. Of course he did, and Aunt Eustacia was part of it. If Victoria did anything to interfere, she might ruin it. Still… She eased back from the opening through which she looked and slid the bow from her shoulder, holding it in her lap. Her fingers were cramped and would hardly move; her palms hurt where her nails had dug in.

"Now, Maximilian Pesaro, you have been charged to prove your ultimate loyalty to the Tutela by bringing us one of your own. You will seal your fate and become one with the Tutela by completing this one last task." Nedas produced a long, gleaming blade.

Even from where she sat, Victoria could see how heavy and sharp it must be. Her heart was pounding faster now, and something nasty bubbled up in the back of her throat.

Max took the sword, gave it a practice swing that whistled through the air, and nodded to Nedas as he tested the blade over his thumb. Victoria saw the thin red stripe of blood appear after the quick slice in his flesh.

As the next events unfolded, Victoria watched, frozen, waiting. Readying herself to assist Max and her aunt when they needed it.

Nedas stepped away, his dark eyes hooded and focused on Max and Aunt Eustacia. "Execute the woman."

Max turned to his mentor. She stood tall, barely reaching his shoulders as she faced him, arms locked behind her back, calm. Victoria could see the steady rise and fall of her chest. Tension hung in the air.

Max gripped the sword, adjusted it in his palm, holding it with two hands as though he were about to go into a berserker battle. His face was still unmoving, emotionless as a stone wall, his mouth a straight line. His dark hair was pulled back into a short queue, leaving that stark face free of any shadow.

Victoria saw him swallow, saw his throat move. She watched as he drew in his breath; she saw his shoulders and chest rise. He swung back with both arms, elbows bending sharply, forearm blocking his face for the merest of seconds, and then, with all the power gathered up there, struck out with the blade.

It glistened silver in the light, sweeping through the air in a great arc as Victoria watched, her breath caught in the back of her throat, waiting for Aunt Eustacia to pull her arms free and swing into action in tandem with Max.

A great twist of pain darkened Max's face; he gave a low, guttural moan, and his eyes closed as the blade sliced where it was intended, where it had aimed. There was no sound from Aunt Eustacia as her body crumpled to the ground, her head thumping next to it. Severed. Separate. Blood spraying the floor and Max's legs.

Victoria stared for a moment, not believing her eyes, her breath choking, waiting for something to happen that would prove her vision false.

And when nothing did, and she realized her aunt was really dead in a great, sudden pool of blood, the arrow dropped from her nerveless fingers and landed right on the stage below.