The Bleeding Dusk

Epilogue Wherein We Are Reminded That Hell Hath No Fury

Sarafina Regalado walked boldly into the chamber where Lilith the Dark awaited.

Her journey from Roma to these mountains in the depths of Romania had been long, and she was exhausted. But she refused to be cowed by the powerful undead who stood before her. What was the worst that could happen?

The queen of the vampires could bite her.

And Sara would rather enjoy that.

“Do I know you?” Lilith asked after a moment. “Why have you braved my guards to speak to me?”

“My father was Conte Regalado, but he is dead. The woman Venator killed him.”

The blue-red eyes narrowed. “Ah, so you are the one. What do you want?”

“I bring you news,” Sara told her, looking around at the sumptuous furnishings, and examining the vampire’s gown. Out of style, wrong fabric…but somehow it suited her. “Akvan is destroyed. The Door of Alchemy has been opened.”

“That is no news to me.” The queen was watching her hungrily. “Beauregard is dead, too, at last. Although his armband is missing again.”

From under her cloak Sara pulled a sheet of paper, brittle with age and from the thin wax that covered it. “Perhaps you would find this interesting. I obtained it from one of Beauregard’s minions—the one who brought me to you.”

Lilith took it lazily, but Sara saw the way her gaze sharpened when she looked at the drawing of the plant and the instructions, written in a language that Sara didn’t understand. But she didn’t need to. She’d brought it to someone who would know how to read it.

“And what do you wish from me?”

“How did Max kill Akvan?” asked Sara. “He should not have been able to.”

The queen looked at her, and before Sara’s eyes she became even paler than before, nearly translucent, so that more ribbons of blue veins showed through her white skin. “Maximilian. No.”

She rounded on Sara, who was suddenly taken aback by the fury in the vampire’s eyes. They burned in her skull, burned as they looked at her, burned as though they touched her skin. “Did he slay Akvan with his own hand? With his own hand? Tell me!”

Sara nodded. “He did.”

“No. I cannot—No.” Her mouth compressed; her hair swirled about her in a cloud of copper. “No! He has betrayed me!”

“And you are not the only one,” Sara told her. “Although,” she added hastily as the vampire spun back to her, fangs bared as though to tear into her, “his betrayal of you—whatever it was—must be much more important than what he did to me.”

“Max. How dare he!” Lilith was shrieking now, her chest heaving with anger and malevolence. “After all of the graces I’ve bestowed on him, all of the freedoms! And he betrays me.” Her voice had dropped now, steadied. “I shall have my vengeance.”

She looked at Sara. Lilith’s eyes glowed, but no longer burned. All but one of the veins under her skin had faded. Her lips curved invitingly. “Both of us shall. Now come closer, my dear, and give me your pretty little neck.”