The Rest Falls Away

Chapter Fourteen Whereupon an Alliance Is Suggested

Victoria wore a gown of the palest of icy purple, with dark violet rosebuds and lace trimmings along the flounces of her skirt. Verbena dressed her hair in all manner of intricate coils and braids, made all the more labyrinthine by its corkscrew nature, and anchored it at the very top of her head. Two strands hung free, one on either side of her face, curling from her temples to rest over her collarbones.

Sparkling behind them were clusters of amethyst and diamonds hanging from her ears. A large, square amethyst rested in the hollow at the base of her throat, tied there by a white velvet ribbon.

She carried a small indispensable of pearlescent silk, into which was tucked a faded pink satin ribbon, and draped a thin alençon lace shawl around her elbows.

She did not carry a stake. Or holy water. Or even wear a cross, except one tucked deeply into her bodice… and dangling from her navel.

Tonight she was not a Venator.

Tonight Victoria was the betrothed of the Marquess of Rockley.

Perhaps it was an impetuous decision, but Victoria wanted one night to enjoy being a woman in love with a handsome, charming, wealthy man. She wanted one night when she did not have to consider how a vampire might enter the ballroom, or how she might make a quick exit… or even whether the breeze at the back of her neck was a gust of summer wind or the sign of an undead.

She wanted to be normal.

Nevertheless, she had brought a stake and had hidden it with her cloak in the family parlor. Just in case.

Phillip had never looked more handsome as he led her to the dance floor after their betrothal was announced by his closest relative—his deceased mother's brother—halfway through the ball. He swept Victoria gracefully into his arms and they began the first waltz of the second set, surrounded by a combination of beaming and surprised faces.

At first they were the only couple on the dance floor. Through five measures, Victoria felt the weight of half the ton's gaze on her, assessing the wife-to-be of the Marquess of Rockley, one of the most sought-after bachelors of Society. He looked down at her as if she were the only woman he'd ever seen—or would see—as they turned around the oblong dance floor in an elongated triangular path.

By the time they'd come near the edge of spectators three times, other couples had begun to ease their way out to take their own turns to the waltz, and Victoria did not feel so much like a trophy on display.

Phillip lifted his gaze periodically to meet the eyes of friends, family, and acquaintances as he guided her through their paces, but his attention always returned to her. It made Victoria feel warm and tingly, the way he looked at her with promise and steadiness. She smiled, turning her face up and looking only at him, trusting that he would direct her through the steps without her having to notice where they were going or near whom they were stepping.

A wonderful feeling… allowing herself to let go. To not have to be aware of her surroundings. To not have to listen to her instincts and wonder when that chill would creep across her neck, and to not have to calculate how she would slip from the room to do her duty.

"Your aunt and your cousin did not appear to be pleased with our news," Phillip said after they had been dancing for a moment and there were others on the floor.

"I believe you simply took them by surprise with your announcement. They expressed their overwhelming emotion after you took your leave."

"I thought perhaps they would have wanted to attend tonight to celebrate with us. I am disappointed that they did not accept the invitation to join us here at St. Heath's Row."

"Aunt Eustacia does not move about Society all that much anymore," Victoria replied. "She has come here from Italy in only the last four years, and she does not know very many people. And Max… he chooses not to attend functions such as these. Just as you did… until recently."

"I cannot fault your cousin for that; although had I known I would have found you, I am certain I would have made an effort to fend off the matchmakers much sooner."

"A lovely thought, Phillip, but I cannot agree. You know that I have moved very little in Society for the last two years, since I have been in mourning for my grandfather and father. If you had indeed bestirred yourself to move about thus, I fear I would have lost you before I found you."

"Never. Victoria, there would have been no one but you for me." He sighed, smiled, and continued, "I fear it is time that I make another confession."

As she had the first time, she raised an eyebrow. "Another one?"

"Another one. My last, Victoria, so enjoy it." He tipped his head and looked down at her. "The reason I chose to put myself at the mercy of Society this year is because I knew you had finally ended your mourning and were to come out. I wanted to meet the young girl I'd known long ago and see if she had grown into the woman she promised to be. She had; and I fell in love with her."

When he looked at her like that, with his shining blue eyes so steady and sure, she felt as though nothing would ever be so certain as Phillip and his presence. As if the reality of vampires and Lilith and the Book of Antwartha didn't have to exist in a world that Phillip and she lived in.

But of course, it could not be. She already knew those evils existed. She had already fought them—and fought them successfully.

While she couldn't leave them behind, couldn't be hypnotized out of them as her mother had been, Victoria knew she could survive the split world as long as she had Phillip waiting for her on the other side.

"Max, I don't recall the last time I saw you so disturbed."

"Disturbed? That's much too polite a word to describe the way I'm feeling," he snapped at Eustacia. He'd been stewing about it since yesterday, when Rockley had blithely announced the news at Grantworth House.

"Victoria cannot marry—and a marquess, no less! What has addled her brain?"

"I don't disagree with your sentiment, Max, but the fact remains that there is no law against a Venator marrying anyone, marquess or no."

"No law but common sense. Of which she apparently possesses none."

Eustacia had not moved from her chair; but despite her calm, measured words, he saw the concern in her ageless face. She might not rail and stalk as he did, but as she said, she was no more pleased than he was.

"We have the Book of Antwartha," he continued. "And I will admit that she played a much larger role in its recovery than I had expected… but she likely believes that all threat is now abolished, since we have the book, and she does not have to play at being Venator any longer." He flicked his finger over the sleek black stake he'd just slipped from his favorite hidden pocket.

"It is no more than I suspected when she was first called—she would find it exciting and exhilarating for a time, and then become bored with it," he continued. "And then she would want to return to her simple world of poetry-spouting beaux and pink furbelows and dance cards. This is precisely why women should not be Venators. Present company excepted, of course, Eustacia, as you always are the exception that proves the rule." He gave a short bow, for he recognized the beginnings of fire in her onyx eyes.

"Victoria has given no indication that she believes the threat is over, Max; you must admit you are being unfair. She did save your life during the process of getting the Book of Antwartha; and although it would have been preferable for the two of you to stop trying to cut the other out and work in tandem, you did indeed work together and succeeded. Brilliantly."

"That is my point exactly, Eustacia. Just as she is beginning to show the skill of a truly gifted Venator—and yes, I'll freely admit that she has the potential to be as good as you or I—she is going to be entering into a marriage! Where she will need to account for her every moment to the marquess, and where she will have greater strictures and parameters placed on her life. Not to mention the distraction of being In Love. Have you seen how love-sopped people look at each other? And at no one else, and nothing around them? We cannot afford another near miss like we had two nights ago."

"You said as much to Victoria yesterday when she—or rather, the marquess—told us they were getting married," Eustacia reminded him with a calmness he did not understand. "But, Max"—she spoke louder, raising her voice for the first time and stepping over his arguments—"I cannot and will not order her not to marry. It is her decision and I have to let her make it. Although I do share the same concerns as you, I know that I must step aside and let her do as she will. We all have that freedom, as Venators, and she is not the first to love and want to marry. Some of us love, but do not marry," she added, giving a bare glance toward the door through which Kritanu was due to come at any moment.

"And the truth is, Max, perhaps she will succeed where we do not expect her to. Perhaps Victoria needs that balance of the light with the dark; the ordinary with the horrific unordinary. Perhaps that will make her stronger, more adept… just as your own grief and anger feed your strength."

"I can't agree with you, Eustacia. The life of a Venator is like that of a priest—we are called and we are solitary. And we must remain so in order to fulfill our destiny."

"And what of me, then, Max? Have I not fulfilled my destiny because I am not alone?" Eustacia asked gently, as if she suddenly understood what was at the core of his disheartenment.

Max recognized an unanswerable question when he heard one, and swiftly changed the subject. "Victoria recognized Sebastian Vioget. How does she know who he is?"

Eustacia lifted an eyebrow. "That is interesting. My assumption would be that wherever and however she learned about the book and its protection was where and how she learned who Sebastian Vioget is. And it concerns me that he was there at Redfield Manor."

"It concerns me that he would have allowed me to pick up the book," Max replied with sarcasm. "He was nearly salivating at the thought."

"It's too bad you cannot see to form an alliance with him. It might be to our benefit. Perhaps that is something Victoria should consider." Before Max could speak, Eustacia brought up another unpleasant topic. "How is your neck?"

He caught himself reaching to touch the old bite. It had indeed been paining him in the last day, throbbing with a constant dull tic. "I felt no need to mention it has been hurting; it would be no surprise to you, considering the events of the last few days."

"No, but I could give you more salve," Eustacia replied gently, as though speaking to a young child. "There is no need for you to endure the pain."

"It is nothing." Perhaps he would have said more, but at that moment Kritanu opened the door from the hall and Wayren glided in.

"Felicitations, Eustacia and Maximilian," the blond librarian beamed. Her long medieval sleeves would drag the floor when her arms hung at her sides; but now, as she had them raised in delight, the flowing cuffs served only to wrap themselves around Eustacia and then Max, in turn, as Wayren embraced each of them. "You have succeeded in retrieving the book! And so quickly!"

"Yes, it was quite fortuitous," replied Max as she stepped back.

"And your bite?" asked Wayren, giving him the same assessing look Eustacia had.

"It is tender," he admitted.

The door opened again, and Kritanu ushered in the second guest—Victoria, of course. Max looked over and said, "Ah, there she is. And… alone? You did not bring your better half, Victoria?"

"Oh, no, Phillip sends his regrets. He is much too busy trying to decide which way to tie his neckcloth for the wedding," she replied sweetly.

Max had to bite his lip to keep back his surprised delight at her smart rejoinder. She was quick. He couldn't fault her there.

As he sat down in his favorite chair next to the highboy where Kritanu kept the brandy, he looked blandly at Eustacia, who had given him a less than pleased look at his sarcastic comment.

"Your better half?" asked Wayren, settling next to Max but speaking to Victoria.

"Max is speaking of my betrothed husband, the Marquess of Rockley. He—Max—appears to be under the impression that when I take my vows I will forget those I have already made to the Gardella Legacy."

Victoria, whose hair was dressed in a way that Max had never seen, pressed a kiss to her aunt's cheek, and then one to Kritanu's, before selecting a chair directly opposite Max. Instead of being piled high on her head, with every black curl stuck in place and intertwined with gems and ribbons, her hair fell in a simple, long plait down the back of her dress. She had to move the braid out of the way or she would have sat on it.

Max noticed that she was carrying a leather bag, and as she settled in her chair, she drew it onto her lap.

"That is the book?" he asked, desirous of getting their discussion onto more important things than the impending wedding.

"It is." Victoria drew it out and held it for a moment before offering it to Eustacia. "What shall we do with it now that we have it? Is there anything in it that could help us?"

Wayren watched the battered leather tome with the same avidity Max's old dog watched the table for a bone or other scrap to fall—or be pushed—to the floor. She sounded almost breathless when she spoke. "I will have to study it to know for certain… but I would venture to say that there is little in there that would promote living in the light. It is the book of Kali's evil child, and as such has only recipes for promoting evil. Still, knowing what value it has for Lilith may help us to understand her next move."

"Indeed," Eustacia agreed. "Merely having it in our possession is the greatest of advantages. And in fact, I have been thinking long and hard about where we should hide the book until we have decided what to do with it."

"Won't you keep it here, Aunt Eustacia?" asked Victoria, surprise lighting her face.

Max did little to disguise his snort of disgust. "Eustacia's home, or mine, would be the first place Lilith would look for it. Or yours." He was not disappointed; a jolt of enlightenment changed her face. Ah, perhaps she did understand the severity of the situation. That the game was not quite over yet… and, in fact, would not be over until Lilith was annihilated. "She knows who foiled her plan, and I can only imagine her fury with us." Actually, he could imagine it quite well. Better, in fact, than he wished.

"Wherever it is kept, you must place it out of direct sunlight, especially while transporting it," Wayren said, "or it will crumble into dust. It is an evil book, and therefore it thrives in the dark… and disintegrates in the light. And before you take it, I would like to reverse the protection on it as well, in order to give us additional security."

"Reverse the protection?" asked Victoria. "You can do that?"

"That is part of Wayren's charm," Max interjected. "No pun intended."

Wayren tinkled a laugh at his jest, and he was partially mollified when Victoria narrowed her eyes as if not sure what to believe. He felt a perverse pleasure in keeping himself one step ahead of her.

"I would like to destroy the book," Wayren added, "and then we need not fear Lilith finding it and retrieving it, but before we do that I want to do a bit more investigation in order to make sure there will be no adverse effects if we do. Or whether there is anything in the book that we might find advantageous. So if there is a place that it can be kept safely for a bit longer…"

"I have come to the conclusion," Eustacia interrupted pointedly, "that the best place is to hide it away in a church or holy place of some sort. She can't go there if it is protected enough, and she cannot send her minions."

"If you do not have a place in mind, I have a suggestion," Victoria spoke. "There is a small chapel on the grounds at St. Heath's Row—Rockley's estate," she added, looking pointedly at Max. "I could hide the book there, and make certain that there are enough holy relics and images to keep them away, even if they were to determine it was there. I will be becoming quite familiar with the entire chapel, including its decor, as that is where we are to be married."

The way her lips curved in a mocking smile made Max's blood pressure rise. He gave no indication, however; just picked up his black stake and slapped it against his palm. It was time to leave.

He stood. "Well, then, since we have settled that, I must be on my way. Lilith will have sent her people out to gather victims for her feeding, and I've a mind to put her on a restricted diet."

He expected Victoria to leap up and insist upon going with him, and he had a rigidly polite response ready to sally off to her… but she didn't. She just looked up at him with those clear hazel eyes in a delicate, creamy face that should not belong to a woman who'd killed eight vampires two nights earlier.

"Take care, Max," she said, surprising him again this evening.

"I will." And he left, glad to be out in the night doing what he was bora to do. At least he would have no distractions.

Victoria wanted to make another visit to the Silver Chalice, but that was easier conceived than actually realized.

Her retrieval of the Book of Antwartha had happened six days ago, and since then she had been balancing the requirements of being the future Marchioness of Rockley, duties to her mother, who was milking her new status for all she could, and meetings with Aunt Eustacia, Kritanu, the waiflike Wayren, and, of course, Max.

As promised, she had taken the book and hidden it under the altar at the chapel at St. Heath's Row, which was the extensive Rockley estate that sat on the very edge of town. Wayren had been given leave to visit the chapel at any time so that she could study it in safety; Phillip had been told that she was a distant relative of Victoria's who was offering a novena in her name for the success of their marriage, and wished to spend time in the chapel.

Max was not so easily managed. He had tried several times to bring up the fact that she'd mentioned Sebastian's name during the events at Redfield Manor, but Victoria had been stubbornly closemouthed. She was furious with herself for such a blunder, but as long as she continued to sidestep Max's inquisition, she could keep the damage to a minimum. In fact, she found it a pleasure to see the annoyance on his face when she sweetly dodged his queries.

It was when Aunt Eustacia began to ask questions that Victoria had more difficulty.

"Max tells me you have met Sebastian Vioget," her aunt commented one afternoon when Victoria had managed to slip away from Grantworth House before Melly dragged her off to another tea. It wasn't that she didn't like sharing biscuits and gossip with her peers; it was that she'd done so much of it in the last week that Victoria felt ill at the thought of more lemon curd and clotted cream slathered on various baked goods. Not to mention the fact that her stays were feeling uncomfortably tight.

And how was she going to fit into a wedding gown if she kept eating five or six rounds of tea during daily visits?

"What makes Max think I've met him?" countered Victoria innocently.

Aunt Eustacia gave her an indulgent look that told her she would allow her to play the game of splitting hairs. "You recognized him at Rudolph Caulfield's home, so Max assumed you knew him."

"I did recognize him, but that doesn't mean that I have met him. What do you think he was doing there?"

Her aunt clasped lace-edged hands in her lap and looked directly at Victoria. "I thought perhaps you would have the answer to that." The indulgent look had vanished.

"I truly don't know why he was there. I was as surprised as Max must have been. Unless Max had expected him… ?"

Her aunt watched her for a moment as if to gauge the veracity of her statement, then seemed to make a decision—obviously in Victoria's favor, for she said, "Sebastian Vioget is very powerful and he could be a valuable ally to our cause. If we could trust him." Aunt Eustacia was looking at her with such scrutiny that Victoria felt her face grow warm. She felt as though her aunt was waiting for her to say something, but Victoria did not know what… and she knew that anything she said at that point would be inadvisable.

But Victoria, at least, had no reason not to trust Sebastian. The information he had given her had been correct—as far as she could ascertain.

It wasn't that she did trust him. It was that she didn't not trust him. That splitting-hairs problem.

"Why don't you trust him? He's not a vampire."

Eustacia swept at her a look that reminded her of the sharp swipe that Max had used to behead the Imperials. "No, he is not a vampire. But the mere fact that he was at Rudolph Caulfield's home, in the midst of this transferal of the Book of Antwartha, has given both Max and myself reason to wonder at his involvement. Victoria, what do you know about Sebastian Vioget? Have you had any interaction with him?"

Victoria opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Sebastian had warned her about divulging where she'd gotten her information… but how could she keep such information from Aunt Eustacia? Especially when asked so directly?

She struggled, knowing that her aunt was watching her, and knowing that the fact that she'd delayed answering her question had already given her aunt the information she sought. So she made the decision.

"I visited the Silver Chalice to try to find information about the Book of Antwartha, and I met him at that time. He made it clear to me that I was not to tell anyone we'd spoken, so I did not."

Aunt Eustacia nodded once. To Victoria's relief, she asked for no further details. Instead she commented, "If you should have occasion to meet him again, it would not be remiss if you were to attempt to establish some level of cooperation. It could be to our benefit."

With that, Victoria knew she needn't put off visiting the Silver Chalice any longer.

She would go tonight.