When Twilight Burns

Twenty-Four: The Stakes Are Raised

“I hope you don’t plan to go haring off-” Max began in that tone of his.

“I’m not about to go haring off,” Victoria replied sharply. All of the pleasure and contentment with which she’d awakened had evaporated. Now she was cold and angry… but most of all frightened.

She looked at Max, who’d moved away from her and was already dressing, building the wall back up, brick by solid brick. Pressing her lips together, she looked away from his tall, muscular body. Later. She’d deal with him, with this-whatever this was-later. But for now…

“I have no plans to go haring off, Max,” she said in a calmer voice. “That’s what they want me to do, and that’s what put me in Beauregard’s control three months ago. He offered an exchange as well.”

“But his copper armband was the deciding factor in your downfall,” he said in an ironic voice.

“He wouldn’t have had the copper armband to weaken me if I hadn’t brought it along. I left the Consilium withoutrealizing, haring off as you would say… but,” she said, frustration coloring her voice, and grief, for the reminder that Zavier’s life had been the casualty that time-quite possibly along with her own soul. She shivered. “What are they doing to Kritanu and Sebastian?”

“I should think it’s quite clear: holding them for ransom, so to speak. The only thing I’m not certain of is who it is they want to lure there. And,” he added, picking up a shirt, “I use the term ‘they’ simply because I cannot believe Brodebaugh is acting alone. Or if he is even willingly involved.”

“There we agree.” Victoria stood from the bed, neglecting to cover herself, and couldn’t help a bit of smugness when he had to tear his gaze away, his jaw clamping suddenly shut. He wasn’t a bad sight himself, standing there in only untied trousers that settled at his hips. “It must be your scorned lover Sara behind all of this, and George too.”

Max stopped suddenly and looked at her. “Victoria, Sara and I were never lovers… in the true sense of the word.” He pitched the bundle of cloth at her. “You’re cold. Put this on.”

“I’m not cold. And in regards to Sara-you made a good case for the contrary,” she retorted, catching the shirt. Did that mean he hadn’t loved Sara, or that he’d never been intimate with her? “And it doesn’t matter now.”

“No, it doesn’t. But I knew you wanted to know. And… you should.” He pulled out another shirt and shook it out, preparing to put it on. Then he stopped. “Victoria.”

She had started to pull on his shirt, ready now to return to her own room and dress, but his voice halted her. His hand was on the silver cross that pierced his skin. “This is yours.”

Her fingers touched the one at her navel that had belonged to him; she was able to identify the difference between the two by feel. “And this is yours.”

Without another word, he gave a little twist, then a pull, and slipped the dainty vis bulla from his skin. “Wear it now. It might help.”

Her attention flashed to him. Had Wayren told him about the internal battle for her soul? Or was this merely a way to rid himself of any attachment to her and the Venators? “Only if you wear yours again.” She looked up. “Lilith is aware of our… exchange. She was not pleased.”

His mouth settled into a thin line again, drawing deep grooves. “Shall I help you?” he said when he saw that she fumbled with the little silver hoop. His fingers were quick and skillful, warm on her bare skin-but they were impersonal, and didn’t linger-as he removed the simple cross. Then he pulled taut the little lip of skin at the top of her navel and slipped her own vis bulla into place.

It was an oddly intimate gesture-odd considering what had passed between them last night. Victoria felt a twinge of remembrance and her stomach did the silly little flip it tended to do when she was surprised… or discomfited. But then the feeling ebbed, and she realized that having her own vis bulla back in place was… cleaner. More pure and solid.

Max moved away, holding his vis, hesitant. Then, with ease she’d not shown, he replaced it in his areola and breathed deeply. Perhaps he wondered if his Venator powers would be restored once he wore his own amulet. He turned back to the neat table on which his personal items were gathered, and Victoria watched as he slipped the heavy silver ring onto the middle finger of his left hand. As if girding himself for battle.

“Tell me how the ring will protect you.”

“I’m certain you’ve already figured it out, but… there is a catch which, when moved correctly, opens to reveal a sharp blade dripping with venom. A simple prick will do the trick.”

“To you… or to Lilith?”

“To me. Now, why are you still here? Should we not be planning how to save your lover?”

She’d suspected it… but now she knew for certain. Max was withdrawing again. He meant to foist her upon Sebastian again so that he could walk away. And use that bloody silver ring whenever he chose.

What about me?

She bit her tongue, holding back the questions, the demands, the comparisons. After all, hadn’t he despised Sebastian for turning his back on the Venators? There would be time for that later, time to force him into a conversation he wished to avoid. She wasn’t about to let anything happen to Sebastian and Kritanu.

The rest of Max’s comment brought to mind something he’d said earlier. “What do you mean, you aren’t certain who they are trying to lure? It’s you, of course. Lilith wants you back and Sara nearly delivered you to her. Two in exchange for one. Which is why there can be no ‘we’ about this.”

Max raised a brow. “Indeed? I happen to disagree. I believe Lilith wants you more than she does me. After all, you’re still a threat to her, unlike me-as you’ve made quite clear so recently. And you’ve escaped her for a second time, only days ago. I can only imagine how much ash exploded after that-and after last night, when we foiled her plans to kidnap the king. And if she believesyou are some sort of rival for my… affections…” His expression and tone indicated how absurd that thought was.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Is this some kind of twisted way for you to try and take control?” She realized she was still standing there with the shirt in front of her. She yanked it over her head. It smelled of him. Her knees weakened.

“No.” He gestured to the packet, which lay on the mussed bed, open to show the glint of two shades of hair. “Apparently you didn’t notice that the message was unaddressed. It’s not clear for whom it was intended.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. “It doesn’t matter, Max. You’re not as well equipped to face her as… as you used to be.”

If she expected anger from him at her statement, she was disappointed. “There’s one thing you’re forgetting.” His lips stretched in a humorless smile. “No one would ever think that I’d be moved to save Vioget’s life. It’s a game. And you’re meant to be the prize.”

Victoria would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so horrible. In fact, she did give a snort of disbelief. “That’s just it, Max. You would be moved to save his life. The life of anyone, even someone you hate-”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Even someone for whom you have a great amount of antipathy. Because it’s the noble thing to do,” she added sharply, remembering her own poor choices. Leaving Bemis Goodwin and his companion to die. Drugging Max. Hating Gwen for her happiness. “Ever the hero, aren’t you, Max? Always selfless. Do you never do anything just for you?”

She realized suddenly that the red haze was nudging the frame of her vision. Her heart was racing, and she felt a surge of ugly anger bubbling inside her. Automatically, she took a deep breath, touched her vis bullae, and shook her head as if to clear it. Yet that nobility, that steadiness, was what she loved most about Max. The strong, impassable line drawn between right and wrong, black and white.

Loved.

Her knees trembled anew.

It was the reason she’d been able to forgive him for Aunt Eustacia’s death. The reason she’d never stopped trusting him. Had known he wouldn’t forsake the Venators, even once stripped of his own abilities.

In her own mind, that stark black-and-white line had always leaked a bit into charcoal, or to fog… but that had recently begun to bloom into a wide stretch of gray… Was that why he retreated from her? Because she wasn’t as good?

By now the rosiness had faded, her pulse had slowed. The surge of malevolence had gone. Was it getting easier to fight it back? Or was it her imagination, wishing and hoping?

It also hadn’t escaped her that last night, when she and Max were fighting… that vulgar evil hadn’t attempted to take her over. That reddish haze and surge of wickedness hadn’t teased and fought to control her. Why?

Was it because she hadn’t been fighting for self-preservation, as she had other times? Her self hadn’t been in jeopardy; she’d not been battling for her life? She’d not needed to be selfish to win.

The seed of everything evil begins with self.

When she felt steady, Victoria looked up and saw that Max was watching her. His attention scored her, as though trying to decipher what it was that had sent her off into the whirlwind of her mind.

Before he could speak, there was another knock at the door.

It was Verbena again, and she held a small white box.

A red ribbon tied it closed, and when Victoria accepted the container, an awful feeling of foreboding rushed through her. Max took one look at the brownish streaks on the outside and swore. It bore the same seal of Brodebaugh.

Victoria couldn’t get it open fast enough, and when she did, she nearly dropped it. “My God.”

Inside were two fingers, their bloody stumps sticky and oozing into the sides of the container. One had skin the color of coffee, and the other a few shades lighter. This second one bore a small golden ring that Victoria recognized. She didn’t need to say anything; the look of revulsion on Max’s face mirrored her own.

The message was perfectly clear. Time was running out.

Victoria arrived at the Brodebaugh residence as though making an early social call. The house wasn’t as large as St. Heath’s Row, but grander than Grantworth House. Situated near Hyde Park, the grounds of the home were walled but the rear was adjacent to a small finger of the park. Neighboring houses were far enough away to give privacy, due to the unusually wide side gardens.

The moment the door opened, she smelled blood.

“Victoria!” It was Gwendolyn, her eyes wild and her face tinged gray and streaked with tears. Her hair fell in ungainly clumps, and she was still dressed in the gown she’d worn to the coronation yesterday. “You’ve come! I was afraid… I’m so afraid!” She clutched desperately at her, pulling her into the house. “You have to help us!”

Victoria’s heart was pounding. She’d suspected, but now she knew for certain.

As Gwendolyn closed the door, Victoria fought to ignore the heavy iron scent in the air, and to keep her mind steady. Instead, she focused on the comforting stake deep in her pocket, her own vis bulla beneath her clothing, and her surroundings. The foyer of Brodebaugh Hall was empty, fairly ringing with its silence. The whole building was silent.

“Where are they?” she asked, battling the smell of blood, the horror that now gripped her, the edge of pink at her vision.

“Did you… you came alone?” Gwendolyn sniffled, looking around wildly. “How could you… how…”

“I can handle it myself,” Victoria told her firmly. “Where are the servants?”

“They’re all gone,” Gwendolyn said fearfully. “They- she-took them all away.” She looked again, over Victoria’s shoulder, out the door, as if expecting to see an army there. “There’s no one but you? But, Victoria-”

She’d had enough with the hysterics. The stake was out of her pocket and Victoria had slammed Gwendolyn up against the wall before the girl took another breath. Or made another fake sob. Her hand closed in a tight vee under Gwen’s throat, and she poised the stake against her chest. “Tell me where they are, or you’re dust.”

Gwen dropped all pretense. Her pretty face, which had turned gray and tired from the overuse of the elixir, curdled into a malignant expression. Her eyes bulged, and turned from blue to red in an instant. “How did you know?”

“I’d suspected for awhile,” Victoria told her, realizing that the back of her neck had cooled. Gwen wasn’t the only vampire in the house. “You were always there when a daytime attack occurred. I could see the elixir taking its toll on you, in your face, but I just thought it was exhaustionfrom your wedding plans.” She tightened her fingers around Gwen’s throat, causing the girl to cough and to scratch at her hand, trying to tear it away. “But when I saw the queen yesterday, I realized there’s a certain shadow in the eyes of a daytime undead. They all had it: James, Caroline, her guards. And you.”

“James.” Gwen kicked out, but Victoria was ready. The little pointed foot, strong with undead power, merely grazed the side of her target’s leg. “You killed him too! You killed my love.”

“So that was it.” Victoria knew she was taking up valuable time… but she had to know more. And why. “You helped set him in place as the new Rockley heir.”

“I had no choice, since the first one was dead. I wanted to marry Phillip and you stole him from me. I’d seen him first, and then you made your debut, and immediately he was stumbling all over his feet for you. I didn’t have a chance.” Gwen’s voice was rough from the hand at her throat, but her tone was petulant. “And now James. We were going to be so happy together. Eternal youth! And wealth.”

Victoria looked at the girl who had been her friend and wondered how such a lovely young woman could have turned so evil.

Self. The seed of everything evil begins with self.

“You never intended to marry Brodebaugh?”

Gwen gave a squeaky laugh. “Oh, yes, we were to wed. And then he would die a sudden death, and I would find solace in the arms of the Marquess of Rockley. We’ve been planning this for months!” she ended on a shriek.

“How long have you been undead?”

“Only since George returned from Italy. He brought Malachai-you knew him as James. And when I met him, I knew the Tutela wasn’t enough for me. I wanted immortality.” Her laugh was grating and malicious. “I wanted revenge on you for years, Victoria Gardella… since you married the man I desired. I planned for you to die when you came to the house party last summer… when the vampires came for Polidori. But you fought them off. You and that blond Frenchman.”

“You’re dying from the elixir, Gwen. Did Lilith tell you that?”

Victoria felt, rather than heard, the front door open silently behind her. The gasp of fresh air was a relief.

“Ah. I see you’ve confirmed your suspicions,” said Max. “There’s no one about on the grounds; all the servants appear to be gone. And I wasn’t seen, for the windows are shrouded.”

“Good,” said Victoria.

“You lied!” screeched Gwen. “You didn’t come alone.”

“So sorry.” Victoria gave her a cold smile, and slammed the stake home. Dusting her hands off-gloveless, of course-she turned to Max. He’d pulled his hair back into a tight queue, and his countenance was tight with focus. “I probably could have gotten more information from her, but she was becoming tiresome. There are other undead here. Five or more.”

He gave a sharp nod, and they started off down the main hallway, following the smell of blood.

Just as they reached the end of the corridor, facing two massive wooden doors, Max stopped. He took Victoria’s arm and turned her to face him. Her heart started to pound. “I know you’re in charge, and we have a plan,” he said quietly, “but listen to me.” His eyes burned with determination, and Victoria’s mouth went dry. She knew what he was going to say.

“Max, no,” she began, anger surging.

“Quiet,” he said, his voice still soft, but with sharpness. His hand tightened on her arm. “You have to get yourself and Vioget out of here. You’re Gardellas. That’s the most important thing.”

“We have a plan,” she began, but her protest was cut off by a man’s agonized cry. It came from beyond the doors. They both turned, and Max released her.

There was no more time for talk.

As before, Max remained out of sight, sticking for now to their plan. Victoria was the one who threw the doors open and stood boldly in the entrance.

The stench of blood hit her like a wall, filling her nostrils, slogging into her lungs.

“At last. Our guest has arrived. Benvenuto.”

Sara, of course. She stood directly across the room from the doors. Her smile was beatific, her hair properly coiffed, her day dress a simple yet stylish pale green lawn. There was blood on it.

“Cara mia, Victoria,” she said in a shocked voice, looking at her tunic and trousers. “Whatever are you wearing? It is abominevole!”

Victoria scanned the chamber quickly. What she saw made the red blossom over her vision, coloring her whole world for a frightening moment. She focused on the feel of the stake in her hand: its square edges, the smooth wood, the inlaid cross on the top. With her focus, the haze ebbed, leaving only the faintest tinge.

The room would have been used as a small ballroom, or for a musical performance. It was large, with little furniture, and a polished wooden floor. The windows were shrouded, blocking the sunlight. Several lamps burned, however, so the chamber was not the least bit dark, revealing every detail of the garish scene.

To the left were several creatures: Brodebaugh and George Starcasset, along with four or five vampires with blazing red eyes-she didn’t have time to count. George and the earl were sitting in facing armchairs. Brodebaugh’s face was streaked with blood and his clothes were mussed. George, on the other hand, appeared patently uninterested in his surroundings, and had adopted a look of boredom on his boyish face. Two vampires stood near them. But that wasn’t the image that would later give Victoria nightmares.

On the other side of the room, just out of sight until she stepped in, were Sebastian and Kritanu, also flanked by undead. The two men were seated in chairs at either end of a rectangular table. Their bodies faced the doorway, immobilized by a labyrinth of crisscrossing restraints. Kritanu slumped in his seat, sagging forward, held in place only by the straps around his torso. The vampire next to him held a heavy knife. Its blade was bloody.

Sebastian was looking at Victoria, fury in his face. There were fang marks, many of them, on his neck and the part of his arm bared by a rolled-up sleeve. He was pale. He, as well as Kritanu, had the hand closest to the table strapped onto it. Blood pooled on its surface, dripping from the edge to plop onto the rug below. Victoria tore her eyes away, but not before she saw the stump where Kritanu’s hand had been. It was still bright with fresh blood.

“Get out of here, you damned fool,” Sebastian shouted, veins bulging in his temples. Gone was the charm, the confidence, the irrepressible gleam in his eyes. He was bloody and dirty, his clothes were torn, his hair hung in his face but for the space where the lock had been snipped in the center of his forehead. The hand fixed to the table rested next to a dark stain.

“Silenzio,” Sara said with a coy smile. “Be grateful that she arrived to keep you from the same fate as your compagno eccellente.” She glanced at Kritanu, who appeared to have fainted from pain or blood loss, moving her lips into a little moue and tsking. “He has been so quiet since the last stroke of the blade.”

Victoria swallowed hard, choking on the bitter taste at the back of her mouth. Calm. Breathe deeply. Fight the red. Remember the vis. Your vis. “I’m here. What is it you want from me?”

“Grazie, for you to respond to my message,” Sara replied ingenuously, her brown eyes wide. “Oh, and… mi dispiace… for the lack of servants. And there was no one to greet you at the door? They all have been dismissed. Permanently. Lilith wished to have them… for dinner.” She giggled, but Victoria didn’t see a hint of humor-or even madness-in her eyes. She was very lucid and very determined. Cold fear gripped her. “It has made the preparation of our meals rather difficile. For we who don’t dine on blood, naturalmente.” Then Sara made a point of looking around as if in confusion. “But where is your dear friend?”

“Those are my friends,” Victoria said. She looked at Sebastian and Kritanu. “And you’ll pay for what you’ve done. Release them or you’ll die.”

“But what about your amica Gwendolyn? That silly chit was to greet you at the door. She could not have failed in her task. It was so simple.”

“I regret to inform you that Gwen is a pile of ash.”

“You killed my sister?” George cried. “How dare you!”

“Silencio,” Sara ordered. “Have I not told you she slays at will? After what happened to mi papa…” Her eyes narrowed at Victoria. “Davvero. You are a smart one. It is no wonder he loves you.”

“And so are you. Smart enough to know when you’ve overstepped. Release them now, and it will go easier for you.”

“And so you’ve come charging to the rescue-da solo.” Sara chuckled as she walked over to the vampire near Kritanu. “How difficult it must be for fusti such as these to know that you-a mere woman-must save them. A shame, that. But you neglected to bring anything for barter. Now I shall be forced to continue with mio divertimento. And it may be quite an… inconveniente… for your friends.” She took the large knife from the vampire and, smiling at Victoria, moved to stand next to Sebastian.

Her hand moved to touch the top of his head, as if she were caressing a pet… then slid down to his shoulder and along to grip the arm fixed to the table. She looked up at Victoria, her brown eyes gleaming with pleasure. “Have you ever heard him scream?”

“Stop. You needn’t play the game any longer. I’m here. What is it you want?” Victoria’s mouth was so dry she could hardly form the words. The stake hung uselessly in her pocket.

“You fool, Victoria!” Sebastian shouted suddenly, urgently. “You have to go.”

The blade flashed as Sara raised it. She was still watching Victoria. “What have you to offer me? Pronto! Before my patience is gone.”

“One of the Rings of Jubai,” said Victoria quickly. “Lilith will be delighted for you to return it to her. She will reward you greatly.”

The blade wavered. A trickle of perspiration rolled down Sebastian’s face, yet he glared at her. The room was silent. Where was Max? If he didn’t make the disturbance soon…

“I know not what it is.” But Sara was interested, and Victoria was glad to have her attention. Just keep the blade up.

“There are five of them, made of copper. The Venators are in possession of one of them, and I can retrieve it for you in exchange for Kritanu and Sebastian-unharmed any further.”

“How do I know you do not lie to me?” The blade shivered and Victoria held her breath.

“Ask them.” She gestured to the vampires clustered around Brodebaugh, who apparently was under their watch. After his outburst, George had remained silent. This was, clearly, wholly Sara’s game.

One of the undead, a woman ironically, nodded when Sara looked at her. “Describe the ring,” said the vampire.

Victoria did, quickly, her eyes on the blade the whole time.

“Where is this ring?” asked Sara.

“Sebastian retrieved it. He knows where it is.” What was the delay?

Sara looked at her with distaste. “You expect that I shall release him to enable you to retrieve the ring?”

Just then-at last!-a sudden boom from the next room startled the occupants. The two windows near that wall shattered, sending glass shards scattering. Sunlight streamed in through the torn curtains, and chaos followed. A nearby vampire fell to the floor in agony, his skin peeling off in angry strips as he writhed in the sunbeam.

Chaos reigned-Sara was shouting, half in Italian and half in English, waving the knife, giving sharp orders. Two vampires launched themselves at Victoria as she started toward Sebastian, pulling the stake out of her pocket. She stabbed one, missing his heart but slowing him nevertheless, and vaulted over the table as the knife blade flashed.

As Victoria slammed Sara to the floor she felt the knife slice along her arm. Blood burst from her skin- her blood-filling her nose and turning her vision scarlet. The small woman beneath her had no chance to withstand Victoria’s strength; it took only a single blow to the chest for her to release the blade and slump to the ground, unconscious.

Panting heavily, Victoria tore herself away from the woman she hated, blinking the red away, willing it away, as something heavy landed on her back. It smashed her to the floor, and it was alive.

Galvanized, Victoria rolled over, grabbing the vampire from behind and tearing at his grip even as he tore at her with claws and teeth. Her blood… Sebastian’s… Kritanu’s… filled her nose, her vision, sat on her tongue… It became a whirlwind, a maelstrom of kicking and fighting, of driving fury. She slammed and staked and scratched and elbowed until at last she was free. She grabbed the knife Sara had dropped, pulling to her feet.

Max was there at last, panting, his hair loose from its queue. He appeared to have done some damage if the streaks of blood on his face were the sign of a victorious warrior. As Victoria moved to free Sebastian, she saw Max lunge for the last remaining vampire and place a stake in the center of its chest. Even without the power of the vis bulla he was lethal.

As she sawed away at Sebastian’s bonds, she heard a soft oath behind her. Her skin prickling, she turned to see Max, frozen, wearing a stricken expression. He was looking beyond her, and Victoria turned slowly.

Sara could barely stand, but the gun in her hand was steady. It was pressed into Kritanu’s back, at precisely the location where neck met shoulder. “Now, we will negotiate.” The fact that she spoke in Italian indicated the level of her distress. But, still, she held the gun, and Victoria was powerless unless she wanted Kritanu to die right then.

“The Ring of Jubai. You will bring it to me, if indeed it exists,” Sara said, her voice warming. “Maximilian will accompany us. I’m certain Lilith will be delighted to see him. And will be appropriately appreciative to me. George.” She looked over at her companion, who’d risen from his chair during the altercation, presumably in an effort to remain out of the way of violence, as he was more of a gentleman’s Tutela than an adventuresome one. “You take him.” She gestured to Max with a jerk of her head.

Now, Victoria noticed that Brodebaugh sat slumped in his chair, his head at an unnatural angle. He would be no help to anyone, ever again. George rose from his seat, moving toward Max with alacrity. “I’ll tie his wrists.”

“No,” Sara said, her eyes crafty. “No, he will carry his friend. As added insurance.” She smiled that cool smile. “He wouldn’t risk harm coming to the old man, though he might not care what happens to himself.”

For once Victoria was in agreement with Sara, disagreeable as it might be. For a man who was willing to take his own life rather than be subjected to Lilith’s will again, it would be nothing for Max to risk trying an escape, even with a gun on him. But he would not endanger anyone else, especially Kritanu.

Victoria was ordered to give the knife to George, who then gave it to Max-presumably so that she and Max would have no chance for private communication-and it was he who cut Kritanu free. Under Sara’s watchful eye and gun barrel, he hoisted the elderly man up over his shoulders as gently as possible. He, too, had vampire bite marks on his neck and on any exposed flesh. Blood still streamed from the stump of Kritanu’s arm, and the man groaned quietly. He had lost a lot of blood… and he hadn’t the Venator powers, although he wore a small amulet that gave him some protection from the undead.

“Now.” Sara positioned herself with the gun next to the two men and faced Victoria. “You have two hours to bring the ring to Lilith, if indeed it does exist. I need not tell you to come alone, need I?”

“And if I bring the ring, then you will give me Max and Kritanu?” Victoria asked, knowing full well that Lilith would never willingly release Max.

“You need not be so greedy. You may choose one of them to free, in exchange for the ring. Although I cannot guarantee either of them will remain unscathed. Two hours is quite a long time.” She smiled again and, as before, she seemed calm and lucid. Not a hint of madness. Just cold calculation. “And the old man is likely to attract quite a bit of attention upon arrival.”

The message was clear, and Victoria’s stomach contracted. The vampires would be on Kritanu the moment he arrived. She looked at Max and read the comprehension in his expression. He, on the other hand, would be relatively safe.

Until Lilith got her hands-and fangs-on him.

Victoria’s mouth dried. The determination on his face told her he would use the silver ring at the first opportunity. Even before she had a chance to arrive with an item to barter. And even then… it was impossible to believe that Lilith would release all of them, even for the ring.

“Take me instead,” Victoria said, suddenly calm. She was the one who wore two vis bullae; she was the one best equipped to hold off the vampire queen. She was the one fighting for her soul. And the one who knew of the secret passageway. “Take me to Lilith.”

“No!” The single syllable exploded in tandem from Max and Sebastian.

But Victoria ignored them, even as Sebastian jolted the table and chair to which he was bound, trying to use brute force to pull free. She looked at Sara. “I am more valuable than he is,” she said with a nod at Max. “He’s useless and weak now. Lilith won’t want him without his power. And I am Illa Gardella.”

Sara was staring at her, consideration lighting her eyes. “An interesting idea.”

“Victoria, no!” Sebastian jerked harder at the table. A pool of blood splattered to the floor. “Don’t be a fool. Victoria.” His last word was an agonized command, and it rang there in the room, in the taut silence that had descended.

Then… “Damn you,” Max said. Very quietly, as though he had no breath. His eyes were black pits, and she could see the renewed tension in his arms as he steadied Kritanu there. “You cannot… be so foolish.”

“I cannot retrieve the ring without your assistance,” Sebastian added suddenly. “You must come with me. I’m too weak to get to it.”

Victoria could see the calculation in Sara’s eyes, could fairly hear her mind whirring. Which would put her in the best favor with Lilith, which combination had the highest likelihood of obtaining the greatest leverage…

Refusing to look at either of her two comrades, Victoria waited.

“If you are so eager to be traded for them,” said Sara at last, looking at her with a delighted gleam in her eyes, “then I am content that you will indeed come, bearing the ring. And at that time, I’m certain we can accommodate your wishes to be traded.” Her dimple flashed. “You have two hours.”

Victoria looked directly at Max, though her words were meant for Sara. “I will bring the ring. I’ll be there.”

After Sara and George left, with Max carrying his burden between them, Victoria returned to Sebastian’s side to cut away his restraints. Long before he was loose, his unmaimed hand whipped out to grab her arm. “What in the bloody hell did you think you were doing?” he said, gripping hard, shaking her. “How could you do such a thing?”

“It didn’t work, did it?” she replied sharply, still cutting ferociously.

My God, they had been taking no chances with him getting free. The bonds were so tight, she was surprised he could breathe. And all the blood, oozing from his skin. Her stomach twisted, remembering the look in Sara’s eyes. She would have butchered each of them, piece by piece. She released Sebastian’s left hand, bloody and missing half of the last finger. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.” She raised it to her face and his fingers closed around her hand.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “She didn’t get the parts that matter.” His smile was a bit lopsided, but genuine all the same. “Merely a badge of my long-questioned heroism.” He looked up at her, his ravaged face already showing a mottle of bruising. “You don’t really mean to bring the ring.”

“Of course I do, Sebastian!” She was horrified that he would even suggest such a thing that she stepped away. “I should have gone in the first place.”

“Are you addled? You’re Illa Gardella!” He pulled to his feet more smoothly than she’d expected, standing over her. His eyes burned golden as he took her shoulders. “What will happen to the Venators if you’re killed, or captured? You can’t.” He wrapped her against him, smelling of blood and sweat and Sebastian. “You can’t.”

“And as such it is my duty to protect.” They bumped the chair. A leather restraint fell to the floor with a soft whump as those words echoed in her mind.

Duty to protect.

Indeed… a duty to protect even when it wasn’t easy. When the choice wasn’t simple. In fact, when the choice was impossible. That was what mattered.

Could she do it? Could she be selfless in protecting the mortals she was charged to save? Even one for whom she might be bound by hatred and loathing?

It had been easy… so easy… to offer herself for Max and Kritanu. She’d seen the flash of expression on Max’s face when Sara produced the gun: sick with fear. He’d known his fate then. Not fear that he would die, but knowledge that Lilith would have him once again. And this time, without the strength and power of his vis bulla to help him fight her thrall.

Victoria knew that Kritanu would not last. Lilith had no use for him, and the blood would be too much for the vampires to resist. When Kritanu was dead, would Max use the silver ring to join him? She had to get there before he did.

Sebastian seemed to read her thoughts. “Victoria, Kritanu is as good as dead. And so is Pesaro. He’ll make certain of it himself.”

“Where is the ring?”

He sighed, tightening his arms, and then released her. His damaged hand smoothed along her cheek as he tried to smile. But it faltered. His fingers trembled. “I knew better than to hope you’d listen to me. This is who you are. This is who you’ve become: changed from the selfish, superficial Society girl, poorly disguised in man’s clothes and playing at a double life… to this. And… I love who you are, Victoria. I’ve never met a more fascinating, intelligent woman.”

A wave of guilt and affection overwhelmed her, and at that moment she drew in her breath to speak. But he shook his head sharply, the same way Max would have. “Don’t. Let’s get the ring. And hope that Brim and Michalas arrive soon.” He released her and stepped back, that charming smile unsteady on his lips. “But perhaps we should think of a plan first.”

Relieved that she could concentrate on the rescue, Victoria returned his smile with a grim one. “I already have.”