As Shadows Fade (35 page)

He drew in a deep breath and followed her into the tall crevice.

She wears two
vis bullae.

Yet he felt a wave of fear as she charged along the stone corridor ahead of him, her figure smaller and slighter than any of the others.

But then Max could stew no longer, for a wave of undead poured from the insides of the mountain. Eyes red or pink, some glowing magenta, the vampires swarmed the four Venators in the tall-ceilinged passageway, unleashed by the sentinels to keep the intruders out.

Familiar power surged through him, the flow of movement and the satisfaction of muscles bunching and sliding beneath his skin as he met the onslaught. After months without his powers, of fighting as a Venator without the grace of the
vis bulla,
this altercation was practically a joy.

His speed had returned, along with the powerful strength he was used to and the bare annoyance of discomfort, rather than the breathless slam of pain, over and over.

He wasn't foolish enough to feel cocksure or lazy about the battle, of course. Especially with Victoria in the damn thick of it, and Lilith waiting somewhere deep inside like a skeletal black widow. But the pure pleasure of being
whole
again gave him even more power and capability.

The air was heady with undead ash, and the quiet explosions sounded like soft staccato beats in the confined area. From the corner of his eye, he caught the grace of Victoria's lunge, and the smooth strike with her stake as she easily dispatched a Guardian vampire twice her size. She kicked out, pivoted, and then moved on to a different target. Thus reassured, Max made a low leap in the space and slammed into a cluster of undead, crashing them against the wall like puppets.

He lost himself in the fight. As it always did, everything seemed to slow around him, giving him ample time to thrust and kick, spin and stab before his opponents knew what struck them. His feet left the ground. He felt weightless and free as he dipped and glided low in the confined space.

They made headway, fighting the vampires back into the area of the hideaway where the passages branched off. Max knew Lilith's chambers were to the right, but he'd never been to the left or down the central passage.

As it turned out, he happened to be on the left side, well matched with an Imperial vampire whose blade thrust and gleamed wickedly. The Imperial flew low, and he and Max circled in the corridor, vacillating up and down and around along the left passage until the rest of the melee was behind them.

All the while Max lunged and whipped and turned, dodging and clashing with the Imperial, he was fully aware that Victoria was out of sight, clogged in the midst of the battle.

She is
Summa
Gardella.

He leapt and smashed his arm against the stone wall, for the passage had narrowed and settled lower. The Imperial laughed and swiped his blade up, scoring along Max's right arm and drawing a long line of blood. The vampire's eyes gleamed, and he lunged again. Max landed on the ground and somersaulted to his feet, surging up beneath the vampire as he came down. His upward motion sent the undead off balance, and Max helped him go, catapulting him into the wall with a ferocious shove.

She wears two
vis.

The vampire crumpled to the ground, his sword clanging after him. Max bent forward and shoved the stake home, then whirled just in time to face his next attacker.

And so it went, one after the other, or two, or three, he pummeled and fought and tried not to think beyond the moment, trying to work his way back toward the main passageway.

When he finally dispatched the last undead foolish enough to come after him, Max dusted himself off, breathing heavily, and suddenly became aware of cries and shouts from behind him.

Turning, he saw he'd been backed into an alcove ended by a heavy wooden door. A small barred window had been cut from the top, and he went to peer through it.

Inside thronged more than a dozen people, crying, wailing, pleading. Mortals. Lilith's private storehouse of food.

“Christ.” He began to tear down the door even as the prickling urge to find Victoria nagged at him. “Hold up. I'm here to help,” he called, even as he felt the presence of another undead behind him.

He readied his stake and turned.

+ Twenty-three +

In Which Victoria Received the Most Unpleasant of Surprises

Victoria lost sight of Max
as she fought her way deeper into the caverns.

Brim slashed and stabbed nearby, and she caught a glimpse of Michalas's red-blond curls once before she had to turn away and concentrate on her own battle.

The back of her neck burned as though ice slid over it, back and forth, without relief. Her back raged with pain from the claws and scrapes from last night, but as she moved more, it loosened and the discomfort faded to a throb.

She couldn't and wouldn't be distracted from her goal: Lilith.

In fact, as soon as Victoria had the chance, she slipped off to the side of the battle, snaring a handy vampire by the neck and whipping him around and against the stone wall in a natural little alcove. “Where is Lilith?” she demanded, poising the stake to strike.

“There,” he said without hesitation, pointing farther down the passage in which they stood. He had squinty piglike eyes that glowed red.

“And her prisoner? Beauregard's grandson? Where is he?”

“There, too.”

“Take me to them and I'll spare you. Trick me and you'll die.” He might die anyway, but she'd worry about that later.

He nodded against her hand, and she released him from against the wall. Shoving him ahead of her, stake close at his back, she followed him down the passage.

Her instincts told her he was interested in saving his own neck—slight though that possibility might be—and as they moved farther, leaving the altercation behind them, she noticed details that confirmed that suspicion: smoother walls studded occasionally with small torches—which Victoria found interesting, as vampires could see in the dark—their sides rounded into a curved ceiling, a floor clear of dirt and random stones. Turning around a little corner, they came to a large wooden door flanked by two torches. It certainly seemed an appropriate entrance for Lilith's private chambers, although the presence of torches still intrigued Victoria. Perhaps it was more for heat than for light, she thought, remembering that Lilith always seemed to have fires blazing.

She stopped and faced the vampire, slamming him once again up to the stone wall. “Are there guards inside? Is she in there? Speak true or you die here.”

“Four guards, always hiding in the corners of the room. She was inside last I know of.”

“Will she have heard the fight in the front?” Victoria asked. “Is there another way out of the room?”

He swallowed behind the hand clutching his throat. “I don't know. I don't know about another way out either.”

“Call two of the guards out. Now. Give no indication that I'm here.” She shoved him toward the door, considering whether she should actually let him go. It went against her grain to do so, but she might be feeling generous if he really had brought her to Lilith.

The vampire knocked on the door as she stood and watched. Even if he betrayed her, she'd have the advantage as the guards came running out the door. And she almost hoped he would so that she wouldn't have to decide whether to kill him.

But he did just as she'd ordered, and when the two Guardians with their blazing pink eyes came out the door, closing it behind them, Victoria went into action. She vaulted herself away from the wall and rammed into the first Guardian. Knocking him against the other put both vampires off balance, and she used the opportunity to shove the stake into the heart of the nearer one.

When she turned to get the other, however, he was already waiting for her, and he shoved her up against the wooden door so hard it jolted in its place. The dull clunk repeated as he slammed a fist into her face, whipping her head back against the door's metal trappings. Pain burst in the back of her skull, and Victoria felt her knees weaken and her gut tighten. Lights sparkled in her vision, vying with the red-orange flames in the torch next to the door, uncomfortably close to her face.

Fingers closed around her throat, and she gasped a breath, then made herself go limp, holding the stake hidden behind her. The cross she wore around her neck did little but cause the vampire to falter for a moment—he must be very powerful. As he held her, the pendant slipped out from beneath her shirt, and he yanked at the chain. It snapped and the cross fell to the ground.

Her breath still stopped in her throat, she counted, holding her limp position as the vampire squeezed his fingers, willing herself to remain still and not to faint.

At last, when she could bear it no longer—the throbbing of her head, the lack of air, the feel of his undead hands on her flesh—he loosened his grip just a bit. Snatching in a breath, she whaled out with her knee into his gut, then her foot, twisting desperately away.

He released her in surprise, and she crumpled to the floor, gasping for air and trying to steady her vision. The vampire reared over her, then lunged down as she positioned her stake.
Slam.
Up and into his heart as he bent.

He froze, then exploded. Putrid, dry ash burst over her.

By the time she staggered to her feet, Victoria realized the vampire she'd threatened had disappeared. Not, she hoped, to get more reinforcements.

Her head pounded, and she still felt the remnants of fingers tight around her throat, the feeling of being unable to draw a breath. But she stood up and steadied herself again. That would be nothing compared to what she'd face with Lilith behind that door.

She heard a shout on the other side of the wood and, grabbing one of the torches from its perch, steeled herself. Someone was going to come through.

She was right. Seconds later, the door flew open, and she thrust the torch at the first creature that came out. Flames didn't burn vampires, but the fire served as a distraction as it caught his hair and clothing, giving her time to shove her stake into the undead that came behind him.

Her motions practiced and smooth, she slipped through the open door and slammed it closed behind her, ignoring the shriek of frustration from the burning vampire.

Then she turned.

Her first impression of the room was red. And heat. And heaviness.

But she allowed herself little but a quick scan over the silk-hung walls and rug-covered floor, the flames blazing in two fireplaces, and the variety of furnishings also covered in the color of blood.

And finally, Lilith. Who, for once, appeared to be surprised to see Victoria.

The vampire queen stood, arrested in some movement, and looked at her visitor. Then she straightened and her face smoothed of surprise. “Victoria Gardella.”

“Where is Sebastian?” she asked, allowing her eyes to dart about the room again.

“Why, he is there.” Lilith gave a careless gesture with her slender hand, and Victoria saw him then. “Come out, my dear.”

He'd been obscured by Lilith as she stood, and now Victoria could tell he sat on a settee of sorts, tucked in a corner. Now, at the vampire queen's bidding, he moved forward. Like Max had been when she came to rescue him in London, Sebastian wore only trousers. Bite marks marred the smooth golden skin of his neck and shoulders. The
vis bulla
glinted proudly at his navel.

“Victoria,” he said, “what are you doing here?”

She turned her attention from him, relieved he seemed to be unharmed except for some bite marks. “I've come for Lilith.”

The queen laughed. “And so you have. Where do you plan to take me? And where is my dear Maximilian?”

“It's not where I intend to take you,” Victoria replied, fingering her stake. “It's where I want to send you: Hell.”

Lilith laughed again, moving her hand languidly over Sebastian's curling hair. I regret to inform you that I've already been there. And prefer not to go back.”

“Only one of us will leave this room. And it will be me.” With that, Victoria launched herself at the tall woman.

Lilith's face metamorphosed into a horrific bansheelike mask, her face growing long and gray, her eyes burning like blinding beacons: red surrounded by glowing blue. Nails shot longer from her hands, curving like ten scythes. She whipped her palms up and stopped Victoria in midleap, sending her crashing to the floor.

Still feeling the imprint of those skeletal fingers and deathly nails raking over her arm and chest, Victoria scrambled to her feet, her ears ringing, careful to keep her eyes averted from the dangerous gaze. Lilith had eased back into her normal visage, and now she looked down at Victoria with scorn and dark wickedness. All trace of humor and benevolence had disappeared.

“Maximilian tried that one time, long ago,” Lilith told her with disdain. “If I didn't want him so much, I would have killed him then. I have no such compunction regarding you.”

Victoria didn't respond. She stood, gathering her wits and her strength, cataloguing the arsenal of weapons available to her. A quick look around the room confirmed there was nothing to help her: nothing of wood, no sword. Even Sebastian appeared unable—or unwilling—to move. He merely knelt on the floor next to Lilith's chaise, the same sort of empty expression on his face Max had had while in the vampiress's presence.

All she had were the stakes on her person, the holy water. Her wits.

And, possibly, the secret Adolphus had told her.

She had only a moment to assess all of this, for Lilith had been angered, and she no longer played the gracious sovereign. No sooner had Victoria steadied herself than the vampire queen flew at her, fangs sharp and extended into her bottom lip. Her long coppery hair swirling with the horrible scent of roses, Lilith knocked her to the ground, then grabbed Victoria by the front of the shirt and slammed her to the wall.