The Bleeding Dusk (17 page)

Lady Winifred stumbled. “Ravish? Chains? Coffin? Oh, how could I be so foolish as to leave my cross at home!”

“I shall offer him to take me first,” Nilly said bravely. “Then perhaps there will be a chance for you and Melly to escape whilst he is ravishing me.”

“A stake. Perhaps I can find something to use as a stake. It must be wooden, mustn't it?”

“Oh, dear! But he
cannot
be a vampire,” Nilly suddenly said.

Nearly fainting in relief, Winnie turned to look at her companion. “No? But are you certain?”

“See—he carries a candle. Of course, everyone knows that vampires can see in the dark. Why should he need a candle? And he isn't nearly handsome enough,” she added. “Not tall enough either, I venture to say.”

“Oh…yes, not tall enough. And he doesn't need a candle. Indeed, I am so relieved you are such an expert about vampires, Nilly,” the duchess said, picking up her stride and jouncing along merrily now.

Lady Petronilla didn't appear to be quite as relieved as her friend. “But, of course, I could be wrong. After all, I never have met a vampire,” she added. Perhaps there was even a bit of wistfulness in her voice.

“We must have gotten very confused,” Lady Melisande was saying to their guide, her voice carrying back to her two companions. “I don't recall walking this way at all.”

The gentleman's soft laugh was easy and full of humor at the ladies' confusion. “No, indeed, madam. This is the way to the parlor. Unless you wish to see where I think the treasure is hidden.”

“Treasure?” Lady Winifred bounded forward to walk on the other side of their guide. “Do you know where it is hidden?”

He smiled ruefully. “I didn't mean to—ah, you have caught me out, madam. I shall take you, if you vow not to tell a soul it was I who led you there.”

“But of course not! And if there is treasure to be found there, you can rest assured we shall share it with you, kind sir,” Winnie soothed him. “Besides, it is best to bring us there posthaste rather than wait until after you have taken us to the parlor and then come back…for someone else might have found our treasure before you return. And then what a fine fettle we'd be in.”

“Indeed. Your logic, though intricate, is quite—er. If I am to take you there, then we must turn on this hallway here,” he said, ushering them along.

This passageway was smaller and closer than the other ones through which they'd traveled. It was spare of furnishings and decor, which would imply that the area the ladies now traversed was part of the servants' quarters.

Winnie noticed this and thought it was a brilliant deduction. “Of course! The treasure should be hidden in the back of the villa, where no one ever goes.” Forgetting, of course, that the servants who ran the household would have quite outnumbered the residents of the villa.

Nilly had begun to lag behind her two friends, who'd placed the gentleman guide between them. So when she felt a hand on her shoulder, her soft gasp of surprise was lost in the treasure-hunting conversation ahead.

She turned and found herself facing a tall man with black hair and fair skin, dressed like a gentleman on his way to the theater. He smiled, and she saw the glint of very white teeth behind his lips.

His eyes glowed red.

Nilly opened her mouth to scream, then thought better of it. Instead she closed her eyes and turned her head away demurely, fully aware that between her coiled-up hair and the low cut of her gown, there was quite a lot of skin exposed. Holding her breath, she let the candle fall and heard it roll away on the wood floor.

Her skin prickled as she waited, her veins fairly leaping, her heart trammeling in her flat bosom. Then the air shifted, and she heard something that sounded like a shove, and then a faint little pop followed by a soft
poof
.

And then a very smooth, mellow voice said, “Are you quite all right, madam?”

Nilly's eyes flew open. The man standing in front of her was no longer dark haired and pale visaged. Nor did he have glowing red eyes.

He was just as handsome, but in a golden sort of way, with curling tawny hair and skin that glowed like toffee in the light of the candle he held. He was looking at her with one cocked eyebrow and a humorous twist to his sensual mouth.

“I…you…he…”

“He is gone, and you are quite safe, madam. Or should I say mademoiselle?” He gave her a melting smile. “But what is such a lovely woman like yourself doing—”

“Nilly!”

Her attention was drawn back along the dark, narrow hallway to the bustling of gowns and the rustling of paper heralding the approach of her two friends, their gentleman guide nowhere in sight.

“Oh!” wailed Nilly, her disappointment firmly sinking in.

“Why are you dawdling?” demanded Melly. “As we've found, it's much too easy to get lost in this vast house.”

“And you're keeping us from finding the treasure,” the duchess informed her. “I vow, if we get there too late because of your mooning about, I shall never forgive you, Petronilla.”

“Now come along. Our lovely gentleman friend is waiting,” Melly added, pointing down the hall into the darkness.

“Where is your candle? Now we shall have only one light, and you know how weak my eyes are in the darkness,” said Winnie. “I vow I cannot see past my own fingers even in my own bedchamber at night unless Rudgers leaves the fire blazing.”

Nilly turned to the golden-haired man and found he was gone. Her mouth opened, then closed once again without making an intelligible sound.

There was nothing about to indicate that either of the men had ever been there, except her dropped candle—which had gone out when it landed—and a small pile of dust she hadn't noticed earlier. And a sort of old, musty smell in the air.

“But…” Nilly gave up trying to speak and, with one last glance backward, followed the others.

“I begin to wonder if Victoria has made her way back to the party,” Melly said suddenly, as she and her companions started back down the hallway. Their gentleman guide had been left standing at the corner of an intersection of two passageways when the ladies had realized Nilly was no longer with them.

“I hope she's found that nice Mr. Zavier,” Nilly said, finally having obtained control of her tongue. “Perhaps they are becoming better acquainted.”

“I certainly hope
not
.”
The Lady Winifred straightened as though Nilly had suggested Victoria might have fallen in love with a vampire. “As kind as he might be, he's much too coarse and…and…unshaven, and he certainly isn't up to snuff for our marchioness. After all, she stepped up from being a mere miss to become the wife of the Marquess of Rockley—God rest his soul—and it won't do to have her sliding back into a dank, drafty castle in the Highlands. Why, there're probably vampires flapping—”

“Ladies,” called the gentleman guide's voice, beckoning them toward him. “Are we all together again?”

“Indeed we are, sir. Please lead us on,” Melly replied, conveniently ignoring the fact that they hadn't yet been introduced to their savior.

Just as they rejoined their guide, a pretty blond woman came bursting on the scene from a different branch of the hallway. The man turned in surprise, and the young woman grasped his arm, pulling him away from the older ladies. “At last! I have been searching the whole villa for you!” And then her voice dropped very low, and it sounded as though she said something about a…senator?

“I shall not abide it if that chit insists on accompanying us,” Winnie fumed, glaring at the pair, who'd moved far enough away she couldn't hear what they said. For, despite her complaint about failing eyesight, her ears worked perfectly well. What was so important about a Roman senator that the chit had to interrupt their treasure hunt?

And then from behind them came the sound of heavy, rushing feet. The three ladies turned to see Mr. Zavier hurrying down the hall toward them. With him was another gentleman—unknown to Winnie and Melly, but perfectly familiar to Nilly as the handsome blond who'd interrupted her
tête-à-tête
with the dark-haired, pale-skinned man.

“There ye ladies are,” Mr. Zavier exclaimed, his brogue thick with emotion. His cheeks were flushed enough that they showed their ruddiness even in the low light, and he was holding something in his hand—something long and thin and pointed—but before anyone save Nilly could take notice, he shoved it in his pocket. “We must take our leave now,” he said, looking about.

The handsome blonde man, who was also approaching, peered beyond them into the darkness. But when the ladies turned to follow his gaze, they saw that their gentleman guide and the young blond woman had disappeared.

“We've almost found the treasure,” the duchess complained as Mr. Zavier offered her his arm. “We cannot leave now.”

“I'm afraid the treasure has already been located, and that it is well past time to leave. All the other guests have gone,” said the handsome blond man in his comforting voice.

“And what about Victoria?” Lady Melly asked Mr. Zavier, taking his other arm, yet still looking behind her to find out what on earth had happened to that handsome man who'd been leading them about. “How vexing that he should have disappeared so suddenly,” she muttered. “He was quite charming, and I didn't even learn his name.”

“Victoria, thinking ye had done so, has already returned home after joining me for a short time in the parlor. After ye disappeared” —Mr. Zavier fixed a dark look at Winnie, and she returned his glance with all the haughtiness she could muster— “she had come with her slipper fixed and was quite disappointed ye'd gone on without her. Come, ladies, 'tis best that we be on our way.”

“May I?” The blond gentleman offered his arm to Nilly, and when she accepted it, began to hurry her along the hall.

If the two gentlemen happened to look back over their shoulders, the older ladies didn't appear to notice. They were much too intent on keeping their footing alongside the agile men and their long, rapid strides.

“But this is not the way we came in,” Melly exclaimed when they came to a door—a small, unobtrusive one that was most certainly not the grand entrance they'd been welcomed into.

The night air was cool, and the half-moon glowed down on them as they stepped out of the villa onto…grass.

“My slippers,” shrieked Nilly, lifting her feet one at a time in a mad, hopping manner. “They'll be ruined!”

“Come, come,” Mr. Zavier said, ushering them along the dark building toward the front of the villa where their carriage was waiting.

As the ladies climbed in, their creaking joints reminding them they'd had hardly a spot of rest in the last week, with Carnivale and all of the other excitement, they noticed that theirs was the only carriage in sight. Mr. Zavier handed each of them in and then followed with an energetic leap, slamming the door shut behind him.

Rapping harshly on the roof, he settled back into his seat, surrounded by gowns and panting ladies. Not, perhaps, his preferred environment to be surrounded by such femininity…but it was his duty, nonetheless.

It wasn't until the carriage pulled away from the street in front of the villa that the ladies realized the blond gentleman had disappeared.

In fact, none of them could recall seeing him once they came outside of the villa.

“Well, I never,” snapped Winnie, looking back out the carriage window. “That man! He tricked us into leaving so he could have the treasure.”

And she settled into her seat, plump elbows crossed over her just-as-plump bosom, and brooded all the way back to the Gardella villa.

+ Ten +

In Which Our Heroine Finds Herself in a Compromising Position

Victoria slowly came to
consciousness, aware that her entire body ached.

The last thing she remembered was seeing Max collapse under a cluster of vampires. Then something struck her from behind and her world went dark.

Now…she had no idea how long she'd been lying here…wherever she was. She couldn't see anything, for it was pitch-black. Even after she blinked her eyes numerous times to adjust them to the night, she could make out little but vague shadows.

She couldn't move. Her wrists were tied tightly behind her, and when she uncurled her fists, the pads of her fingers pressed into something that felt like dirty stone or brick behind her. She felt the same underneath, suggesting she was in a chamber below ground. A dungeon, perhaps.

That in itself didn't bode well.

Then there was the fact that the back of her neck was cold. Freezing, in fact. The prickles there felt as if a cold wind were blasting over her skin. Her hair sagged, falling over her shoulders, but provided no protection from that barometer of the undead. Her gown was disheveled, and she was quite certain at least several rosettes and perhaps some of the flounces had been torn from its hem.

But that was the least of her concerns, for…she paused, forcing her racing thoughts to slow so she could concentrate. She closed her eyes, even though she couldn't see anything, and listened.

No. No, she hadn't imagined it.

Apprehension crept up her spine, spreading over the back of her shoulders. The smell was faint, but it was there: that musty, rotting, malevolent death-smell of a demon.

Demons and vampires? Here together?

They were mortal enemies—at least, they would be if either of them were mortal. The battle for Lucifer's favor had raged between the vampires and demons since he'd turned Judas into the first vampire.

Demons were, of course, fallen angels—of which Lucifer was the greatest of all. They had been purveyors of evil and death since time dawned. But after Judas hanged himself, certain he would never be forgiven for betraying Jesus, Lucifer had wooed him and his soul to the side of Hell and used him to create a new race that was half demon and half human.