When Twilight Burns (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles #4)

When Twilight Burns (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles #4) Page 48

“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.”