When Twilight Burns

“I notice you don’t defend Sebastian’s lack of communication about your presence in London.”

“In fact, I’m shocked that he didn’t rush to inform you of it, knowing that it would annoy me. He threatened to do so.”

“Your fiancée is here as well. Did he tell you that?” Even though Max’s engagement to Sara had been a false one—at least, Victoria thought it had been a false one— she’d never been able to resist the urge to needle him about it.

“Vioget didn’t see fit to tell me that—unless he wasn’t aware.”

Victoria shook her head. “He is fully aware, for she and George Starcasset were there when he fairly announced our engagement to my mother this afternoon. And I’m terribly sorry, Max, but it appears you’ve been replaced in her affections by Gwendolyn’s brother George.”

“I’m devastated.”

“I used to feel sorry for the woman, for you made her believe you loved her,” Victoria chided.

“Did I?” Max sounded amused.

“You certainly appeared to be promoting such a conviction when I met you at the home of the Conte Regalado.”She’d come upon a rumpled Max leaving an obvious tête-à-tête with Sara.

“That must certainly have made an impression on you, Victoria, for you bring that incident up nearly every time we talk.”

“You looked ridiculous, with your hair mussed and your neck cloth crooked. It was more than obvious what you’d been doing. And will you please do sit down,” Victoria said in exasperation. “Your hovering is quite annoying, and if you don’t, I shall be forced to stand myself—and I daresay you don’t want to be treated to the full sight of my ghastly nightgown.”

He made a sound that could have been a strangled laugh or a cough; but in either case, he took her advice and sat—in the chair farthest from the bed, placing himself back in the shadows. “I daresay I don’t.”

“Now, tell me, why are you in London when you should be running as far from Lilith as possible.”

She actually felt the tension settle back in the room, chilling whatever lightness their banter had brought to bear. “Ah yes . . . my unfortunate circumstances. We needn’t discuss the banalities of why I came back to this drafty, wet country—but more to the purpose, how I might be of assistance in your current dilemma. The daylight vampire attack.”

Victoria nodded, focusing her attention on that instead of flinging one-sentence barbs back and forth. It did become wearying after awhile, and, truth to tell, she was relieved to see Max. If only he didn’t have to be so prickly. And arrogant. And rude. “There was another one today.”

She told him, and ended with her suspicions about Sara and George. “But it seems rather heavy-handed for them to taunt me so blatantly, if indeed one of them is the daylight vampire.”

“I tend to agree. Although Sara is not known for her subtlety.”

“It is not pure chance that I was the one to discover both victims, within the space of two days.”

“Indeed. And we must presume that they’ve obtained the elixir that was described in the writings we found behind the Magic Door in Roma.” He moved; she heard rather than saw it. “The formula Vioget stole from the Consilium.”

Victoria pushed a long curl back over the crown of her head. “I’ve not forgotten that, Max. But he did take me to a secret abbey under London, where he retrieved one of the Rings of Jubai.”

“But he didn’t give you the ring, did he?”

“No. But he made no attempt to hide it.”

Max snorted. “Well, one can always find a straw at which to grasp if one looks hard enough.”

“He killed Beauregard. That’s done much to build my trust in him,” Victoria said, ignoring the fact that she trusted Sebastian hardly at all.

“He had no choice,” Max said flatly. “After what he allowed to happen to you.”

“Allowed?” She shook her head. “No, Max. It wasn’t Sebastian—the fault lay with me. I followed him to Beauregard’s lair, I went after him. Sebastian tried to stop me—that was how he was injured, by me with my stake, and then by the other vampires. He knew what Beauregard wanted. He wanted me. And the only reason he succeeded in subduing me was because of the copper armband.”

Copper was the only material that did not disintegrate when a vampire was killed. Everything else the creature was wearing exploded into ashes and dust, except for items made of copper. That was why Lilith had forged her Five Rings of Jubai from the soft metal, and why Beauregard’s special armband had been imbued with the ability to sap the strength of a mortal. Even if the vampire was killed, the metal—and any powers that had been bestowed upon it—would survive.

“And why did Beauregard want to turn you, Victoria? Because of Vioget. He gave his grandfather too much— too much freedom, too much loyalty, too much support.” He moved again, and she saw that he’d stood once more. “I would have killed him myself if necessary.”

“Beauregard?”

“Vioget. And he was well aware of it. That was why he finally did the right thing by staking Beauregard. He made no move to do so until I came on the scene.”

Victoria felt a cool chill ripple over her. The animosity between the men was frightening; yet she’d known them both for two years, and never, until now, had it been so overt. So dark, as though it were preparing to erupt. “When you went with Sebastian to save me, you were . . . you no longer had the power of the vis bulla.”

“And?”

“You didn’t tell him, Max. You might have been killed.”

“I wasn’t.”

“What will you do now?”

He shifted, and now the glowing sunrise illuminated half of his face, outlining a high, sculpted cheekbone and part of his sharp jaw. His dark hair brushed the underside of his chin, gleaming in thick waves where the light touched it. “I’m here to assist you, and then I’ll move on to somewhere else where Lilith won’t find me.”

“How?”

“I can still stake a vampire, Victoria.”

“Of course you can,” she replied tartly. “Before you took the vis bulla you killed many vampires—a fact which you’ve made certain to impress upon me more than once. But you’ll be no match for Lilith if she finds you, and you can be certain she’s looking for both of us. It’s possible she’s even here in London. One bite is all it would take to put you back under her thrall—”

“No it wouldn’t. There’s more to the process than a mere bite from her—or else everyone she feeds from would be so. And I certainly see no need to revisit those memories.”

“Even if it’s more than one bite—”

“I’m gratified by your concern,” he said, “but I have no intention of being entrapped by that creature again. I have my own protection.” He lifted his hand, and in the dim light she saw that he wore a heavy silver ring.

He didn’t need to explain; she knew him well enough to understand. There was something in the ring that would send him to his death if need be. He seemed almost eager to put it to the test. “Practical, practical Max.” She felt her lips move in a false smile. “So, how do you anticipate being able to assist in our endeavors?”

“It’s simple. You and Vioget rely on the power of the vis bulla to sense the presence of a vampire, and to fight them. Perhaps too much, in this case. I no longer have that burden, and can instead rely only on intuition and senses—skills that I used before I became a Venator. Simple observation, and other instincts, have worked well for me in the past.”

Victoria had crossed her arms over her middle. Her hackles had begun to rise at the beginning of his speech, but by the end she was nodding in agreement. “I’m nothing if not practical myself,” she said. “I think it’s an excellent idea.”

He didn’t respond and she could only conclude that even Max couldn’t think of a snide remark in this case. After all, she’d agreed with him.

“So, do tell, Victoria. What prompted your move from the very comfortable home of the Marquess of Rockley to this smaller residence, in a most unfashionable part of town?” he said, moving away from the window.

She drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. Sadness settled over her. “I no longer belong there. My life has changed completely.”

“A sentiment I fully understand.” His voice had lost its crispness.

Silence descended.

Victoria had often thought about what her life would be like—how empty, different, bland it would be—if she no longer wore the vis bulla. As horrible as that event would be for her, how much more difficult it must be for Max.

He had not only been stalking the undead for longer, but also had a penance to pay for giving his family to those immortal creatures. He’d given up his Venatorial powers not only to break the hold Lilith had over him, but also in order to slay the demon Akvan. It had been prophesied that no Venator or demon should ever harm him— so Max had cast off his supernatural powers and become merely a man in order to destroy the creature.

But Max would never be merely a man.

“How is your hand?” he asked suddenly, standing at the foot of the bed.

“My hand?”

A sudden, quiet snick, and then a tiny light flared in the room, cupped by one of his hands, held aloft by the other. “Miro’s light sticks are quite convenient,” Max said with a little bow. “Your right hand, Victoria. Let me see it.”

Now she understood. Victoria hesitated, curling her fingers into her palm.

He was closer to the bed now, and she swung her feet out from beneath the coverings and sat on the edge as if that position would give her more stability—yet her feet dangled nervously above the floor. Holding the flickering flame on a stick, he reached for her wrist.

“Open.”