The Rest Falls Away (14 page)

Prickles erupted over her skin. “What would be of value to you?”

“Two things. Two very simple things, Victoria Gardella. Ah, yes, I know exactly who you are.” Sebastian smiled and he looked at her with the gold-orange eyes of a tiger. “The first requirement is…you cannot tell anyone where and how you obtained the information. You cannot tell Max Pesaro. You cannot tell your aunt. If you do,
I will know.
And it will go very badly for you. You see, no one else at this pub knows who you are. No one would know we have met. No one would know how you came upon this information unless you divulged it.”

Victoria nodded. “I promise.”

“And I should trust you?”

“The same way I trusted you when you told me my maid would be safe. And the same way I've trusted you, bringing me back here.”

He chuckled again, that knowing laugh. “Ah, yes. As a Venator you are in so very much danger from the likes of me.” His words were mocking, yet there was an edge to them that told Victoria they weren't as careless as they sounded. “But you were right to trust me regarding the safety of your maid. She is truly in no danger. As I told you, I do not allow preying on the unwilling in my establishment.”

“What is the other requirement?” The prickles on her arms rose in anticipation of his response.

“I wish to see your
vis bulla
.”

Victoria's throat went dry. Not what she had expected. But much, much worse.

“Would not a kiss suffice?” she asked boldly, a red haze clouding the edges of her vision. After all, she'd already kissed one man today. She could not imagine opening her man's shirt and showing this stranger her middle.

“Are you offering me an additional favor? If so, I will gladly take it. In addition to my original request, of course.”

“Not in addition, but instead.”

“It is a tempting thought, as I have never kissed a Venator…but no. I wish to see your
vis bulla.
”
The expression on his face told her he hadn't even considered making the change. “And then I will tell you all you need to know.”

“How do I know what you tell me will be the truth?”

“You will have to trust me.”

It was Victoria's turn to laugh. “And why should I trust you for something of that nature? And why should you help me?”

“As for helping you…of course I have my reasons, but sharing them with you is not part of the bargain. It is of no matter to you why I should help a Venator. And…if the information is wrong—which it is not, I assure you—what will you have lost by merely showing me your
vis bulla
?”
His voice dropped to a disturbing low at the end. A deep almost-whisper.

“Or…” His voice was stronger now, steadier. “I can simply give Pesaro the information. I am sure he would be appreciative.”

“He wouldn't show you his
vis bulla,”
Victoria responded, suddenly realizing Max must have one just like hers, dangling from his navel.

“I don't wish to see his.”

Victoria felt the harsh thumping in her chest. It was only modesty that prevented her from showing him. Only modesty. Did a Venator even
need
modesty? And if she did comply with his request, she could return to Aunt Eustacia and Max with valuable information…or even the book itself.

Sebastian was watching her from a relaxed position in the corner of the settee, but she felt the tension as he waited for her response. And suddenly, as if giving up under his intense contemplation, gravity won out over Verbena's work, and the rest of her hair slid down from the back of her head into a loose mass around her shoulders.

He smiled in satisfaction. “Just as I had envisioned it.”

“Tell me something and I'll decide if the information is worth a kiss…or the sight of my
vis bulla
.”
Her own voice sounded rusty.

“Lilith knows where the book is. She will be sending her Guardians for it tomorrow night when the moon is high. Either you will stop them, or Lilith will succeed and have it in her possession. Now, will you continue to play this game or will you give me what I want?”

Victoria angled back slightly against the arm of the settee, her torso turned toward Sebastian while her feet remained planted on the floor. The pistol was an uncomfortable lump under her hip, but she didn't care—she rather preferred knowing exactly where it was. She took off her gloves. Spreading the edges of her jacket, she pulled it away from the crisp white shirt that hung from the collar nearly to her knees.

Her fingers rested on the cloth at the center of her belly, and she paused to look up at Sebastian. He hadn't moved, but rested quietly, watching her. His chest rose and fell under his own coffee-colored jacket and pale shirt.

Victoria's fingers moved deftly as she pulled the shirt loose from her trousers. She could not look at him as she drew the edges of her shirt up, felt the cool shift of air over her suddenly bare skin.

The holy silver gleamed against the white of her flesh, nestled in the shadowed hollow of her navel. She heard Sebastian draw in his breath deliberately, and then free it just as slowly.

He moved just as carefully, and although Victoria wanted to, she couldn't release the cloth she held open. She couldn't pull it down. He reached toward her for the third time that night, and though her stomach shrank and dipped away, his fingers found the silver cross and caressed it…then slid to touch the gentle rounding of her belly, circling in an echo around her navel.

Warm, heavy, intense…his palm covered her skin.

The red haze at the edge of her vision turned dark and she could barely breathe.

+ 9 +

Miss Grantworth Becomes Frightfully Chilled

at a Most Inconvenient Moment

When Victoria opened her eyes
, Sebastian was still looking down at his hand on her stomach. Blinking, trying to clear her head, she realized he hadn't even noticed she'd…what? What had happened? Surely she hadn't fainted.

Whatever it was, only a moment had passed—she was sure of it—since everything went dark. A brief second. An anomaly.

But whatever had caused it—whether it was her own sensitivities or some other weakness—she didn't want to chance it would be repeated. She grasped Sebastian's hand by the wrist and removed it from her lifted shirt. He looked at her then, his eyes the rich color of strong-brewed tea, all remnants of the golden color gone.

“You wanted to look. You said nothing about touching.” If she weren't so wary, she would have been jubilant that her voice came out strong and sure, with a hint of the mockery Max often carried in his tones.

He bowed his head in gentle acknowledgment and drew away.

“I will be grateful if, now that I have upheld more than my share of our bargain, you will tell me what I need to know.”

“Indeed I will, Victoria.” He clasped his hands over his chest, relaxing back into his position at the opposite end of the settee, and seemed to gather his thoughts.

That was fine with Victoria, for she wasn't sure she would be able to hear or remember anything he might say over the rush of wind in her ears and the pounding of her heart.

At last he spoke, and when he did it was brief and to the point, as if he, too, felt uncomfortable continuing to be in her presence. “The book is currently in the possession of a man recently returned from travels in India. While there he purchased an old estate, rather like a fort, and the book was included in the estate's library. A protection was placed on it centuries ago, and the book cannot be opened until the protection is broken. It also cannot be removed from the possession of its owner by a mortal human.”

“But an undead could steal it?”

“Yes, that is the case. You must thus wait for Lilith to send her accomplices to take the book, and that's when you must apprehend them, after they have already stolen it. Else, if you attempt to take the book on your own, you will die as soon as you touch it.”

Victoria looked at him, considering. “But I am to believe that once a vampire removes the book from the owner, it is safe for a mortal to touch.”

“Indeed.”

“And…how is a vampire to steal it from this man if it cannot cross the threshold of a home uninvited?” Skepticism laced her voice.

Sebastian gave a bare nod, as if acknowledging her cynicism. “That is why it will happen two nights from now. The owner of the house will leave on his travels, and the person staying there in his absence will invite the undead into the home.”

“This person who will invite the vampires in…is he aware they are vampires? And the purpose of their visit? Will this person be harmed?”

Sebastian's shoulders moved in a careless shrug. “That is all the information you will need or that I care to give, Victoria. You may act on it or choose not to.”

“And if you are lying to me, or mistaken in your information, I will suffer the consequences.”

Sebastian stirred, sitting up and leaning toward her, his eyes dark slits. “Victoria Gardella, make no mistake. I intend this to be only the first of many times for us to meet. Thus, I assure you, I am not lying. And when it comes to matters such as these, I am never mistaken.”

 

+ + +

Victoria and Verbena did not arrive home until the sun was peeking over the eastern edge of London's profile. Weary, exhilarated, and unbalanced by the events of the night, Victoria did not speak during the ride home, and instead contemplated her next course of action.

Sebastian had given her the direction of the man who had the Book of Antwartha. He also reiterated that the vampires were to steal it in two nights, which was now the very next night, because the owner would be away. If his information was accurate, Victoria had visited the Silver Chalice none too soon. Perhaps that was why Max had been there last night.

Should she tell Aunt Eustacia and, by telling her, inform Max, so they could work together to obtain the book? Or should she lie in wait for Lilith's men herself, in the event that the information Sebastian gave her was false?

At Grantworth House the hackney pulled up to the curb by a yawning Barth, and Victoria and Verbena slipped down and onto the walk. Hustling toward the servants' entrance, Victoria followed Verbena through the back way, which had been left open by prearrangement, and managed to slink into her room without being noticed by any of the servants. Lady Melly would sleep until after noon, and to her knowledge, Victoria had come home from a dinner party with the headache.

Verbena helped her undress, and Victoria fell gratefully onto her feather bed. Just as she was drifting off to sleep she remembered: Tonight she was to see Phillip at the Madagascars' ball. Perhaps there would be an opportunity for him to kiss her again.

She smiled into her pillow.

 

+ + +

“Why is it,” Phillip murmured as he drew Victoria close to his side, “that I must always beat a path through a throng of young bucks if I wish to dance with you?”

Her wrist tucked between his arm and his side, she allowed her hip to sway against his as they strolled away. “They were not there to speak only to me,” she replied, turning up her face to smile at him. “Gwendolyn Starcasset has quite a following as well.”

“That may be so, but most of them were panting over your hand, not hers.”

“You are too kind, sir,” she replied with a coy smile.

His arm tightened hers against his side. “I am not kind whatsoever,” Phillip replied. “In fact, I have not one whit of kindness toward those fops.”

“And what of the mamas and belles who moon over your handsome face and bulky purse?”

“I am soon to put them out of their misery. Would you care for something to drink, Victoria?”

She could only nod and try not to stare up at him.
Soon to put them out of their misery?
Could he mean what she thought he meant? Her skin flushed warm and she was grateful for the cup of punch in which she could hide her face.

It was only yesterday that he'd kissed her in the park, and despite her unsettling experience at the Silver Chalice, Victoria had awakened late in the day today remembering the taste of his lips. Wondering if tonight he would take the opportunity again.

A proper lady wasn't supposed to think about kissing a man to whom she was not married, or at least betrothed. But since she'd received her
vis bulla,
Victoria had moved far beyond being a proper lady. Killing vampires. Wearing trousers. Walking the streets at night.

Showing her navel to strange men.

What would Phillip think if he saw her
vis bulla
?

Her face grew hotter than ever, and Phillip must have noticed, for he said, “Are you feeling quite all right, Victoria? Shall we step outside for some air?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

Just outside the ballroom's grand French doors, Victoria and Phillip paused on the terrace. Two other couples stood at the waist-high railing, looking down over the weaving pathways and clusters of hedge that made up the Madagascars' walking garden. A gentle sweep of steps led from the center of the stone terrace down into the vegetation below.

Phillip released Victoria's arm and slid his around the back of her waist, guiding her along the railing. A gardenia tree, laden with creamy white blossoms, grew up from below and was near enough that he could choose a flower and offer it to her.

“For my lady,” he said, holding it out to her. “I wanted to bring forget-me-nots, but they are out of season.”

Victoria smiled as she accepted the gardenia, amazed as always by the intense fragrance that came from a single flower. She noticed Phillip had moved them along the terrace to a more private corner, still within the bounds of propriety as they stood out in the open in a well-lit area, but away from the wide-flung doors and chatter of the ballroom. The other couples lingering in the night air appeared not to notice their presence. She recognized one of them as Lord Truscott of the inept feet and Miss Emily Colton.