Duty before desire.
But then. And then she’d do what she vowed to do: She’d find Lilith, and she’d kill her.
And then Max would be free.
The five rings fit perfectly, amazingly, from thumb to pinkie. Sebastian had slipped them all on, one by one, and they snugly enclosed his fingers.
The copper bands, half as wide as the length from knuckle to knuckle, felt surprisingly comfortable. They weren’t particularly ornate or unusual-five simple rings, made of braided copper strands, each slightly twisted and plaited differently from the one before it.
He looked over at Victoria, her short hair curling around her pale face. She couldn’t see the glow that flushed her cheeks, but he recognized it with a deep pang, and felt another halfhearted wave of jealousy. Unless he was wrong, she carried Pesaro’s child, the child who would continue the direct Gardella line.
He wondered if Pesaro knew.
He suspected if he had, he would not only have left her behind, but probably imprisoned her safely somewhere.
Not that Sebastian wouldn’t do the same, were he in that enviable situation.
And not that it would have done any good, to try to put Victoria out of action.
Thank God she’d decided not to risk herself going after Max, for the loss could be greater than they realized.
Her eyes wandered briefly to the mountain that rose behind them, and he imagined how the need to go there must drive at her.
But she’d abandoned her plan to go after Max. The portal had to be closed first, and difficult as it was, much as the strain showed in her face and around her eyes, he saw that she’d made the decision. She’d accepted Pesaro’s sacrifice. And perhaps she did realize that her duty as Illa Gardella extended beyond anything the men could do.
“The pool is there,” said Mercy, breaking into his thoughts. She pointed with a powerful hand toward a small outcropping of rock.
Now that the sun had set, the undead had shed their cloaks and moved about with ease. The two Imperials sported swords at their waists, but kept them sheathed.
For Sebastian, such casual interaction with vampires bothered him little. He’d become used to it while living with Beauregard off and on over the years. Of course, this situation was different, yet he had heard Lilith’s orders. She’d given her followers direction in the ancient language, presumably unaware that Sebastian’s grandfather had taught it to him long ago.
Her instructions were clear: They weren’t to harm the mortals in any way until the portal was safely closed. Then they were to get the rings, take Victoria prisoner, and kill the others.
Of course, Sebastian had passed that information along to his companions, who had agreed with him that the undead wouldn’t make it to see the Midiverse Portal. They didn’t need them as guides for anything but the location of the pool, and here they were.
Now he moved toward the indicated crust of rock formation. The sun had set, but still cast a generous glow from beneath the horizon. That last bit of light would fade fast, and the moon had waned to a generous half circle since they’d left Prague more than a week ago.
He wouldn’t be able to see well for much longer.
Victoria and Michalas moved forward with torches to light his way, while Brim lagged behind the trio of vampires to watch for anything unexpected.
Sebastian had insisted on being the one to wear the rings and to dip his hand in the pool, for if he was wrong about the protection of the rings, it was only fitting that he bear the results. And aside from that, he needed to do it. The desire was just as compelling as the curiosity that had driven him to look at the Gardella Bible, and he saw no reason to fight it.
He still sought whatever path had been set for him.
The vampires agreed with him, although Victoria argued and wanted to don the rings herself. But Sebastian had stood firm.
The torchlight glinted over the glasslike water. Despite the soft breeze that had kept the day from being miserably hot, even though they were in the foothills of a huge mountain, the water didn’t move a ripple. Instead, the surface reflected their tall torches and the last streaks of light in the sky behind him as Sebastian knelt next to it.
Victoria and Michalas stood guard between him and the vampires, in the event they felt it was their duty to shove him-or any of them-into the pool. Although that seemed as if it would be a futile effort, for the pool was hardly larger than a carriage, and likely wouldn’t be very deep.
The size of a wagon, but perfectly circular, except for a little bulge on its west side, the pool sat surrounded by flat white rocks built up in layers above and, likely, below the waterline.
“The orb is hardly larger than your palm,” Mercy said, moving to stand across the water from Sebastian. “You’ll have to feel around for it.”
“The water isn’t deep,” Sebastian replied.
But it was lethal, as they soon found when he poked a stick into its perfect mirror. He felt a faint shuddering of the branch, and when he withdrew it moments later, he saw that the part that had been submerged was gone. The edge of the stick smoked, as if it had been burned.
Sebastian drew in a deep breath and moved a bit closer to the edge. He looked down and saw his face reflected in the surface, perfectly detailed as if he looked in a mirror. The tops of Victoria’s and Michalas’s heads flanked his shoulders, and the flames of their torches flickered near the center of the image.
With a deep breath, he extended the little finger of his ringless left hand, the one that had been cut off at the second knuckle by the bloodthirsty Sara Regalado. Since it was already maimed, it couldn’t get much worse, he figured. He touched the blunt tip to the very top of the water and felt such a searing pain that he nearly screamed.
Jerking his hand back, he looked at the edge of his finger and saw that it was black. The flesh had been burned away where he’d touched the water, leaving a gleam of white bone in the center of the blackened skin.
God Almighty.
He looked up at Victoria, whose face had set grimly. “Let me do it,” she said, holding out her hand for the rings.
“No,” he said. “It’s not for you to do. The rings will protect me.” He hoped.
Flexing his right hand, the one with all five fingers still intact-and each one now encircled by copper-Sebastian offered up a little prayer. And he plunged his hand in.
The puddle shifted nary a ripple, but his fingers pushed through with no effort.
He felt the bite of the edge of the water’s surface against his arm, like a knife brushing against him, and he pulled his hand back, expecting to see blood.