Wayren didn’t blink. “Sebastian Vioget was in the Consilium with Victoria.”
Max stopped the mental barrage of thoughts and questions that image brought and focused on the important one. “Beauregard?”
She shook her head. “No, he didn’t bring him. He—”
But Max didn’t want to hear her platitudes about Vioget. “If he betrayed us, I’ll kill him.”
“He’s a Venator—”
“Then I need say no more.”
Wayren pursed her lips in a sign of annoyance, but didn’t comment further on his interruption. Instead she continued, “He had Eustacia’s armband, Max. We have the last key to the Door of Alchemy.”
“Bloody nice of him to return it.”
“He could have given it to Beauregard,” she replied with just a bit of archness in her tone.
Max gritted his teeth but said nothing.
“Victoria will want you to go with them to attempt to open the door, most likely later tonight, when it’s still dark but nearing dawn. You’ll be less noticeable, and the undead will be seeking shelter from the sun.”
Ah, yes, he’d be one of the contingency: Zavier, Vioget, Michalas, Ylito, himself. Was that what Victoria thought?
Max realized he must have grimaced when Wayren asked, “Do her bites pain you?”
“Of course they do. You know that.” His hand went involuntarily to the never-healing scars on his neck. There were new ones, too, only a month old, on the tender part of his shoulder.
“How often do you feel her pull, Max? Tell me the truth.”
Unreasoning rage bubbled in him. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
“I’m not asking, Max. I’m demanding to know. We have to rid you of it.” Now she was beginning to sound like Eustacia.
“She doesn’t control me. She’d like to; she finds it amusing to play at it.” Bitterness sat in his mouth. “She’s not made me do anything against my will.” At least, not to anyone else’s knowledge.
“Akvan is back, Max. You know she must have realized that when you destroyed his obelisk, Akvan would be called back to earth.”
The grogginess had completely slid away, leaving his mind sharp again. “At one time I would have disagreed…but now I know better. She would rather battle a demon than her own son. Her son, who tried to unleash the powers of the obelisk, could have taken over Lilith’s reign—or at least weakened it. Whereas a demon would cause all of the vampires to unite behind her.”
“Indeed. I believe you are absolutely correct. All of the vampires would unite with Lilith except those few who have allied themselves with Regalado since the downfall of Nedas. Even Beauregard and his minions would join Lilith; he’s no fool.”
“True. There are few vampires who will join the ranks of a demon, or support one in any way, unless they have some grief or complaint with their own vampire leader. Regalado has managed to convince only a relatively small number to join him. Then, too, there are some members of the Tutela, those who are still mortals and who were led by Regalado, who are still loyal to him.”
“Indeed,” Wayren agreed again. “The battle for Hell rages between the demons and the undead, and there are few who cross from one side to the other.”
“Thus the threat from Akvan must be great enough to convince at least some undead—and Regalado himself—to join his ranks.”
“His power is very great. When he was still ensconced in Hell and only his obelisk was here, there was the chance that the obelisk could be roused to imbue its possessor with great power—the power to raise the souls of the dead into an immortal army. Of course, that was Nedas’s plan, which you foiled by destroying the obelisk—at Lilith’s request. Now Akvan is here, and his presence brings that same power, but it’s already inherent in his being. It doesn’t need to be activated.”
“Then why, if he’s been back for more than three months, have we seen no sign of him?”
“He is still weak. He’s gathering his strength, likely with the help of the Tutela and Regalado and his followers.”
“Hence the reason for the event at the villa. He needed to feed.”
“We cannot wait for the vampires to come together to fight him. He must be slain before he reaches his full power.”
“I called him back. I’ll do it.”
“It will be no easy task, Max.” Wayren looked at him so long and seriously—almost sorrowfully—that Max felt the urge to twitch.
“What is it?”
“It’s written—”
“That I’ll die doing it? I’ve no fear of that. You know that, Wayren.” It was true. He’d be free, and he’d willingly give his life, as Eustacia had, as countless others had, for the mortal world’s safety. “I’m bound as a Venator to give my life in the fight.”
“It is written…in a prophecy translated from the Persian by our own Lady Rosamunde Gardella…‘Neither Venator nor undead immortal shall slay Akvan; ’tis only a mortal man shall send him permanently to the bowels of Hell, using his own strength against him.’”
Max’s mouth dried and he felt energy drain from him. Who else would be equipped, trained, prepared enough to slay a demon? Surely not any mortal man. Only a Venator would know how, would be brave enough. Would have the skills.
Only a Venator who was not a Venator.
Wayren leaned forward to touch his hand, but he pulled away from her slender fingers, reaching for his black stake. “You knew it would come to this. You knew it when I first brought you the salve.” Though he tried, he couldn’t summon the anger. It was what it was. His path would be thus.
He lifted his eyes and met her blue-gray ones and gave a short nod. “Tomorrow.”
Fifteen
In Which Our Heroine Becomes Quite Provoking
Once she considered it, Victoria was relieved that Sebastian had slipped away from the Consilium and was no longer around when it was time for her to leave.
They had so much unfinished business between them, so many things she wanted to say and to demand…but until she figured out how she felt about everything she’d learned in the last half day, Victoria didn’t want to try to confront him. Her body still sizzled and hummed from the release of their lovemaking—if one could call it that.And that was one path on which she wasn’t ready to tread. Was it love that drew her to Sebastian? That caused her to open up to him, to share that part of herself?