“Now,” Max said, ignoring the lingering pain, “you must go back and wait for me. It will do me no good if you are found, so hide as we discussed, and I will return. Or I won’t.”
“I will attend you,” said Briyani, his face determined. “You cannot go alone.”
“I can and I will. That was our agreement.” Max fixed his sharpest glare on him, willing him to understand.
Briyani’s brilliant white teeth flashed in a humorless smile. “You agreed; I did not. Michalas and I have discussed it, and he will wait. I will come with you. Either with you or behind you—but you can be certain I will be there.”
“I am no child in leading strings.”
“And I am no dog to be ordered about.”
As Max glowered at him, once again damning Lilith for driving him to this, and cursing Wayren for giving him back his bloody memories but nothing else, Michalas stepped forward. “They’re coming. Now is not the time for arguments. I will be in the chamber as planned, and if you do not return in two hours I will search for you.” He fixed bright blue eyes on Max and said, “I fully intend to walk out of here alive, so you’d best return, Pesaro.”
He pointed to the left, and then took off on silent feet in the opposite direction.
With a murderous glance at Briyani, Max stalked off down the hall Michalas had indicated. His fingers closed tightly into his palms, the stake still clutched in one hand, and he felt the tension all the way up his arms.
And then he forced himself to relax. There was a time when he would have easily accepted Briyani’s presence, and now was an instance when he might need it more than ever. As much as it made him furious to admit that he was weak, the truth was that he was.
He was no longer the man he’d been.
Yet, when they came face-to-face with the cluster of four vampires, Max greeted them with great boldness and confidence, Briyani at his side.
“I am Maximilian Pesaro,” he announced, looking at the undead with all the haughtiness of the Venator he no longer was. “Take me to Akvan.”
Twenty
Wherein Our Heroine Finds Herself in Yet Another Dark Tunnel
Victoria moved silently down the stairs, staying well out of Sebastian’s sight as he descended into the cool cellar beneath a slender three-story house. The plaster-walled building that overlooked a small courtyard was unexpectedly familiar to her, for it was the same place he’d imprisoned her last autumn when he and Max tried to keep her away from Nedas, the vampire who’d planned to activate Akvan’s Obelisk. Fortunately Sebastian’s attempt had failed, and she’d freed herself by climbing out a window, and had thus been able to witness not only the destruction of the obelisk, but also to slay Nedas.
Perhaps he’d been staying here all along, all these months, and Victoria could have contacted Sebastian if she’d been able to find this building again…but it was a moot point now.She was here, and vengeance was on her mind. Blood pounded in her temples and reverberated in her chest as she moved along, flush with the wall, gun and stake within easy reach. The back of her neck had been chilled for quite some time, and she guessed there were a good number of undead nearby, doubtless fawning at the feet of Beauregard.
The passageway was cold and dark and very narrow. It occurred to her as she stayed far behind Sebastian that she had spent an inordinate amount of time sneaking, running, or being chased through deep, dank tunnels since she’d become a Venator. That was one of the hazards of hunting the undead, but it was becoming rather predictable. Stalking a vampire? Follow him underground. Searching for the undead? Look in a dark, damp cave. Seeking a potentially evil artifact? Follow a tunnel to find it.
These absurd thoughts served to distract Victoria and tame her urge to barrel ahead and confront Sebastian. If she showed herself, or was discovered too early, it would make things much more difficult. When outnumbered, as she surely was, Victoria preferred to have the element of surprise on her side.
It also occurred to her as she paused at a corner that, for as powerful a vampire as Beauregard was, his accommodations were rather primitive. She discovered close, dark corridors, rough walls, scattered stones underfoot, and more than one swath of clinging cobwebs that brushed her face and hair.
A rat scuttled near her foot; no, there were two of them; but Victoria didn’t react even when she felt the brush of a small furry body against the hem of her skirt. Rats coexisted with Beauregard? She couldn’t imagine Lilith—or even Regalado—putting up with such an affront.
But when she finally heard voices ahead and slunk her way along the dirty wall to peer around the last corner, Victoria had to revise her private thoughts. The wall that she came upon ended in a neat doorway that appeared to be covered by some kind of tapestry; it wafted back into place, indicating that Sebastian had just slipped through there. So she sneaked forward and pushed away just a corner of the cloth in order to peer in.
Beauregard’s lair, instead of being simple and inelegant, was as nicely apportioned as Lady Winnie’s parlor—albeit a bit less lacy. Rugs covered the floor. Candles and lamps shimmered from sconces and tables and shoulder-height candelabra. The ceiling was surprisingly high, nearly as tall as men of Max’s height. The furnishings included a harpsichord, and were of fine dark wood and plump brocaded upholstery. A large wooden door on the opposite side of the chamber told Victoria that Sebastian had led her to the hidden rear entrance to the room. Based on the size and strength of the other door—not to mention the frigidness on the back of her neck—she presumed Beauregard had friends located on the other side of that main entrance.
Inside the room two fair heads, one the color of wheat, the other more of a lion’s-mane shade, but both with the same thick curls, were bent over a table examining what looked like a single piece of paper.
Victoria chose that moment to step fully into the room. “It appears that I have yet another grievance to air with you, Beauregard.”
To her immense satisfaction, both of their heads snapped up in surprise. Sebastian’s face wore a frozen, chagrined look, rather like the one he’d had when she’d found him in the Consilium. But Beauregard…after the initial shock evaporated, his was replaced by a sly, pleased expression that made the hair on Victoria’s scalp lift.
“Welcome, my dear, welcome to my humble abode.” Beauregard made a sweeping gesture, inviting her in.
Victoria moved past the tapestry door, taking care to keep her back to the wall so there wouldn’t be any nasty surprises creeping up behind her. She remained calm and focused, reining in the fury that vibrated through her muscles and veins. One step at a time.