Or Victoria. Why could he not touch the book? Blasted woman.
And then suddenly Max's options evaporated with a swish of the curtains as Vioget flung them aside, exposing him.
"Maximilian. I did not expect to see you here this evening," he said with a condescending smile.
But Max had his pistol out and was pointing it at the blondish French fop before he could finish his thought. "I highly doubt that," he responded, stepping fully from behind the curtain, pistol in one hand and stake in the other. He did not look back, but his peripheral vision told him that Victoria had not moved. Perhaps she would be smart enough to come to his aid. Not that he needed her assistance, but it was better to be safe than to lose the book.
"Now," Max said pleasantly, "if you will step aside I promise not to hurt you, Vioget, as I know that the continued safety of your person is your greatest concern. But these other two… gentlemen… well, they may not be so lucky."
He barely had the words from his mouth when the two vampires, ruby-eyed and with fangs gleaming, were on him. The pistol was of no use; he allowed it to drop to the floor as the force of the launching vampires knocked him to the rug.
One of them pinned the wrist holding the stake to the floor above his head, using two hands, whilst the other straddled him at the waist, fighting to capture his other hand. Max grunted, drawing his knees and feet toward his body, and with one quick, strong movement, hooked his feet around the front of the vampire's neck and whipped him into a backward somersault. The vampire crashed into a table behind him.
Max rolled to the side, slipped a second stake from the sleeve of his shirt, and slammed it into the chest of the vampire still holding his wrist down before the Guardian knew what had happened.
Before the ashes hit the floor Max was on his feet, facing the other vampire, who was coming at him with a gleaming sword and a feral smile that sported two fangs digging into his bottom lip. With a quick glance at the rest of the room—Vioget was watching in amusement, his arms folded over his middle, and Victoria was nowhere to be seen—Max returned his attention to the vampire as the blade sliced in the air in front of him.
He leaped aside, vaulting over the wingback chair, then, standing behind it, hefted it by the arms and shoved it at his adversary. Max followed the momentum of the chair and came after the vampire, slamming him into the floor only inches from Victoria's draperies. He didn't need her assistance. She was probably cowering behind, too frightened to move.
She should have stayed home with her marquess.
Anger surged through him, and he used it to drive the stake into the second vampire's heart.
"Et voilà!" Vioget murmured as Max rose to his feet, breathing deeply, but by no means winded.
Keeping a steady eye on the other man, Max started toward the table where the book had been jolted to the edge during the fracas. He wished briefly for his pistol, but as Vioget stood with no indication that he would attempt to stop him, Max thrust the concern from his mind.
He reached the table and stretched out his hands to lift the heavy book… and stopped.
Two things occurred to him at that moment. First, Victoria's warning had been vehement. Second, Vioget had not touched the book himself, even when the vampires were looking through it. But the vampires had touched it.
Then a third realization: Victoria had been in the room before he had… she could easily have taken it if it had been her intent to one-up him. She, at least, believed there was a reason he should not touch the book.
He made a show of adjusting his sleeves, taking the opportunity to shift slightly to one side so he could better see Vioget from the corner of his eye, and reached for the book again… and again paused. Yes, it was there: the almost imperceptible change in Vioget's stance. Oh, he hid it well, but not well enough.
Yes, there was something about the book. Victoria, it appeared, had been right. And, Max realized with a suddenly bitter taste, quite possibly had saved his… what had she called it? His worthless life.
"You did come for the Book of Antwartha, did you not?" asked Vioget in that falsely pleasant tone.
Max stepped away from the table. What was Victoria waiting for? "You seem particularly interested in its fate," he replied. Perhaps giving it to Vioget would draw her out. "Did you not come for it as well?"
"What would I do with such a book? I won't stop you from taking it, Maximilian," Vioget told him. "I don't wish Lilith to have it any more than you do."
Before Max could reply, or make sense of that comment, he heard something that drew his attention from the matter at hand. From outside of the open window… a shout, a low scream.
Victoria?
He dashed to the window, yanking back the curtains. She was gone.
He looked down and in the darkness, broken only by a partial moon, he heard rather than saw an altercation below.
She'd gone out the window and gotten herself into a fight. She'd probably been gone the whole time he was fighting the Guardians.
Max cast a quick glance at Vioget, who'd turned, but made no move toward the window. "Go. The book will be safe here."
Max trusted Sebastian Vioget like he trusted a beggar in a room with a case of gems, but he had no choice. If he couldn't touch it, neither could Vioget.
Max looked out the window. If Victoria could go out this way, so could he.
Chapter Twelve
Our Heroes Commence with Much Poofing and Slicing
There were ten of them.And that was after Victoria had staked two; so an even dozen to begin with, plus the two that were in the house. With Sebastian.
Blast! Sebastian was here!
She tripped the vampire with bared teeth who came at her with his eyes glowing, and he went sprawling over the garden bench she'd been sitting on only a short time before. Whirling to face the one coming up behind her, she stabbed at him, missed, and kept her momentum going until she got the one behind him in the chest. Poof!
Nine to go.
The only good thing about there being so many was that they couldn't all jump on her at once; there wasn't enough room… so if she could just hold one or two off at a time, and send them to their destiny with her ash stick, maybe she could hang on until—
Victoria stifled an un-Venator-like shriek as something landed on top of her from the tree above. Make that ten left, she thought as her face slammed into the ground. Her breath knocked out of her for a moment, she couldn't move. But when she felt him, or her, pulling her lopsided twist of hair away from her neck, she found new strength.
Kicking back with the heel of her foot, she caught the vampire at the base of the neck, hard, and then a second time in rapid succession, but she was unable to dislodge him. Victoria felt a clawing of panic when another vampire swooped down and, crouching next to her, grasped one wrist in each hand, immobilizing her. Her nerveless fingers released the stakes she held.