Amelie, the platinum-haired pianist who'd sat with Verbena the last time, was at her place to the left. She bore the same melancholy look Victoria remembered from before, and played the same sad, drawn-out music. Max was not here, and neither, as far as she could see, was Sebastian.
Drawing back the hood of her cloak, Victoria stepped from the shadows near the stairs and started toward a table. Berthy, the rude serving woman, remembered her, even though Victoria had been dressed in man's clothing the last time. Apparently Sebastian had been right about its not hiding her gender. Berthy sloshed by with two hands full of tankards and gave Victoria a nudge that resulted in a splash on her cloak. "He said to come to the back rooms."
Victoria didn't waste the energy wondering how Sebastian knew she'd arrived; perhaps he'd told Berthy to give her those instructions regardless of when she came. She started toward the brick wall where the door was, then changed her mind and selected a seat at an empty table with three chairs.
On her way back to the bar, Berthy paused by Victoria's table just long enough to ask, "Wot's it to be?"
"Cider," replied Victoria to the back of her head; but Berthy nodded, and she knew she'd heard her.
Letting her attention wander the room, Victoria amused herself by identifying which patrons were undead and which were mortal. To her surprise it was fairly evenly split, and there were even tables at which the two kinds mixed. Why a mortal would willingly interact with an undead was something she couldn't comprehend. It was rather like the fly sitting down for tea with the spider: likely to be dangerous and messy.
When Berthy swooped back by, her hands full again, Victoria watched as she slammed down two tankards at a table with vampires. Something too opaque to be red wine slopped over the sides and ran down onto the table. Victoria felt the hair on the back of her arms rise, and she looked away as one of the undead drank eagerly.
Placing the cider in front of Victoria, Berthy gave her what appeared to be a smile and leaned close enough to say, "Makin' him come to ye, eh? 'At's the way to teach 'em." And then she was gone.
Hiding her smile in the wide metal mug, Victoria took a sip of the fermented drink. Not bad. She'd remembered her coins this time, and pulled out a farthing to leave on the table for Berthy.
Just then Max—dressed in black, of course—appeared from around the corner of the descending stairs. As Victoria had done, he looked around the room, and, recognizing the inevitable, she raised her hand to draw his attention.
He didn't appear surprised to see her; in fact, the speed with which he made his way to her small round table betrayed the fact that he'd been searching for her. Eustacia must have told him.
"Good evening, Max," Victoria said as he slid into the chair next to her. "Shall I ask Berthy to bring you an ale? Or would you prefer what they're drinking?" She gestured to the vampires next to them. "It looks a bit thick to be a chianti."
He leaned toward her, his elbows on the table next to hers, his eyes scanning the room even as he spoke. "I cannot believe you came here alone, Victoria."
"I'm a Venator, Max, same as you."
"I don't know what Eustacia has put into your head, but Sebastian Vioget—"
"—is delighted to welcome you to his establishment."
Max's intensity evaporated. Victoria literally felt it ooze out of him; he was sitting close enough that she felt the ease in his taut muscles, the gentle, deep breath he took. "Vioget. What impeccable timing, as always."
Victoria glanced at Max. His body relaxed, lean and long, in the chair next to hers; he looked as though his best friend had just wandered up and mentioned that the sun was beaming. His smile showed even white teeth and a gentle dent in the skin next to the corner of his mouth… but she recognized the edge to that innocuous smile.
"And who is your lovely companion?" Sebastian slid into the third seat at the table, to the left of Victoria. The three of them sat in a wide vee, with Victoria at the apex, facing the open room.
Before Max could reply, she had to save the moment. "I must have the advantage, then, Mr. Vioget. I am Victoria Grantworth, and I must confess I am aware that you are the owner of this establishment. I saw you the last time I was here." None of which, strictly speaking, was a lie.
Approval glinting in his eyes, Sebastian reached over and took her gloved hand. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Grantworth." He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, watching her with his golden eyes. It brought to mind the last time she'd visited the Silver Chalice—when she'd been dressed as a man, and they'd shaken hands, her slender one in his wide-palmed one.
And then she had a flash of memory of that same bronze hand, fingers splayed, brushing over the warm skin of her ivory belly. Her stomach tightened involuntarily, as if he were reaching to touch it again, and their eyes met as he released her fingers. His expression had changed to amber, and she knew he remembered too.
"How about some of that whiskey you keep in the back," Max said, his voice still low and smooth. But Victoria could feel him scanning her as if trying to read between and under and around the polite words they'd spoken. His unruffled manner merely underscored the power she knew was hidden. The question was whether Sebastian was aware of it.
Sebastian caught Berthy's attention, and somehow she knew what he wanted, for moments later she slammed down the whiskey bottle and two small glasses. This time she did not slosh on his lace cuffs.
"So you have retrieved the Book of Antwartha," said Sebastian after he tipped his glass back. Light from the wall sconce behind him glowed at the edges of his curling hair, giving him an oddly angelic appearance. "I must offer you my congratulations. It was a bit of a moment, there, Pesaro, when you might not have succeeded."
Max's arm brushed hers as he tossed back a healthy swallow of the golden liquid. Placing the glass with deliberate care, he watched Sebastian closely, yet his words sounded nonchalant. "Did you know of the protection on the book? That a mortal must not steal it from its rightful owner?"
Sebastian's response was equally as cool. "I had heard something of that nature." Their gazes met steadily, neither willing to give way.
"Kind of you to have mentioned it."
Suddenly Victoria's attention was drawn to a cluster of movement near the bottom of the staircase entrance. She glanced over and her heart stuttered to a halt.
No.
No! Impossible! Still staring at the entrance, she could barely get the words out. "It's Phillip! Rockley! He's here!" Victoria grabbed blindly at Max's wrist. "My God, he's here!"