As Shadows Fade (31 page)

But no. This was a sacrifice, and he'd not taint it by base emotions, so he responded, “I'm here in exchange for you. The others are traveling to the portal, and Lilith has agreed to release you in exchange for me.”

“Vioget.” Max's word sounded like a simple thank-you to anyone who might be listening, but Sebastian saw the sharp question in his eyes.
What is the plan?

Sebastian merely shook his head, letting the truth show in his own expression. Then, for the first time in his memory, he recognized bald shock—and then gratitude…from Max Pesaro?—in his face. The contempt that had long been in his eyes was gone, replaced by something one might think was respect and admiration.

Pesaro gave a short nod, an acceptance that encompassed everything that passed between them. “I'll leave my boots for you,” he said. “Miro would want me to do so, I think.”

Sebastian understood the message. It was a reminder that holy water was hidden in the heels of the boots. Miro, the Venator weapons master, had created the hollow heels that, in the past, had contained small sticks that could flare into flame.

“Yes, indeed, my dear Maximilian, you are free to go,” Lilith said, her eyes skimming over his tall, dark body as if suddenly reluctant to let him leave. “Until we meet again.” Her words were a gentle threat, and a reminder to both of them that although Sebastian had bested her this time, she would not allow it to happen again.

That, he was certain, was part of the reason she'd agreed to the trade. The thrill of the hunt and the chase to recapture Max would keep her busy when she became bored with Sebastian. He shuddered. How in God's name would he ever suffer her hands and lips and fangs on him?

For Giulia. For her soul.

He would save her soul, and keep his own clean. And then, someday, they would be together…when his long promise was fulfilled. He touched the garnet ring from Wayren, and was surprised at the course of peace that settled over him.

Pesaro dressed rapidly, his smooth movements belying what Sebastian had at first seen as weakness. Not that he was untouched—no, he could see Lilith had had her pleasure in a variety of ways, but he was by no means the puddle of skin and bones he'd originally perceived.

“They were less than a day from Midiverse when I left them,” Sebastian told him as they, along with the four guards, walked toward the external entrance to the mountain hideaway. He was taking no chances that Lilith might allow Max to leave, only to have him stopped once out of Sebastian's sight—and range of the supposedly poison dart. Thus he'd insisted he be the one to escort Pesaro into the sunlight. Lilith remained ensconced in her chamber, likely unwilling to risk being anywhere near sunlight in the presence of two Venators.

At the entrance, Pesaro turned to him. “Are you certain?”

Sebastian understood what he meant. He could walk into the sunlight with him—the four vampire guards would be little match for the two of them if they so chose. “I've made the choice to stay.”

“This makes twice now,” Pesaro said, speaking of the fact that Sebastian had saved his life for a second time.

And as he had done the first time he acknowledged the debt, Sebastian replied, “I didn't do it for you. I did it for her.” And then he added, “Both of them. Ask Wayren.”

He saw by Max's expression that he understood: both Giulia and Victoria. For who else had caused the enmity between them?

Then he turned and went back into darkness, leaving Max Pesaro to walk out into the freedom of the light.

+ Twenty +

The Visitation

The fact that the Midiverse Portal
was situated in the ruin of an old cemetery didn't surprise Victoria in the least.

In fact, the closer they came to the black-stoned graveyard tucked deep in a rocky valley, the more uncomfortable she became. The air was putrid and heavy and smelled of demons. A decrepit gate and stone wall surrounded the cemetery, having crumbled into little more than a narrow pile of rock over the years.

A bare strain of sunlight filtered from behind a haze of gray clouds, giving the area an unfriendly, melancholy appearance. It felt colder as they approached and halted their mounts on a low hill rise just south of the cemetery. Victoria noticed that the area contained nothing but the gravestones blackened by moss and mildew. There were no trees or grass or any type of greenery.

In the center of the graveyard squatted a low, square building with a flat, overhanging roof not much larger than a gatehouse. Brim pointed to it and said, “According to Wayren, the portal is next to that building.”

In order to close the portal, moonlight had to shine through Tached's Orb onto the opening, according to Wayren's research. Obviously, they would have to come back tonight and hope that the quarter moon was strong enough and bright enough to do the job.

But for now, Victoria wanted to examine the place in the daylight. Unsure of what to expect as they drew closer, she urged her mount forward, the orb jolting heavily in her trouser pocket with every cantering step. She gestured for Michalas to remain on guard, and for Brim to join her, wishing that they numbered more than three.

Who knew what awaited them beyond the stone enclosure.

Her horse didn't like the area, and as they drew nearer, at first he balked and then began to fight Victoria's commands. Taking pity on the beast, she dismounted and sent the horses back to Michalas, moving forward on foot with Brim.

She understood the horse's reluctance as they approached a stone wall that would require nothing more than a few steps to breach. Her hair felt as though it had frozen on end, standing straight up all over her body

With a look at Brim, she clambered up over the low pile of stone and landed on the other side with a surefooted jump. Pausing for a moment to see if anything changed, she looked around.

The place was silent. Even though Victoria felt the whisper of a breeze over her cheek, tufting her hair, she heard nothing rustling or moving. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brim climb over the rocks. When one rolled soundlessly down the low pile and onto the ground, it was an uncomfortable sight because she could see it, but she heard nothing.

An eerie chill tightened her muscles, pulling her skin taut and ready. She felt for her stake automatically, even though such a weapon would be useless against demons. Her sword hung from its place at her belt, and she had a dagger sheathed against her calf, as well as several small bottles of holy water in various locations.

As she and Brim walked between the gravestones, she noticed that none of them had words or symbols carved on them. Plain, flat stones in row after neat row, without the names of the dead they represented. Other than the growth of mildew and moss, there was nothing to indicate their age, for all stood whole and straight without cracks or breaks or the shifting that came with the movement of earth over time.

The ugly feeling in her belly made her tense and on edge, ready for something unexpected to happen. Yet Victoria didn't hesitate, and moved quickly to the building in the center of the graveyard. As she came closer, she saw that it was windowless and doorless. No chimney, and a flat roof. Circling it from a distance, she found nothing that allowed entrance. The building seemed to have no purpose other than to take up space. Unless it was the portal itself?

Wayren had given little detail—either she didn't have it, or she presumed it would be self-evident. All she had told them was that the portal was near this structure. It took Victoria two circular routes around it, moving closer each time, before she found a slender crack in the black earth.

Was this the portal?

Victoria stood away from it, looking down, wondering if somehow they'd been misled or otherwise mistaken. The crevice ran jagged perhaps as long as a man was tall, and no wider than Aunt Eustacia's walking stick.

Somehow she'd expected to find demons streaming from the portal—which, incidentally, she'd envisioned as an actual doorway. But other than the odd soundlessness of the area, and the pervading scent of musty death, the place felt little different from any other cemetery.

Victoria turned to Brim, who'd continued his circle around the building.

“Anything?” she asked. Her voice sounded hollow and empty in the air.

“No. Is this it?” he replied, beside her now. She could hear him…but it was as if they were in a soundless windstorm. His words came to her ears distorted and dull, but audible.

“It could be,” echoed her voice. Victoria stepped closer to the crevice, an uncorked bottle of holy water at the ready. She peered down and saw nothing threatening about the crack.

Not a breeze stirred now, and every bit of sound seemed to have been sucked out of her ears. Even her own breathing, faster than usual, had no sound. She tipped the bottle of water, allowing a tiny stream to trickle down into the crevice.

Immediately, a curl of smoke puffed up, angry and black and putrid, exploding in a little poof—not unlike the reaction of a vampire that had just been staked. Victoria jumped back, ready for the onslaught, her eyes fastened on the crevice. But all remained quiet.

Still. Now she knew—at least there was something here.

She looked over at Brim, who'd unsheathed his sword. “Let's go,” she said. “Come back tonight.”

He gave a short nod, and they turned to make their way back.

Victoria kept watch over her shoulder as they navigated around the gravestones, a simpler process than picking through the piles upon piles of stones in the cemetery in Prague. But though she looked back as they walked away, she saw nothing to disturb the eerie quiet of the plot of graves. No more smoke, no puffs of cloud, no disturbances.

It was that silence, that lingering darkness that bothered her the most.

There was nothing for them to do but wait for the sun to go down, so Victoria and her companions rode back to the small village through which they'd passed on their way to the cemetery. The quaint town consisted of approximately two dozen houses, one inn, and the shops of perhaps four or five tradesmen located directly on the road that wound through it. They settled at the tavern to eat and rest and wait for moonrise—if it came from behind the clouds.

Unfortunately, this time of leisure did nothing but give her the chance to think and worry and stew. While Michalas and Brim sat in the tavern, Victoria brooded so darkly and incessantly, she would have made Max proud.

And that wry thought, of course, brought to mind the man himself and set her stomach to spinning and twisting as it had every night when she tried to sleep. Or anytime she allowed herself to think along that path—which was more often than she wanted.

Her fury with him for leaving her and putting himself in danger had settled into a deep, dark, clutching panic. She'd tried to hold on to the rage, knowing it would help keep the terror tempered if she had that strong emotion on which to focus, but that didn't last.

She knew that if—
when,
God, please—she saw him again, she'd have no problem dredging up that anger and skinning him alive with it…but for now, all she wanted was for him to be safe.

But how could he be safe, in the hands of Lilith? Wouldn't her first task be to turn him undead, now that she had him again?

Victoria shook her head mentally. Max would never allow that to happen. She knew that much, and knew that if he'd gone willingly to her in order to get the rings, he'd be thus prepared.

Didn't he know she'd come after him? He must know that.

But he'd also know…want…
expect
her to take care of the portal first. It would be a sin for his sacrifice to have been in vain, for her to waste his willingness to exchange himself for the rings in order to close the portal…and then not to ensure it happened.

Oh, Max.

Tears burning her eyes, Victoria shifted in her seat near the smoke-frosted tavern window and in doing so, glanced outside onto the street.

A man caught her attention as he walked along the road, passing several other pedestrians. He was extremely well dressed, at the height of Parisian fashion in fact—an oddity certain to draw attention in a small town in the mountains, hundreds of miles from any city. Yet no one seemed to notice him in his curly-brimmed hat, with a knobby cane, and wearing straight, pressed pantaloons. In fact, he brushed past a woman and her child, nearly knocking into her, and she didn't even seem to notice.

Victoria couldn't take her eyes from him and watched as he crossed the street, approaching the tavern, then passed in front of the window through which she stared.

As he strolled by, he looked through the grimy glass. His eyes met Victoria's for an instant, and she felt a cold, sharp spear thrust through her body, paralyzing her, freezing her breath.

Those eyes…blank and black, fathomless and yet burning…they trapped her for that moment, until he walked on past and released her gaze.

She was out of her chair the moment she could move. Her heart slamming in her chest, she slapped a hand on the table in front of Michalas and said, “Did you see him?”

“Who?” Both of her companions looked where she gestured, even going so far as to open the window and peer out—but the sinister man was gone.

She explained, finding it difficult to describe exactly how it had felt when he looked at her. Before she could finish, however, she lost patience and said, “I'll be back.”

She rushed out the door, leaving them scrambling to dig out a few coins for the meal and drinks.

By the time she got onto the street, the man had long since disappeared. And even though she, Brim, and Michalas asked everyone they passed whether they'd seen a man of that description, no one appeared to recall seeing the man with the curly-brimmed hat and dapper clothing.

Frustrated, Victoria sent Michalas and Brim toward the tavern, directing them to search along that end of the street. She followed a bit more slowly, looking between and around the clustered buildings.