Microsoft Word - The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance.doc (44 page)

“Definitely not Lord Ruthven,” Sebastian put in. “That  fictional vampire was known for a much better grasp on  fashionable attire than Maximilian Pesaro.”

“What are you after, Vioget?” Max asked, ignoring the

comments and moving into the room with his long, graceful

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strides. He passed Victoria as though she was no more than a  nuisance of a gnat and stopped in front of the other man, cutting  between her and Sebastian.

“I have the matter well in hand, Max,” Victoria said,  smarting from his reaction. “Perhaps you ought to go and slay  the vampire that’s lurking about here. Somewhere.”

Max barely deigned to glance at her. “I’ve already attended

to that.”

Victoria looked at him, and realized with a sudden surge of annoyance that he was telling the truth. The chill at the back of her neck had evaporated in the last few moments, since she’d come into the chamber with Sebastian.

Which meant that the vampire had to have been nearby for  Max to have arrived at this room so expediently. Which meant that it had been merely by accident that he came upon her and  Sebastian.

Firming her lips, she pushed herself and her gown between the two men and faced Sebastian. “I’ll check your pocket, then, if you won’t show me yourself.”

Sebastian’s mouth twitched. “Be my guest.”

But before she could slide her hand into that deep pocket in his under tunic, the waft of a chill breeze skittered over the back of her neck again. In spite of herself, she turned to look at Max, to see if he registered the presence of another undead, and he gave a brief, annoyed nod. His lips moved in a silent oath  –  but whether it was directed at her, or the new  vampire presence, she wasn’t certain.

“Vioget. What are they after?” he said sharply.

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The lower half of Sebastian’s face turned crafty. “A particular well-thought of member of the ton has become, shall we say, enamoured of the undead. When he or she  ” – he glanced at Victoria “–and please note that I do keep my clients’

confidences  –  last visited the Silver Chalice, a personal item was

left behind. One that could identify him or her.”

He stepped back, his hand beneath his tunic. “I was merely returning the item to its rightful owner, and I suspect that the person’s ‘enemies’  –  shall we say?  –  wished to stop me.  Apparently, this individual is rather prominent and it is a cause for blackmail. The undead have many friends here in London.  Perhaps more than you would imagine, my dear Victoria.”

“Now that you’ve entertained us with your fantasy, Vioget,  you might just as well get out of here,” Max said, turning  towards the door. “You’ll be no help now.”

Victoria felt Max’s gaze pass over her and got the

impression that he felt the same way about her. Blasted man.

“Why, I do believe I shall,” Sebastian replied, moving

quickly towards a window.

In a trice, he was gone.

Having nothing further to say to Max, Victoria swished past him, her stake at the ready. The  new undead presence implied that the vampire had just recently arrived nearby, and it led  Victoria to hope that the creature hadn’t yet been able to find and isolate a potential victim.

Out in the hall, she paused for a moment and noted that the back of  her neck had grown still chiller. That boded no good, implying that either there were more than one undead, or that the creature was very close by. So, putting thoughts of golden-

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haired lute players and arrogant vampire hunters out of her

mind, she gave herself over to her instincts.

Down. Something told her to go down.

The cold prickle grew stronger as she swept down the curling staircase, unaware  –  and uncaring  –  whether Max had deigned to follow her. She didn’t need him.

At the foyer, Victoria pushed  through a small group of costumed party-goers clustered near the entrance to the ball-room, and was just about to slip off down the corridor when she caught sight of Phillip. He was just coming out of the ballroom and carried a small cup of lemonade.

Blast.

With her tall hair, she hadn’t a chance of getting away without him seeing her, and so Victoria had to rush towards  Phillip in an effort to head off an uncomfortable situation.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she cried, perhaps a bit more  fervently than necessary. She took the cup with enthusiasm as  she kept her stake hand tucked behind her.

“Are you mended and such?” he asked, edging towards her

as if to take her arm. Perfect.

Victoria smiled up with genuine delight and jostled against him just as he reached for her. “The lemonade splashed everywhere, even up onto her chin.

“Oh dear,” she said, real regret in her voice. She hated that  she had to do this, but truly, it was for his own good. And that of  whomever the vampire might be stalking. The last thing  she  needed was for a curious beau to follow her. “How clumsy of  me!”

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“No, it was I, perhaps being a bit too enthusiastic over  seeing the moon with you.” He smiled apologetically. Phillip  would like to simply pull her arm closer and ignore the spill (she

was certain), so she continued: “I’ll just be a moment, my lord.

So the stain doesn’t set.” Victoria gave him a small smile.

“Of course,” he replied. “And I’m certain you’ll still have a  thirst, so I shall occupy myself by obtaining a replacement. Do  hurry,” he said breathlessly into her ear before releasing her  arm. “Please.”

Victoria smiled up at him, warmth flushing over her face

beneath the mask. “I will, Phillip. Most assuredly.”

He took himself off, and she turned and nearly barrelled into

Max.

“I trust you’ve got your affairs in order? Dance card filled?  Beaus lined up in order of title and wealth?” he said blandly. “If  it wouldn’t be too much trouble, perhaps you could  ”–

She didn’t hear the rest of his obnoxious comment, for she’d sailed off down  the corridor, following the sensation at the back of her neck. When she came to the same door behind which she’d nearly interrupted her mother and Lord Jellington,  Victoria stopped.

She did not want to open this door again.

But before she could, a soft  cry  –  much more frightened than the one she’d followed earlier  –  reached her ears. It came from further down the hall, near the back of the house and the servants’ area.

Victoria hesitated no longer and took herself off so quickly that she lost a slipper  and her heavy coif bounced threateningly.

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The chill grew colder, and she heard another cry that led her to another closed door.

This time she didn’t wait. The back of her neck frigid,

Victoria yanked off her mask and flung the door open.

In an instant, she saw three vampires and four petrified maids. Am impression of red eyes and gleaming white fangs drew her first, and Victoria lunged as well as she could in heavy skirts. She had the element of surprise, as well as that of her gender, as an advantage.

She shoved a goggle-eyed maid away from the vampire bending to her blood-streaked throat, and he bared his fangs as he came at her. He must not have seen the stake in her hand, for he left his chest unprotected and she slammed the point into his heart.

The  vampire froze, then poofed into smelly, undead ash.  Victoria whirled and found that the other two undead had released their victims and now started towards her. Her skirts caught up with her spin, then rocketed back in the opposite direction as she faced  the undead.

One of them leapt towards her, fast and strong. But she was ready and kicked out from under layers of silk  –  rather more awkwardly than usual, but with enough force to catch one of them unawares . He stumbled back, crashing into the wall as  Victoria spun to launch herself at his companion.

He was quicker than she’d expected and he caught her arm slamming her in the belly and she lost her breath, spots flickering before her eyes. Victoria gasped and flailed behind her with the stake, then kicked  one of her feet out behind her.

She smashed into something soft and the grip on her arm released. Dragging in a ragged breath, she turned to find

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glowing red eyes and white fangs behind her. Strong arms  whipped out and grabbed her shoulders, squeezing hard into her  flesh as he yanked her towards him. Her neck was bare and the  heavy tower of hair made it difficult for her to keep her head  from lolling back.

Victoria kicked out again, but missed, and her foot got wrapped up in layers of her costume. But her stake was still in her hand and, with all her effort, she slammed her face forwards, bringing all the force of her forehead and jewel-strewn hair into the vampire’s face.

He cried out in surprise and she wasted no time, her arm

whipped around to shove the stake home.
 
Poof
. He was gone.

And then there was one.

The vampire scrambled to his feet from where she’d shoved him against the wall moments earlier and Victoria stumbled after him, turning to chase him towards the door.

But Max was standing there and, before the vampire took

two steps, Max’s arm moved. Casually.
 
Poof
.

Victoria fought to steady her breathing into a regular rhythm; the last thing she wanted was for Max to see her panting while he stood there as if he’d just arrived for tea.

He’d also disposed of his mask and the expression on his rugged face was one of bald annoyance. “Whatever possessed you to wear such a ridiculous gown?” he asked. “How in the bloody hell did you think you’d be able to fight a vampire in that? Or did you think they  might stay home tonight, merely because you wished to attend a masquerade ball?”

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Victoria lifted her chin, infuriated despite the fact that she had already bemoaned the costume herself. “I don’t see any vampires about, so apparently I managed the task just fine.”

“You very nearly didn’t. That one nearly had you over the

chair.”

“But I did. No thanks to you,” she added, realizing that he  must have been standing there, watching, as she and her skirts  battled three undead on her own. Blasted arrogant man.

Victoria suddenly became aware of the fact that Phillip must have long been waiting for her and she shoved the stake back into its little hiding place. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, starting towards the doorway blocked by Max.

“Ah, yes, waltzes and walks in the moonlight await. I do  hope you enjoy your evening,” he said. He stepped back to  allow her to brush past, her gown catching for a moment before  she made it through. “And, for the sake of the guests here, I  hope that no other undead manages to breach the party.”

“Goodnight.” Her teeth gritted so hard her jaw hurt as she

hurried along the corridor back to the foyer.

When she arrived, there was Phillip, waiting for her,

holding a much-needed cup of lemonade.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his attention scoring over her  in a way that made her face heat up. “Whatever happened to  your mask?”

She looked up at him. “It’s nearly midnight. And,” she added, sweeping her lashes down demurely, “I thought it might get in the way.”

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Phillip pulled off his mask, then slipped his arm through hers, lining her up next to his tall body. “Indeed it might,” he said. Then, pausing, he reached out to brush something from her shoulder. “Wherever did you get so dusty all of a sudden?”

Victoria smelled the mustiness of undead ash and looked up at him. “I stumbled into the wrong chamber and stirred up a bit of dust,” she explained, smiling up in delight at the expression on his face.

“Indeed?” he replied, his hooded eyes dark and seductive.  “Well, I certainly hope that stirring up dust doesn’t become too  much of a habit.”

Victoria merely smiled. Little did he know.

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A Temporary

V ampire

Barb ara Em rys

T
 
hus far we had driven past Anne Rice’s mansion in the Garden District, where a limo in front had caused avid but disappointed speculation, and toured French Quarter scenes approximating killings by Lestat, Louis and Claudia. In one of these, ‘Lestat’ stalking a young woman was re-enacted. A woman dressed in nineteenth-century garments  –  so we would