The Bleeding Dusk
Page 23

Nilly turned to the golden-haired man and found he was gone. Her mouth opened, then closed once again without making an intelligible sound.
There was nothing about to indicate that either of the men had ever been there, except her dropped candle—which had gone out when it landed—and a small pile of dust that she hadn’t noticed earlier.
“But…” Nilly gave up trying to speak and, with one last glance backward, followed the others.
“I begin to wonder if Victoria has made her way back to the party,” Melly said suddenly, as she and her companions started back down the hallway. Their gentleman guide had been left standing at the corner of an intersection of two passageways when the ladies had realized Nilly was no longer with them.
“I hope she’s found that nice Mr. Zavier,” Nilly said, finally having obtained control of her tongue. “Perhaps they are becoming better acquainted.”
“I certainly hope not.” The Lady Winifred straightened up as though Nilly had suggested Victoria might have fallen in love with a vampire. “As kind as he might be, he’s much too coarse and…and…unshaven, and he certainly isn’t up to snuff for our marchioness. After all, she stepped up from being a mere miss to become the wife of the Marquess of Rockley—God rest his soul—and it won’t do to have her sliding back into a dank, drafty castle in the Highlands. Why, there’re probably vampires flapping—”
“Ladies,” called the gentleman guide’s voice, beckoning them toward him. “Are we all together again?”
“Indeed we are, sir. Please lead us on,” Melly replied, conveniently ignoring the fact that they hadn’t yet been introduced to their savior.
Just as they rejoined their guide, a pretty blond woman came bursting on the scene from a different branch of the hallway. The man turned in surprise, and the young woman grasped his arm, pulling him away from the older ladies. “At last! I have been searching the whole villa for you!” And then her voice dropped very low, and it sounded as though she said something about a…senator?
“I shall not abide it if that chit insists on accompanying us,” Winnie fumed, glaring at the pair, who’d moved far enough away that she couldn’t hear what they said. For, despite her complaint about failing eyesight, her ears worked perfectly well. What was so important about a Roman senator that the chit had to interrupt their treasure hunt?
And then from behind them came the sound of heavy, rushing feet. The three ladies turned to see Mr. Zavier hurrying down the hall toward them. With him was another gentleman—unknown to Winnie and Melly, but perfectly familiar to Nilly as the handsome blond who’d interrupted her tête-à-tête with the dark-haired, pale-skinned man.
“There ye ladies are,” Mr. Zavier exclaimed, his brogue thick with emotion. His cheeks were flushed enough that they showed their ruddiness even in the low light, and he was holding something in his hand—something long and thin and pointed—but before anyone save Nilly could take notice, he shoved it in his pocket. “We must take our leave now,” he said, looking about.
The blond man, who was also approaching, peered beyond them into the darkness. But when the ladies turned to follow his gaze, they saw that their gentleman guide and the young blond woman had disappeared.
“We’ve almost found the treasure,” the duchess complained as Mr. Zavier offered her his arm. “We cannot leave now.”
“I’m afraid the treasure has already been located, and that it is well past time to leave. All of the other guests have gone,” said the handsome blond man in his comforting voice.
“And what about Victoria?” Lady Melly asked Mr. Zavier, taking his other arm, yet still looking behind her to find out what on earth had happened to that handsome man who’d been leading them about. “How vexing that he should have disappeared so suddenly,” she muttered. “He was quite charming, and I didn’t even learn his name.”
“Victoria, thinking ye had done so, has already returned home after joining me for a short time in the parlor. After ye disappeared”—Mr. Zavier fixed a dark look at Winnie, and she returned his glance with all the haughtiness she could muster—“she had come with her slipper fixed and was quite disappointed that ye’d gone on without her. Come, ladies, ’tis best that we be on our way.”
“May I?” The blond gentleman offered his arm to Nilly, and when she accepted it, began to hurry her along the hall.
If the two gentlemen happened to look back over their shoulders, the older ladies didn’t appear to notice; they were much too intent on keeping their footing alongside the agile men and their long, rapid strides.
“But this is not the way we came in,” Melly exclaimed when they came to a door—a small, unobtrusive one that was most certainly not the grand entrance they’d been welcomed into.
The night air was cool, and the half-moon glowed down on them as they stepped out of the villa onto…grass.
“My slippers,” shrieked Nilly, lifting her feet one at a time in a mad, hopping manner. “They’ll be ruined!”
“Come, come,” Mr. Zavier said, ushering them along the dark building toward the front of the villa where their carriage was waiting.
As the ladies climbed in, their creaking joints reminding them they’d had hardly a spot of rest in the last week, with Carnivale and all of the other excitement, they noticed that theirs was the only carriage in sight. Mr. Zavier handed each of them in and then followed with an energetic leap, slamming the door shut behind him.
Rapping harshly on the roof, he settled back into his seat, surrounded by gowns and panting ladies. Not, perhaps, his preferred environment to be surrounded by such feminity…but it was his duty, nonetheless.
It wasn’t until the carriage pulled away from the street in front of the villa that the ladies realized the blond gentleman had disappeared.
In fact, none of them could recall seeing him once they came outside of the villa.
“Well, I never,” snapped Winnie, looking back out the carriage window. “That man! He tricked us into leaving so he could have the treasure.”
And she settled into her seat, plump elbows crossed over her just-as-plump bosom, and brooded all the way back to the Gardella villa.
Ten
In Which Our Heroine Finds Herself in a Compromising Position
Victoria slowly came to consciousness, aware that her entire body ached.
The last thing she remembered was seeing Max collapse under a cluster of vampires; then something struck her from behind and her world went dark.Now…she had no idea how long she’d been lying here…wherever she was. She couldn’t see anything; it was pitch-black. Even after she blinked her eyes numerous times to adjust them to the night, she could make out little but vague shadows.
She couldn’t move. Her wrists were tied tightly behind her, and when she uncurled her fists the pads of her fingers pressed into something that felt like dirty stone or brick behind her. She felt the same underneath, suggesting she was in a chamber belowground. A dungeon, perhaps.
That in itself didn’t bode well.
Then there was the fact that the back of her neck was cold. Freezing, in fact; the prickles there felt as if a cold wind were blasting over her skin. Her hair sagged, falling over her shoulders, but provided no protection from that barometer of the undead. Her gown was disheveled, and she was quite certain that at least several rosettes and perhaps some of the flounces had been torn from its hem.
But that was the least of her concerns, for…She paused, forcing her racing thoughts to slow so she could concentrate. She closed her eyes, even though she couldn’t see anything, and listened.
No. No, she hadn’t imagined it.
Apprehension crept up her spine, spreading over the back of her shoulders. The smell was faint, but it was there: that musty, rotting, malevolent death-smell of a demon.
Demons and vampires? Here together?
They were mortal enemies—at least, they would be if either of them were mortal. The battle for Lucifer’s favor had raged between the vampires and demons since he’d turned Judas into the first vampire.
Demons were, of course, fallen angels—of which Lucifer was the greatest of all. They had been purveyors of evil and death since time dawned. But after Judas hanged himself, certain that he would never be forgiven for betraying Jesus, Lucifer had wooed him and his soul to the side of Hell and used him to create a new race that was half demon and half human.
Being the devil’s own creation, the vampires felt they should take precedence over the demons; but the demons had existed for so much longer, they believed their race was the more powerful and should inherit the reign of Hell.
Either way, Victoria knew, it was very rare for the two races to be together, or to cooperate in any way.
Then she remembered her mother, and her apprehension exploded into full-force terror. Lady Melly and her two friends could still be in the villa, under the control of the vampires and the demons. Zavier could not have fought off all of the undead that had attacked her and Max. Her only hope was that he’d sensed the presence of the vampires in time to bring the ladies—and the other guests—to safety.
Or…a new thought alleviated her anxiety a bit. If Regalado was after the key, perhaps he meant to use her mother only as a hostage or bait. In which case she wouldn’t be harmed.
She hoped.
“Max?” she said softly. She thought she’d heard a faint shuffling sound, perhaps even a groan. It was either Max or some other creature—either of which was preferable to other options, such as the undead…or those of the eight-legged persuasion.
There was silence, and Victoria closed her eyes again and listened this time for something closer to her. She was sure she heard something, sensed some other presence.
One thing was certain: If Max was indeed here, he must be badly hurt if he made no sound. This greater worry galvanized her into action.
Her legs weren’t tied, so she used her splayed hands on the floor behind to help shift herself from the ground and move onto her knees. Her head began to pound angrily above her brows as she came upright, and there was something wrong with her right leg…it was stiff and it ached. Horrendously.