As Shadows Fade (21 page)

The stairs went down below the earth, down, down, down so far that no sunlight filtered down the spiral stairs. When at last the steps ended, she saw a single horse symbol carved on the wall in front of her, next to a door. The Lone Horse.

The black door had an old-fashioned string latch. The string hung outside, and she pulled on it to lift the small wooden bar inside. The door opened with only a gentle shove, grating across a packed-dirt floor.

To her surprise, Victoria found herself in an establishment more than reminiscent of The Silver Chalice. Wooden tables and chairs lined the space, all fashioned of scarred, smooth, hand-worn maple. Lamps burned from the walls, and a fire in one corner brought a bit of warmth to the underground chill. The place smelled like sweat, damp soil, ale, and…blood.

There was no mistake; Victoria definitely knew bloodscent. Several patrons sat with various cups of libation in front of them, and she didn't need to look closely to know what the beverage of choice was. A piano stood in the corner, being badly played by a woman with wheat-colored hair. A small counter laden with bottles edged up into the corner of the room, with a man tending to them. The low ceiling was lined with heavy beams between which Victoria could see roots growing.

And the back of her neck felt as though a pack of ice sat there.

Vampires everywhere.

Most of them looked up, showing burning red or pink eyes, lifting a lip to display the point of a fang. None of them, fortunately, glowed red-violet. Victoria wasn't in the mood to fight an Imperial vampire, the type that was the oldest and most powerful of the undead. She wanted to make this a simple exercise: Get the ring, slay Katerina if necessary, and get back to Antonín.

One of the vampires made the mistake of standing up and lunging for Victoria as she looked in the other direction. A quick shunt of her stake arm, and the foolish creature poofed into dust.

“That wasn't a very polite way to greet a newcomer,” Victoria said to the room at large.

The lustful faces that had risen to look at her—fresh, young blood that she was—immediately dropped to look down at the cups on the tables in front of them, as if hoping that by ignoring her, she would ignore them.

For now she would. But only because she had other matters to attend to.

And as she swept the room with her gaze, she saw what appeared to be those other matters in a far corner. Victoria cast a sharp look at a vampire in her path. He moved and she scooted past him to the dark corner where Sebastian seemed to be attempting to extricate himself from a bit of difficulty.

“But, Katerina,
chère
,”he was saying as Victoria approached. “Can we not let bygones be bygones? It was more than eight years ago.”

“Eight years?” repeated a tall, stout woman; presumably Katerina. She'd backed Sebastian up against the wall with a meaty hand, stabbing a finger in the middle of his chest. Though Sebastian had a stake in his hand, she didn't pay it any attention. “Eight years ain' barely a
breath
ago for someone living forever, Sebastian Vioget.”

“But surely you didn't truly miss those casks—”

“Casks of the best French brandy? Casks I paid overmuch for?” shrieked Katerina, drilling her finger into his chest. Her nail must be sharp, for Victoria saw red blossom beneath Sebastian's snowy shirt. Yet his charming smile didn't falter. “You're knowing as well as I that calf's blood is all well and good for the likes of some customers, but the ones who pay well are expecting something even better. Are you knowing what business I lost when I couldn't serve the likes of Giordan Cale?”

Sebastian gave a little laugh. “But I see business is flourishing now. And aside from that—”

“I do hope I'm not interrupting,” Victoria said in unapologetic tones as she pushed over to stand next to them.

Katerina turned, but did not remove her hand from Sebastian, who gave Victoria a rueful smile. “Who are you?”

“I am
Summa
Gardella, and I'm here because you have something I require.”

“If it's him,” she said, with a jerk of her head at Sebastian, “you have to wait a moment until I'm finished.”

“Now don't be silly, Katerina,” said Sebastian, moving quickly and smoothly to get out from under her grip. “You know I prefer not to hurt a woman, but I will if I must. I intended to apologize, but if you won't accept it, then it's none of my concern.” He smoothed his rumpled coat and brushed off dirt that had crumbled onto him from the ceiling above. “As far as I'm concerned, you owed me those casks.”

Katerina, who had been blessed with a full head of black hair and pancakelike breasts during her mortal days, glared at him, her hands on her hips. She stood more than a head taller than Sebastian, and the top of her skull brushed the ceiling…hence the dusting of dirt that followed her every movement.

“I swore if I ever laid eyes on you again, I'd be squeezing every last koruna from you to pay for that brandy.” She tightened her ham-sized fists as though to put her words to action. “It was a years' worth of income for me to buy them. And you taking them off with you to London was a dirty trick.”

Victoria decided it was time to intervene. The vampiress was massive in size and height, and with her pink eyes and poison-tipped fangs, she wouldn't be an easy target. But Victoria had handled worse threats.

“You can settle your accounts with Sebastian later,” she said, giving him a sidewise glance, “but for now you can give me what I came for.”

“And what might that be?” The woman turned and focused her attention down, heavily, onto Victoria. Her pink eyes tried to capture Victoria's gaze, but in vain.

“The Ring of Jubai you have in your possession.”

Katerina began to laugh, a loud, uproarious sound that boomed in the small room and shook even her flat breasts. “And what makes you think I'd be considering giving it to you?”

“Because you don't wish to join your husband in a pile of dust.” Victoria showed her stake and looked up boldly at the woman.

Sebastian winced behind her, and rolled his eyes. Victoria ignored him; perhaps his tactics might have been to charm the ring from Katerina. But Victoria intended no such thing.

Katerina lifted her hand, shoving it at Victoria, knuckles facing out. “Then it will have to be over my pile of dust, for the ring's not going anywhere without me.”

And indeed, she spoke the truth. Only a slender line of copper gleamed on the vampiress's ring finger. Flesh covered the rest of it, puffing over and around it like rising bread dough. The only way to get it off would be to kill Katerina, for, as Victoria knew, the only material that survived a vampire's dissolution into ash was copper. Everything else would disintegrate along with the undead, which was precisely the reason Lilith had crafted her special rings of that metal.

“As I don't intend to go anywhere…and as my patrons would be sorely missing me…I think you might perhaps be leaving empty-handed. If you leave at all.” Katerina bared her teeth, showing large ones that looked like yellow tombstones.

Victoria saw the warning in Sebastian's eyes at the same moment as prickles rose at the back of her neck. She whirled to face two tall vampires just as they leapt at her.

Her timing was a bit off, and the force of their bodies slammed her into a nearby table. Victoria bumped her head on a corner dulled by years of use, and used the momentum of her fall to roll under the heavy wooden trestle. Ignoring the pain, she reached up and grabbed the long, slender leg of the vampire nearest her and slammed a fist into the back of his knee.

He collapsed, and as he fell, Victoria erupted from under the table and shoved a stake into his chest. The dust poofed in her face as she pulled to her feet, her breath faster but by no means labored, and she swung around to kick out at another attacker. Pushing, whirling, punching, shoving…she found the thrill of the battle coursing through her in a way she had been missing for a while. The spray of spilled drinks, the dull sound of wood crashing into flesh, the smell of undead ash, the satisfaction of seeing the vampire's red eyes widen just as the stake thrust home…this was her world. Her moment.

This threat, of corporeal demons who lunged and shoved and kicked, was one she was well used to combating. She found herself slipping into her familiar
kalaripayattu
moves, ingrained by hours of practice with Kritanu. She used her strength and speed to upend a vampire, to knock another into his companion, to slam an elbow up into the chin of still another and then, each time, to finish it off with a stake to the heart.

Exhilarating. Exhilarating and—not simple or easy by any means—but familiar.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sebastian join the fray, battling directly with Katerina. One of his wrists had been captured by the massive woman, and Victoria saw that he was doing everything to free himself but shoving a stake into her chest.

With a wave of exasperation at his sentimentality, Victoria finished off a sixth or seventh undead attacker and, grabbing the arm of yet another vampire, flung him out into the cluster of his companions. As the vampires tumbled to the ground, she turned and, with one sleek movement, shoved her stake into the back of Katerina's torso.

The pike slid in, Katerina froze, and Sebastian cried out…Then, as Victoria pulled back, the vampire stilled and poofed into a dark cloud of dust.

The clang of metal told her where the copper ring dropped from the vampire's person, hitting a wooden table, then falling silently to the dirt floor, and she dove after it.

Sebastian followed, and they found themselves face-to-face under the table. “I would have done it,” he protested immediately.

Victoria snatched up the ring and allowed him to help her surge back to her feet. She turned, bracing herself for a renewed onslaught, and found that the few remaining vampires had begun to flee. “Well. That was simpler than I expected,” she said, looking at the empty pub.

Sebastian pushed past her, stepping over a splintered bench as he made his way toward the counter, now vacated. He moved behind it and gave her an impudent smile as he raised a dark bottle to examine its label. “I don't believe she'll miss this at all anymore,” he said, pouring a generous draft into a glass. “Care to join me in a victory drink, Victoria?”

She navigated her way through the debris and selected a stool next to the empty counter. “I do believe I shall.”

+ Thirteen +

In Which We Observe Venators in Their Natural Habitat

Sebastian was well into
his cups by the time he left Goldsmith Lane. He certainly wasn't staggering along the street—indeed, he was much too refined to make a fool of himself in such a manner.

But the fine—
very
fine—brandy Katerina had kept for those “special” customers had put a sort of glaze over the world, over the dull throb of emptiness in his middle and the remnants of dreams that continued to linger and tease. It softened the edge of unpleasantness…and aside of that, it was
damn
fine brandy.

Perhaps even better than the Armagnac from which he'd relieved Katerina all those years ago. It was a shame she'd never forgiven him for that transgression, but, as he'd said, she rather owed him. It wasn't his fault her daughter had seduced him.

However, Katerina hadn't quite seen it that way, and had been furious with him for not “keeping his dillyjohn packed away,” as she had termed it. So Katerina had set a bunch of undead goons on him in retribution and caused a riot that destroyed half of the Lone Horse. Not to mention Sebastian's arm, leg, and a few ribs.

Yes indeed, she'd owed him for that, and those casks had been a nice little start to his proprietorship of The Silver Chalice.

After Victoria left the Lone Horse, Sebastian had taken it upon himself to hunt around in the hidden storage room to see how much of this brandy was left. Perhaps he'd take the rest back to London, or wherever he thought he might settle after things were done with the Midiverse Portal, and open another establishment.

Having ascertained there was, in fact, a nice store of various libations hidden away, Sebastian finished his last drink and left the tavern.

Though it was late in the afternoon, once he was outside the dark place, he had to blink rapidly in the glare of sunshine. The great towers of Týn Church rose in the distance, high over the city across the river. He looked away. Victoria hadn't given a reason for leaving the Lone Horse, but he knew where she'd gone.

As he made his way back to their inn with nary a stumble, he wondered when Wayren and Brim and Michalas might arrive in Praha, or whether they would all attempt to meet up on the way to Munţii Fǎgǎraş. Sebastian had no desire to visit Lilith's mountain lair in Romania, but in the last year, he'd become accustomed to doing things he preferred not to do.

Staking vampires, including his grandfather, was one.

Loving a woman who had to be coaxed into a kiss—or more—every time.

Fighting his arse off against paralyzing demons.

Even seeing Katerina poof into a pile of dust had raised melancholy in his mind.

Or perhaps it was the brandy.

No. It was more than the brandy. For all her faults, Katerina had been kind to him once upon a time, and it had been Sebastian's fault her husband was no longer living undeadly by her side.

At least now they rotted in Hell together.

The thought made his belly swish. Maybe he
had
had too much of the brandy.

Giulia in Hell. Sent there by his own bloody hand.

Was there no way to change that? To save her soul?

Of course not. He'd wondered and wished and hoped for years for some way to change that. What was done was done. Ashes to ashes…and in this case, ashes to ashes to Hell.

Damn. The brandy. Bitterness rose in the back of his throat, and Sebastian had to swipe the back of his hand over eyes that watered from the bright sun.