Roaring Shadows: Macey Book 2 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 8) (31 page)

Macey stumbled through the opening—which she noticed vaguely was a doorway—with Sebastian on her heels. There was a soft
boom
, and suddenly dark smoke filled the air, smothering the pit. But they’d already burst through the exit, and Grady slammed it closed behind them.

“What the hell was that?” Macey asked Grady, even as she glanced worriedly at Sebastian. He was still weak and still needed to feed—how much longer until he succumbed to the weakness again? They had to get him back to The Silver Chalice.

They.

She and Grady?

What an odd thought.

“I don’t know which way to go,” she muttered as Grady bumped into her from behind.

“This way,” he said, taking her arm and directing her through a warren of low-ceilinged rooms and corridors used for moving props, stage equipment, and actors.

Not far behind them were the sounds of angry exclamations—it would only be moments before Iscariot and the others were on their trail. Macey pushed Sebastian ahead of her, placing him between herself and Grady as the reporter led them quickly through the underground of the theater.

Get out now, figure the rest of this out later, she told herself.

Finally, somehow, they came to a heavy door marked EXIT. With a rough push, Grady opened it to the dark, stormy night and Macey and Sebastian stumbled out into a slick, shadowy alley.

They slammed the door closed behind them. “They’re right behind us,” Macey gasped. “Let’s run!”

“Wait—let’s block the door. It’ll give us a head start.”

She and Grady looked around, but the only moveable object was an automobile parked a few feet away.

“That’ll do,” said Sebastian, speaking for the first time since they’d left. “Macey.”

The two of them—with help from Grady, who reached inside and unfastened the brake and then steered—pushed the vehicle until it was up against the theater door. No sooner had they put in place than the door swung open…only to be stopped cold by the heavy metal automobile. The opening was barely wide enough for a hand to protrude.

They were safe—for now.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Macey, glancing at Grady, who was as out of breath from excitement and exertion as she was. “And thank you.”

“This way,” said Sebastian, and took off at a fast, certain pace.

They hadn’t gone far—only a block or so—before Sebastian suddenly stopped, and turned to face them. They were in a narrow alley, made more eerie and shadowy by the storm clouds and rain. He seemed to block their way, his eyes suddenly burning red.

Macey stopped up short, quickly thrusting Grady behind her, but he yanked her by the arm and tried to pull her back, and she saw Grady was holding a stake.

“Where did you get this?” Sebastian lunged toward Macey, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around. His hand was in an upraised fist, as if ready to strike a blow.

Grady gave an exclamation and leapt toward him, but the vampire’s arm whipped backward to knock him aside just as Macey gave Sebastian a shove and pivoted out of his grip.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Sebastian snarled, whirling onto Grady, his hand still in an angry fist, then back to Macey. “I need to know where you got this!” He brandished the fist in her face, and that was when she saw the faint glitter of beads on it. The rosary. Wrapped around his hand and fist.

“They’re coming!” shouted Grady, looking down the street.

Sebastian cursed, but bolted off. Macey followed, but at a slower pace to keep Grady with her.

They zigzagged through streets and around parked cars, sloshing through puddles and slipping on the pavement. They didn’t stop this time until they reached the ornate newel post identifying The Silver Chalice.

Moments later, they were inside the dry, silent pub. The door had barely closed when Sebastian had Macey slammed against the wall once more. “
Where did you get this?
” He was out of breath, his eyes were wild—but unglowing—and the rosary was still looped around his wrist. “Did Wayren give it to you?
Wayren!
” he bellowed, spinning away to shout at the room at large while still holding Macey flush against the wall. “Wayren!”

“No, it’s not from Wayren,” Macey said. She held up her hand to stop Grady, who looked as if he were ready to plunge his stake into Sebastian’s back. “I—it came from—an old woman gave it to me.”

“An old woman?” Sebastian straightened up, his expression one of astonishment and confusion. He released her. “An
old woman
? How? Where?”

“At Old St. Patrick’s Church, over on—”

Sebastian’s cry of shock and amazement was clearly one of comprehension. “My God,” he breathed, looking down at the rosary wrapped around his hand. He staggered, bracing himself against the wall. “
My God
.”

If Grady thought it odd that a vampire was calling for the Divine, he didn’t react. He merely watched, his eyes dark and steady as he lowered the stake to his side.

“Sebastian?” Macey reached to touch her colleague’s arm, no longer the least bit concerned that his vampiric tendencies would overtake him. Something had happened…and it had to do with that rosary. “What does it mean?”

“It’s got an extra bead on the tail part,” Grady commented, looking from one of them to the other—but Sebastian was clearly no longer interested in conversation.

“I’ve…” He turned and strode off—no, he
ran
—out of the pub.

If Macey had to guess, she’d wager his destination was Old St. Patrick’s Church.

TWENTY-NINE

~ A Promise Fulfilled ~

“
Giulia!
”

Macey heard Sebastian shouting even before she got through the doors of St. Patrick’s.

She burst into the sanctuary and stopped, panting, soaked from the rain, and wondering how many other times tonight she was going to be out of breath and trembling with exhaustion. Other than Sebastian, the place was silent—of course it was; it was well past midnight on a stormy, miserable night.

Candles in opaque red containers flickered in rows on either side of the pews. Flames in clear glass sent off a mellower, bright light from the altar. A massive crucifix loomed over the dais. The colorful stained glass windows were dull and monochromatic. The pews were silent and empty.

“
Giulia!
” Sebastian shouted, his voice echoing violently throughout the arched space. He stood in the center of the aisle, spinning around to look in all directions.

The door bumped into Macey from behind, and Grady came in, also out of breath from running. He automatically made the sign of the cross.

“You all right?” he asked in a low voice. “Do you know what’s going on? How did a vampire even cross the threshold?”

Macey shook her head. “Sebastian is a special case.” An odd, prickly sort of understanding was beginning to settle over her. It was as if she knew what was happening, but couldn’t quite put words to it—even in her own mind.

Something moved near the side of the church, and Macey saw a stooped figure emerge from the shadows. Macey felt her heart swell and something big and warm blossom over her, followed by a strong, warm sensation.

She grabbed Grady’s hand without thinking, staring as Sebastian turned as if pulled by a string, and faced the elderly woman. Even from here, she could see his torso heaving, and his hands trembling.

“Giulia?” he whispered, taking a step toward the frail, veiled woman. “Is it you?”

Macey and Grady were easing slowly up the aisle, drawing near Sebastian—who suddenly seemed unable to move any further.

The crone pushed back her ever-present veil and, instead of responding to Sebastian, she looked at Macey. From several aisles away, Macey was struck by the power and serenity in the woman’s eyes as they fastened upon her. They were her own eyes—the Pesaro eyes.

“Thank you,” said the woman. In the candlelight, her gaze glistened with tears.

“Just how old are you, anyway?” Macey blurted out, then regretted such a stupid question in the midst of—whatever this was.

The elderly woman’s face wrinkled into a soft smile. “I’m 105 years old…today. Exactly today. On the day the long promise was made, I was reborn.” She pulled her attention away and settled it on Sebastian. “
Mi adorate
.”

“Giulia,” he whispered. “Does this mean…?”

She withdrew her hand from beneath the long, loose gown she wore. She was holding a stake. Its silver tip gleamed even in the low light. She was smiling with joy.

Macey’s insides surged, and she would have leapt toward them, but Grady caught her by the arm. “No.”

Heart thudding, pulse racing, Macey stilled. Every hair on her body stood on end; every muscle and tendon was taut and felt ready to snap.

“It’s time,” said Sebastian. “At last.” He wasn’t looking at anyone but the old woman—Giulia—as they walked toward each other.

“No,” Macey whispered. “Sebastian!” she cried. “What are you doing? What if you’re wrong? What if—”

But it was too late. The woman flung herself at Sebastian, stake raised, and as he threw himself into her embrace, she drove the pike home: hard, sharp, fast, strong.

So strong for such a frail, old creature.

Macey shrieked; she couldn’t help it, for it felt as if she herself had been stabbed in the heart as Sebastian froze, impaled on the silver stake. He jolted, his head thrown back, his beautiful bronze and amber self—bruised and bloody and beaten—illuminated by the golden candlelight in that arrested moment.

A great rush of energy filled the church, a cyclone of wind catching up a cloud of glittery ash and dust in a swirling column that surrounded Sebastian and Giulia…

It spun and illuminated, and in the midst of it, Macey saw their two figures—Sebastian and his love—embracing, twining, becoming one…and in the middle of the storm, there was a flash, a sharp, specific moment where the old woman metamorphosed into the beauty of her youth: with long, lush, dark hair, an unlined face, and big, dark eyes. Dark eyes that looked just like Macey’s.

They fastened on her, connecting with her from the distance. Macey felt the shock of warmth and comprehension—and perhaps love—explode over her as the young, beautiful woman held her gaze until she swirled back into the figure of the old crone.

And then, all at once, they were gone.

The two figures had exploded into a glittery silver dust that wafted throughout the sanctuary, settling over the pews and aisles like starlight rain. The scent that lingered was not the foul, musty one of death and evil, but something pleasant and beautiful.

Something like eternity.

The dust settled and the church became silent. And all that remained was the silver-tipped stake, the glittering rosary, and five copper rings.

THIRTY

~ Decisions and Answers and a Compliment ~

“Nothing’s changed,” Macey said
, her voice taut with emotion.

She and Grady had made their way back to The Silver Chalice. Dawn was just breaking and the storm was over. The two of them were alone in the pub. All was silent and dark.

“
Everything’s
changed,” Grady shot back. He yanked away the collar of his shirt, soaked by rain and blood. “I was fed on—multiple times—by your redheaded friend. Don’t tell me nothing’s bloody changed.”

She balked a little at the sight of the raw vampire wounds. “Salted holy water,” she began.

“Already done. I had some in the heels of my shoes last night. Along with lock picks. And a small smoke bomb tucked inside my stocking, with matches to set it off—which, as you recall, was the reason we were able to escape undetected. I had a stake in my pocket and
this
,” he said, producing a series of three finger-sized pieces of wood. “It’s a stake—you see, you screw the pieces together, but they come apart so they can fit in a smaller place. Like the inside of my shoe.” His blue eyes blazed. “Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I’ve gotten myself into, Macey. You can’t use that as an excuse anymore.”

She could only gape at him in astonishment, even as terror bubbled inside her. “You don’t understand,” she said, taking him by the arms. “My father—”

“The hell I don’t.” As when he was truly angry, there was no trace of the Irish—just hard, sharp words. “I understand more than you can possibly realize after seeing you fighting for your life—for my life, and for Sebastian’s.
I saw you
—I saw what you experienced, how powerful you are, and how much responsibility you have. I understand.”

“So did my mother,” Macey whispered. Tears filled her eyes, causing his dear, handsome face to become blurry. “And she became the target of the undead, simply because she was married to my father. They tortured her, Grady. What they did to her…it was worse than what Iscariot did to Mrs. Gutchinson. And it destroyed my father.” She was shaking her head. “I don’t want you to be hurt…and I don’t want to be destroyed. I have work to do.” She tried to make her voice sound cold and hard, but failed miserably.

This was hard. This was
so hard.

“Sounds like a little bit of cowardice to me,” he said flatly. “But I guess I should take it as a compliment that you care so much.”

You have no idea how much I care.
“You saw what happened last night—you saw the horror and the violence and the evil. But what you don’t understand, you
can’t
understand, is that it’s like that
every day
for me.
Every
day.
Every
night. I don’t get to rest. I don’t get to sleep. I don’t get to take time off. I don’t get to walk away.
Ever.
But you can, Grady.” The tears were coming faster now, and her voice shook with emotion. “You don’t want that kind of life—lonely, violent, and dark. You don’t deserve it.”

“Macey,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “What
you
don’t understand is that I’m in love with you. I willingly take on that life to be with you, to be by your side, to support you—and, when there is a chance—because you know there must be—I’ll be there to make love to you, to hold you, to drive away the demons…if only for a short time. Your father had that with your mother, didn’t he?”