Victoria was ready for them, and she rolled away, off the door, knocking into the feet of the vampires as she splashed the vial of salted holy water at them. They screamed and fell away, and she yanked on the handle in the floor.
It stuck for an instant, then whumped up next to where she crouched, and Victoria rolled through the opening.
She felt her gown catch on the rough edge of the door, but it didn't stop her from going through and falling. The rectangle of light above disappeared as the door closed after her, and she hit the ground.
The door above opened again immediately, spilling dull yellow light into the space in which she'd landed. Pulling to her feet, she brushed against a rough wall just as one of the vampires vaulted through the opening and landed next to her.
His red eyes glowed in the dim light, and he lunged for her.
Victoria was ready. The stake solid in her hand, she thrust it into his heart with considerable satisfaction.
Before his ashes filtered to the ground she was dodging into the darkness, hoping it was a passage that led somewhere. Behind her there were the sounds of feet thumping on the ground; but she did not stop to check whether it was a red-eyed vampire or a brave mortal who'd come after her this time.
Victoria found the wall and, moving as silently as she could, felt along it, praying that it wouldn't end in a corner that signaled a dead end.
At least down here she had the advantage of limited space, as she had when fighting the vampires at Claythorne. If they all came after her, she would have a better chance of fighting them off one by one than if they all leaped on her at once.
Whoever was behind was gaining; a quick glance back confirmed the red eyes of a vampire. He had night vision, which gave him a decided advantage when traversing through a pitch-black tunnel.
Victoria picked up her pace, keeping her stake at the ready. If she had a moment to pause, she might be able get the other vial of holy water from her garter; yet if she escaped, she would need it to pour over her bite wounds.
They throbbed and oozed blood; she could feel it trickling down her throat and arms. It was chilly on her skin, no longer that velvety release she'd experienced when the vampires were feeding.
She put one hand out in front of her and ran as fast as she could, but she was blind and the vampire was not. He was close enough to grab at her clothing, but she jerked free and dodged to the side and back again, trying to keep him off balance.
There were other footsteps behind them; at least one other was coming closer. She could not continue to outrun the vampire; sooner or later she was going to come upon a wall or door or something that ended, and he would have seen that long before she would feel it.
Getting away from the hypnotic incense in the Tutela meeting room had helped to clear her mind a little, and Victoria decided she had to do something drastic. And she also noticed that there was a faint line of light far ahead of her.
Where there was light, there was a door and possibly sunlight. Was it late enough? She'd been here for hours… but was it close enough to dawn?
She put on her last burst of speed, dodged to one side, and dove to the ground, tumbling head over heels. The vampire didn't move in time and he tripped, falling palms-flat onto the ground. Victoria leaped toward him, felt for his nape, and slammed the stake down through the center of his back. He disintegrated under her.
But a third vampire was there, coming at her, grabbing at her hair to pull her to her feet. Victoria couldn't hold back a soft cry at the unexpected pain. His red eyes burned furiously as he closed his fingers around her throat, his grasp slipping in blood. They lit the small area with an evil glow, casting enough illumination that she could see part of his face. Enough to recognize him. The Sixth. Not one of the starving, depraved vampires, but their leader.
"Who are you?" he growled, giving her a little shake.
She would have raised her stake, but he caught her hand in midair and shoved her up against the wall. It was cold, and she felt the grit of dirt and stone on her bare shoulders.
"Who are you that you have killed two of mine?" He moved closer, and she smelled the blood on his breath, old blood, and the stench of the damned.
Her other hand was free, and she tried to dig under her skirts to get the vial of holy water, but he was too quick and seized that wrist as well. Imprisoning both hands, pressing them back into the damp stone wall, he moved closer. His grip was vicious, and she dropped her stake. "A Venator, of course. I have never tasted a Venator."
His red eyes moved closer, and she waited until he was just about to press his lips to her skin. Then, using his hold on her for balance, she raised both legs and slammed her feet into his calves.
It surprised him enough that she was able to twist free and reach for the second stake in her hair, but it had fallen when he yanked her to her feet. Victoria lunged at the vampire, knocking him off balance, and started off toward the faint light.
He was behind her, not far, but enough that she had a lead. She tried to reach under her skirt to pull her last stake out, but it was too long and she couldn't find the slit while she was running.
Please, a door. Please.
She was close enough now; it was a crack of light. She slammed against the wall, which had to be a door, had to be, and felt him coming up behind her. Scrabbling around with her fingers, she felt for a latch again, praying for sunlight. She had no idea how much time had passed since coming to the meeting, but it had been hours…
Sunlight, please.
She slipped her fingers into a crack just as he slammed up behind her. He grabbed her by the shoulder and whipped her to the ground, hoping, obviously, to slow her down. But he'd actually given her an advantage. She flipped back and kicked her feet up into his abdomen, sending him sprawling as she rolled back around and grabbed with her nails under the bottom of the door.
Pull, pull, pull…
And it opened. Dear God, it opened!
And a low beam of light flooded into the tunnel.
The vampire screamed and rolled away and Victoria followed him, slipping the last stake from under her skirt. She drove it into his back, straight through to his heart, then turned to stumble into blessed, blessed dawn from a sun just peeking through the trees at the horizon.
She slammed the door behind her and staggered three or four steps away from the building.
She ran, her eyes smarting from the sudden brightness, blinded again, brushing through trees and bushes until she crashed into someone.
Two someones.
"My lady?"
"Lady Rockley?"
Victoria picked herself up from the grass and, still blinking away sunburst tears, said, "Verbena? Oliver? What on earth—"
"My God, she is bleeding!" Oliver's horrified voice penetrated, and she was finally able to focus on him.
"Everywhere." His voice cracked, easing into a horrified hush.
"We have a boat, my lady; come, come." Verbena was tugging on her, and although Victoria could hear the fear in her voice, she also heard her trademark bossiness.
She allowed her maid to lead her back to the same canal on which she and Alvisi had traveled hours ago.
A half a day ago.
The voyage along the canal took well over an hour, during which Victoria had the overwhelming impression of warm yellow sunlight and of little else. Later, she recalled certain moments: The agony when Verbena liberally doused her wounds with salted holy water. The sudden listing of their gondola when Oliver's pole caught on something. The snatches of hissed conversation between her two companions.
"She looks so white."
"O' course she does! She's been bit five, six times, ye oaf!" And then the splash of water followed by the excruciating sting of salt. "Can ye not row any faster?"