Her pulse thumped harder; she tried to twist away, somehow remaining silent—purposely or not, she did not know.
Now her eyes sank closed. The smooth teeth whispered against her skin. She couldn't control the urge to fight any longer; she strained up, trying to pull free, and found that she could not. The sounds of the orchestra, the rustles in the room, all faded away, until she could hear only the breathing of the vampire as it matched her own. His pulse as it beat with hers.
Her head was held rigid, her arms, her legs, all held fast by unrelenting fingers.
His breath was cold on her skin, icing her throat along with the back of her neck. He sighed and pricked her with his fangs.
"Stop." Somehow the single syllable penetrated her fog.
There was a pause, a hitch in the vampire's movement… then suddenly she was released; the thrall was broken. The weight came off her. She could breathe. Focus.
"This one is mine," the voice continued.
She recognized the voice, the face, as it came into her view. Sebastian had returned.
The vampires had released her on his command?
He appeared calm and utterly in control, but the vampires looked abashed as they moved away from her. "Vioget! We did not know," said Partredi.
Regalado had stood. "What? What is going on?"
"She is not for your use," Sebastian told him coldly. "They will not touch her. She is mine."
Regalado's dark eyes were furious. "You have no authority here!"
Sebastian lifted one brow. "If that is the case, then why do they back away on my command? You do not wish to anger me, Regalado. The Tutela does not wish to displease Beauregard. Or do they?"
"Beauregard?" Regalado stepped back. "How do you—"
"Begone," Sebastian told the vampires, ignoring Regalado's stammered question as though it were that of a two-year-old.
The vampires bowed to him as they left and, absurdly, Victoria noticed that someone—Max?—had reopened the curtains in the box. The orchestra continued to play; the chorus continued to sing.
She did not know what to think. Where to look. Whom to look at.
How to feel about being called mine by Sebastian.
Of course, that was probably just for effect. But it still echoed in her mind, along with the fact that she'd been bitten yet again. Fortunately, it was a shallow bite; hardly worth noticing. A short trickle of blood curved along her neck.
Victoria surreptitiously opened the small vial of holy water in her reticule and dampened her handkerchief with it. Then she took stock of the other occupants of the room as she pressed it to her wound, hardly feeling the salted holy water.
Sara sat in her seat, eyes glazed, holding a white scarf to her neck. She didn't seem to notice Victoria, or if she did, she didn't care.
Galliani and Max stood near the back of the box, half-shadowed. Regalado stared at Sebastian, but made no further comment. He sat in his seat, looking less like a vampire protector than a sulking child whose game had been cut short. Placidia stood behind Sebastian, as though they had just come into the room and he'd stepped in front of her. Portiera was next to her twin.
Victoria looked at Sebastian, who gave her a look that told her he couldn't wait for her to ask him the questions he knew were going through her mind, because he wasn't going to answer them.
She could only imagine what kind of compensation he would attempt to extract from her.
What else could she do? She sat back down in her seat to watch the rest of the opera, relieved that she'd come out of the situation with no one the wiser of her Venator status.
But as she sat in her seat, she realized belatedly that the chill at the back of her neck had not eased. Its persistence told her that the vampires were still nearby.
And, as if to confirm this, only moments later someone screamed. It was a horrible, terrified scream.
Victoria bolted to her feet. Fortunately she wasn't the only person in the box to respond in that manner, and Sebastian was right next to her, slipping his hand through her arm as though to steady her. Or hold her back.
There was another scream, perhaps a bit closer, from the passageway behind their box. A few shouts. The diva continued to sing. The orchestra continued to play. The cold at the back of Victoria's neck had not subsided.
"Who is it?" cried Portiera, clutching at Galliani. "Someone's hurting her!"
"Someone is being hurt!" echoed Placidia, tugging at Sebastian's other arm.
With Portiera in tow, Galliani had opened the door of the box and was peering out. "I see nothing!"
There was another scream, louder now that the door was open. Victoria tugged away from Sebastian, all thoughts of listening to Aunt Eustacia's warning suddenly evaporated. She moved around the seats, heading for the door, and was caught by Max's dark eyes. When she saw the grim expression on his face, she stopped.
As she grabbed at the back of the velvet-covered seat next to her, trying to decide what to do, she glanced at Conte Regalado. He was leaning against a side wall of the box, near the seats. Unconcerned. Watching her.
Victoria took a deep breath and closed her fingers tighter into the velvet cushion, anchoring herself there.
But she wavered. She needed to get out of this room. The vampires had been sent off by Sebastian—only to wreak havoc elsewhere.
The sounds of cries and running feet had grown; yet the opera continued. Perhaps they could not hear, so far away and over the sounds of the orchestra. But it was an odd sensation—from one side of the box was beautiful music; from the other were the sounds of terror and panic.
"Someone must do something!" Placidia cried. "And I do not wish to stay here… What if it is a fire? Or bandits! I do not wish to be trapped!" Her voice rose in a spiral of nerves as she looked up at Sebastian. Apparently vampires were not a concern to her.
Victoria seized upon the opportunity and lifted the back of her hand to her forehead as she'd seen her mother do when complaining of vapors. "I am feeling quite warm," she said, adopting a whiny voice. "Mr. Vioget, I do think I will need your escort out of this small room. You will protect me, won't you?"
And before he could respond, she slid her arm around his other elbow and began to gently direct him toward the door. She heard the other women speaking, but Victoria and Sebastian, along with Placidia, were already out of the box and into the narrow passageway that led behind the lower theater seats. Other doors were opening, people were coming out and looking around in fear and concern, and the hall was filling.
In the distance, Victoria heard the sounds of chaos—running feet, screams and yells, and loud noises that could be doors slamming or large items falling to the floor. As soon as they were out of sight of the opera box door, and the others behind them, Victoria pulled loose from Sebastian and started off down the hallway, slipping betwixt the other operagoers.
She heard the shout behind her, but she didn't listen to him… She listened to the cold on her neck, the barometer that would tell her where the vampires were.
Down the hall, past the doors to the other boxes, toward the staircase that led down to the main entrance… or up to the higher box levels.
Victoria didn't remove her stake as she pushed through the people. There were more than two vampires here, she realized, and she wondered what they were doing—if they were snatching people as they could, feeding on them and then releasing them, or if they were dragging them off as prisoners to feed on later.
Then she heard the shout: "Fire!"
A wave of screams rolled through the narrow hall, and the people began to push and shove to get through.
"Fire!" echoed in her ears, up and down and throughout the theater. The orchestra had stopped playing, and the only sound was that of cries and shouts.