"Hmm. Could it have been because you either would have demanded to know how, and every single detail, and insisted on assisting, or that you would not have believed me? I told you in every way possible that you needed to leave, and apparently even blatant rudeness didn't work."
"So you had Sebastian kidnap me. But why didn't you tell me when you came to release me? You could have told me then."
"Yes, and you would have left, wouldn't you? You would have trotted out the door with the stake and pistol like a good chit and that would have been that."
"I didn't anyway, did I? You could have told me more when you came."
"Victoria, they were waiting for anything—any hint or breath or anything from me that would give them reason not to trust me. I couldn't take the chance that they thought something else was going on other than… other than the fact that I didn't want you killed. For whatever reason," he added sharply. "I let them think it, for it was better than the alternative. I suspected they even gave me the opportunity to free you in hopes of hearing me tell you something to confirm their suspicions. I didn't dare. I couldn't risk it."
The vampires were almost upon them. There was no time to linger any longer. It would either be sunrise or starlight, certain freedom or more running. Victoria whipped the latch open.
The door flew open into a dark night. The stars spread across the sky in a wide diamond scarf that, normally, Victoria would have found beautiful, but tonight found disappointing. She had been hoping for pinks and oranges.
Her body gave a sudden lurch as Max shoved her through, and she tumbled out onto the dirt-worn area outside the door. She heard the door close behind her, and she twisted around on the ground.
But no, he was there, standing at the door, looking past her. Still.
Victoria swiveled back around, there on her knees, sword grasped in her hand, panting. A pair of boots stepped out of the shadows and stopped in front of her.
She looked up and saw the shadow of an elegant chin, with silver-tipped hair curling in a moonlit halo around it.
"Sebastian." The accusation in her voice was unmistakable. "Once again, your timing is impeccable."
The boots stepped closer, and his shadow fell across her hand grasping the sword. "I see you are quite familiar with my grandson's penchant for disappearing at the most inopportune—or, in his case, fortuitous—moments."
Victoria stretched her neck to look all the way up at him, and noticed several other pairs of booted feet moving out of the shadows. Her neck was frigid again, but she still held a blessed weapon. She pulled to her feet, as slowly and smoothly as she could. Her trousers still clung to her knees where the cold, damp earth had pressed into them. "Beauregard, I presume. I'd begun to wonder if you were merely a figment of your grandson's imagination." She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Max was still standing there, the door to the theater closed behind him.
The elder vampire laughed, reminding her uncomfortably of Sebastian. "I'm rather surprised he would have even told you about me. Now. Since you are here, am I to assume you were unsuccessful in your task this evening? Has Nedas activated Akvan's Obelisk?"
Now that he'd moved, and the stars and moon illuminated him, she could see that it was obvious he wasn't Sebastian. There was a resemblance—their hair the same unruly mass of curls, although Beauregard's was lighter blond in comparison to his grandson's honey-colored ones. He was older, too, but not elderly. Perhaps he had been in his late forties when he'd been turned by the female vampire who'd tricked him. His face bore the same trace of patrician elegance that Sebastian wore, but his nose was wider and his lips not quite as inviting as his grandson's. His eyes were completely different; even though they weren't glowing red, it was obvious they were darker than Sebastian's, and set deeply into his skull, giving him a closed-lidded look that reminded her of Phillip. Still, indeed, he was a fetching enough man for being a centuries-old vampire, and a grandfather to boot.
He was looking at Max, who stood with his back to the door. Perhaps he was leaning against it; Victoria wasn't certain. He still held a stake in his hand, dangling at his side.
"Akvan's Obelisk is destroyed," Max told him.
Beauregard lifted his chin. "You succeeded, then. I didn't wish for Nedas to have that immense power any more than Lilith does. And you are still alive? How convenient for me."
"Not by any fault of his own," Victoria replied. She moved, and the sword glinted in the moonlight.
This drew Beauregard's attention, and he jerked his head in command. "You will no longer need that. And where is Nedas?"
Sebastian stepped out from behind the cluster of vampires, his gaze steady on Victoria as he walked toward her.
"No," she said, stepping back toward Max, holding the sword in front of her.
"Nedas is dead," Max replied to Beauregard.
"I'll take it. Now, Victoria," Sebastian commanded. She couldn't see his face well, but the steel in his voice was very uncharacteristic of his charming personality.
Max moved behind her. He reached around and closed his fingers around her wrist, holding her back with his other arm around her waist, while Sebastian plucked the sword from her weak grasp.
"What are you doing?" Victoria struggled in his arms, kicking back at Max and forward at Sebastian, until Max released her suddenly and she tumbled to the ground.
"Easy, Victoria." Sebastian stood next to his grandfather, looking down at her. "You were not wanted, nor expected, to be here." He didn't offer her his hand to assist her to her feet.
"We have your incompetence to thank for our current situation, Vioget," Max sneered, still leaning against the door.
Sebastian raised one eyebrow. "I see that you have managed to keep her under control as well."
"I had a few other tasks to accomplish."
Victoria struggled to her feet, trying not to think about how many times she'd had to do that in the last day. And how much more difficult it was becoming. "Did she really send you?" she demanded of Max.
"Yes, Lilith sent me. Ostensibly as a gift to her son—a Venator pet, as she said. One that would bring the secrets of the Venators to the Tutela and the vampires, and support them when Akvan's Obelisk was empowered. I was the perfect candidate, as I was once Tutela. A long time ago."
"When—"
"Silence." Beauregard stepped toward her, eyes suddenly gleaming like pink rubies, his fangs long and lethal. Until now she hadn't known he was a Guardian vampire. "You are not in control here. Now, both of you, back inside." He turned to Sebastian, looking in disgust at the sword. "Get that out of my sight."
Victoria didn't move, so Beauregard snapped an order at two of the vampires who flanked him. They grasped her by the elbows and easily hustled her toward the door, which Max had opened.
Three vampires spilled out, fangs extended, eyes red, ready for battle. There were more, crowded in the doorway behind them.
When they saw Beauregard, however, they froze.
Victoria looked back to see Beauregard smiling at the new arrivals. It wasn't a pleasant smile; it gave her, one who'd seen altogether too many vampire expressions, an uneasy feeling in her middle.
"We have detained the ones who attacked you and killed Nedas this night," he announced, stepping forward with a commanding air. "As your new leader, I shall impose retribution. Immediately."
It was a familiar scene in some ways, when Sebastian brought Victoria out onto the opera stage where only a short time ago the greatest of evil sources had burned and sizzled. Ironic how it had metamorphosed from the scene of a bright, loud performance only days earlier, complete with the swell of music and the clear vibration of song, to a blackened shell, with half of the floor destroyed, and the seats filled not with patrons, but with immortal undead, waiting and watching for their own performance.