As Shadows Fade

Bringing the bottle of holy water to her face, Victoria used her teeth to pull the stopper out as she kicked and yanked at Lilith, who scratched and clawed viciously back at her. But the crazy, twisting creature beneath her couldn’t get free from the trap of her hair, and the two scrambled across the floor, rolling, bucking, twisting.

At last the stopper came free and water splashed out, but Victoria managed to redirect the small flume onto the vampire writhing beneath her.

“Help me!” Lilith cried, then screamed as the water spilled on her face. Her bucking motions grew stronger, the horrible sweet scent of roses climbing up and around Victoria, but she kept her head clear.

Now. Victoria reached for the stake at her waist, closed her fingers around it, pulled it free.

She swiped her arm up and around, toward the writhing, snakelike vampire body linked to her by a length of long hair. She stabbed the stake down, aiming for the bony chest of the undead.

Slam.

Lilith twisted hard just as the stake pierced into skin with the familiar little pop, and Victoria felt strong hands pulling at her. She looked up into Sebastian’s face.

And his glowing red eyes.

Twenty-Four In Which the Vampire Queen Invites Her Companion to Dine

“No!” Victoria half screamed, half gasped. “No.”

Not Sebastian.

But it was. Those red eyes gleamed at her, heavy and alluring, capturing her so unexpectedly, so very quickly. And in the midst of the shock, she realized that Lilith’s hair was still wrapped around her arm. Somehow, when she stabbed up and around from under her, the stake had not gone deep enough, or hadn’t hit the heart.

The vampire queen lived.

All of this occurred in the barest of seconds, and then suddenly, the weight of Lilith was off her, and Victoria was jerked to her feet.

Still stunned, feeling as though someone had slammed a boulder into her belly, she staggered, trying to catch her breath, to understand how it could have happened… How? Sebastian?

Too late.

I’m too late. Just like for Phillip.

Hands grasped and grabbed, shoving her, and she caught herself before falling, kicking out swiftly before she tumbled onto something soft. Like cushions, pillows. Soft and smelling horribly of roses and blood and death.

All of a sudden, the memory… the terrible, red-hot memory of Beauregard, assaulted her. Hands, nails, teeth… lips… on her, something soft beneath her, red eyes glowing with pleasure. No, no… those were Sebastian’s eyes.

And Lilith. Red eyes… not pink ones. Beauregard had pink ones.

Victoria tried to blink, felt the strong rough hands pressing on her and something linking around her wrist. Metal, cold and heavy, and she thought suddenly, clearly, of Max, and how he’d worn manacles when Lilith had had him in her presence. She kicked out blindly, catching something soft, but she couldn’t see, for the red eyes had her again.

They had her… trapped, lulled, loose, and murky.

Hands on her clothes, pulling them away from her neck, tearing the cotton away from her chest. Her cross was gone, torn off during the fight with the Guardian. She felt the heat of the room on her damp skin, felt the brush of wiry copper hair over her throat and cheek, then the smell of roses stronger.

She couldn’t move. Her legs were held by a heavy weight. Hands grasped her head, pinning it still to the cushions beneath. One hand held by a heavy cuff, attached above her head; the other hand left to flail free, to catch at Sebastian’s soft curling hair and vainly at the stone wall… A bit of a tease, she thought sluggishly, leaving one hand free to try to fight.

Vaguely, she realized this was important… She tucked her hand under herself in an effort to keep it free, to hide the fact that it was loose, make them think it was trapped beneath her.

But then the rose smell, and the intense heat of the room clogged her nose, slowed everything along with those hot red eyes, burning, lusting, in a face that had been dear… was so dear.

“Sebastian,” she cried. “No.”

“Oh come now,” whispered a voice near her ear. Not Sebastian, but Lilith. Crooning lovingly into her flesh. “You will enjoy it, Victoria Gardella. I understand you know Sebastian quite well. And he is very hungry. He has refused to feed since he drank from me, the poor darling.”

Victoria twisted powerfully, freeing one leg from the weight on it, using the hand beneath her for leverage, and slammed her foot into something living that she couldn’t see. It might have been Sebastian, for he was right behind Lilith. His red eyes showed the jolt from the impact of her foot.

He refused to feed.

Thank God. Still a chance.

She bucked and twisted again, and then that heavy weight came on her legs once more, and there were hands smoothing the hair away from her face, scraping it back harshly so that her skin spread taut beneath those skeletal fingers.

And then Lilith moved closer, and Victoria felt the leap of her veins as the fangs came out, came close, and the warm hot breath. She struggled, looking up beyond the coppery hair coming closer, trapped by the red eyes, hot red eyes… lustful and needy.

No, no, not Sebastian, please…

The fangs slid into her skin, and she jerked at the sudden pain… then a rush of horrible pleasure. The blood burst from the wounds as if freed from its confines, and she felt the horrible sensation of one cold, one warm lip suctioning on her flesh. Lilith’s warm breath on her skin, the proximity of her body, her hands pushing the hair away, positioning her head, holding it harsh and in place as Victoria strained beneath her.

Victoria smelled the blood, and there beneath the thrall, she saw the craving leap in Sebastian’s eyes. She saw them narrow, and his fine nose flare, the beauty of his face still as angelic as before… except for those eyes. And the slender fangs that tipped gently into his lower lip.

No.

She felt the warm blood draining from her, and deep inside she pulled all of her energy, gathering it into her belly, imagining it settling below her strength amulets, drawing from them. She had to fight free.

Please, God.

She marshaled all her power, let her free hand shift under her, into the back of her trousers. She might… She gasped, hesitated, as Lilith sucked harder, suddenly, and she felt the awareness begin to drain from her.

No. I am Illa Gardella.

Victoria slipped her hand from beneath her, moving as though she were underwater, as quickly as she could but oh so slowly… to the duo of vis bullae beneath her torn shirt. She touched the holy silver, and felt a jolt of strength blast through her. She breathed deep, pushed away the scent of blood so close to her, the feel of lips on her skin, fought to sever the connection with those hot red eyes burning behind Lilith’s head.

That wasn’t Sebastian anymore. Not the Sebastian she knew.

Like Phillip.

Anger roared up from beneath the thrall, the sluggish red world, and galvanized her. Giving a great, last, harsh buck and twist, she managed to slip her hand beneath and under her hips, scrabbling for the stake behind there as Lilith forced her back into place. Her only chance… Had the demon spoken the truth?

Victoria’s fingers closed around the wood of the ash stake, made from a fresh branch on the mountain only a short time ago, and relief surged through her when she slipped it free of her waistband. The bark and point scraped against her skin, already raw from claw marks, as she forced it from beneath her prone, weighted body, sidling it under the edge of her hip.