As Shadows Fade

might remain safe in the Consilium. They could call for her if she was needed, but Victoria wanted to take no chances with Wayren’s safety now that the Trial was over.

And Sebastian and Michalas had gone with Max.

She’d alternated between fury and relief that he’d taken them with him. He wouldn’t face Lilith alone-but how dared he circumvent her and sneak off into the night with two Venators. Michalas she could perhaps understand, for he’d worked with Max for years… but Sebastian as well?

The hope that she and Brim might overtake the others kept urging her on, but no matter how quickly they traveled, there was no sign of them, no word from anyone who might have seen the trio along the way. She wasn’t even certain where Lilith’s lair in Muntii Fagaras was, a fact she was sure Max had used to his advantage.

She didn’t want to think about what else he’d done to get the advantage. Making love to her, lulling her into complacency…

Promise me you won’t leave like that again.

I’m not going to promise that, Victoria.

No indeed. She had no illusions; Max had known exactly what he intended to do even then. Likely before they’d even arrived in Prague. In fact, she suspected he’d known from the moment he learned that they would need to obtain two rings from Lilith. Stupid, foolish Victoria not to have predicted his pattern of thought herself.

So, knowing that she’d never allow it, he’d taken the decision from her.

Damn him.

And then he’d left Brim to meet her when she came out of the chamber that still had damp marks on the floor, and to detain her from leaving right away. At least Max had had the courtesy to leave a note for her.

I’m the best person to deal with Lilith. I will obtain the rings. She won’t give them up easily.

And, as he reminded her further, in the heavy, masculine scrawl that perfectly matched his arrogance, he could have resorted to the same trick she’d done to him only a few weeks ago-using salvi to render her deeply asleep so that he could make his escape. That simple comment was meant to remind her that she too had made a similar choice, and that he’d eventually come to accept it. Forgiveness was another matter.

Forgiveness, acceptance… those were too far away for her to consider right now. All Victoria wanted was to find Max, to lay eyes-and hands, furious hands-on him and show him that there was another way.

There had to be.

But Max had planned well, which was no surprise, and by the time Victoria and Brim reached the foothills of the Romanian mountain that held Lilith’s lair, they’d encountered no one who’d seen the three Venators. And they could go no farther, for neither Victoria nor Brim knew how to find the hidden place.

“Sebastian didn’t seem to know exactly where the magical pool is,” Victoria said, shielding her eyes against the sun rising over the mountain in front of her. They’d slept from midnight until four o’clock, then risen and gone as far as they could. “He didn’t tell me its name or any other information, other than that the orb was hidden inside.”

“Max said that they would find us when they had the rings,” Brim told her. “You look like you’ve not slept in a week, Victoria. Perhaps since we can go no farther, you should rest for a bit.”

She was exhausted. And heartsick. And furious. All of which had kept her from getting any good sleep since leaving Prague. She didn’t want to rest, to waste time that could be spent searching for Max. Dragging him out of whatever situation he’d tried to put himself in.

But aside of all that, Victoria was a practical woman, and she knew Brim spoke the truth. She would be no good to anyone if she didn’t take care of herself; even Venators couldn’t go on forever at the pace she’d set.

She agreed to take a room in the village nearby, and, with one last glance out at the stark mountain rearing up to block the yellowing sky, she slept well and deeply while Brim kept watch.

The room felt stifling. Dark, warm, and red… red everywhere: in the burning fires, the cloth-draped furnishings, the dark wall hangings. Crimson swirls on maroon, twisting about cabernet and scarlet. Sebastian felt as though he’d entered a furnace. And the smell. Roses. Strong and sweet, laced with evil and desire.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my dear Maximilian?” Lilith’s eyes gleamed with pleasure. They glowed red, pure, vibrant red, and the burning irises were rimmed with blue as befit her station as Queen of the Vampires, daughter of Judas Iscariot.

Sebastian glanced at the man in question, wondering yet again how he managed it: the impassive, haughty expression that belied no discomfort even as the vampire queen’s obsession oozed through the chamber, cloaking it like heavy velvet. The way she looked at Pesaro made Sebastian’s skin crawl, and he wasn’t even the object of her gaze.

The three Venators had been met outside of the secret entrance to Lilith’s lair and brought directly in to this private chamber of hers. Of course both Pesaro and Sebastian had been recognized by her guards, and none of the undead had made any attempt on them, although they had relieved them of their stakes. This left Sebastian distinctly uncomfortable, being deep in the lair of the most powerful vampire in the world. The fact that all three of them wore the protection of the vis bulla, as well as larger cross amulets and some small vials of holy water secreted on their persons, was small comfort.

Not that he hadn’t been deep in the midst of a group of undead before, but in those situations, he’d always had the protection of Beauregard. But by causing his grandfather’s death, Sebastian had declared himself firmly in the camp of the Venators, and he no longer had the freedom to balance between the two sides.

Lilith looked exactly the same. Her long, impossibly bright coppery hair fell like burning Medusa coils over her shoulders and the pale, blue-veined skin revealed by her vee-necked bodice. Her gown looked more the style that Wayren would wear than Victoria, for it flowed long and simply against her slender figure. Lilith had obviously been an attractive woman near thirty when she was turned undead by Judas, but what had been ethereal beauty had turned into cold, marblelike skin and gaunt features. Even from where he stood, Sebastian could see on her cheek the five dark freckles that formed the shape of a crescent moon.

“I see you’ve redecorated,” Pesaro observed. “I don’t recall it being so interminably red the last time I was here.”

“I find it quite comfortable, Maximilian.” Lilith’s voice came out in a sort of purr that made nasty little needles prickle along Sebastian’s spine. “I’d be pleased to show you what I mean.”

He’d met Lilith before, of course, but every other time had been brief, and in the company of the powerful Beauregard-or, most recently, in a vicious battle beneath the streets of London. Sebastian wasn’t frightened of her, but, as anyone-mortal or undead-would be in her presence, his vigilance was at its peak.

He glanced at Pesaro, watching for signs of discomfort or weakness. Good Lord, the man must be made of stone. He showed no sign of revulsion, though he must feel it the same way Sebastian did. To be sure, Max had been around Lilith much more than he had… How could he have willingly returned?

To be the object of her obsession, to have been sequestered with her in a cloistered place such as this… how could the man have not gone mad?

“You’re aware of the growing demonic activity,” Pesaro was saying. “The Midiverse Portal is open, causing a threat to both my race and yours.”

“Don’t say you’ve come to protect me, my pet?” Lilith spoke like a simpering woman, but the glint in those dangerous eyes spoke otherwise. She had more cunning than any woman he’d ever met.

“You could interpret it that way, if you wish,” Pesaro replied coolly. He stood square in front of the chaise on which the vampire queen half reclined, as if to draw her attention to him, and keep it from the others.

Sebastian wasn’t quite sure how he felt, being thus shielded. But he took the opportunity to examine the chamber and its contents, seeking anything that could be an advantage. To his dismay, he realized nothing in the room was made from wood, so there would be no opportunity for makeshift stakes. He noted stone chairs and tables covered with an abundance of cushions and pillows, along with the chaise, which was made from slender golden rods lashed together. Bamboo, he thought it might be called.

Nothing in this room that could harm an undead-no windows to allow sunlight in, no swords to behead a vampire.

What the hell had Pesaro been thinking to bring them in here, unarmed?

“Your vampires are threatened as well as my people. They’ve been attacked by the demons, and run from