she heard the words as if he spoke them into her ear. “You can imagine it, because you’ve felt it yourself. It’s all pleasure and pain rolled into one, isn’t it, Victoria Gardella?
“You’ve never admitted to anyone what happened when you were with Beauregard, drinking his blood. Letting him feed from you. You prefer to think that it was a dream, that it never happened… how you moaned and cried and drank and writhed. Yet you can imagine what’s happening to your lover now, with her hands on him, and the power of her eyes burning into him. You can imagine it, because you’ve felt the same, haven’t you?”
“No,” she whispered. But the memories assailed her, red and hot and liquid. For a moment, she smelled the sharp, rust scent and tasted the heavy iron of blood on her tongue, in her mouth… sliding thickly down her throat. She gagged, swallowing hard, and realized her breathing had grown deeper, rougher.
“Think about it… Imagine it. And it’s so much worse for him. His cries and groans, those long, sleek muscles scored by her nails, punctured by those animal fangs… Think about it, Victoria Gardella. You know the torture. You know what’s happening to him.” His voice was a lullaby, compelling and rhythmic, as he described in detail what Lilith was doing to Max.
The images played out in her mind as if she were watching them. Her awareness of the demon faded away, leaving only his deep, lulling descriptions, using words and phrases that pulled up sharp, frightening scenes so real she could hear the sounds and smell the scent.
“You can save him, and you can kill her in the process. Isn’t that what you want to do? What you
“How?”
He smiled, just a bit, showing perfect white teeth. “I know a secret about Lilith that will help you send her to Hell. Others have tried… but they didn’t know the secret.”
“What is it?” she forced herself to say, battling through the images of Max under the hands of Lilith, her blue-ringed red eyes glowing with depravity as she drove her fangs into him.
Victoria fought the image of his writhing, stretching, convulsing body under skeletal white hands that shouldn’t have the power to hold him, but somehow could. His eyes, filled with pain… and pleasure. She blinked hard, gave her head a little shake, and found herself looking deep into the eyes of the demon.
“You must use a stake of virgin ash,” he said, his eyes gleaming with life. “White virgin ash, freshly cut so that there is green just beneath the bark. Stab her anywhere with it, and she will be paralyzed, allowing you to ready for the final blow.”
“No,” she managed to say, her word sounding soggy. “No.”
“Yes indeed… Listen to me, Victoria Gardella. Do you think you are the first Venator to want to kill her? And to attempt it? How do you think she has lived all these millennia?” He stood, moving closer to her. “Few know the secret. You can go and kill her now. She’ll be leaving and riding under the moon tomorrow night… You can reach her as she leaves her mountain, surprise her. Ash trees grow abundantly on Fagaras… She will send her army west to fool her enemies, but she and a small contingent of her closest companions will secretly go north.”
Victoria felt as though she’d plunged underwater. The world slowed, became murky, and she struggled to think. She could. Save Max.
She could.
“You can go now, on this cloudy night, and be there tomorrow… and then return here, when the moon is ready. Quickly and easily,” he said. “Simple. And you can free him.”
But… no. She dug through the haunting images, the caress of his voice, the building desire and incessant compulsion to run
“It will be too late if you delay. She’ll be gone for good. She knows of the coming threat.”
Victoria had to work to focus on those words, and she grasped the idea, pulling it out of the muddle of images that her brain had become. “The coming threat?”
“You know of what I speak… The portal is merely cracked now. But when it widens, and the dark ones pour out readily, the vampires will be destroyed. You’re here to try and stop the inevitable.”
Yes. Yes, she was. She had to close the portal.
Victoria blinked and focused on the building behind the demonic man, at last feeling the slog begin to slip away. It felt as though she was slowly awakening. “I’m here to close the portal.”
“You are. But you don’t understand that it’s not the mortals we come for… It’s the undead.” His voice remained beautiful and smooth, lulling. “Those are the ones who battle us for Lucifer’s domain. The battle between us has raged for millennia… and now it will come to your Earth. If you kill Lilith, destroy her stronghold, the battle will not need to be fought. We can retreat to our domain and leave your race free. Do you understand, Victoria Gardella? You can prevent the battle from raging on this Earth if you slay Lilith. If you go today. Tonight.”
She felt the sway of the words as they wrapped around her, cocooning her in their sweetness, their logic and illogic, their temptation.
“And then you can close the portal. We will no longer need it. You have the means, don’t you? Tached’s Orb. Of course it will work, and you will triumph. You have time because you have the orb, the lock. The portal is merely a crack… You saw it today. You saw that no threat comes through there.”
His compelling voice went on. “But he doesn’t have time, Victoria Gardella. He doesn’t have any time at all. You know he doesn’t. You feel the moments slipping away like grains of sand on the ocean shore. But you can save him. The others… they can close the portal while you are gone.”
They could.
Brim and Michalas. They could do it.
But she was
She awakened, pushing the cobwebs away.
“But I am
She was ready when his lips drew back in a horrible parody of a smile, baring teeth that grew long and pointed in a face that turned cruel and sharp. As he swept his arm, an arm that had become large and powerful, she pulled the bottle of holy water from her pocket, thumbing the cork off.
A blast of wind swept up suddenly, nearly knocking her off her feet with its ferocity. Black fog spun around her, and she was pummeled by the gale as she struggled to draw her sword.
She saw Max suddenly, there before her, and for a moment, she almost believed it. He was real, looking at her through the smoky whirl, his eyes dark and intense.
She steeled herself against the attempt to set her off balance, to distract her. It had happened before-the first time she met a demon. He’d taken the form of Phillip, and the shock and confusion of suddenly coming face-to- face with her dead husband had nearly been her undoing.
But she now knew the tricks demons played, and tore her gaze away, as the blade pulled free of its sheath. She brandished the sword and tossed the blessed water toward the murky shadow of the demon’s face as she battled against the wind.
He cried out, and the battering force lessened enough for Victoria to stumble backward, out of the whirlwind. Feeling a brick wall behind her, she pulled another bottle of water and shoved its contents toward him again, swinging her sword as the liquid sprayed.
Wet splashed in her face, blasted back by the wind, and her sword connected with something thick. Max. Again. This time, with horror on his face.
With a shout, she shoved the sword home, and sliced away, feeling as though she were cutting through a bog.
And then, suddenly, everything stilled.
The wind stopped, the fog was erased, and she was alone, panting, leaning against the wall. The demon was gone-whether she had killed him or merely driven him off, she wasn’t certain.
But she looked up and saw that the sky had darkened. What little light came from a lowering sun was obscured by clouds, leaving only a dull illumination over the small courtyard where she stood.
There would be no chance to use Tached’s Orb tonight, for the moonlight would be blocked. The demon had