The Rest Falls Away

and bumped, but the spine was true, and three faded silk bookmarks fell lifelessly from their places.

Victoria brought it to Aunt Eustacia and placed it on her lap so that the older woman could read it.

'If you fulfill your destiny, Victoria, you will be victorious for us all.' She laughed softly. 'You are aptly named, my dear. Perhaps that is yet another sign.'

She opened the front cover and pointed to the words written in ink of varying shades of black, brown, and sepia. 'These are the names of the Gardellas who have accepted the Legacy,' she said, tracing across the lines with her curling fingers. 'The original pages of this Bible were given to the family during the Middle Ages. Six hundred years ago.' She looked up, her dark eyes sharp. 'You understand, there have been Venators in the Gardella family since Judas Iscariot hanged himself and was brought back to earth by Satan. But we had no place to record our history until a Gardella monk scribed this book in the twelfth century. The pages have been bound and rebound, and we have added more pages as the decades have gone by.'

As her aunt carefully turned the crisp brown sheets, they crackled like a gentle fire. Victoria saw images on some of them; and on others fading script, line after line. Ornate lettering, patterns, and illustrations in faded colors decorated the first letters of each book of the Bible. She saw the way hers and Aunt Eustacia's lines in the family tree fell directly beneath that of the first Gardella, and how other Venators appeared randomly throughout other branches.

'This book holds not only the word of God, but also the secrets of the Gardella family, including the prayers and incantations that will empower your vis bulla. So now, my dear, are you ready to begin?'

Victoria's heart pounded, but she nodded without hesitation.

'Good,' Eustacia said. 'I will call the others.' At Victoria's look of surprise, she continued, 'The power behind your vis is not one that can be conducted only through me. Others who know of this matter and who, though not Venators, are nevertheless skilled and knowledgeable, await in the parlor. Victoria, you must lie on that lounge there. You are already garbed appropriately. Come, lie down. I will call the others.'

Victoria did as she was told, and settled herself on the long half chair that propped her back at a low angle and allowed her to extend her legs. She looked down at the training gown she wore. It was loose-fitting and buttoned from neckline to ankle.

After that, things happened both quickly and infinitesimally slowly. Aunt Eustacia moved about the room, which had suddenly become much dimmer; lit only by candlelight. The other participants stayed in the shadows, but Victoria recognized Kritanu and Maximilian, as well as Briyani, Kritanu's nephew, who also remained near the perimeter. Something sweet burned in the air, and Victoria felt relaxed and expectant.

'Now we will begin by calling to mind the purpose for which we gather.' Eustacia began to speak in some language that it took Victoria a moment to identify. Latin. The others joined in and it continued. The smells in the room became stronger, and then Eustacia moved to stand next to Victoria.

Her stomach shrank back toward her spine when she felt Eustacia's warm, curling hands touch it. Then there was coolness as one, then another button was undone. The cloth of her gown was pulled apart just over her belly, and from her angle Victoria could see the oblong patch of skin that included part of her abdomen and exposed her navel.

'Forged from silver in the land of the most holy of places,' said Eustacia, 'this vis bulla will provide you uncommon strength and healing, Victoria Gardella. It will give you clarity and power when you need them the most, as you fight against the forces of evil that threaten our world.'

Victoria watched as Kritanu pushed a small table next to her aunt, and she took a small jar filled with a clear liquid. Something glinted in the bottom of the jar. 'This holy article, stored in holy water from the Vatican, taken from the Holy Land, will be your strength.' Dipping her fingers in, she pulled out the small silver item: the vis bulla.

Though the light was low, Victoria could easily see the small silver cross that dangled from a thin silver hoop. The hoop was narrower than the size of a ring she might wear on her smallest finger.

As Victoria watched, Kritanu picked up a thin silver wand, perhaps the length of one's palm and as slender as a needle. It curved gently, making a semicircle. Kritanu's hands were warm on her abdomen, and Victoria felt her breath become more ragged. He was gentle and quick, and with one swift, neat movement, he dipped the needle into and through the top lip of skin at her navel. Eustacia handed him the vis bulla and, with a quick pinch, he slipped it into place.

The silver cross felt cold resting in her navel, but the pain from the piercing was already waning. Aunt Eustacia made the sign of the cross over Victoria's belly, and then she buttoned up her gown. The other participants said one more prayer, and then they filed out of the room, silent, leaving Eustacia and Victoria alone.

'There,' her aunt said. 'This gift is given you in recompense for your life of dedication and the sacrifices you will make. As long as this amulet of strength touches your skin, you will be physically strong and quick to heal. Your movements will be swift and powerful; your mind will be sharp and clear. It does not make you invincible, nor does it make you immortal.'

She helped Victoria to sit up and drew her into her arms, embracing her with surprising strength. 'Wear it well, Victoria, and go with God as you do this work.'

Chapter Three Miss Grantworth Miscalculates

'Our lovely debutante has scored the attention of the most elusive bachelor in London!' squealed the Duchess of Farnham in a decidedly unduchesslike tone as she poked over the tray of tea treats. 'Rockley could not take his eyes off her all night at the Roweford dinner party!'

'He was on her card a second time, but Victoria disappeared for some ridiculous reason and he could not claim the dance,' Melisande complained. She lifted her favorite, a blackberry scone, and scooped clotted cream over it. 'He appeared quite disappointed. I could not find her anywhere, and when she came back, she told me some foolish story about helping one of the other girls look for her cloak.' Tsking, she took a genteel bite of the scone, dabbing at the cream that stuck to the corner of her mouth. 'I reminded her that her only concern ought to be landing a good husband… and these other girls are nothing but competition!'

'Was that not the night that Mr. Beresford-Gellingham disappeared?' asked Petronilla, eyeing the plate of tea cakes and biscuits mistrustfully, as if one were about to leap into her hands and force its way down her slender throat. 'That is the third incident in less than a month!'

Winifred, the duchess, had forgone Melly's technique of nibbling in favor of the one-step process; thus her mouth was full of lemon-basil biscuit, and she resorted to nodding vehemently. When she swallowed and washed the last dry crumb down her throat with tea, she said, 'He disappeared and has not been heard of since! No one seems to have a clue as to where he has gone off to.'

'And those horribly disfigured people with the Xs on their chests!' Melly gasped. 'Left to die near the wharves! I cannot imagine what might be causing such devastation.'

Petronilla leaned forward, her blue eyes sparkling and her voice low. 'There is only one thing that can cause that kind of destruction. Vampires!'

Winnie jerked back in her seat and inhaled a mouthful of biscuit crumbs that set her to coughing. Her chins and jowls wobbled and trembled as she stared bug-eyed over the rim of her teacup.

'Don't be ridiculous, Nilly,' Melly told her. 'Despite my mad aunt's propensity for carrying holy water and pressing garlic on anyone who will take it, there is no such thing as vampires. You have been reading too many gothic novels.'

'Surely the Runners would stop them if there were vampires,' Winnie managed to choke out. 'Perhaps I ought to consider wearing my cross again.'

'The Runners couldn't stop them,' Petronilla told her calmly. 'Vampires have superhuman powers. They are stronger than the strongest man, and they have an allure that cannot be resisted.' She smiled complacently and copped a dreamy look. 'According to Polidori's book—and everyone knows he is the expert on vampires—a