She didn’t like to wear them when there was the possibility of a fight.
The world remained silent, however—silent and empty, filled with shadows and looming walls. Since Zavier had entered the villa there was no further activity. A few more lights had winked on in various windows, accompanied by moving shadows.
Victoria’s neck was warm, but she was beginning to feel a little chilled everywhere else. It was, after all, February, and though milder than it would be in London, it was still cool after sundown. Dressed as she was in flimsy evening clothing, she knew she couldn’t wait much longer, when a tussle in the overgrown bushes caught her attention.
Max emerged, coming from the opposite direction she’d expected—not from the drive, but from behind the villa.
“Another key has been inserted,” he said without preamble, stepping like a long black shadow into the circle of light cast by a lone lantern.
“Do you mean to say you looked at the Door of Alchemy and there are two keys now?” Victoria said, stepping toward him.
“That is what I said, yes. I’ve just come from there. I wanted to see it for myself.” His sharp nod indicated the direction behind the villa, off to the right and toward the back of the estate. “There’s an old servants’ entrance into the building back here.”
“Which keys?” Victoria asked, starting off after him into the darkness along the wall of the house. “Which ones were turned?”
“Eustacia’s wasn’t one of them.”
She felt a wave of relief; then something wet seeped through her slipper as she made her way along. Pursing her lips in annoyance, she continued on, not altogether certain it had been an accident that Max had led her this way.
At last he stopped in front of a door much less grand than the main entrance. A few sharp movements, the sound of splintering, and one powerful angling of his shoulders—and the door opened into a dark room.
“I’ll go first,” Victoria said, stepping past Max into a musty entryway. At least part of the information about the party wasn’t a lie: The villa had obviously not been opened for years. If anyone had inhabited the place, the servants’ entrance, at least, would have been well used.
“Be my guest.”
It was dark, and Victoria paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the unfamiliar environment. Then, without a word to Max, she began to walk quickly, silently, but cautiously down the hallway toward the main part of the house.
She’d taken no more than three steps in her soggy slippers when a strong grip pulled her back. “Where are you going?” he asked.
Shaking off his hand, she looked up at him. “Blast it, Max, where do you think?” She managed to keep her voice low, although it was hard. “To the parlor or ballroom, where they’ve likely all gathered.”
“Then perhaps you might wish to follow me. That direction”—he pointed where she’d been going, his hand boldly in her face—“leads to the servants’ quarters.”
She said nothing more, but turned and trotted off after him, annoyed with herself for getting her directions confused now that she was inside the building. Of course the servants’ quarters were toward the back side of the villa.
The passageway was deserted, and there were cobwebs and dust everywhere. Victoria had to press her fingers over the top of her nose to keep from sneezing when Max brushed past an old drape that must have sent up a cloud of dust. She couldn’t tell for sure, because of the darkness. There were voices in the distance, and as they moved along the servants’ hallway the sounds grew louder.
Max stopped when they came to one of the back doors that obviously led from the servants’ area to the main part of the house. He cracked the door and peered inside, deliberately—Victoria was sure—positioning himself so that she couldn’t see around him.
Or maybe she was just falling back into that old habit of being perturbed by everything he did or said.
Certainly he’d intentionally tried to irritate her when she’d first become a Venator and they’d had to work together. And last fall, when he’d been pretending to be part of the Tutela, he’d had to be even ruder and more snide than usual in order to keep her from asking too many questions.
But perhaps he really had come to respect her as a Venator, now that Aunt Eustacia was gone and he’d had a chance to think about things. In any case, despite his blunt ways, she was glad he was back.
Victoria realized he’d stepped away from the doorway and was looking at her. “They’ve gathered there in what must be the ballroom,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ll sneak in and listen to what’s being said. I saw a flight of stairs that might lead above for a better look.”
“I’ll go up and see what there is to see,” she said, and started toward the door, but his hand on her upper arm stopped her.
“Go to the left, stay in the shadows, and you’ll find the stairs.”
She nodded once, then turned back to add, “Meet at the servants’ door if we’re separated.”
Without waiting for a response she did as he’d suggested, opening the door that, by virtue of the fact that it was designed to be an unobtrusive servants’ entrance, was set in the darkest corner of the room beyond it. She found it no difficult feat to move quickly and rapidly along the wall to a flight of stairs that led to a balconylike alcove above.
As she scurried along the wall, she saw that the main room was not the ballroom, but an anteroom that offered three wide arches that led to the ballroom.
The people Victoria saw gathered barely constituted a crowd at all; perhaps twenty or thirty people stood about. They had sparkling goblets that looked out of place in a gloomy room lit not with lamps or sconces, but with only candles—although there were nearly as many candles tonight as there had been last night on the Corso. And since there was no music to act as a backdrop, and their voices were low murmurs, the occasion had a rather eerie feel. The furnishings were spare. A small table presumably held the drinks the guests had received, and another long table across the room was covered with what appeared to be scrolls of paper.
Victoria reached the stairs without incident, but as she rested her hand on the filthy balustrade she bumped into a small metal vase that had been hidden in the darkness. It tumbled off the bottom step and clanged to the floor. She caught it before it bounced again and, still holding it, dashed up the steps, seeking obscurity in the darkness above.
At the top she paused, looking back down the steps, privately berating herself for not being more careful. She held her breath, waiting to see if she’d be discovered.
After a long moment she saw two figures down below her moving purposefully toward the spot where the vase had banged on the floor. One of them pointed up the steps, into the darkness that concealed Victoria, but the other shook his head. Easing back even more, Victoria watched the two men converse while looking around nervously. Since she’d taken the vase with her, there wasn’t anything to indicate the source of the noise they’d heard, and at last they walked back toward the main room.
She set the vase on the floor well out of the way and looked around, finding herself on a curtained balcony that overlooked what would have been the dance floor if, indeed, there had been dancing. The space was all shadows, for the only light came from the half-drawn curtains at the balcony’s rail, hiding her presence from the room below. Very convenient.
So convenient that it made her wonder what the area had been used for when the villa was fully inhabited.
After a quick look around to ascertain that she was indeed alone, and that there didn’t seem to be any other entrance or exit from the small alcove, she moved to the drapes and peered down through the large gap between them. Carefully pulling them closer together, so as not to draw attention to the movement of the velvet, she took advantage of her bird’s-eye view and watched.
Although the group was small, the gathering looked no different from any other party Victoria had witnessed. It was certainly nothing like the Tutela meeting she’d had the misfortune to attend last autumn. There was no hypnotically scented incense burning, no chanting, no dais with a Tutela leader urging the attendees to support and save the vampires.
It was merely a party. People talked, and although their voices seemed to echo loudly and eerily in a
