When Twilight Burns

drew subtly away, released the lock of hair. “And I think it best if we keep this… to ourselves.”

She blinked at him, her brown-green eyes all too shrewd. It was too blasted hard to hide anything from them. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s no bloody need to tell Vioget. Or anyone.”

“Max, you’re being obtuse. You can’t think I’d…” Her voice trailed off, understanding dawning. Thank God she was smart, and caught on quickly. It would be much easier if he didn’t have to explain. “This is like the time you kissed me, isn’t it? You’re going to walk away and pretend nothing happened. Pretend I goaded you into it.”

She was too bloody damned smart. Dammit. “Victoria, you-”

And forever after, he wasn’t certain whether the knock on the door was a godsend or misfortune.

Regardless, the interruption catapulted their attention far from the matter at hand. A wiry orange puff of hair preceded the maid’s eye peering around the corner. She didn’t appear surprised to see Victoria there; in fact, Max was struck by the combination of satisfaction warring with trepidation on her face.

“Verbena? What is it?” Victoria must have sensed it too, for her voice was sharp. Or maybe the hardness was for him.

“I’m begging yer pard’n, my lady, but I foun’ this on the front stoop. I don’ know when it came, as there was no one to answer the door… Charley’s day off, y’know… an’ so I foun’ it when I went out to see…” Her voice trailed off as she offered a small paper packet around the corner of the door.

“What about Kritanu?” Victoria mused, reaching for the envelope. Of course she wouldn’t be uncomfortable being undressed in front of her maid… but here, in his bed? Perhaps this circumstance was more common than he thought. The maid seemed to have known where to find them.

“He’s not ’ere.” Verbena shrugged, spreading her hands. “Ol’ver said he didn’t return last night.” And Wayren was… well, Wayren. She was likely closed up wherever she chose to be, studying an old manuscript or scroll. She appeared when she needed to. Obviously, Brim and Michalas hadn’t yet arrived.

Victoria snatched the packet from her maid. It was thick, tied with a red ribbon and sealed by a familiar wax blob. And… “Christ,” he said at the same time as she drew in her breath.

“That’s blood.” Victoria tore off the ribbon and flipped the seal open. When she saw what was inside, she drew in her breath sharply.

Pressed into the folds of the stiff paper was a thick lock of shiny jet-black hair. And beneath it, a matching lock of tawny gold curl. Both were sticky with blood.

The folded piece of paper accompanying them was unmarked but for an ugly brownish streak. It was stamped with the seal of the Earl of Brodebaugh. 

Twenty-Four: The Stakes Are Raised

“I hope you don’t plan to go haring off-” Max began in that tone of his.

“I’m not about to go haring off,” Victoria replied sharply. All of the pleasure and contentment with which she’d awakened had evaporated. Now she was cold and angry… but most of all frightened.

She looked at Max, who’d moved away from her and was already dressing, building the wall back up, brick by solid brick. Pressing her lips together, she looked away from his tall, muscular body. Later. She’d deal with him, with this-whatever this was-later. But for now…

“I have no plans to go haring off, Max,” she said in a calmer voice. “That’s what they want me to do, and that’s what put me in Beauregard’s control three months ago. He offered an exchange as well.”

“But his copper armband was the deciding factor in your downfall,” he said in an ironic voice.

“He wouldn’t have had the copper armband to weaken me if I hadn’t brought it along. I left the Consilium withoutrealizing, haring off as you would say… but,” she said, frustration coloring her voice, and grief, for the reminder that Zavier’s life had been the casualty that time-quite possibly along with her own soul. She shivered. “What are they doing to Kritanu and Sebastian?”

“I should think it’s quite clear: holding them for ransom, so to speak. The only thing I’m not certain of is who it is they want to lure there. And,” he added, picking up a shirt, “I use the term ‘they’ simply because I cannot believe Brodebaugh is acting alone. Or if he is even willingly involved.”

“There we agree.” Victoria stood from the bed, neglecting to cover herself, and couldn’t help a bit of smugness when he had to tear his gaze away, his jaw clamping suddenly shut. He wasn’t a bad sight himself, standing there in only untied trousers that settled at his hips. “It must be your scorned lover Sara behind all of this, and George too.”

Max stopped suddenly and looked at her. “Victoria, Sara and I were never lovers… in the true sense of the word.” He pitched the bundle of cloth at her. “You’re cold. Put this on.”

“I’m not cold. And in regards to Sara-you made a good case for the contrary,” she retorted, catching the shirt. Did that mean he hadn’t loved Sara, or that he’d never been intimate with her? “And it doesn’t matter now.”

“No, it doesn’t. But I knew you wanted to know. And… you should.” He pulled out another shirt and shook it out, preparing to put it on. Then he stopped. “Victoria.”

She had started to pull on his shirt, ready now to return to her own room and dress, but his voice halted her. His hand was on the silver cross that pierced his skin. “This is yours.”

Her fingers touched the one at her navel that had belonged to him; she was able to identify the difference between the two by feel. “And this is yours.”

Without another word, he gave a little twist, then a pull, and slipped the dainty vis bulla from his skin. “Wear it now. It might help.”

Her attention flashed to him. Had Wayren told him about the internal battle for her soul? Or was this merely a way to rid himself of any attachment to her and the Venators? “Only if you wear yours again.” She looked up. “Lilith is aware of our… exchange. She was not pleased.”

His mouth settled into a thin line again, drawing deep grooves. “Shall I help you?” he said when he saw that she fumbled with the little silver hoop. His fingers were quick and skillful, warm on her bare skin-but they were impersonal, and didn’t linger-as he removed the simple cross. Then he pulled taut the little lip of skin at the top of her navel and slipped her own vis bulla into place.

It was an oddly intimate gesture-odd considering what had passed between them last night. Victoria felt a twinge of remembrance and her stomach did the silly little flip it tended to do when she was surprised… or discomfited. But then the feeling ebbed, and she realized that having her own vis bulla back in place was… cleaner. More pure and solid.

Max moved away, holding his vis, hesitant. Then, with ease she’d not shown, he replaced it in his areola and breathed deeply. Perhaps he wondered if his Venator powers would be restored once he wore his own amulet. He turned back to the neat table on which his personal items were gathered, and Victoria watched as he slipped the heavy silver ring onto the middle finger of his left hand. As if girding himself for battle.

“Tell me how the ring will protect you.”

“I’m certain you’ve already figured it out, but… there is a catch which, when moved correctly, opens to reveal a sharp blade dripping with venom. A simple prick will do the trick.”

“To you… or to Lilith?”

“To me. Now, why are you still here? Should we not be planning how to save your lover?”

She’d suspected it… but now she knew for certain. Max was withdrawing again. He meant to foist her upon Sebastian again so that he could walk away. And use that bloody silver ring whenever he chose.

What about me?

She bit her tongue, holding back the questions, the demands, the comparisons. After all, hadn’t he despised Sebastian for turning his back on the Venators? There would be time for that later, time to force him into a conversation he wished to avoid. She wasn’t about to let anything happen to Sebastian and Kritanu.

The rest of Max’s comment brought to mind something he’d said earlier. “What do you mean, you aren’t