"Guests of the Marquess of Rockley," he told him coolly. Victoria edged up the steps to stand next to him. Her neck was still warm.
The doorman allowed them to step into the foyer of the narrow building, effectively turning them over to the butler. "May I help you?"
"We are here as guests of the Marquess of Rockley," Max said again. "Maximilian Pesaro and his companion."
Victoria wanted to kick Max. What in the blazes was he doing? If Phillip saw her… But when the butler turned, ostensibly to call for Phillip, Max shoved her none too gently toward the curl of stairs that swept up from the entrance and into a balcony above. "I'll get Rockley out of here; you go up there and see what you can find," he said in an undertone.
She dashed up the steps and was just disappearing from sight when she heard the butler return. The voices below were a low rumble, but then she discerned Max's tones pitched loud enough for her to hear him say, "He is abovestairs? I shall go up and find him myself then, thank you."
Victoria had reached the top of the staircase and now she froze. She heard Max making his way up in her wake, continuing to assure the butler that he would locate the marquess on his own.
And just as Max reached the top of the stairs, facing her, two things happened: One of the doors along the hallway overlooking the balcony opened and Phillip walked out… and Victoria felt her neck ice over.
She looked at Max and they both moved at the same time—Victoria turned and hurried down the hall in the opposite direction as Max whirled to face Rockley, who stopped when he recognized him. He was with another man, who looked annoyed.
"Pesaro? I did not know you were a member here." There was no warmth in his voice or his face; clearly he did not believe Max belonged there.
"I am not. I came at Victoria's behest. She asked me to call for you to return home."
Victoria, who had moved several steps down the hall and ducked into an open doorway, held back a gasp at his audacity.
It was gratifying, in a matter of speaking, to hear her husband's panic when he replied, "Is she ill? Is she hurt?"
"I believe she will be fine, but she did wish to see you most urgently."
It would have worked. It should have worked to get Phillip out of the club before the vampires struck, but they were just a little too late.
Victoria felt the chill at the back of her neck sharpen so suddenly that she stiffened in surprise. Still standing in a shadowed doorway, she pulled one of the stakes from her pocket just as her husband's companion opened his mouth.
She saw the flash of white fangs and the sudden glint of red in his eyes. Fortunately the sound she made drew Phillip's attention toward her and gave Max the opportunity to slam his own stake into the vampire behind him.
Phillip, who was peering at Victoria, took several steps toward her and did not appear to hear the poof. "Do I know you?" he asked uncertainly.
Victoria, taking care to keep her head angled away and tucked under the hat she wore, felt the presence of another vampire.
"Rockley, get out of here," Max said angrily. "Get home to Victoria. She is waiting for you!"
She was thankful he drew Phillip's attention from her, and then a loud shout and altercation from below completed the distraction.
"What the bloody hell?" Phillip turned and began to bound down the stairs, Max in his wake, barely touching the steps.
Victoria watched the two men go and knew that Max would see that Phillip was safe. That left her to handle the second floor.
She hurried down the hall, throwing doors open in search of the three vampires she sensed were up there. She found one just beginning to seduce his intended victim with a game of cards, and when she blasted into the room, he barely had the chance to throw down his hand before she staked him.
The sounds of fighting and shouts from below urged her on more quickly. Max was easily outnumbered, if the sensation on the back of her neck was accurate—and it always was. She had to find two more up here, and then she could go down to help.
As it turned out, they found her first, coming down the hallway shoulder-to-shoulder. They appeared to recognize her.
"There she is!" one of them growled, and suddenly he was next to her, grabbing at her arms. Victoria ducked and threw herself at his legs, sending him tumbling onto the floor just as the other one approached.
Using all the strength in her legs, Victoria shoved and slammed the second vampire onto the first one, then vaulted to her feet. One stake in each hand, she whirled and slammed them, one, two, into their chests.
She started toward the stairs and paused, looking down at the fracas below. Max stood in the center of the room using a fireplace poker to stave off what appeared to be two Guardians and an Imperial. Three other vampires stood waiting their turn, unable to get close enough to join the fray. Dark drops of blood flew with each of Max's movements; he was obviously hurt somewhere.
There were no other men in sight. Presumably the club members had taken themselves off… or were lying unconscious somewhere in the back. Phillip was nowhere to be seen.
Victoria flipped herself over the balcony rail, landing as planned on top of two vampires. They tussled on the floor before she had the opportunity to stake one of them; then with a somersault, she rolled away and leaped to her feet. The clatter of metal on the ground drew her attention, and she saw that the Imperial's sword had fallen when Max staked him.
She snatched it up and, whirling back up and around, sliced the head off a Guardian in one swoop. He poofed and she turned toward Max, who was easily holding the three other vampires at bay. When Victoria came toward them, one of them saw her and spun around to dash out the front door. She let him go in favor of checking the back rooms to make sure there weren't any other vampires—or victims. The back of her neck had become warmer, and she didn't expect to find any other undead.
She did find four gentlemen who'd obviously been playing faro before they lost the battle with a vampire or two.
Victoria had not seen the results of many vampire attacks; in her limited experience she had most often prevented them from happening. Even the driver of the hackney two nights ago had been fed upon, but not destroyed and mutilated as these four men were.
Her stomach twisted as she walked into the card room. Blood was everywhere, clogging the room with its brutal stench. Shirts and jackets were in shreds, chests and necks torn open as though a mad dog had terrorized the men with teeth and claws. One man's gaping wound still showed the twisted blue-gray of his veins and muscles in his scored-open neck.