Victoria stalked over to the scene of the last vampire’s death and found Lady Winnie clutching the hand-size cross to her pillowlike bosom. “I…he…” She wheezed, her little pig eyes goggling like shiny marbles.
“I tol’ ye, ye got to stab ’em in the heart, not the eye!” Verbena was lecturing the duchess, hands on her hips, chin raised high in the air. “Was a good thin’ ’e saw your cross an’ I had the chance t’ throw this on ’im!” She produced a small bottle Victoria knew had held holy water.
A convenient substance, of course, and one that Victoria tended to forget to take with her more often than not, unless her maid reminded her of it.
“Now you must go,” Victoria said firmly. “I have to find Lady Melly if she’s here, and you can finish your good deeds”—she looked reproachfully at Verbena—“and help these poor people get home safely.”
“But you cannot stay here alone,” Lady Winnie argued. She had regained control of her breathing and, along with it, her stubbornness. “It’s much too dangerous! And although it really isn’t difficult at all to stake the monsters, I cannot in good conscience leave you here alone.”
Victoria’s annoyance was growing by the moment, along with the rising frantic need to get away from the babbling women and search for her mother.
She wished for her aunt Eustacia’s special golden disk, which helped to remove unwanted memories from people who shouldn’t have them—such as would-be vampire hunters or near victims of the undead. Such an item would have come in handy now, although it would have taken time that she didn’t have.
No time. She had no time to waste.
“You must go,” Victoria insisted, much more harshly than she’d ever spoken to the ladies. “Take these people and go before you get hurt yourself.”
“Victoria!” Winnie sounded perfectly righteous and angry. “How dare you speak—”
“I dare because I must!” A blaze of frustration, fear, and anger blew through her, and she rounded on the plump duchess, her entire mind focused on where her mother was and what Regalado was doing to her. The back of her neck was no longer cold—which meant nothing good, in her mind, for that meant there were no vampires in the vicinity—so Regalado was either not at the villa, or was so deeply inside it that she couldn’t sense his presence.
Victoria started to tell her again that they had to leave, when she suddenly realized Lady Nilly wasn’t there. Anywhere. She whirled away from the slack-jawed duchess, scanning the area and seeing nothing of the stick-figured Lady Petronilla.
“Lady Nilly!” she said, streaking back into the darkness. Her neck wasn’t cold, so she couldn’t be…
Lady Winnie and Verbena crashed along behind Victoria, sounding like an entire coach and four tearing through a forest. Victoria was thankful she didn’t have to go far, for several yards into the brush back toward the Door of Alchemy she found Lady Nilly walking toward her. The older woman was glowing, thin and pale, like a moon in the darkness, for by now the air was charcoal gray decorated with black shadows everywhere.
“Nilly!” shrieked Winnie, barreling past Victoria, stake in hand. “How dare you frighten us like that!”
But there was something wrong. Victoria’s hands went cold as she came closer to Nilly and saw the dark streaks on her neck.
“She’s been bitten,” Verbena exclaimed before Victoria had a chance to say anything.
Nilly’s eyes were wide and glassy, and a faint smile curved her mouth. Her hair, which was normally kept in a strictly smooth bun at the back of her crown, with two precise curls hanging from her temples, was loose and full and falling about her shoulders and past them.
“Nilly!” Before Victoria could get to her, Lady Winnie took her friend by the arms and gave her a rough shake, and to the relief of everyone, Lady Nilly’s eyes fluttered.
Her lips parted, lifted at the corners, and she sighed. “Yes.” She smiled. “I’m sorry, Winnie,” she added, reaching for her friend.
“Don’t,” Victoria said sharply. A mortal couldn’t be turned to a vampire that quickly…as far as she knew. The vampire had to drain most of the victim’s blood, and then offer their tainted blood for the victim to drink to replace the loss of her own. And then the victim would fall into unconsciousness and awaken as an undead. Clearly not enough time had elapsed for that to have occurred with Lady Nilly.
Nevertheless, Victoria was taking no chances. And before she could speak, Verbena had already pulled out another vial of holy water. If, when she poured it on Lady Nilly’s flesh, she screamed in agony, Victoria knew it was too late for her mother’s friend.
Her mother. Dear God.
Victoria snatched the holy water from Verbena and splashed it over the older woman’s wounded neck. She shrieked in surprise and indignance, but not in pain. Not in pain.
Thank Heaven.
“Take her home. Now.” She looked at Verbena and then at Lady Winnie, and they both seemed to realize there would be no arguing. “Is Oliver here?”
“I told ’im t’wait in th’ carriage,” Verbena replied as they started walking back toward the house. “He wanted to come wi’us, but I told him someone had to wait there—’ specially if we ’ad to leave quick.”
Fortunately Victoria’s neck still wasn’t cold when they approached the front of the deserted villa. The three others she’d rescued from the vampires were huddled against the gate, backed into a corner. One of the women gasped as Victoria and her companions came into view, but Victoria ignored her.
“The gate’s locked,” said Verbena, stopping there.
“Move.” Victoria realized she’d begun to sound like Max, with her blunt, terse commands—ironic, but she had no time for gentle manners. She got to the gate, saw the metal lock that had obviously been secured after her mother’s companions had come through, and she started to pull on it.
That was when she heard the sound of an approaching carriage, and at the same moment her neck chilled.
Victoria froze for an instant; then with a jerk of her hand she sent the others scuttling into the shadows. Maybe…just maybe…
She adjusted the grip on her stake, eased herself into the darkness, and waited.
The carriage rumbled to a halt in front of the gates, bringing with it the faintest bit of light from its lantern, filtering through the iron bars. Victoria’s heart began to pump harder. It was possible.