Giulia in Hell. Sent there by his own bloody hand.
Was there no way to change that? To save her soul?
Of course not. He’d wondered and wished and hoped for years for some way to change that. What was done was done. Ashes to ashes… and in this case, ashes to ashes to Hell.
Damn. The brandy. Bitterness rose in the back of his throat, and Sebastian had to swipe the back of his hand over eyes that watered from the bright sun.
When Wayren had given him the papers written by Rosamunde Gardella, Sebastian felt certain they would contain something important… something that he needed to know. Some kind of message for him. After all he’d been drawn to them so strongly, there had to be a reason for it. And all the dreams, coming stronger and clearer than ever.
Was it just because he’d lost Victoria that Giulia had come back to haunt him? Had his relationship-such as it was-been simply a distraction from Giulia and her memory?
But so far, though he’d pored over them night after night so that the words seemed to be burned into his brain, there’d been nothing that spoke to him on those brittle, cramped-character pages.
Rosamunde prophesied Eustacia’s death in Rome:
The golden age of the Venator will find rest at the foot of Rome.
She’d foretold of Victoria’s near-turning by Beauregard:
And the rising daughter shall find herself blemished, and malevolence will fight to reign within. Yet the strength of a pure heart may overcome this test.
There was another passage that seemed to stick deep within his mind, but it meant nothing to him:
And in the new world shall be a savior who carries the deepest taint. A long promise shall the savior make, and in the end those for whom he lives will be saved.
In his sober moments, and in those early-morning hours when the words slipped around in his mind, Sebastian thought that perhaps it spoke to him for a reason. Might he be meant to go to America-the New World? He certainly carried a deep taint.
But a savior?
That couldn’t be him. Pesaro, perhaps-the damn hero who never shirked from his duty. The man who hadn’t a sensitive bone in his body.
Perhaps Pesaro was the savior and he would go off to America for some “long promise.” And leave Victoria for Sebastian. He smiled grimly. Then the bloody bastard could be as heroic as he wished, an ocean away.
Sebastian swallowed, tasting the strong flavor of brandy again. He had had too much. But it was day, and a bit of a nap would leave him clearheaded by evening.
The door to the chamber he shared with Victoria-shared with Victoria ; of all the blasted lies, teases!-opened easily, and he stepped over the threshold with a slight shuffle.
And stopped short.
Blood. He smelled blood.
The vestiges of the brandy fell away as he took in the scene: Victoria, pale visaged, sprawled on the bed, her dark hair plastered to her face… Anton?n’s face buried against her, his jaw moving as he drank… long and deep.
The scent of iron filled Sebastian’s nose, and red tinged his vision. With a roar, he leapt across the room, grabbing up the vampire by the hair, somehow remembering not to yank him away from her flesh before his fangs slid out.
“Sebastian, no!” she said, lifting herself from the bed. He saw blood trickling down her white arm, a stake in her other hand, and surprise in her eyes, heavy lidded and soft. He managed to stop his hand from slamming the stake down into Anton?n’s chest just as she lunged up from the bed, surging toward him.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he shouted, realizing belatedly that the vampire was still bound helplessly, hand and foot. That he’d been feeding from her wrist, and she had a stake at the ready. Revulsion swamped him as he understood. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers driving into her soft skin.
“Sebastian,” she said, struggling in his arms. But he held her tightly, with every bit of strength he possessed, anger and disgust mingling with desire and fear. “Stop!”
“Victoria, I don’t understand. Why? What are you…?” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed. Then shoved her away so hard she lost her balance and fell onto the bed.
He wanted to join her. Sebastian turned away, the nausea churning deeper.
She stood up, her beautiful face tight and perhaps a shade guilty. “I’m sorry to frighten you,” she said calmly, watching him closely. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I didn’t know that you’d become fond of… that,” he said. Horror, mingled with the taste of brandy, rose in the back of his throat… He knew well how it felt to have fangs slide in, the pleasure-pain of blood drawn long and slow from within… the sensuality of it, the light-headed eroticism. But Victoria?
She glanced at Anton?n, then back at Sebastian. “I thought,” she said in a low voice. “I thought if his blood had some Gardella blood mixed with it, it might…” Her voice trailed off as understanding washed through him.
Pesaro. She’d done it for Pesaro, for his damned Trial.
Sebastian felt his lips move crookedly. “Well, now… what an interesting thought. Though I doubt Pesaro would thank you for your interference.”
“You mustn’t tell him.” Victoria stood, swiping at the ugly marks on her arm. Hell, they were deep, and her face looked pale. She staggered a little. How much blood had she given?
“You fool,” he said, turning to rummage through his satchel. Salted holy water would help to heal the marks.
But she was weak. He saw it in the depths of her eyes and the paleness of her face.
Yet he couldn’t blame her. For wasn’t he also a fool for love?
Later that evening, word came by pigeon that Brim and Michalas had arrived in Prague, so Victoria and Sebastian went to meet them near the Stone Bridge. Brim embraced her as soon as she approached, surprising her with his affection and strength. Then the massive black man showed her the ring they’d brought from the Consilium.
“And now we have three of the Rings of Jubai,” Victoria said. “But the last two will be the most difficult to obtain. Lilith won’t give them up easily.”
“It’s in her interest to stop the demons,” Michalas said firmly, shading his eyes against the last shot of sunbeam spearing low between the red roofs. “Surely even she will understand that-especially if we are the ones taking the risk.”
Victoria grimaced. “I’m not confident that Lilith will see it that way. But we’ll get the rings. And then Sebastian will lead us to the pool at the base of her mountain.”