“Yes,” Wayren said, breaking into the charged silence as she looked up from her reading, “it’s as I feared. It must be. The portal has either cracked or somehow been opened, for the only way those types of demon could find their way out beyond the protections that have kept them locked in Hell is through that opening.”
“How do we close it, then?” Victoria asked.
“I believe… there is a crystal… an orb…” Again Wayren’s voice trailed off as she closed her eyes, little frown lines appearing between her fair brows. Then, reaching blindly, she slipped her hand inside the battered satchel and rummaged around, her lips moving silently. After a moment, the scrabbling stopped and she withdrew a small book, hardly larger than Max’s palm.
“It would be in here,” she murmured and flipped through brittle pages. Victoria saw scrawls from a language she didn’t recognize, as well as drawings, stains, and ink blots on the yellowed paper. “Yes, as I thought.” Wayren looked up suddenly, her eyes clear and sharp. Removing her glasses, she folded them neatly on top of the open book. “There is a crystal, Tached’s Orb, that can be used to seal the portal.”
“Do you know where it is?” Max asked.
“The orb is inside a pool at the base of Muntii Fagaras-near Lilith’s hideaway.” She cast a quick glance at Max, and Victoria recalled with a start that he had gone there voluntarily-and perhaps involuntarily as well.
“However, the pool is enchanted,” Wayren added. “So one cannot simply reach in and retrieve the orb.”
“But if we get the orb, we can lock the portal? How?”
“And there is no other way to seal the entrance?”
Max and Victoria spoke at the same time, then fell into silence, looking at Wayren.
“I know of no other way to close the portal,” she replied, “but I will continue to study it. Time is precious, for the longer the portal is cracked, the more evil will penetrate this world. And the weaker we shall be.”
“And the more you will be in danger,” Victoria said.
“So our most efficient course of action is to determine how to breach the pool at Fagaras,” Max said.
Victoria stood. “I was with George Starcasset today, and according to him, all of the vampires have fled England-even the ones who don’t love Lilith and who stayed behind when she left. They’re frightened of something, and I wonder if it has to do with this influx of demons.”
“Perhaps you ought to ask him,” Max suggested smoothly. “I’m certain George is a font of information and will be able to tell us something even Wayren doesn’t know.”
Victoria looked at him, but the surge of anger that had begun to rush to her cheeks faded. Max might be arrogant and sarcastic, but he wasn’t normally petulant. “Perhaps I shall,” was all she said, and walked, queenlike, from the room.
“The pool at Muntii Fagaras?” Sebastian repeated. He looked at Victoria, his lovely lips turning in a twisted smile. “I suppose it might have been too much to hope that you came to my rooms for something other than information.”
She almost took a step back from the doorway, but stopped herself. “It’s not the first time I’ve come to you only for information.” Indeed, she’d left Wayren and Max at the town house to come directly here to speak with Sebastian.
“To my great dismay,” he agreed. “Do come in.” He gestured into the small, spare chamber that he leased while in London.
He looked tired, nearly as tired as Max. Although his shirt was pressed, and his hair combed back in rich, tawny waves, Sebastian had an appearance of underlying rumpledness. He wore no neck cloth, nor a jacket, and his boots, though clean, didn’t shine as they normally did.
“Yes, I know about the pool. And it’s no secret, at least among the undead, how to breach it. According to Beauregard, it’s Lilith’s creation, you know,” Sebastian said, gesturing impatiently for her to sit. “And is hidden not very far from where she hides in the mountain.”
The only place available was a small wooden chair, or the bed. When Victoria chose the chair, Sebastian gave another of those wry smiles. “Of course,” he said. “The fool me.”
“Will you tell me about the pool?” she asked after a moment.
There was no question-she cared for Sebastian deeply. He’d done much for her, offered her pleasure and escape over the difficult last years. With his own particular skill, he teased her, taunted and angered her… always seeming to know what she needed in order to help her clear her head. To alleviate the stress or tension or fear she struggled with.
Why couldn’t she love him?
“I will,” he said. His voice carried low, and she looked up to find him standing in front of her chair. She’d forgotten the question, and for the moment it didn’t matter.
Something snapped in the silence, so real, it was almost audible. Sebastian took her arms and pulled Victoria to her feet, there, flush in front of him. She allowed him.
“You didn’t really think,” he said, holding her wrists down between their bodies, “that you could come to me, here, without repercussions.”
Her heart slammed in her throat. Warmth billowed between them, and Victoria pulled one of her hands away. One. The other one… He tightened his fingers around it so that she felt the pad of his thumb digging into her flesh. It would likely bruise.
“I told you,” he said, leaning forward to her cheek, “that I have no intention of being a gentleman about this.” Now there was a layer of anger in his voice.
“I came for information,” she said. Even to her own ears, she sounded breathless.
“You came for more than that, Victoria.” He was still close enough that his breath heated her temple, and his leg brushed against her gown.
Had she?
No.
No.
“You’re pining for a man who cannot be what you want. And need,” he said, and his lips brushed her cheek. She turned her face away, swallowing hard… but she didn’t step back.
Was it curiosity that had driven her here? Petulance?
Confusion?
“Sebastian,” she said just as he turned his face.
“Victoria,” he murmured, then kissed her. Roughly.
Yet her eyes sank closed, and she opened her mouth. Their tongues tangled in that hot, sleek way, reminding her how skilled Sebastian was at seduction. Very skilled. Very willing.
Then his kiss altered, becoming more coaxing, teasing, urging; she could feel the change in the way he touched her. As if he knew what this meant… could mean. He traveled to the sensitive spot on her neck, kissing and nibbling down to the curve of tendon into her shoulder. Her knees weakened.
His hands gripped her shoulders now, tightly but not painfully, and suddenly Victoria felt the nudge of a bed against the back of her leg. And as if to forestall any argument, he returned his lips to cover hers at that moment, pulling her up tightly against him, trapping her legs between his and the mattress. With one little tip, they’d be sprawled on the blanket and pillow.
She separated her mouth from his, and turned her face away.
“Sebastian, it’s not…” She drew in a deep breath, felt her breasts move against his chest and the long line of his legs against her. He’d not loosened his grip; in fact, his fingers tightened into her shoulder.
“Victoria,” he said. His voice came out rough and with a decided edge. “You came here. To me.”
“I know, Sebastian. I really… came for information.”
“You never come only for information.”
“I did this time.” She pressed her palms against his chest. His skin burned warm through the linen.
“You know I don’t give information without compensation,” he said. His voice was tight, and his eyes angry.
Victoria looked up at him and recognized the pain in his face. She hated that she was the cause of it, but it couldn’t be helped. If she had any question before, she did no longer. “I’m sorry, Sebastian.”
Now she stepped to the side, away, putting space between them. Her heart still slammed in her chest, but it wasn’t the right kind of slamming.
It just wasn’t.
A rumpled Victoria returned to the town house late that evening, tired and dejected. Despite the unpleasantness of their confrontation, she’d obtained more information than she’d hoped from Sebastian.
His knowledge had no doubt been obtained through the relationship he’d had with his grandfather Beauregard. Sebastian was able to answer several questions, and as a result gave Victoria enough to begin to formulate a plan. But the situation was not a hopeful one. It would mean long travel and danger, but worst of all, they would need Lilith’s cooperation.
Which was impossible to imagine.
To make matters worse, when she walked into the front entrance of the town house, Max was there. She had no idea what would cause him to be standing in the foyer, perhaps he was merely passing through-but he was the last person she wanted to see at that moment.
Apparently, the feeling was mutual.
His eyes scored her more sharply than usual, disdain pronounced in his expression. “Don’t expect me at supper tonight.”
Surprised at the venom in his voice, she paused in her intention to sail past him, up the stairs, to the sanctuary of her chamber. “You’re going out?” she asked, suddenly aware of the burn of moisture at the corner of her eyes. No, not now.
Not in front of Max.
She drew in a deep breath, brought herself upright, and clasped her hand over the newel post. The sting abated, but her throat felt scratchy.
“I have matters to attend to,” he replied. Still just as bitterly. His face looked as though it had been sculpted from some harsh gray stone.
“As you wish.” She turned away and started up the stairs without a backward glance. Her eyes filled with angry, furious tears, and the inside of her nose began to tingle.
Perhaps she ought to let him go.
Perhaps it would be best. For both of them.