At least here she could eliminate any creature that accostedher with the slam of a stake. It wouldn’t be quite that easy to dissuade the gossipmongers and fortune-hunting bachelors of the ton.
“I don’t sense any undead,” she told Sebastian as she stepped on something horribly squishy. A rank odor squelched afresh into the air, and with her next step she felt something hard and cylindrical roll beneath her boot. A bone. Hopefully a canine one.
“Do you not?” he asked, his voice smooth and echoing over the quiet splashing made by their stout leather boots. “Perhaps there are no vampires about, then. Only the harmless toshermen, which we may come upon if they venture this far.”
“Or perhaps you lured me down here for another reason.”
She could see the wickedness of his smile in the torch’s uneasy light. “Why should I ruin a perfectly good pair of breeches—not to mention boots—by coaxing you here, when I’d much prefer to have you . . . elsewhere.”
His frank words caused a sudden swirl of pleasure in her belly, and Victoria gave an unladylike snort to diffuse the warm feeling—which had the added result of filling her nostrils with putrid stench. She wondered how the toshers could make a living, working down here day after day, collecting copper, bones, rags, and anything else of value to sell on the streets above. And how vampires could stand to live among the odor when the mere smell of garlic took them aback.
“Of course,” Sebastian continued, “it’s not as if you’ll be clutching at me and crying for protection, even in a place as revolting as this. Much to my great regret.” He brandished a torch that cast sporadic shadows to break the darkness, but Victoria found that she could see surprisingly well even outside the glow.
She was just about to make a wry rejoinder when she became aware of a new sound—that of rushing or falling water. Then she felt a faint prickle at the back of her neck. Her disgust with the dark, viscous environment slid away, replaced by the familiar rush of readiness and a cold smile.
“Ah,” he said, cocking his head as if to hear better. “At last. Just when I thought we were well and truly lost.”
“We’re not alone,” Victoria murmured, the prickle flushing into a full-blown chill.
“Undead?” His voice dropped to match hers.
She looked up at him. “Do you not sense them?”
“I do now that you say it,” he said. “And it’s no surprise, as we’re near the place I was looking for.”
A sudden splash behind them had Victoria spinning to meet the red-eyed vampire who’d come from nowhere. Presumably, he’d been expecting a slow-moving, malnourished tosherman, for the half demon had taken a moment to roll up the sleeves of his dull shirt, and that attention to grooming was his undoing.
“You should have worn cuff links,” Victoria said conversationally the instant before she staked him into undead dust. She blew off the tip of her stake and turned back to Sebastian, who was watching her with an odd sort of smile.
But before she could wonder what it meant, his expression smoothed and he lifted the torch higher. “Take care,” he said, gesturing ahead of them.
When she stepped further in the sloshing damp, she saw why. The filthy water fell away, only a few paces ahead of them, cascading into nothingness. A wall loomed beyond the falls, a clear dead end. “What now?”
“There.” He gestured with the torch, and she saw a crude ledge slanting up from the sludge.
Carved into the wall, it was easily wide enough for a man to ascend into . . . “Is that an entrance?” Victoria peered up at the dark wall rising in front of them.
“You can see it from here?” Sebastian raised the torch, illuminating it more clearly.
“What’s up there?” Victoria had already started to hike up the inclining ledge, keeping her stake at the ready. Water dripped from her boots at every step, splattering quietly on the rock beneath.
“Something that I’m certain you’ll be fascinated to see,” he said from behind her, suddenly very close. “Perhaps you’ll even wish to reward me for showing you.” His breath was warm on the side of her neck, which was exposed by the long, single braid she wore tucked into her coat.
“Unless it’s Lilith’s dust, I highly doubt that,” she replied. Her heart beat a bit off as he moved behind her. “But you can certainly continue to hope.”
Since they’d left Rome, Sebastian had made it abundantly clear that he’d be delighted to return to her bed— not that he’d really ever been there, for they’d only been intimate twice, and neither occasion had been in anyone’s bedchamber.
And she wasn’t quite ready to let him, for a variety of reasons—not least of which was that she still wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of trusting him.
At the top of the ledge, which was perhaps six feet above the tumbling waterfall, Victoria reached the opening. The entrance, camouflaged by the shiny darkness of the damp walls, and difficult to breach due to its position over the falls, was also at an angle. No one would notice it in this unpleasant, inky environment unless they were looking for it, or unless it was a vampire who could see in the dark.
Victoria wasn’t certain what she was expecting when she stepped through the crevice, but it wasn’t the narrow space she beheld. After her initial survey to ensure no one was waiting for them in the darkness—no chill at the back of her neck heralding the undead, nor the faint, putrid death-smell of a demon, nor even the presence of another human—she stepped in and looked around.
With its stone walls and single flickering torch, the chamber reminded her immediately of the Consilium, the subterranean warren of chambers and corridors in Rome that served as the center of knowledge, history, and communication for the Venators. Created among the catacombs of the old city, where the first Venator had been called to serve in the fight against the undead, its location had been kept secret for centuries. This place, though much darker and colder, was similar in that it was obviously man-made, and not a natural cavern. And somehow, even the stench of the sewage below was filtered out. Or perhaps Victoria was simply becoming used to the smell.
Sebastian stepped in behind her, and then brushed past as he started further into the darkness where Victoria could see an archway of stone and the outline of a door. “As you can see, this was built long ago, around the time my gran—Beauregard was turned undead. It was originally beneath a Carmelite abbey, if you can believe the irony—although monks never actually lived down here. That’s a story in itself.”
“Which I’m certain your grandfather told you as he dandled you in your leading strings on his knee. What a terrible choice for bedtime storytelling.”
“Bedtime story? Now that you mention it, I have a few I’d like to share with you.”
Victoria heard his soft chuckle as she followed him across the small antechamber, her lips twitching in spite of herself. At a solid stone door, he paused. Although his body blocked her view, she heard the faint clunks of something tumbling into place. “You know the way to unlock the door to a vampire lair. It is a vampire lair, I presume. Why should that not surprise me.”
“Well, dash it all. My plan to fascinate and mystify you into a more accommodating mood is obviously not working. And yes, it is a vampire lair. One of the oldest in England.” He turned to look at her, their faces close in the small yellow light. His eyes glowed like a hungry cat’s. “No vampires around?”
“None that I can feel,” she replied.
“Good.” Before she could wonder why he had to ask, he grasped her by the shoulders, pushing her back against the rough wall. He followed the momentum of her movement, lining his warm body against hers as he lowered his face.
She met his mouth, her body pressed between Sebastian and the wall as their kiss eased into a long, loose tangle of lips and tongue. Heat seeped through her clothing, into breasts and belly and thighs as he pressed against her, just as the cold ooze from behind chilled her. She closed her eyes, let her knees give a little. It was good . . . good to be held, good to feel the spiral of desire curling through her, good to know that she was still alive. Still human and able to feel her own heartbeat lift and pound.
But the kiss dug up memories, frightening and dark images that threatened to overwhelm the pleasure of the moment . . . of needle-sharp fangs piercing her skin, the chill and warmth of the undead’s lips as they mauled at her flesh, seducing and culling her consciousness . . . luring her into a funnel of malevolence and darkness. . . .
She nudged the unpleasant images away and delved more fiercely into the taste of Sebastian, reveling in his smoky, lemony smell and the heat—heat, uninterrupted by chill or pain.
He pulled away, tugging her lower lip gently between his teeth in a little nick of surprise, then surging back to fully cover her mouth again, leaving her breathless. And then he eased back, releasing her from the kiss. She felt the curve of his lips as he smiled faintly against her, and the soft whisk of his clove-scented breath.
“Ah, then,” he murmured, loosening his hold on her shoulders. “You haven’t forgotten.”
“No, of course not.” Her voice was too husky, and, by God, her knees felt much too unsteady. She straightened them and stepped away from the supporting wall.
“I’d begun to wonder.” He moved back, looked down at her. She hadn’t even noticed when he slid the torch into a holder near the door, and now its light embraced them and their uneven breaths. His smile was crooked and his eyes burned amber, leaving no mistake about what he wanted.
“What’s behind the door?” she asked briskly, to break the mood. “What are you looking for? Although it wouldn’t surprise me to learn I was wrong, I’m fairly certain you didn’t bring me here merely for seduction purposes.”
“Of course not, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity. You’ve kept me at such arm’s length these last two months, since . . . since you woke up.” His voice faltered in a rather un-Sebastian-like manner. She felt him draw in a breath and then he cautiously pushed the door inward. “And you’re right, of course—I am looking for something,” he said over his shoulder.