He realized with a start that Victoria had asked him a polite question that required a suitable response. “I haven’t even been here long enough for Charley to have brought tea,” he replied. “Although I’m not entirely certain that the request was made, so perhaps that isn’t a good measure.” Taking care to keep his voice light and casual, he added, looking directly at Max, “I understand you went for a drive. How did you find the carriage’s accommodations?”

“Cramped,” he replied coolly, but with a measured look that confirmed everything Sebastian had suspected.

He transferred his attention to Victoria, whose cheeks had tinted a charming pink. Or it would be charming if it didn’t have to do with Max Pesaro. He gritted his teeth-for whom had he to blame for the topic but himself? But he’d had to know for certain, and now he did. Yet they both looked… well, certainly not as if the carriage ride had been as pleasant as it could have been.

Keeping his insouciant smile in place, he replied, “What a pity. I’ve never had a complaint about such-”

“I’ve received word from Brim and Michalas,” interrupted Wayren.

Sebastian allowed his smile to fade as all attention turned to her. He had information as well, but it would wait for a moment.

“They’ve arrived in Paris. Two more demons were dispatched, and all seems to be quiet for the moment. Yet we know it’s only a matter of time before more slip through the portal, and we haven’t any time to waste. They received my message about the Rings of Jubai-thanks to Sebastian for that bit of information-and have suggested that they go to retrieve the ring from the Consilium, then meet up with us in Prague.” Wayren looked at Victoria. “If you agree.”

“Yes, of course. They can be to Rome much sooner than we can, and it makes the most sense to split up. We have the pigeons to communicate.”

Sebastian noticed that she didn’t look at either Pesaro or himself to confirm her decision. How far she had come from the first time he’d met her, when she’d attempted in vain to hide her femininity by wearing men’s clothing to the Silver Chalice, then had nearly forgotten to offer a gentlemanly handshake.

Since then, she’d grown bold, beautiful, strong, and intelligent.

Worlds different from his gentle, serene Giulia, who nevertheless had had a fiery side when it came to her gardens.

He remembered the first time he’d met her, the sister of his acquaintance Max. The two boys had trampled two basil plants and a rosemary bush in an effort to peek through the window of a house sharing the same courtyard, where a beautiful young signora tended to stand whilst changing. Giulia had given them both the sharpest side of her tongue, a tartness he rarely remembered experiencing after that first time. Although, to be sure, it was those big, dark eyes that had captivated him-not the signora in her shift-so perhaps his memory was faulty.

Sebastian caught himself and looked back up to find Wayren gazing at him. He swallowed and fixed that charming smile on his lips, and realized with gratitude that no one else seemed to have noticed his lapse.

Max and Victoria had exchanged their own sharp words about whether horse or carriage would be the more efficient mode of transport, with both of them acknowledging that horseback would be the best choice. Which left Sebastian to wonder exactly what they’d disagreed about.

Then suddenly he was drawn back into the conversation by something Victoria said to Wayren. “A vampire? You’re in need of a vampire? What can an undead tell you that I cannot?” he added with an unabashed grin.

“It’s more what he can do,” Pesaro replied. “Unless you wish to oblige me by allowing me to drain your blood, then stake you.”

“It would certainly be interesting to participate in the attempt .”

“He needs a vampire’s blood for the Trial,” Victoria said sharply. “Max is going to take up the vis bulla again.”

Devil it, so he was. Sebastian pursed his lips, considering the implications of such an eventuality. Max with a vis would certainly be a welcome addition to their team when it came to closing the Midiverse Portal and retrieving the other Rings of Jubai. And Sebastian grudgingly admitted to himself that Victoria would be that much safer in the man’s company, if that was where she wished to be.

And there was always the tantalizing possibility that Pesaro wouldn’t live through the Trial.

“There are no vampires in London right now,” he said. “I’ll be most happy to assist you to find one in Prague. Ah… perhaps… perhaps you could use Katerina.” He smiled with genuine humor for the first time that day.

“A paramour of your grandfather’s, I presume,” Pesaro responded drily.

“Of course. In fact, there’s quite a story about how she came to be sired by Beauregard, if you will permit me to tell it, for it has bearing on our quest.”

“Sired by Beauregard,” mused Pesaro. “But with Beauregard dead, she is then locked in obeisance to his sire… which was Lilith, as I recall.”

Sebastian saw the flash of unease in Pesaro’s eyes, and much as he might abhor the man, he had some compassion for him in this case. The bond of Lilith’s thrall, and her obsession with Pesaro, had been a bane to the man’s life. And even Sebastian, who’d lived among the undead for a time, didn’t care to contemplate some of the things Max had had to endure when he was with her.

“Yes, Lilith was Beauregard’s sire, but the connection had become very weak. He was a Guardian vampire, but she did not trust him with one of the Rings of Jubai. He turned on her centuries ago, so I am not certain how strong Katerina’s bond would be with Lilith.”

“Ah yes… Beauregard was a power-hungry one, wasn’t he?” Pesaro replied.

Sebastian didn’t reply. Before Beauregard’s attempt to turn Victoria undead, against his grandson’s wishes, Sebastian had loved the vampire. Staking him to end his attack on Victoria had been almost as difficult as staking Giulia those years ago.

“Sebastian, you said that you had learned some other information,” Wayren said, once again interrupting his thoughts. He felt as though she not only broke into his musings, but knew exactly what they were… or at least, had a sense of them. The canny look in her eyes seemed to support that.

“As I was about to say, the story of how Katerina became sired is an interesting one and it is germane to the task at hand.”

“Then perhaps you could proceed with the story,” Wayren encouraged.

Sebastian leveled a look at Pesaro. “I think I shall keep you in suspense. The pertinent information is that she has one of the Rings of Jubai. It was given to her by Germintrude, one of Lilith’s other Guardian vampires, in an effort to sway her loyalty from Beauregard. Which didn’t work, but she did keep the ring. If you need the blood of an undead, and we need the ring, it would be expedient to combine the two tasks. And then you can have the pleasure of killing her, after… how many days of fasting will it be?” he added with relish.

“Three,” Pesaro replied. “We leave in the morning.” He stood and, with the briefest of bows to Wayren and Victoria, left the room.

Torn between the hope and dread that Wayren would also go, leaving him alone with Victoria, Sebastian remained in his chair. But Victoria rose first and turned to him as he, too, politely got to his feet. “You will go with us, then?”

Did she truly think he wouldn’t? That he’d leave her to Katerina and Lilith-for they’d have to face her, too, at some point in order to get the other two rings-and close the portal without his help?

Had he not proven himself yet?

But he held back these thoughts and nodded. “I’ll be here before daybreak.” He would have started for the door, but Wayren’s quiet voice stopped him.

“Sebastian, if I could have a word with you.”

The hair lifted at the back of his neck. Could she not have had that word with him earlier? He wanted to leave now. To get out of this house, where Victoria would go upstairs to her chamber and be joined by and with a man he loathed. How could she love him, the cold bastard?

“If you’ll excuse me,” Victoria said, hurrying from the room.

Sebastian preferred not to think about where she was going.

Instead, he turned to Wayren, not entirely sure that a conversation with her would be the lesser of two evils.

“If you want to see the Gardella Bible, there’s no reason to hesitate.”

“Is it blasphemous to say that I greatly dislike it when you do that?” he said wryly, turning toward the cabinet.

Wayren gave a soft laugh. He couldn’t ever remember having heard it before-quiet, gentle, spritely. “No indeed. I’ve heard much worse over the centuries. Sebastian, do you know what you’re looking for?”

He had to shake his head. “No.” Honesty compelled him to speak with forthrightness. “I feel as though I’m waiting to find out what will be asked of me next.”

The heavy handle twisted easily, levering downward and unlatching the door of the cabinet. Inside, the Bible sat, large and smelling of age. He pulled it out, sensitive to the crackling, browned pages and the faded ribbons that marked places in the great tome.

“The first pages of that Bible were scribed by the sisters who lived with Rosamunde in Lock Rose Abbey. Rosamunde, the mystic who wrote many pages of personal revelations before being called to the vis bulla .”

Sebastian nodded, carefully opening the heavy cover. His education of Venator history was sketchy and incomplete, due to his many years away from them. But he had heard of Rosamunde, and he had seen the painting of her in the Consilium. Serene and oval faced, Lady Rosamunde Gardella had seemed much less imposing than a Venator should be.

“In the front of the book are listed all of those called Illa Gardella,” Wayren continued. “And in the back are named all of the Venators. Your name is there, as well as Max’s.”

And in between, Sebastian found, were faded pages of cramped medieval text of the New and Old Testaments, many of which were decorated with large illustrations, their colors long since washed out. These pages had been bound and rebound, and bound again into this much newer leather cover.