Sebastian knew.
Sebastian had seen her holding the shard when they escaped from the burning opera theater on the night of Aunt Eustacia’s death.
She stood abruptly, automatically feeling for the stake under her gown.
The sun would have gone down by now, and she would take herself out onto the street to hunt down someone who could bring a message to Beauregard or Sebastian. Or she would go herself.
She’d squandered her first chance to talk to Sebastian and find out what he knew about Aunt Eustacia’s armband. Now she had two reasons to find him.
And to find out if the entire scene at Villa Palombara had been a farce put on by Sebastian and his grandfather to acquire the shard.
Perhaps Akvan wasn’t back at all.
No. No, he was. Or something just as evil was.
Victoria had smelled him.
She looked down at the table where the shard sat, long and black and wicked. The little pendant glinted next to it on the rough wooden table.
Now that Victoria was certain someone—Akvan, Sebastian, Beauregard, or all of them—was after the piece of the obelisk, she didn’t want to leave it sitting so visibly on the table.
The heavy splinter was still a bit warm when she picked it and the leather necklace up. The obsidian stake felt good in her hand. Comfortable.
Her fingers closed around it, and Victoria positioned it as if a vampire were in front of her, making an experimental stab into the air. The swish and swirl of movement was audible in the silent chamber, and she imagined stabbing the shard into the chest of a vampire. Lilith. Beauregard. Any of the creatures with red eyes and flashing fangs.
The shard would send them back to Lucifer.
Victoria’s lips tightened, curling in against her teeth, and she felt a surge of hatred for those red-eyed creatures who’d taken so much from her. Sebastian had tried to make her believe that some vampires weren’t wholly evil, that they didn’t deserve to be damned to Hell. But he was wrong.
And if he tried to stop her, she’d send him there along with them.
The large splinter was growing warmer, and Victoria looked down at it. Her fingers were leaving moist prints on the sleek black glass. It must be kept safe. Secret.
She had to put it away in a drawer or chest. No one would find it there.
In the darkest corner of the room she found a small wooden chest filled with nothing but fragrant wood curls, as though someone had sat and stripped them from a branch of cedar. Or had been carving a stake.
The splinter and the necklace fit easily in the box, and it was with a sigh of satisfaction that Victoria closed the lid, placing another chest on top of that one.
The pieces of Akvan’s Obelisk would be safe.
Now to deal with Sebastian.
She rose to her feet and, with one last look back at the dark corner where the chest held an evil treasure, Victoria moved quickly from the chamber.
Back out in the passage, she paused outside of Wayren’s library, but there were no sounds from within. No one else was about; it was just as silent as it had been when she arrived. A gentle knock drew no response, and when Victoria gently prodded the door open, she found the room dark.
The Consilium was silent and bare as she walked back toward the main chamber, where the rush of the fountain made a pleasant hum.
At least Victoria had one of her questions answered: Max had to be all right, for if he’d been otherwise he would be in the Consilium with Hannever, being treated for his injuries. A seriously wounded Venator would be kept safe in the Consilium until he was well.
Having had her question answered by omission, Victoria left the Consilium through the secret spiral staircase that led into a hidden passage behind one of the confessionals at Santo Quirinus.
Instead of leaving through the doors of the small chapel, she went into its tiny rear courtyard and into a ramshackle old building across from the church. She exited onto the nearly empty street, where she found it was indeed well past sunset on the chilly February night.
The sky was as black as the shard she’d left below, and a full moon glowed high and small among the stars. She walked toward the unpleasantly sharp smell of wet umbrella silk. Her wooden stake felt light and weak in her hand after the heaviness of the shard, but it would do its duty if she required it.
There were no vampires about, however. Of course, that was no surprise, as this particular block of the Borghi was deserted of human prey.