Prudence held her back; prudence and discretion. Not until she had to. Gwendolyn and her earl didn’t need to be frightened, or exposed to the violence that would occur.
But though she waited, nothing untoward happened. The drive through the park went on as though it were nothing other than what it had been put out to be: an opportunity for several young couples to have a romantic interlude.
It wasn’t until nearly a half hour later, after George had pointed out simply every constellation and planet known to man—along with the Comet Encke, as it had been named—that the air changed.
She sensed an expectation building, a feeling of anticipation. Victoria remained alert, but other than the insistent chill on her neck and the sense of waiting, she felt and saw nothing.
She needed to do something to get Gwendolyn and her earl away before whatever was going to happen happened.
They were trotting along the easy, curving path lit by the moon’s skirt. The odd lumps of dirt and out-of-place boulders, groupings of trees and brush, and piles of paving stones that bespoke John Nash’s ongoing redesign of the park reared up in the dark, sending awkward shadows over the road.
The three carriages were moving along at a good clip, not quite in a single file, but staggered across the path. George and Sara were in the lead, Victoria and James slightly to the left behind them, and Gwendolyn and Brodebaugh in the rear directly behind her brother, almost next to Victoria.
She turned in her seat to call back to Gwendolyn, planning to make an excuse—a headache, weariness, something—so that her friend would accompany her home.
But before she could even hail her friend, there was a great lurch and all at once, everything was falling. The horses shrieked and James shouted, and Victoria felt everything tipping as if in slow motion. Then, as she hit her head, a moment of darkness and pain.
When she opened her eyes, only seconds later, she heard Gwendolyn screaming. James was heavy atop her and everything was dark and awkward. It took her only an instant to realize that somehow the carriage had tipped or fallen, and that she was trapped beneath James. The vehicle was half on its side so that everything concentrated on her corner of the conveyance.
She had the wherewithal to grip her stake, and even though she felt discomfort from the fall, Victoria wasn’t injured. But she was fully aware that this could not have been an accident.
And when she heard the screams growing louder, and saw the flash of red eyes glowering into the curricle above her, she knew she was right.
Victoria shoved at James, pushing his weight from hers. He seemed to be unconscious, and his legs were caught under the ledge of the carriage, making it difficult to move him. The awkward pose had fairly trapped her in the corner of the seat. The horses were still squealing, and the carriage lurched and lunged in its place as they struggled to pull loose and run free.
The vampire grabbed James and yanked him off Victoria—which was a bad choice on his part. No sooner had the weight been extricated and lifted from her than she clambered out awkwardly, her feet fumbling around her skirts. She landed on the ground just in time for the vampire to turn back to her. Meeting him with the point of her stake, she sent him to his destiny in a poof of ash, then spun to take note of the situation.
Sebastian and Kritanu had already made their presence known. As Victoria looked, she saw that Sebastian was engaged with numerous vampires. Kritanu was making use of his qinggong skills to glide and leap from tree to boulder to tree. He harassed the creatures, swiping at them with a long, gleaming sword as he moved above them and lopped off an undead head when the opportunity arose. Gwendolyn sat in her carriage, screaming, her hands plastered to her cheeks as her fiancé attempted to beat off the undead with a whip.
Sara and George, along with their carriage, were nowhere in sight.
Gone. Victoria would have thought they’d stay to watch the results of their trap. Her brows furrowed as she pivoted to meet a feral female vampire, blocking the creature’slunge with her arm, then slamming the stake into her chest beneath it.
Sara and George had left as soon as the battle started. As soon as everyone was flushed out and engaged.
But Victoria wasted no further time in contemplation. There were at least a dozen vampires about, and she launched herself into the fray, stepping in to relieve Sebastian from a trio that had attempted to corner him near a large boulder.
With a passing-by poof, she cut his attackers down to a duo, and then continued over to Gwendolyn and Brodebaugh. With a shout meant to draw the attention of the undead, she rushed toward the cluster of red-eyed vampires as Kritanu’s wiry body landed gracefully on the top of the curricle’s roof. His sword whistled, lopping the head from an undead at a distance safe from its inhuman strength, and then he turned to the other side.
He kicked a particularly insistent undead back so that the creature tumbled to the ground in front of her, and Victoria paused to stake him as she moved into the melee about her friend’s carriage.
Why would George and Sara have left? To escape?
Or to attend to some other task?
And then a horrible feeling rumbled inside her. Max. He was alone, and . . . incapacitated.
“Kritanu,” she cried, her voice rising above the pandemonium. The trainer’s jet eyes found hers amid the battle. “Max! He’s unprotected. ”
With relief, she saw Kritanu immediately leap up, then disappear into the higher br
anches of a tall maple. She was aware of branches and leaves shaking gently as he moved away, presumably toward the hack that would take him back to the town house.
For now she could concentrate on the matter at hand. And worry about Max later.
Despite the tangle of skirts, and Gwendolyn’s screams ringing in her ears, Victoria was quite successful in her endeavors, staking three more vampires before she realized the battle had waned.
Breathing heavily but by no means winded, she turned and found Sebastian standing behind her. He looked down at her, stake outlined in his hand, blond hair tufted and mussed in the moonlight. He was breathing harder than usual, but he didn’t have more than a sheen of sweat on his forehead.