Chas's only response was a short laugh.
Instead of leading her to an automobile or cab, he directed her briskly down the street and around the block, then into an alley. She hesitated, pulling away when they came upon the black, imposing entrance to a tunnel.
"I'm not going in there. "
"Freight tunnels are the fastest way to get where we need to go-without being seen. You said you wanted to get this problem cleared up. " Chas stood there, hands in his pockets, his fedora still shading his brows.
"Why should I trust you?" Macey backed away. What sort of fool would go down into a dark tunnel alone with a strange man? Her heart pounded and she looked around to see if anyone was nearby.
"Have it your way. But if we're followed, you can explain to Vioget. " Chas whirled on his heels and stalked off, apparently expecting her to follow. Where is she working?" sly
And darn if she didn't. At least they were still on the street, in the daylight. And his acquiescence went a long way in making her more comfortable going with him. Besides, she wanted to see where they were going-whether to The Silver Chalice or someplace else.
Chas led her through such a maze of backstreets and narrow alleys Macey lost track of where they were. Since they didn't travel on the main throughways, she didn't see landmarks or street signs other than the Drake looming in the distance.
By the time they reached a street that looked vaguely familiar, she was not only completely lost, but had more than once seen men loading up trucks in back alleys. . . with things Macey knew were illegal. Barrels, clinking jugs in crates, and other things she didn't want to see or recognize.
She averted her eyes-just like most Chicagoans, including the fuzz- and marched along with her escort. Better not to take note of anything.
"After you. " Chas pointed to an iron-railed stairway that led beneath the street.
Macey noticed the small finial on top of the railing, shaped like a chalice-exactly like the one she saw last night. Since she and Chas were on a different street, she could only assume there was more than one entrance.
Heart pounding, palms slick, insides churning, Macey looked around. Scads of people were about on their way to market or other errands, but no one seemed to take particular notice of them. It seemed a normal Saturday morning in Chicago for everyone except her.
"For the love of God, you're not going to your execution," Chas said, gesturing again. "And that bite needs to be seen to, sooner rather than later. You wouldn't want to scar that long neck of yours. "
She couldn't argue, for the warm trickle of fresh blood had begun to seep more freely into her collar, activated by the brisk walk. Hoping she wasn't about to make a fatal mistake, Macey drew in a deep breath and started down the steps. As she descended, leaving the sunlight and familiarity behind her, she felt a chill settle over the back of her neck.
At the bottom of the stairs was an iron door with a knocker in the center. A small goblet was imprinted in the center of the metal, and above it was a peephole.
Chas crowded into the small space next to her, and Macey felt a trickle of alarm. In his black coat and hat, he was big and dark and dangerous-and she was trapped by three sides of brick wall below the street. But he didn't even look at her; instead, he used the knocker and waited. Macey shivered as the nausea-edged chill surged stronger over the back of her neck.
"You feel that, do you?" Chas looked down at her, grim satisfaction in his tones. "Not bad for a novice. "
She had no idea what he meant, and might have asked if the peephole door hadn't swung open a throbbing slyt that moment. Two amber-colored eyes looked out at her, blinked, then shifted to Chas. "About bloody time. "
The door to The Silver Chalice opened and there stood the most handsome man Macey had ever seen. He had blond-tipped tawny hair, rich golden skin an
d hot amber eyes. His full lips formed a sensual smile as he looked her over, slowly, then nodded. His gaze grew even warmer. The hand that gripped the edge of the doorway had rings made of braided copper on each finger.
"Sebastian Vioget, at your service. "
If Sebastian had any lingering doubts Macey Denton was the young woman he believed she was, his first good look at her in full light would have wiped them away.
She very much resembled Victoria-not merely because of her thick black hair, curling wildly around her jaw and earlobes, or the lush, wide mouth he'd known so well-but also in the way she carried herself, in the lift of her stubborn chin, the tilt of her head, the shape of her striking face.
But not her eyes. And that was what clinched it. Macey Denton had the Pesaro eyes: large and dark, thick-lashed. They were extraordinarily beautiful and expressive, bright with intelligence-and laced with suspicion.
Except for the glint of wariness, it was like looking into Giulia's eyes.
For the first time in a hundred years, Sebastian felt something inside him move. Something warm and tantalizing. Hope.
Something dangerous.
Oh, indeed. This woman was exactly who he needed. Precisely whom he'd been waiting for.
"If you keep us standing out here long enough, a shaft of sun will fry you where you stand, Vioget. "