His hand fell automatically to the vis bulla at his belly. He touched it, winced at the pain, but felt… something-power? relief?-mixed with the pain.

The need ebbed that little bit.

“Why did you do this? Let me help.”

He could breathe now. Words floated through his mind, filtering through the haze.

The long promise. The new world. A savior.

Rosamunde’s words came back to him.

And in the new world shall be a savior who carries the deepest taint. A long promise shall the savior make and in the end those for whom he lives will be saved.

A long promise… and in the end those for whom he lives will be saved.

In the end. Was this the end?

The door burst open, and the next thing Sebastian knew, he was jerked from Victoria, thrown against the wall. Whipped, like a sack of flour. And Max Pesaro had him pinned there by the throat.

Twenty-six

Two Farewells, and a Shocking Instance in Which Victoria and Max Agree

“Max,” Victoria said, stepping toward them. He had Sebastian by the throat, his stake ready. “Release him.”

Not only did she not need his help, but the imminent danger was past.

She’d seen Sebastian’s eyes fade from the burning, needy red into their normal amber color, and knew that his moment of weakness was past. Whether he would face that temptation again in the future remained to be seen, but for now, he controlled it.

And before she sent him to his rest, she wanted to learn why he’d done this, taken on this burden.

Max ignored her command, holding an unmoving Sebastian pinned. Instead, he asked, “Did he feed on you?” His words came out tight and more clipped than usual. “Or… anything else?”

“No.” She took a moment-just a moment, now that the danger was past-to admire Max in all his dark fierceness. She was, after all, a woman. And she was completely besotted with the man.

Max adjusted his stake as though reluctant to put it away unused; then he dropped his hand and turned from Sebastian. He looked around the room, his gaze skipping over Victoria as if afraid to land there. The same as it had after he succeeded at the Trial, but this time she thought she understood why. “Lilith?”

“She’s dead,” Sebastian replied. True to form, he’d merely stepped away from the wall and adjusted his clothing, as though nothing more traumatic had occurred than an askew neck cloth.

“Dead?” Max’s voice held rare surprise. “Truly?”

“Dead by Victoria’s hand, of course. Did you ever doubt the woman could do what she set out to?” If it hadn’t been for the terrible situation moments earlier, Victoria wouldn’t have known Sebastian was changed, for he replied in the same offhand fashion he might have if this conversation had happened two months ago.

His blank-eyed look had disappeared, likely because Lilith no longer existed to hold thrall over him, and he seemed more conscious of his surroundings.

With that revelation, Max seemed to have the courage to look at her, and when he did, his brutal expression became darker. “Christ, Victoria, cover yourself.”

She looked down and realized that her tattered shirt exposed half of her chest, including one breast-with the other fairly ready to pop out of its sagging bindings if she were to raise a stake. She was amazed at the amount of blood streaking her skin and shirt, and as she gathered the pieces together as well as she could, she glanced up at Sebastian.

His eyes had narrowed, and she saw the beginning of a glow starting there. His breathing quickened just a bit, his lips parted.

“Sebastian,” she said sharply.

Her former lover looked at her, and she felt the faintest tug there in his eyes. More than a simple tease.

“He needs to drink,” came a familiar-but wholly unexpected-voice.

Victoria turned to look and saw Wayren standing there. She didn’t bother to express her surprise or delight at the woman’s presence. There was no point in doing so.

“He needs blood,” said Wayren, moving into the center of the room. She looked around as though curious about the lair that had belonged to the demonic Lilith. Victoria supposed that wasn’t terribly surprising for a scholarly angel.

“I am feeling a bit… deprived,” Sebastian said. “I think I must feed, and soon. A revolting but wholly necessary aspect of my new… shall we say… life?” His lips twisted unpleasantly, then smoothed into a self-deprecating smile. “I do apologize for the previous… scene, Victoria. My base emotions got away from me.”

Though he spoke lightly, she saw a combination of hunger and disappointment in his face. Victoria gave a little shiver. Sebastian had a difficult path ahead of him, if he chose to remain as he was. Had he truly chosen this?

Wouldn’t it be best to put him out of his misery before he gave in to his urges? Save his soul, as she’d done for Phillip? She hefted the stake in her hand, ready to put it to use.

At that moment, Michalas charged into the chamber, stake drawn. Brim came at his heels. When they saw the tableau, both stopped and gave little bows to the ageless blond woman.

And then Michalas asked what Victoria had declined to: “Wayren, how did you come to be here?”

The angel gave him a beatific smile. “I knew it was time. Sebastian needed me.”

Max stifled a snort, and Victoria could imagine what he was thinking. A vampire in need of an angel’s guidance. A bloody understatement.

Wayren shot Max a glance that did what Victoria had been unable to do: wipe the arrogance from his expression. Then her pale face smoothed, and she said to the newcomers, “If you haven’t recognized it from the chill at the back of your necks, Sebastian has allowed himself to be turned. He needs blood, or Victoria will continue to need to defend herself from him. Michalas?”

If Michalas thought that an odd request for a Venator, he didn’t show it. And in fact, as he disappeared from the chamber-presumably to find something for Sebastian to drink-Wayren turned to the rest of them. “Sebastian accepted this change willingly, unlike you, Victoria, when you were faced with the same. The situation is wholly different from your battle with Beauregard. There is a purpose for it.”

Victoria nodded, remembering awakening from the slumber after nearly being turned undead to find Max with a stake, ready to plunge it into her heart. She would do the same for Sebastian-in fact, would have already done so if she hadn’t needed to understand why. To make certain he’d completed whatever task he’d set out to.

“He didn’t have to be turned,” she said, speaking what had been on her mind. “He might have offered himself in Max’s place, but come ready to… take care of himself.”

“To die, rather than be turned,” Max said. “As I’d been prepared to do if necessary.”

Wayren stepped near Sebastian, who seemed to be made a bit uncomfortable by her proximity. “He chose this path as a sacrifice. By putting himself in Max’s place, he gave up his freedom, and then he gave up his soul in exchange for Giulia’s. She’ll be released from her damnation once his task is finished.”

“His task?” Victoria asked. “Can we not just stake him now so that he won’t be tempted again?”

“Er,” Sebastian interrupted, “I prefer not to have my demise, such as it would be, discussed so casually. But I do have a question, Wayren, if I may. I read Rosamunde’s prophecy, and understand that it did-or could-apply to me. But how long is this ‘long promise’ and when might my task be done?”

Wayren smiled, and the warmth of it seemed to flood the room… not in the same sweltering, suffocating way that Lilith’s fires and presence had done, but in a soft, pleasing manner. “You’ll know when it is time,” she told him. “But I suspect the Venators will have need of and welcome your assistance for a century or more. Particularly since my time has now come to leave them and return to my place.”

Victoria looked at her. “You’ll be leaving us?”

“And Vioget is to take your place as adviser?” Max sounded exactly as if it had been suggested that he, too, might join Sebastian in a state of undeadness.

Wayren shrugged, and her smile continued to warm the rest of the room. She seemed clearly pleased with the turn of events. “He has knowledge of the vampires that even you don’t have, Max, and he’ll be around long after you and Victoria and your children. I’m certain he’ll find some way to be of assistance to the Venators.”

“Never fear, Pesaro,” drawled Sebastian. “I’ll be taking myself off to America in short order. I doubt that I’ll be here when the child comes.”

Victoria glared at him, knowing that Sebastian had purposely chosen to drop that piece of information at this moment as a last one-upmanship to Max.

How did he know she hadn’t told him yet? Likely because Sebastian knew that if Max were aware she carried a child, he’d have become much more protective of her.

He grinned at her, in his Sebastian way, still making warm flutters in her stomach. And that was when the realization struck her. Really struck her.

Sebastian was gone. For all intents and purposes, he was gone.

He had given his life for her, and for Giulia, and taken on a more dangerous, challenging task than she and Max would ever do. She’d had only a short while of fighting such deep cravings, such instinctual needs, the deep potential for evil that vampire blood had brought.

How could Sebastian think to live years, decades… perhaps longer… without giving in to those base instincts?

Their eyes met, and he allowed only a flare of glow to color his, as if to remind her of what they’d shared… and what they could still share, if she were willing. One last bit of that devilish side of him.

Victoria made a decision at that moment. “I’ll send someone with you, Sebastian. Someone to stay with you, at least… at least for a while.”

He gave a wry smile. “My own Tutela member?”

She understood his attempt at humor and let it pass. “A Venator protector. You’re still a Venator, Sebastian. You wear the vis .”