Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10) (27 page)

“I thought you said we should ignore the prophecy and just do what we had to do,” she said. Her voice was wobbly, blast it, and she could feel the beginning of tears stinging her eyes.

“He’ll join us,” Max said, his voice flat and final.

Damn, oh
damn!
Here she was, in the very position she’d tried so hard to keep herself (and Grady) out of—and it was even worse, because Grady didn’t remember her.

He didn’t even know her anymore. Yet here he was, shoulder-deep in danger and the business of killing vampires.

Dammit.

TWENTY

~ Of Family Legends and Swooning ~

In Macey’s estimation,
facing Iscariot again would almost have been preferable to the way things happened in the next few hours.

“No one is going to stay here,” Max said, referring to The Silver Chalice and, by extension, its attached apartments. “It’s already been breached by the undead—incidentally, I can only assume this Flora was able to enter because Temple didn’t know she was an undead, and invited her in.”

Macey shook her head glumly. “Temple knew who Flora was. She wouldn’t have invited her in.”

“I allowed her in,” Chas said flatly. “Originally.”

“Right, then.” Max didn’t sound judgmental, but Macey heard Chas’s self-recrimination loud and clear.

His inability to stop the female vampire had caused even more damage. She reached over and squeezed his hand, noticing as she did so that Grady was watching.

“She planned it perfectly—it all happened while we were busy with Iscariot at the Beedle school,” said Macey.

“A classic example of distraction and misdirection—the same tactic used by illusionists and escape artists,” Grady commented, glancing at Max.

“Precisely,” the
summas
said. “Now then, no one is going to remain here, for a number of reasons. Grady has offered his place for the time being.” When Macey opened her mouth to protest—
oh God, no!
—her father gave her brittle look. “I’ve been staying there myself, and it’s not only extremely secure, but large enough for us all. And it has a telephone.”

“Macey can sleep at my place,” Chas said. “With me. It’s secure, and it has a telephone as well.”

Max turned to him. “I want Macey near me.”

Chas appeared as if he were about to argue, but after another look from Max, he set his jaw and said nothing. But that didn’t stop him from giving Max a dark look of his own.

“Excuse me…don’t I have a say in where I stay?” Macey said, hardly able to keep the anger from her voice. “I—”

“Not right now. There are too many factors at play, and it’s important that we’re all together as much as possible.” Max looked at her, clearly speaking as the
Summas
Gardella and not as her father, trying to interfere in her love life (not that she actually had one).

At least, she hoped that was the case.

+ + +

It was nearly midnight by the time the four of them arrived at Grady’s house.

Macey was overwhelmed by a range of memories and emotions as she stepped over the threshold into the neat and cozy duplex, and it was all she could do to keep from looking at Grady…just in the vain hope that he might also remember.

But she knew better than that—and that point was driven home even more strongly a moment later when she walked into the living room.

Macey’s belly twisted painfully when she saw Sabrina Ellison, looking utterly lovely with her hair loose and face devoid of makeup. She was curled up on the sofa in a terrycloth housecoat with a magazine and a pot of tea—as if she lived there.

She probably did.

Oh God.

Macey lingered at the edge of the room, torn between not wanting the woman to recognize and greet her—because then she’d have to make nice and talk to the
older
female photographer—and definitely not wanting to see the warmth and greeting between her and Grady.

She didn’t want to think about the two of them going upstairs to the same bed she’d shared with Grady…and Macey having to sleep on the sofa. Right below them.

Her stomach pitched more violently at the images that thought produced, and she had to swallow hard to keep the bile back. Hadn’t her day been bad enough?

She should have stayed at the damned hospital.

Or anywhere other than here.

Pretty much anywhere. Even back in the hell of Iscariot’s presence would be preferable to this, because at least then, she could fight back.

She could do something about that.

“Macey.” Max’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. He sounded strange—almost strained.

She glanced toward him and realized Sabrina had risen to her feet. The photographer was looking at her with a strange expression—something between uncertainty and eagerness.

“This is my—er—this is Savina Eleaisa,” Max said.

And that was when Macey realized
he was holding the woman’s hand.

She couldn’t help it—she glanced at Grady to see his reaction, and saw that he was in the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of whiskey he kept hidden beneath the floorboards. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t mind.

“You know me as Sabrina Ellison,” said the woman, stepping toward Macey with a tentative smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you—again.”

“So you
have
met,” Max said, looking between the two of them. He seemed as uncomfortable as Macey felt confused.

“At the exhibit, of course,” Sabrina—or was her name Savina?—said. She gave him a knowing look, and patted his hand as if to comfort him. “That’s all right, Max, darling—we didn’t talk about you at all. Yet.”

Macey’s brain was beginning to catch up, albeit slowly. She blinked as comprehension began to dawn, and then was startled when Grady suddenly appeared next to her, thrusting a small glass of whiskey into her hand.

Before she could thank him, he turned and gave another drink to Chas, then returned to the kitchen to retrieve two more glasses for Max and the photographer.

“After today, I thought something stronger than tea was in order,” Grady said, unnecessarily.

Macey sipped the strong amber liquor, grateful for the excuse not to speak. Things made much more sense now. Max said he’d been staying here—then presumably so had Sabrina, or whatever her name was. Which could easily explain why she’d been in a robe coming down from the upstairs when Macey knocked on the door yesterday.

Good grief…had it only been yesterday afternoon?

It felt as if a decade had gone by since then.

“Not to your liking, there, mate?” Grady said, and Macey looked over to see that Chas had set his glass down on the counter.

“It’s not that. I’m not in the mood for a drink at the moment.”

Macey looked at him sharply. She’d never known Chas not to be in the mood for a drink—or for that matter, never to be the first one who needed his glass refilled.

“I see no reason for me to stay. Obliged for the offer, Grady, but quarters are cramped here and I have a perfectly fine place of my own.” Chas looked at Max as if to challenge him to argue.

Max, who was standing next to his…whatever Sabrina was, merely shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Apparently he didn’t care so much whether they were
all
together, or whether just
Macey
was with him. She gritted her teeth. She would
not
be treated like his daughter, or like a weak female.

“Have a seat,” Grady said, gesturing to the sofa as Chas retrieved his coat and hat.

“Actually, I think I’d rather go to sleep,” Macey said, and finished off her whiskey. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about hearing—or thinking about—Grady and Sabrina (Savina?) together.

Except that now she was going to have to
not
think about the older woman and her father together. Though she didn’t really think of Max as her father, he still was.

Ugh.

“I hope you don’t mind me breaking up the party,” she added, glancing at the sofa while trying at the same time to appear as if she had no idea where she’d be sleeping because she’d never been at this place before.

Why in the world had Max thought it was such a great idea to have them all stay here?

“Of
course
you need rest,” Sabrina said, handing her glass to Max. “After what you’ve been through today! All of you.” She smiled up at him, but there was a hint of steel in her expression. “I’ll take Macey up and get her settled.”

She looked at Macey. “We’ll share a room—I hope you don’t mind, but there’s only one bedroom here. Max can sleep on the floor—he’s used to doing that.” She slanted a meaningful look at Max, and he closed his mouth on what looked like a protest and finished off her drink with a big gulp. “And Grady, you need to rest as well, so it’s still the sofa for you. You’re looking quite pale there, my dear.”

Before she knew it, Macey was upstairs—still pretending she had no idea where she was going or even where the lavatory was—and Sabrina was fussing around with the bed coverings and pillows.

“Excuse me,” Macey said, causing the other woman to stop and straighten abruptly.

“Yes?” She looked at her with that same expectant but wary expression, her hands clutching a pillow.

“I’m…er— Well, we’re going to be sharing a bed, and I’m—uh—not sure what to
call
you. Miss Ellison or Miss Elee—I didn’t quite catch your name.”

She broke into a beautiful smile. “Oh, no, you must call me Savina. That’s my real name. I only use Sabrina Ellison professionally—it’s my cover for when I’m out doing…well, work for the Venators.”

“Work for the Venators?
You’re
a Venator?” Macey sank onto a chair in the corner.

That
was unexpected. The only female Venators she knew of—though, granted, her knowledge of their history was spotty at best—were directly descended from her family line, and were long dead. In other words, if Savina were a born Venator, she would be Macey’s aunt or close cousin.

“No, I’m not a Venator. But I was raised with them. I’ve known your father since I was a young girl, for my father worked for the Venators at the Consilium in Rome before he—before he died.” A shadow crossed her face, then was gone.

“Right.” Macey was doing her best to keep up with all of this interesting and surprising information, but she had had a grueling day. Between that and the glass of whiskey, her brain was turning to mush.

Savina plopped the pillow onto the bed and fluffed it. “Why don’t you wash up—I see you brought some nightclothes—and then I can change your bandages while we talk more. I’m sure you have many questions. I’ll be happy to answer as many of them as I can.”

It wasn’t until Macey was toweling off her face in the bathroom that she remembered the photograph that had so captivated her attention at the exhibit. What had Savina said about it the night they’d met?

Taking that photo was very nearly as life-threatening as shooting the one of the cobra. This subject is far more dangerous, and he didn’t know I was taking the shot.

Macey stilled. Savina had been talking about Max.

Staring into space, Macey hung up the towel on its rung in the bathroom. Savina had gone on to ask her a very telling question.
Have you ever loved a man it was safer not to?

Clearly she’d been talking about her father.

Had Savina known then that Macey was Max’s daughter? Surely if she and Max were…whatever they were…Savina had known about Macey. Was that why she’d sought her out, and why she’d started such a private conversation?

Macey sighed. The only way to get the answers to these questions was to ask them—and Savina seemed willing to answer.

“Let me check those bandages,” Savina said as Macey came back into the bedroom—the bedroom where she’d made love with Grady. She tried not to think about that day, but it was impossible not to. Just being in the room, seeing his things, remembering how he’d laid her on the bed and knelt in front of her…

She’d miscalculated, that day. Or maybe she hadn’t.

Macey had asked herself many times since: had she known, in the back of her mind, that the moment Grady saw her without her clothes, all of his suspicions about her being a vampire hunter—and the existence of the undead—would be confirmed?

That she would irrevocably change things between them—allowing him to know her most precious secret?

She decided that, yes, she had known. And she’d consciously allowed it to happen.

His reaction when he discovered she was wearing a
vis bulla
pierced through her navel: so beautiful. So…right. He’d been awed, and yet not the least bit intimidated—even when he asked her how strong the amulet made her, and she replied:
I could throw you across the room
.

Instead of being shocked, he’d smiled, long and slow and sweet. Grinned with absolutely delicious delight…and then knelt and went down on her, kissing her, making love to her…delighting in her—to show her how much he loved her.
All
of her.

Oh,
dammit
. What a fool she was!

“Am I hurting you?” Savina stopped what she was doing, looking at Macey in alarm.

“No—oh no. I’m only a little sore, which is quite miraculous, considering. Thank you for doing that,” she added, blinking quickly to rid herself of the tears.

“Max told me what happened. He was horrified. He knows how close he came to— Well, thankfully, you’re going to be fine. But wouldn’t that have been terrible: the day after he finds you—after thirteen years—and he stakes his own daughter?”

Macey couldn’t help it: despite her maudlin emotions, she laughed. “That would have been one for the Venator history books, wouldn’t it? Poor Max…he would have gone down in history in quite a different way than his namesake Max Pesaro.”

Savina smiled too, then became dreamy-eyed. “Ah…Max Pesaro. All you have to do is mention his name in the presence of any female who knows of the Venators, and she tends to swoon and get all fluttery.”

Macey laughed again. “Really?”

“Oh, he was quite something. Arrogant as hell, always had to be right about everything—though I understand Victoria was good at demonstrating otherwise—rigidly black and white, and as true and loyal and fierce as they came. And he was a brilliant Venator. He could even glide through the air!”