Max Stops the Presses: A Gardella Vampire Chronicles Short Story (5 page)

“Where the bloody hell have
you been, anyway?” Vioget said, lifting his nose at the mess.
“Surely George Starcasset didn’t get the best of y—”

Max growled and Vioget was
smart enough to close his mouth. “The books are destroyed. All
three-bloody-
hundred
of them.”

Kritanu, who acted as his
valet, had already called for a footman to bring a bath. “You
aren’t going up there. We’ll tend to you in the
kalari
.”

A quiet gasping sound drew
Max’s attention, and for the first time, he noticed Victoria’s
mother, Lady Melly, standing in the parlor doorway. She gaped at
him, her eyes wide with shock and probably fear—which was nothing
new. Lady Melly didn’t know what to make of her son-in-law.
Fortunately, that meant she didn’t come around Grantworth House
very often.

“A word with you, Vioget,”
Max snapped as he followed Kritanu to the
kalari
, trying to hide the
unsteadiness of his footsteps. His head still pounded, and felt as
if it were floating at the same time. And his hip burned like fire.
“And someone tell my wife I’m here.”

“She knows,” said a voice
from the stairs.

Max paused and looked up,
his breath halting. “She’s…well? And the baby?”

“They are all fine,” said
Tiana. “All three of them.”

Three?

Max stumbled.
“Three?”

“Yes indeed, signore. You
are the father of twins.”

+ +
+

“Max
. Where have you been?”

Victoria drank in the sight
of him. There’d been a time, a dark time, during the unending waves
of pain and pushing and exhaustion, that she feared she’d never see
him again.

But here he was, his broad
shoulders and arrogant personality seeming to fill the chamber as
usual. His longish dark hair was damp, leaving little droplets on
the shoulders of his shirt, which was untied at the throat. He
wasn’t wearing a shirtwaist or coat, he needed a shave, and he was
moving…oddly. Without his usual feline grace.

“What happened? Are you
hurt?”

He didn’t respond. He just
stood there for a moment, looking at her, then at the babies,
unmoving.

“I can’t…” He drew in a
long, unsteady breath, and blinked rapidly. Max pinched the bridge
of his nose, gave a half-smile, and said, “May I?” He gestured to
the bed.

“Of course. Max, what
happened to you? You’re hurt. And I thought…” Victoria swallowed
hard, forcing the burning in her throat away. She was
not
going to cry. All was
well. He was here. The babies were here. He was acting odd, but he
was here.

Max sat gingerly on the
edge of the bed, and before she could speak, he was right there,
kissing her. With the softest, most tender, sensual kiss she could
ever remember receiving. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed.

“Oh, Max,” she said,
kissing him back—which was difficult to do with two babies gathered
up in her arms.

He eased back, holding her
gaze with his own, which glistened uncharacteristically. Then he
looked down. “They refused to tell me anything but that there were
two. I didn’t even let Kritanu shave me.”

“So that was what all the
roaring was about down there.” Victoria smiled. “Your voice
carries, you know.”

“I know.” He was still
looking at the babies. “
Two
. I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t either. And you
were right, Max. She is a girl.”

“Which one?” For the first
time, he reached to touch one of them, lightly tracing his finger
over the top of a dark-haired head.

“Both of them. We have two
daughters.” Then she laughed at his expression, for it was one of
utter shock and dismay.

“My God,” he muttered,
running a finger over the identical head of the second baby. “Two
of them? Two little Victorias running around? What did I ever do to
deserve that?” But he was relaxed and laughing, his dark eyes soft
with love and affection—a very different Max than the one she’d
nearly staked more than three years ago.

A happy, content, only
slightly arrogant Max.

“Which one is Stacia?” he
asked. They’d always intended to name a girl after their beloved
mentor.

“The first one. This one.”
Victoria shifted her arms in gentle indication. “We’ll have to have
different-colored blankets so we can tell them apart.”

“And the other? Do you have
a name in mind?”

“I thought…well, since we
meant to call a boy Zavier, and there is no good female version of
it, perhaps you’d like to name her after…after your sister.” She
wasn’t certain how he would feel about being reminded of her, for
Giulia’s tragic end had inadvertently been his doing.

But Max nodded slowly. “I
think…yes. But…Juliette. Let’s call her Juliette.”

Victoria smiled. “It’s a
beautiful name.”

“And so we have Stacia,” he
said, touching the first baby, “and Juliette.” He brushed his
elegant finger over a tiny, curled hand. Then he looked up at
Victoria with more than a trace of smugness in his eyes. “And of
course I was right. I knew it was a girl. And it
was—
two
girls. Not
even one boy. I couldn’t have been
more
right.”

Victoria rolled her eyes.
“Enjoy it now, Max, because with three women in the house, this
will probably be the last time
that
will ever happen.”

+ + +

I anticipate other short
stories to come in the future. Of course we must see if Max
is
ever
right
again, living in a house with three women, and whether he and
Victoria have any other children—and which, if any, are called to
be Venators—and whether he succeeded in destroying all of the
copies of
The Venators
(hint: he didn’t).

You can find the signup on
my website at ColleenGleason.com, or you may click
here
to be taken directly
to it.

And if you are curious about
whatever happened to the remaining copies of
The Venators
, you might check out my
latest release
Roaring
Midnight
, the first in a trilogy about
Macey Gardella, set in Roaring Twenties Chicago.

In addition, that mysterious
tome makes an appearance in a new series I am launching in
September 2013. The first book in the series is titled
The Clockwork Scarab
, and
it’s about Sherlock Holmes’s niece and Bram Stoker’s sister—who
happens to be a descendant of Victoria Gardella.