Wide awake, his ears attuned to the noises in the building, Sands began to
get a picture in his mind's eye of just where he was. A very large
structure. Old. Two to three hundred years old by the smell of it. And
he was in the basement, it would seem by the stone scent wafting faintly
from beneath the layers of paint.
The deduction didn't get him far in his escape plan. He didn't even know
what country he was in. The fact that Viscalli was here tended to make him
think he was in Europe somewhere, because Viscalli had never been seen
outside of his home continent. Still, the information was useless unless
he could escape the infernal bonds that held him pinned to the unyielding
surface. Anger flushed through him at the thought of his confinement, and
he jerked hard against the bonds. Uselessly hard. And again. Damn it!
Abberline had warned him.
His thoughts flew back to, what was it? Just last night? After he had stirred Victoria toward Andre, Sands had taken off to find Quinn and let him know about the attack earlier.
* *
Sands moved through the richly decorated foyer to a hallway. A security camera followed his progress. The marble floors in this area of the mansion were no longer black and white, but natural off-white. A strip of a very thick oriental rug ran the length of the hallway. He stopped at the doorway to the stairway midway down on the hall's left side. Having very little trust in his fellow vampires, Sands held several theories about them, one of which was that some of them were out for his blood, literally. He therefore never took the elevators in Abberline house. They were too confining, too much like coffins for his taste, and too easily to be trapped in.
His feet padded lightly down the two flights of steps to where the Guardians had their ever-active lair in the second level of the basement. There were at least three floors below the Guardians' level, but Sands never went there, except to pass them by as he came or went via the labyrinth. He usually entered the clan house through the subterranean routes, never the same way two times in a row. His C.I.A. training had only reinforced his tendencies to be careful
Glancing up, Sands caught the electronic eye of a surveillance camera watching his every move and he cast a wide smile at it, acknowledging his audience. There was a soft click as he reached the door and he opened it. The Guardians' domain was not well lit. They kept it dimly illuminated as another form of protection. If needs be, Sands knew, they could flip a switch and flood the entire floor with blinding white light, which could theoretically momentarily blind any who dared intrude. He knew exactly where he wanted to go and wound his way around a corner and into the open office of Sebastian Quinn. The other vampire, besides being a comrade in arms, had been Sands' friend since the English Civil War. They were both Royalists then, both found themselves hiding out when Cromwell's forces tried hunting down any of the crown's supporters, and both ended up briefly in France along with the younger Charles while he lived in exile.
Before him sat Quinn at a broad desk, everything neatly organized, a computer monitor on his left, a phone with multiple buttons to his right. Two inches taller than Sands, Quinn had similar coloring, except for intensely dramatic blue eyes rimmed in thick black lashes. Now his dark head turned from the monitor towards Sands, a smile on his handsome, eternally thirty-something face.
His thoughts flew back to, what was it? Just last night? After he had stirred Victoria toward Andre, Sands had taken off to find Quinn and let him know about the attack earlier.
* *
Sands moved through the richly decorated foyer to a hallway. A security camera followed his progress. The marble floors in this area of the mansion were no longer black and white, but natural off-white. A strip of a very thick oriental rug ran the length of the hallway. He stopped at the doorway to the stairway midway down on the hall's left side. Having very little trust in his fellow vampires, Sands held several theories about them, one of which was that some of them were out for his blood, literally. He therefore never took the elevators in Abberline house. They were too confining, too much like coffins for his taste, and too easily to be trapped in.
His feet padded lightly down the two flights of steps to where the Guardians had their ever-active lair in the second level of the basement. There were at least three floors below the Guardians' level, but Sands never went there, except to pass them by as he came or went via the labyrinth. He usually entered the clan house through the subterranean routes, never the same way two times in a row. His C.I.A. training had only reinforced his tendencies to be careful
Glancing up, Sands caught the electronic eye of a surveillance camera watching his every move and he cast a wide smile at it, acknowledging his audience. There was a soft click as he reached the door and he opened it. The Guardians' domain was not well lit. They kept it dimly illuminated as another form of protection. If needs be, Sands knew, they could flip a switch and flood the entire floor with blinding white light, which could theoretically momentarily blind any who dared intrude. He knew exactly where he wanted to go and wound his way around a corner and into the open office of Sebastian Quinn. The other vampire, besides being a comrade in arms, had been Sands' friend since the English Civil War. They were both Royalists then, both found themselves hiding out when Cromwell's forces tried hunting down any of the crown's supporters, and both ended up briefly in France along with the younger Charles while he lived in exile.
Before him sat Quinn at a broad desk, everything neatly organized, a computer monitor on his left, a phone with multiple buttons to his right. Two inches taller than Sands, Quinn had similar coloring, except for intensely dramatic blue eyes rimmed in thick black lashes. Now his dark head turned from the monitor towards Sands, a smile on his handsome, eternally thirty-something face.