The Damned

by Nancy Holder; Debbie Viguié

  People were walking toward them in the lengthening shadows. Jenn squinted, making out the figures of her grandmother and Jamie, and she stiffened.

  “Jamie’s here to relieve me for sentry duty,” Noah reminded her. “I’ll go sit with Father Juan for a while.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, grateful to him.

  “Jenn.” Noah’s voice caught, and she looked up at him. His features softened, and he reached forward, looping an errant strand of dark auburn hair around her ear. As he lowered his hand, her heartbeat stuttered, and she felt a flush rush up her neck.

  “What?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  He quirked a half smile at her, then turned as her grandmother and Jamie approached.

  “Father Juan in there?” Jamie said, his voice ice cold. His neck was still bandaged.

  “Yes.”

  “Eri needs to talk to him.”

  “I’ll give him the message,” Jenn said.

  Jamie gave his head a sharp shake. “I will.”

  Fear shot through her, but she reminded herself that Noah would be in there too, and he would stop Jamie from doing anything crazy. She wasn’t sure what she thought Jamie might do. It had been easier to deal with him when he’d been off his game.

  “You’re on guard duty, Jamie,” Gramma Esther reminded him. “You can’t desert your post. C’mon, Jenn. Let’s walk.”

  “I will tell him,” Noah said to Jamie, nodding to Jenn as he unlocked the door and slipped inside, leaving Jamie standing at the door, fuming.

  Before Jenn could say anything, Esther turned and walked briskly away. Jenn followed.

  “You’re going to have to watch him,” Gramma Esther said.

  “We’re not much of a team, are we,” Jenn murmured.

  Her grandmother grunted. “Oh, child, the fights we used to have back in the day.” She shook her head. “It used to drive me crazy. I mean, we were fighting ‘the Man.’” She made air quotes. “Did we have to fight each other, too?”

  “That’s what I keep thinking,” Jenn said. “The Cursed Ones are threatening to annihilate us. Can’t we all just do the right thing?”

  “By whose definition?” Her grandmother took Jenn’s hand and laced her fingers through it. “We need to talk about what to do next. Greg contacted both of us. What did he tell you? Did he talk about Project Crusade?”

  Jenn’s brows shot up. “Project what?”

  “Crusade. Greg’s people have been systematically contacting resistance cells. They’re creating a database of information to help the cause.”

  “Like what?” Jenn asked. “What have they found out?”

  “He hasn’t told me. Maybe there’s nothing to tell, yet.”

  “Well, like what kind of database? For making a weapon? Dantalion was trying to create supersoldiers, and vampires that can walk in daylight. Did they finally retrieve some of that data?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know, Jenn. But here’s one thing I’ve learned: One person can make a difference. But no individual is more important than another.”

  Gramma Esther looked at her hard. “Our mission is not just to win the war. It’s to wipe vampires off the face of this earth. You as a hunter must agree with that.”

  “Yes,” Jenn said.

  “And that’s what Antonio was fighting for, when he was Antonio,” Gramma Esther added.

  “He still is Antonio,” Jenn said, balling her fists. “I know it.”

  Her grandmother stopped. The setting sun cast a halo around her gray hair. “I thought I understood the human heart. Before you and Heather were born, there were two people in this world I loved more than anything. Your grandfather and your father.”

  Her gaze grew steely. “But Papa Che is gone, and after what your father did, well, let’s say that I’ll never let my heart overrule my head again.”

  Jenn’s throat tightened. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “We need to win this war by whatever means are necessary. Our leaders will be faced with hard choices.”

  She gazed at her granddaughter with determination. “And you, my dear, are one of the leaders.”

  Holgar’s slurred, drugged howls hurt Skye’s heart as she waited for Father Juan to join her for their ritual. The moon was full, and Holgar was so loaded up on tranquilizers he wouldn’t be able to slip out of his cage—a pen, ironically, that had been used to contain livestock, same as Antonio’s. Skye had thrown a tarp over it so that no one would be able to see him during his transformation.

  Skye had spent an hour alone arranging branches and stones to make an altar for the ritual of Drawing Down the Moon. Then she had created a sacred pentagram with salt, and scattered rose petals that Father Juan had brought from Spain. She was touched to see that he’d also brought her an athame—a ritual knife—as well as a robe, herbs, oils, and crystals that could be used for a variety of rituals. When she’d asked him if he’d had any trouble getting any of it through security at the airport, he had simply smiled and shaken his head.

  Now, in her dark blue hooded silken robe, Skye couldn’t imagine a Catholic priest participating in this most sacred of witchly rites, in which the designated High Priestess of a coven’s ritual would become filled with the Goddess Herself. Growing up as a White Witch, Skye had witnessed the miracle dozens of times, as each adult woman of the coven assumed the role. She had dreamed of the day that she would stand in the center of the coven’s pentagram and greet each member by name, in the voice of their revered Sacred Mother. It was a rite of passage for female White Witches.

  Such an honor had never befallen Skye before. It would happen only if everyone who participated in the rite pledged their loyalty to the Goddess. But Father Juan had dedicated his life to the Christian god.

  In addition, Father Juan would be serving as Skye’s Long Arm of the Law—the male who would ensure the safety of the High Priestess as she invoked the forces of magick. It implied a relationship built on deep trust. She had not been trustworthy back in Salamanca. When she had applied to the academy, Father Juan had asked her straight out if she had any enemies who could prove a threat. The whole reason she’d gone to Salamanca was to learn how to protect herself from Estefan, but Skye had lied to Father Juan, and had continued to lie every time she’d heard Estefan’s voice in her head and hadn’t told anyone. Because of her untrustworthiness Eriko and Jamie had almost died, and Antonio had been captured by Aurora and made into what he was now.

  “Blessed be,” Father Juan said, stepping from the shadows and into the moonlight. He, too, was wearing a dark blue robe. He carried a long tree branch nearly as tall as he was in his left hand.

  “Merrily met,” she replied. “Please, come and join the circle.” He lifted his hood over his head. She could no longer see his face.

  She cleared her throat.

  “Father Juan, I have to ask you—can you set your Christian god aside to do this?”

  “Sí,” he replied firmly.

  “And focus only on the Trinity of the Goddess?”

  “Maiden, mother, crone,” he answered.

  “And you will serve as my high priest and do all things that I ask of you, in service to the Lady.”

  “I will.”

  “Blessed be,” she said.

  “Blessed be,” he intoned.

  “And we will harm none.”

  “An it harm none, do what thou wilt,” he assured her. “And I will make you safe.”

  “All right then. We are here to bring the Goddess into our midst, so that She can heal Antonio de la Cruz.”

  “So mote it be,” Father Juan said.

  “We are here to offer Her love and protection to Antonio de la Cruz, so that his spirit will no longer be troubled.”

  “So mote it be,” Father Juan said again. Then he stood beside her and extended the branch, moving in a circle and touching each of the points of her pentagram with its tip. “I am the Long Arm of the Law. No evil shall enter our circle. No imp, no succubus, no incubus, no d
emon. I stand the protector of the Lady Goddess and all who love her.”

  A wind blew at the rose petals. Father Juan tapped them with the branch.

  “All is calm,” he proclaimed. “All is bright.”

  The wind died down.

  Skye took deep breaths and felt the night all around her, the night that had grown so terrifying for humans. The moon had belonged to the Goddess, but the Cursed Ones had stolen it from Her. Witches were now afraid to worship under the stars, fearing Cursed Ones would slaughter them, and met in buildings instead.

  Imagining moonbeams on her hair, she let go of her resentments, her fears, and her heartaches as best she could. The reigning principle of the Goddess was love, and, as was said, great love cast out great fear.

  “I call out the name of three, three, three,” she murmured, using the words of her family’s tradition. She visualized the moonbeams traveling through her head and down her body, filling her heart with light. Moving down through her lower body, through her legs and then her toes, and into the chilly earth beneath her bare feet. Then down into the soil and the roots, and the soul of the world. “Queen of all light, of all night, of all right.”

  “Blessed be,” Father Juan said.

  They moved through the steps, invoking the Goddess. Skye kept waiting for a sign that she was doing the ritual properly, but she mustn’t hold any negative thought. She mustn’t hold any thought. She must purify herself, cleanse her heart, and make herself a vessel for the Goddess to inhabit. She must freely give up her own will and ego so that the Goddess could live through her.

  “Don’t try, Skye,” Father Juan said soothingly. “Just let it happen.”

  She could almost hear Holgar imitating Yoda: “Do or do not. There is no try.” Nervous laughter threatened to bubble out of her.

  And then the moonbeams became brighter, and she sensed the descent of the Goddess from Luna, the Moon, down the silvery paths of light to the field, and to the star of rose petals and salt, and to her.

  “Hecate, Selene, Diana,” a voice rolled out of her. “I am known but little known. Know me now.”

  The Goddess was wrapped in incandescent light. Slowly She rose in the gauzy mists of the northern lights, colors rolling around Her like blankets of shimmering velvet. The heavens shone as She ascended back into Her sphere until, gazing downward at the sapphire planet—the poor, sweet Earth—tears of compassion streamed from Her eyes and became stars.

  Love filled Her. Love was Her. And then the Goddess dissolved into Her vital essence, the one true particle that formed all creation: love. It billowed, and streamed, and filled, and danced. Love . . . loved.

  I have been with you in the beginning

  I shall be with you always

  in the endless spiral dance

  O soul,

  love in me

  “Love Antonio, I beseech Thee,” Father Juan murmured, as he fell on his knees before Skye. “Free him with Your love, my Lady.”

  “Antonio de la Cruz,” the Goddess said through Skye. “You are my beloved son.”

  Inside Antonio’s jail Esther and Jenn had finished their simple dinner of freeze-dried beef stew and were eating Oreos and drinking tea. It was their turn to sit with Antonio, who was guarded around the clock. Father Juan and Skye were performing a ritual, and Noah was walking the camp perimeter with Jamie and some of the Defenders.

  No one knew how hard it was for Jenn to sit there. Or maybe they did, and it just didn’t matter. Antonio had to be guarded. Jenn was one of the people who had to guard him. It was the mission.

  She stole a glance at her grandmother. Tough as nails, yes, but she had always been warm and loving with Jenn and Heather. Yet she had spoken of sacrifices and hard choices. What had her life in the underground really been like?

  Gramma Esther had commandeered a battery-powered TV and they were channel surfing. There was nothing worth watching. At the moment they were both staring at an idiotic sitcom about a human family who lived in Las Vegas and worked in a vampire-run casino. It was called Sun and Games.

  “Does anyone actually watch this?” Jenn grumbled.

  “I hear the ratings are sky-high,” Gramma Esther replied.

  “Let me out,” Antonio whispered.

  “Stop it,” Jenn said loudly, her stomach contracting. “We’re not listening to you.”

  Gramma Esther changed the channel. “Commercials, infomercial, another sitcom,” she said, groaning. She switched again.

  “Gramma,” Jenn said, stricken.

  Her father’s face filled the screen.

  “Change it,” Jenn pleaded, but Esther sat forward and turned up the sound.

  “Let me out,” Antonio insisted.

  The camera pulled back to reveal Solomon standing beside Jenn’s father, who was seated. Solomon’s hair was red, like Jenn’s. Even though she hated the sight of him, Jenn couldn’t deny that he was rock-star hot. He was wearing a black suit and a white shirt with no tie, and a silver chain with a peace-sign pendant.

  “We’re still looking for her,” Solomon was saying sadly. His hand was on Jenn’s dad’s shoulder. “We understand the confusion she must be feeling. There’s so much misinformation out there, so many false rumors. Jennifer Leitner, please, listen to your father.”

  The camera zoomed in on her father. He seemed impatient, his arms folded across his chest, his right index finger tapping almost continuously against his left arm.

  “Jenn,” her father began. “Solomon is right. We only want to help you, sweetheart. Certain facts have come to light. We understand now that you weren’t alone that terrible night. Someone forced you to do this awful thing.” His voice was stiff, flat.

  “He’s been hypnotized,” Jenn said.

  “Wait,” Esther said, moving toward the TV “Oh, my God.”

  “It’s Morse code,” Antonio said. “He’s tapping in Morse code.”

  Jenn leaped to her feet and looked at Antonio. But his attention was fixed on the TV.

  “‘Don’t come,’” he said in unison with Gramma Esther. “‘It’s a trap. I love you. I love you. I love you.’”

  Jenn’s knees gave way. Gramma Esther put her arms around her and held her. Jenn was afraid she was going to pass out.

  Antonio.

  “Daddy,” Jenn said, craning her neck over her grandmother’s shoulder to look at the TV. Her father sat stoically, no longer tapping, then made as if to wipe his eyes. “Oh, Gramma.”

  “Thank you for listening,” Solomon said on the screen. “If anyone has any information on this poor young woman, please come forward. We now know that what happened was not your fault, Jenn. Your father’s waiting to be reunited with you. If you see this message, please, contact us. We’re waiting for you with open arms.”

  Then the sitcom returned. The two women hugged each other tightly. Neither spoke.

  My father, Jenn thought, suddenly so dizzy she thought she might faint. Daddy. He had betrayed her, literally throwing her to the vampires. To Aurora, who had destroyed Antonio. She had torn her father out of her heart. Her hatred of him was white hot. But this . . . he was warning her, telling her he loved her. She didn’t know what to think, how to feel.

  “He loves you. He needs your forgiveness,” Antonio said from his cage.

  Jenn swallowed hard and looked up at him. His eyes were dark brown, not red. And his fangs had retracted.

  “Stay away from him,” her grandmother ordered.

  Kissing Gramma Esther’s cheek, Jenn walked to the cage. Antonio turned sideways and looked at the floor.

  “He needs your forgiveness,” he said. Then he buried his face in his hands and sank to his knees.

  Jenn couldn’t breathe. She looked at the bowed head, the slumped shoulders. Was the monster in the cage gone too? Had two miracles occurred?

  “First he needs his own forgiveness,” Gramma Esther said, taking Jenn’s hand and holding it tightly, as if Jenn might trust too much and get too close.

  “Antonio, is it r
eally you?” Jenn said.

  He let his hands drop, and she saw the anguish on his face, the raw need for release, as he threw back his head and stared up, as if at God Himself.

  In the distance Holgar howled, long, and low, and plaintively.

  “I don’t know, Jenn,” he said, as tears slid down his cheek. “Who am I?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MARCH 3, 1941

  TONIGHT I WILL LEAVE.

  I HAVE PRAYED ON MY KNEES IN THE CHAPEL FOR HOURS, LISTENING FOR THE WORD OF GOD. FATHER FRANCISCO HAS ORDERED ME TO STAY HERE AT THE SEMINARY AT THE UNIVERSITY OF SALAMANCA. I WANT TO GO TO THE BATTLEFIELD. I WANT TO FIGHT AS A SOLDIER AND CUT HITLER’S ARMIES DOWN. BUT FATHER FRANCISCO HAS REMINDED ME THAT GOD IS FIGHTING BATTLES FOR SOULS, AND I’M CLOSE TO TAKING MY HOLY ORDERS—JUST WEEKS AWAY. HE SAYS THAT ONCE I AM ANOINTED, I WILL BECOME A LION OF GOD, LIKE ST. MICHAEL. I WILL FIGHT AGAINST SATAN AND HIS DEMONS.

  BACK IN MY VILLAGE I WAS SO IN LOVE WITH LITA. SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL AND FUNNY; SHE WANTED ME TO MARRY HER, AND FOR US TO HAVE MANY CHILDREN. IT WAS WHAT SHE WANTED, AND PART OF ME WANTED IT TOO. BUT I BELIEVED THAT GOD’S PLAN WAS FOR ME TO BECOME A PRIEST.

  WHEN THE BOMBS FELL, SHE DIED ALONG WITH MY ENTIRE FAMILY. AND I WAS SAFE INSIDE SALAMANCA, SINGING CHANTS WITH MY BROTHERS. UNTOUCHED. UNHARMED.

  I WAS SO ASHAMED.

  REST IN PEACE, DEAR LITA.

  ADOLF HITLER IS CONQUERING THE WORLD, SENDING THE HELPLESS TO HIS DEATH CAMPS. NOT JUST JEWS BUT GYPSIES, THE DISABLED, THE INFIRM. THIS CANNOT STAND. THIS WILL NOT STAND. GOOD MEN ARE JOINING THE CRUSADE AGAINST EVIL AND TYRANNY. AND I AM A GOOD MAN.

  ONCE AGAIN THE WORLD BEYOND THE WALLS OF MY CHURCH CALLS ME TO THE BATTLE. THIS TIME I AM GOING. AND I SWEAR ON MY SOUL THAT I SHALL NEVER LET ANOTHER PERSON I LOVE COME TO HARM.

  —FROM THE DIARY OF ANTONIO DE LA CRUZ,

  FOUND ROTTING IN THE CATACOMBS

  MONTANA

  TEAM SALAMANCA, ESTHER,

  AND THE RESISTANCE

  Flush with the apparent success of their ritual, Skye and Father Juan sat in chairs outside Antonio’s cell. His own chair, safely behind the bars, formed the base of their triangle. In the center, in a circle of cumin, cloves, and juniper berries, a crystal ball caught the lights of candles Skye had placed at the north, south, east, and west. A white candle burned to invoke pure contact with spirit. A black candle burned, to repel evil and lay open Antonio’s unconscious mind. There was turquoise, for humanity; gray, to neutralize evil. Father Juan had added a missal, his rosary beads, and a vial of holy water to the altar.