“Jenn? Good,” her grandmother said, as he and she walked back inside. Esther held up a cell phone. “Marti just got a call. The press conference will be held next Friday. That’s six days and eighteen hundred miles.”
“Plenty of time, if we kick it,” Jamie said.
“Not enough time,” Noah murmured.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jenn told him under her breath, and went to join the others.
PARIS, FRANCE
AURORA
Aurora rested on the brocade settee, enjoying the view of Paris at night. She liked hotel rooms. No matter how bad the mess, one didn’t have to clean it up. She rather liked the washes of red on this particular white carpet. It gave a touch of color to the gold and ivory design of the massive suite.
Louis, her lieutenant, entered her sitting room. The man bowed low, and unlike some, he meant the courtly gesture.
“Where do we stand?” she asked, crossing her legs as she leaned back her head.
“Our troops are assembling,” Louis said. “And the resistance is back in America, chasing after Solomon.”
“And Antonio de la Cruz is back at the university?”
“Our lookout at the airport confirmed it,” Louis assured her.
She suppressed any telling reaction of relief. They had to believe that she was in full control. In truth, however, she was petrified that her sire would find out that she had had Antonio de la Cruz—and that she’d lost him. It had been stupid of her to take him back to Las Vegas. But she didn’t have connections in Russia, and she’d been unnerved by what had happened to Dantalion.
She’d thought to frighten Dantalion a little by picking off some of his monsters before she grabbed Antonio. But after she’d left the palace grounds, his entire headquarters had blown up. She’d sent some vampires back to have a look. They’d sent pictures to her phone. The wreckage was incredible. There was no sign of Dantalion himself, but it was quite possible he’d been blown to such tiny bits that he was still “there.”
“There’s something else,” Estefan said as he casually entered the room. Aurora was irritated with the Dark Witch for not knocking and asking permission to enter. Estefan was pushy and presumptuous. What had the little White Witch seen in him?
“Go on, Estefan,” she said imperiously.
Estefan paused as if for dramatic effect. He looked so smug. Aurora had just about had enough. Louis looked irritated too. Maybe it was time to get rid of Estefan.
“Sergio Almodóvar is in Madrid,” Estefan announced.
She and Louis both blinked at him in surprise. “Madrid?”
“Sí. And he’s getting ready to go to Salamanca.”
Alarmed, she leaped to her feet. Sergio would not take her prize. “Let’s go,” she said.
MADRID
SERGIO ALMODÓVAR AND PHILIPPE GAUDET
While Philippe Gaudet looked on, Sergio sat on his throne in the bloodstained chamber and remembered every detail of the last time he had set eyes on Antonio de la Cruz. In 1942. In the center of this very room, surrounded by Sergio’s subjects. On a night designed to honor Antonio, the young vampire had presented Sergio with a Hunter. And then Antonio had fled. Why? What had happened to him that night?
Sergio wanted to know. Had to know. And so did Sergio’s sire, who at this very moment stood on the brink of creating the Vampire Kingdom here on earth. His sire was very interested in Antonio. If one vampire could lose his way as completely as Antonio had, it could happen to another. To many. Such a catastrophe could not stand. Sergio’s sire wanted to study Antonio—and Sergio would do anything to give Antonio to him.
“You’re firm in your resolve,” Sergio said to Philippe Gaudet. Philippe was a vampire like his brother, Christian Gaudet, who had ruled the French Quarter of New Orleans. After Aurora had murdered Christian, Philippe had come in secret to Sergio to exact his revenge. “You’ll join with me to take Antonio before Aurora gets him.”
Philippe nodded. “If you let me stake her. Aurora killed my brother. She’s lower than the dust on my boots.”
“Done,” Sergio said. Sergio wanted to believe Philippe, but he’d been betrayed before. “And you’re sure she’s in Paris?”
Philippe nodded. “I have excellent spies. The resistance recaptured Antonio, and they took him to Salamanca University. He’s there now. And Aurora’s planning to go in after him.”
Sergio smiled. “But she’s not there yet.”
“She’s not there yet,” Philippe replied.
Sergio tapped his fingers on the arms of his throne. “If only she’d come to me. She was always so competitive. I already told our sire what she did. She had Antonio, Philippe. But rather than bring him to me, or to our sire, she played with him.” Sergio didn’t add that apparently Aurora had managed to return Antonio to his natural vampiric state. He would force Aurora to tell him how she’d done it, before she died.
Philippe shrugged. “Then she deserves what’s coming to her.”
“Agreed,” Sergio said, but his unbeating heart felt small and cold in his chest. The story of Aurora Abregón and Sergio Almodóvar was the stuff of legends.
Maybe I won’t let him kill her. Love is so complicated.
And inconvenient.
“Then you have my support. The vampires of Gaudet will be there,” Philippe said.
“Vale,” Sergio said, rising. He gazed at the exact spot where Antonio had dropped the Hunter. Such pride. Such a vampire. He would have been a prince. Then he had become nothing but the lapdog of humans. Since Aurora had gotten through to Antonio, Sergio should reward her, not kill her.
After he captured Antonio himself.
“We should get ready,” he told Philippe.
As Sergio’s boots echoed on the stone floor, he heard: I will kill her; I won’t. I will; I won’t.
He just couldn’t decide.
SALAMANCA
FATHER JUAN, ANTONIO, AND HEATHER
Heather had spent forever in the cage down in the dark, dank basement of the university. She’d heard rustling, movement—which turned out to be rats—and she couldn’t get Father Giovanni to tell her anything about what was happening. He was afraid of her.
She liked that.
When the door opened, Heather was surprised to see that another priest and the vampire were both there. She remembered both of them vaguely, like a long-forgotten dream. This Cursed One seemed somehow different to her than her fragmented memories of him, though. More like . . . her.
“Heather, how are you?” the vampire asked very slowly.
She hissed at him.
The priest ventured closer than the vampire did, and he spoke low, soothingly. “We’re sorry we’ve been gone so long.”
“Jenn,” Heather said.
“What?” the priest asked, looking at her. She remembered now: His name was Father Juan.
“I smell Jenn.” She closed her eyes. Her sister’s scent was coming, very faintly, from both of them. They had been with her. They had seen her.
“She’s doing well,” Father Juan assured her.
Heather hissed again. “I smell fear on you. I smell terror.”
Father Juan bowed his head. “It’s true. I am afraid.”
“Not on you. On you,” she said to the vampire. “And I smell other things.” She backed away from him.
“What?” the vampire asked her. Antonio. That was his name. He loved her sister. Her sister, who was human. While she, Heather, was not.
“Death,” she told him. “You reek of it.”
EN ROUTE TO WASHINGTON, D.C.
TEAM SALAMANCA MINUS ANTONIO
AND ESTHER LEITNER’S DEFENDERS
Our mission has changed so much, Jenn thought. We were trained to kill vampires, not hijack the airwaves. This is more up Noah’s alley. And Antonio’s, when he fought the Germans back in World War II.
Three dozen people in eight vans and cars were driving toward Washington, D.C. Jenn’s mother had stayed behind in Montana. Jenn and Noah were sitt
ing on the floor of a panel van with the passenger seats taken out for roominess. Noah had been trying to explain how “the operation” was going to work. He had diagrams and sketches of cell phones, cell towers, radio towers, and satellites, and her eyes were glazing over. Apparently, it was more complicated than holding up a boom box. She was having major doubts about the plan, and she had attempted to express them. But no one had paid attention. People were tired of sitting around in the wilds of Montana.
Noah, Jamie, Eriko, Skye, and Holgar were in sleeping bags on the floor. Taamir had gone in a different vehicle. Jenn and Noah were the only two still up. They were chewing cinnamon gum and staring at documents together. She had no idea how old he was. If he was in the Israeli special forces, he must be in his mid to late twenties.
Younger than Antonio by a long shot.
He sighed and looked at her.
“This is crazy, this whole thing,” he said around his gum. “Washington will be crawling with vampires and loyal humans. Loyal to the established regime,” he added. “We need more time.”
Great minds think alike, she thought.
“We’re out of time,” she said, remembering her last conversation with Greg. “Maybe there will be a miracle.”
“I’m very pragmatic,” he told her.
“Hey, Israel, pipe down. Some of us are trying to sleep,” Jamie groused.
“Jamie,” Eriko reproved.
“The Voice of the Resistance said he’d help,” Jenn reminded Noah. Through Father Juan’s efforts to locate and unite resistance cells, “Kent” had e-mailed him and offered to help. He said he would put them on the air. Noah was double and triple-checking to see if Kent could deliver on that promise.
Jenn’s cell phone rang. It was Father Juan. Her heart skipped beats as she connected. Noah very politely moved away as best he could, picking up a map of the National Mall, where Solomon and President Kilburn would hold their press conference.
“Jenn,” Father Juan said. “How are things?”
She lowered her voice. “I’m kind of . . .”
“Having second thoughts?” he filled in. “Kent called me directly. He confirmed everything. He wants to meet in an Internet café off the I-70 in Maryland. He’ll give me more details if you agree.”
“Good,” she said. “But I’ll have to run it by the others.”
Noah looked over at her, and she held up a finger to indicate that she’d fill him in later. He nodded and unwrapped another stick of gum.
“Very well,” Father Juan said. “Your grandmother still has a lot of those prepaid cell phones, sí? We’ll set up a call with one of those.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “How is Antonio?”
“Hmm. It’s hard to say, Jenn. He asked me to put him in a cell next to Heather. He says he has bad times and good times. I used Skye’s arcana to cast a strong protection spell. Please thank her for allowing me to use them. And the Circuit has agreed to help. A witch is going to come to the university to work with me.”
“Oh, that’s great.” She smiled hopefully. “Gracias.”
“De nada, Jenn. Ah. Father Giovanni is signaling me. We have a new security system, very fancy. He’s teaching me how to use it.”
“Then I’ll let you go,” she said, not wanting to. She wanted to hear more about Antonio. “I’ll tell everybody about the meeting, and I’ll get you a number for the prepaid phone.”
“Bueno. Go with God, Jenn.”
“The same to you,” she replied a bit awkwardly.
Then he stayed on the line a moment. She could hear him breathing.
“Father?” she asked.
“It’s nothing,” he replied. “Just . . . be careful.”
He hung up. Spooked, she did the same. Noah raised a brow. “How is Antonio?”
She flushed. “Better, I think.”
“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Jamie said loudly.
“We should sleep too,” Noah said to Jenn. He handed her a pillow. She lay down facing away from him, hyperaware as he lay down too. His breath was warm against the back of her head.
Jenn began to doze, imagining the sun shining on Antonio’s face. They would save her father, and Heather would be human again . . . so many dreams . . .
Holgar yipped. Jamie was snoring.
Behind Jenn, Noah moaned in his sleep. “Chayna,” he muttered. He turned his head, and she saw the large silver Star of David pendant around his neck.
Suddenly the van stopped, throwing Jenn against Noah, who grabbed her. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Jenn sat up. Noah thrust a submachine gun into her arms.
“What the bloody hell?” Jamie shouted.
Shouts and gunfire erupted, and the panel door slid open.
A dozen soldiers in flak jackets and helmets held submachine guns on them. Jenn kept her weapon up. Noah did the same, and by the sounds of clacking, the rest of Salamanca had as well. Jenn’s heart was thundering.
“Who are you?” she shouted.
The soldiers parted, and Greg stood before her. Black suit, no sunglasses.
“It’s all right, Jenn. Lower your weapons.”
“Bloody hell,” Jamie said. “That’s the voice, Jenn. The man with Dantalion. White cammies.”
“What?” Holgar and Skye said in unison.
Jenn stared at Greg, who looked puzzled. “Excuse me?” he asked.
“It is,” Jamie insisted. “Shoot him!”
As if on cue, Greg’s soldiers took a step forward. Noah grunted. Jenn sighted down her weapon directly at Greg’s face.
“Woof,” Holgar said.
“I can assure you, I have not been to Russia, and I have never met Dantalion,” Greg said.
“Liar!” Jamie bellowed.
“Jamie, easy, please,” Skye said. “We don’t want to start anything.”
“Uh, yeah, we do,” Jamie shot back.
“Jenn, listen. We got wind of your operation, and we’re shutting you down. We need the tape,” Greg said. “The one you want to play at the conference.”
“Tape? What century are you living in?” Jamie said, snorting. “We’re digital. We got backups from here to County Cork. We got people all over the place. That convo’s going to be played at that press conference, you feckin’ traitor.”
“Jamie-kun, please stay calm,” Eriko murmured. “Please.”
“Recording, then. That was a misstatement by an old man,” Greg said. “You’re going to waste it, Jenn.” Greg was speaking directly to her. “No one’s going to believe you. It’ll cause a minor stir, and then Solomon and the president will smooth it over. They’ll say it was a fake. And you’ll have died for nothing.”
“We iain’t planning on dying, thank you very much,” Jamie said.
“He’s right,” Noah interjected. “This man.” He gestured at Greg with his chin.
“But isn’t this what you want?” Jenn asked Greg. “For us to distract everyone while you do whatever it is you’re doing?”
“Jenn, think,” Greg said. “We took Dr. Sherman. He was working on the virus. Dantalion sent Solomon his data on supervampires.”
“How do you know that?” Jamie demanded.
Greg just smiled at him sadly. “Son,” he said, “we’re on the same side.”
“Go on,” Jenn said.
“We’re in the process of stealing the files from Solomon,” Greg said. “But we don’t need any flags on our play.”
“I heard you,” Jamie cut in. “He was in that lab, Jenn. We can’t trust him.”
“It doesn’t matter if we trust him or not,” Noah countered. “They have more guns than we do.”
Greg ticked a glance at Noah. Appraised him. Nodded.
“This one’s a keeper,” he said to Jenn. Despite everything she blushed.
She couldn’t decide if she should tell him that the Voice of the Resistance was going to help them. What if Jamie was right? What if Greg was one of the bad guys? For all she knew, Greg might use them as bait for Kent.
Just then, Gramma Esther approached the van. Her face was grim, and she was unarmed. Her gray hair was tousled around her shoulders. Greg saw her. She raised a hand and moved past Greg to Jenn. Jenn lowered her weapon. Noah did not.
Gramma Esther gave Jenn’s shoulder a pat.
“Greg and I talked,” Gramma Esther said, “I’ve discussed the situation with the other Defenders. We’re going to do it his way.”
“But you didn’t discuss it with me,” Jenn argued.
“With us,” Jamie corrected her.
Noah cleared his throat. He shrugged his shoulders and made a face as if to indicate that Jenn should listen to her grandmother.
Gramma Esther turned to Greg. “Did you tell her?”
Greg shook his head. Esther exhaled and gave Jenn’s shoulder another squeeze.
“Honey, Greg’s people have gotten word about your academy. While you’ve been here, the Catholic Church ordered Father Juan to disband it. He’s refused. He and a bunch of students are occupying the buildings, but something’s going to happen one way or the other. I don’t know when, but I think you’re needed.”
“No,” Jenn said. “I just talked to him a little while ago. Just now.”
“Then he was keeping it from you,” Gramma Esther said.
“There’s been a lot of movement around the university,” Greg cut in. “We’re thinking they might try to forcibly evict them.”
“Oh, God, no,” Jenn breathed. What will happen to Antonio, then? And Heather?
“This is all a lie,” Jamie said. “They’re setting us up to abandon the mission.”
There was a long silence. Another. Then Jenn said, “That’s because this isn’t our mission. We’re going home.”
SALAMANCA
FATHER JUAN AND ANTONIO
“Find peace, my son,” Father Juan told Antonio, who was praying inside his fortified cell. He had given Antonio a rosary and a missal. The arcana of the Church.
In the cell over, Heather had pulled her blanket over herself again.
“Gracias, Padre,” Antonio replied.
Buoyed, Father Juan climbed the stairs to the ground floor of the building. Antonio seemed much better. Jenn had called him back, given him some grief for having hidden the dire situation at the university, and told him that the mission to Washington had been canceled. Jenn and the team—plus the two men from the Middle East—were already on a flight home.
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