The Damned

by Nancy Holder; Debbie Viguié

  Taamir angled the knife upward underneath the creature’s rib cage, slicing it open. As the creature roared and bled, Taamir pushed his hand through the wound.

  “Go for the heart!” Holgar shouted.

  Slowly, with his waning strength, Taamir pushed his hand more deeply inside. The wolf howled and thrashed. The pack howled.

  “Have it.”

  The wolf chomped at Taamir with its massive jaws. It panted and struggled.

  “Allah . . . ,” Taamir murmured. Blood coated his arm.

  With a final howl the wolf collapsed on top of him.

  “Ah,” Taamir breathed. Then he went slack, and his eyes became glassy, and vacant.

  “Taamir,” Noah said, his voice strangled. “Taamir, no!”

  “Jenn!” shouted a voice.

  It was Antonio.

  Skye choked on her own terror as Estefan approached her. She kept trying to engage vampires, but they shied away from her, as if they knew that she was marked as his. Dark hair, eyes blacker than black, he smiled a smile that was easy and mean.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” she told him, raising her hands to ward off his magicks.

  He sighed. “You might not want to, borachín, but you’re going to.”

  He lobbed a fireball at her, and she extinguished it in midair.

  “Very good,” he said with a smile. “But is that all?”

  He raised his hands toward her, and fireballs rolled off his fingertips with the speed of bullets from a machine gun.

  Skye cried out and threw up a shield. The first ten dissolved against it, but her shield shimmered in the air, weakening, and the next three fireballs burrowed into it, lodging for a moment before dissolving. She desperately tried to repair her protective shield, but the next fireball came right through, buzzing her head and setting one of her Rasta braids on fire.

  As she slapped it out, Estefan approached. “You know, Skye, if you won’t fight me, I can only conclude that you still love me. You want me.”

  “That’s a bloody lie.”

  She didn’t love him anymore. She hated him. But her vows to harm none prevented her from hurting even him. And all her magick was defensive. But he’s attacking me. I should be able to defend myself, she thought.

  She glanced over at Holgar, hoping that he would see her distress and come to her aid. Maybe he would kill Estefan, and she would be free. But Holgar was battling a werewolf, his bare hands against the creature’s fangs and claws. And even though he was in human form, Holgar was biting back, snapping his jaws so hard she could hear the sound carrying through the air.

  “Ay, Skye,” Estefan said.

  He was grinning from ear to ear; suddenly he moved super fast, and he was standing next to her.

  “Miss me?” he whispered in her ear as he clamped a wet rag over her mouth. Panic surged through her as she realized he was drugging her. His face melted like wax. Then, a moment later, the world went black.

  “Jenn,” Antonio said, fighting his way toward her. The moon ranged over his features and hair, slapping him with shadow, flooding him with light. Then he became a blur as he moved faster than her eyes could track him. When she saw him again, a vampire was disintegrating into a shower of dust in front of him. “Heather is safe.”

  “Antonio,” she said, tears and sweat flying. “God, God, what’s happening?”

  Antonio blurred again; she tried to fight her way toward Aurora, but Cursed Ones blocked her at every turn. Safety in numbers; they were cocky but she just kept moving, spinning, twisting, stakes flying off the ends of her fingers.

  The combatants were all moving closer together as the survivors kept pushing forward to find the next adversary. Jenn tried to keep Aurora and Eriko in her sights, but like Antonio the pair was moving at staggering speed, no more than a blur of motion.

  Still Jenn kept moving, working her way toward them. She would see Aurora dead if it was the last thing she did.

  Antonio had brought Heather to Father Juan, who was saying last rites on the chapel steps for a dying student. She had been unconscious, and Antonio had told him that she should remain that way. Father Juan had put a blanket over her and left her there, taking up stakes and holy water to join the battle. Next thing Father Juan knew, he saw her fleeing the scene of destruction at the university heading in the opposite direction, into the rocky hills outside the school.

  “Heather!” he shouted. He gave chase, but she had too much of a head start. Then she waved her hands over her head, and the darkness devoured her.

  “Father,” Holgar cried, despairing, as he threw his father’s body off himself.

  Then someone rammed into his back and bit him with human teeth, ripping out a chunk of flesh. He yelped and spun, seeing only a flash of long blond hair as he drove a stake into the chest of the person who had attacked him.

  It wasn’t a vampire; it was a werewolf in human form. And as she fell to the ground, blood gushing from her chest, Holgar recognized Kirstinne. His heart stuttered as he saw her face contorted in pain and surprise. He dropped to his knees beside her.

  “Why?” he whispered. “Why did you do this?”

  She stared up at him. “You’re my enemy,” she said, blood bubbling on her lips.

  “I’m your pack mate. We were promised to each other.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Her head fell to the side, and the light left her eyes. He heard a roar of rage and grief behind him, and in his heart he knew it came from Kirstinne’s mate.

  The man slammed into him from behind, flipping him head over heels, tearing at him with teeth and nails as he tumbled. Holgar came down on all fours and turned, snarling and snapping his jaws together.

  Kirstinne’s scent was all over the other as they circled one another, looking for an opening. Holgar wished he could shift; everything in him wanted to tear the other man’s throat out.

  And then he realized he didn’t have to be a wolf to do that.

  He lunged forward, diving downward as if he were going to try and break the other’s arm. The man swiped at him with a hand, nails drawing blood against Holgar’s cheek. And then Holgar contorted his body, pushing off from the ground, and locked his teeth into the other man’s throat—his teeth, which were sharper than a human’s, slicing through skin until they punctured the jugular vein.

  Blood spilled over both of them. The other jerked backward, tearing his throat more in the process. He whimpered once, twice, and then collapsed on top of Kirstinne. Joined in death as in life.

  Holgar spat into the dirt and wiped his mouth on what was left of his shirt. He stood slowly, limbs shaking, wondering who had seen what he had done. The others were engaged in their own life-and-death struggles and weren’t paying attention to him.

  He threw back his head and howled. He had killed his father. And he had killed the wolf he had loved.

  Holgar staggered, punch-drunk with grief. He would have given in to it, would have lost himself in remorse, until his heart began to pound even harder than it had when he’d killed Kirstinne.

  Where was his hunting partner?

  Where was Skye?

  Jamie staked another Curser. His eyes flashed to Eriko. Six vamps stood between Jamie and her. Eriko was still fighting Aurora, and Jamie, Antonio, and Jenn were pounding through the suckers to close in on them. Jamie registered briefly that Antonio appeared to be fighting on the proper side again.

  Eriko thrust a stake at Aurora’s heavy chestpiece, but the vampire blocked it with ease and knocked it to the ground.

  Quick as thought, Eriko pulled out another stake and brandished it before her, feinting left and right. Aurora rushed forward, knocking her off her feet, and Jamie screamed as he saw Aurora sink her fangs into Eriko’s neck.

  He ran forward, kicking someone’s leg out of his way. Then that someone’s hand grabbed Jamie’s ankle, which sent him sprawling on the ground. It was a Curser. He gave the feckin’ bastard a pounding until the fanger let go, then staked him good. Wiping v
ampire dust out of his eyes, Jamie picked himself up and saw Eriko and Aurora grappling together, rolling back and forth as each strove for the upper hand.

  Eriko threw Aurora off and jumped to her feet. Her quiver was empty, and with a warning shout Jamie prepared to toss her a stake. But she was moving so fast that Jamie couldn’t see her. Calculating her trajectory, he flung the stake into the air; Eriko reappeared as she plucked it out of the air and leaped after Aurora, who lay sprawled flat on her back.

  As though in slow motion he watched Aurora’s hand wrap around one of the fallen stakes on the ground and bring it up, just as Eriko closed on her.

  “No!” he yelled. “God, Eri, no!”

  Too late.

  Time dragged to a near standstill. His shout echoed in his mind.

  Aurora sank her stake into Eriko’s chest. Eriko grunted, dropped her stake, and collapsed.

  Time stopped.

  It stopped.

  It bleedin’ stopped.

  “Eri,” he whispered, hurtling through the air.

  Aurora pushed Eriko off like a feather and raced for the high wall surrounding what had once been the university. In a flash she stood on top of the wall, laughing hysterically.

  Jamie slammed against the ground. He crawled to Eriko. The blood was pumping out around the stake embedded in Eriko’s chest. Her chest rose. She was alive.

  “Skye! We need you now!” Jamie shouted.

  “Skye?” Jenn echoed, falling to her knees beside Jamie. “Skye?”

  Jenn grabbed Eriko’s hand. To the fallen Hunter she said, “Eriko, listen to me; you can deal with this. Just concentrate and let your body heal.”

  “Bloody hell, Eri, damn you, don’t you leave me,” Jamie bellowed.

  Eriko smiled—actually smiled. She never did that. She looked up at both of them and gazed with something that could have been love, had there been more time, at Jamie.

  “Hai.”

  And then she was gone.

  “Sergio?” Aurora called. “¿Mi amor? Time to go, don’t you think?”

  “He’s dead!” Antonio yelled at her, shoving and staking his way through vampires and leaping over freshly killed werewolves. Holgar was howling. Jenn and Jamie were crouched over someone on the ground. Skye, where was she? And Heather?

  “He’s dead!” Antonio shouted again, gaining on Aurora. Kicking, punching, staking. Vampire after vampire fell in his wake. He had never fought so hard nor so savagely. Antonio’s mind raced backward in time to Madrid, when he and Sergio had brutalized the humans, their death-dealing an evil whirling dervish of destruction. He moved that way again, everything inside him focused on one goal—to kill Aurora.

  Aurora stopped laughing. She gaped at him. “¡Mentira!” she finally shouted. Lie.

  “I killed him myself,” Antonio said. “And I’m going to kill you!”

  The expression on her face spurred him on. She was genuinely frightened. “Estefan!” she shouted. Then she looked past him to the grounds, to her left and right. “Louis!”

  Something hit Antonio on the back of his head. He was undeterred, whipping his arm around and flinging a stake into the chest of a vampire, then crawling toward Aurora, bloodlust washing over him in waves. He would rip her apart. He would drink her filthy blood and grind her to dust.

  “No!” she shrieked. “Keep him away! My sire! My sire! Help me!”

  His hands dug into the dirt as he dragged himself forward. He brought up his legs, preparing to spring—

  “Lucifer!” she screamed.

  A wall of flames shot between the two of them. It was the basement all over again, except this time the fire separated him from his target. He felt the heat licking at him; his skin prickled, then ached; the pain intensified to a nearly unbearable level as he kept moving forward, kept going. Through the flames he could see her bewilderment.

  “Kill. You,” he managed, and then the fire took him over. He was ablaze. He thought of Jenn; he was failing her. God, he was burning.

  “Antonio, Antonio, stop,” Jenn said. Fire raged around him. Burned him. He cried out for it to stop.

  Then he became aware that Father Juan was speaking in Latin over him. He was calling on the angels. On the archangels. His voice penetrated Antonio’s panic.

  I am safe, Antonio thought.

  He lay still.

  “Oh, my God, Antonio,” Jenn cried. She threw her arms around him, but Father Juan dragged her backward.

  “Stay away from him,” Father Juan said in a high, fearful voice. “I’m exorcising him. Aurora called on the Devil, and next thing we know, he’s out of his mind.”

  “Oh, God, oh, God, Antonio,” Jenn said.

  Antonio bolted upright, then got to his feet. He whirled around, then stared down at his hands.

  Then at Jenn.

  He was bewildered.

  “I was burning,” he said. “I was set on fire.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “She called the name of Lucifer,” Father Juan said, crossing himself. After a beat Antonio did too.

  Then the truth dawned on Antonio:

  “She was calling on her sire. She called him Lucifer.”

  “Can that be the name of a vampire?” Father Juan asked.

  “We—they—worship the gods of death,” Antonio explained.

  “Lucifer is a fallen angel. A creature of light,” Father Juan said.

  “Many of the dark gods promise light to their followers,” Antonio replied. “It is said that through them vampires will walk in the light.” His lips parted. “She called upon him, and I felt the flames.”

  “She mesmerized you,” Jenn ventured.

  He reached out to touch her. Father Juan held her tightly. Whatever ground Antonio had gained with them, with her, he seemed to have lost. What else did I do, while I was hallucinating? he wondered, worried and ashamed.

  “I don’t think so. Maybe her sire can mesmerize from afar. Or . . . I was bewitched.”

  Antonio heard a wild, ragged howl, and his eyes sought out the source. Holgar was standing, holding a piece of black cloth, his head thrown back. A few feet from them one of the first-year students Antonio had seen during the fighting was sitting cross-legged on the ground.

  Twenty feet away, Noah knelt over the body of Taamir, whispering prayers to Adonai and Allah for his friend.

  Antonio became aware of quiet sobbing, and then next to him Father Juan swore. Antonio followed the priest’s gaze. There, a ways apart from the others, Jamie was draped over Eriko, crying and praying and swearing.

  “No,” Antonio whispered, even as his senses told him what he didn’t want to know.

  “She’s dead,” Father Juan said quietly.

  Antonio started forward, but Father Juan put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Don’t. He will kill you.”

  “Where is Skye?” Antonio asked.

  Jenn’s face contorted. She was trembling.

  “They took her,” Jenn said. “Aurora and Estefan.”

  So Aurora had escaped. Emotions crashed through him: sorrow, rage, fear, and, most horribly, relief. Aurora still had a hold on him.

  The Devil had had a hand in this.

  Antonio turned away so that no one would see his struggle even as his fangs pricked his lower lip and he thought about killing the others in her name.

  “Antonio,” Jenn said, pulling herself away from Father Juan.

  Antonio struggled to control himself as her arms came around him. He tried to remain very still, and after a moment he turned to face her. Sobbing, she covered his chin and lower lip with kisses. He didn’t return her kisses, and she didn’t seem to notice.

  “I thought you had died. I thought I’d lost you,” she said, weeping. “My sister, Antonio. Heather!”

  “Yes, we have to look for Heather,” Father Juan said urgently. “It will be light soon.”

  Antonio nodded slowly. “But all the other students, the teachers, dead?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Father Ju
an confirmed. He gestured with his hand. “Father Giovanni fell. He had a vision that he would die defending the academy, and it came true. We are all that is left of Salamanca.”

  Antonio expected Jenn to cry again, but she surprised him by wiping her eyes and raising her chin.

  Her voice was too calm. She had to be in shock.

  He wished he could comfort her, but he couldn’t touch her again. He was intoxicated by the smell of her blood. He wasn’t in full control. He folded his arms across his chest and maintained his distance. He had to, for both their sakes.

  What should I do? he thought.

  Estefan and Aurora were smart. Jenn had no idea what spells Estefan had used, what herbs, but he had managed to cloak their trail—even from a werewolf. They couldn’t track them and Skye. There was absolutely no sign of Heather. Jenn could barely function. She had lost her again.

  She turned to Antonio, but he was distant. Maybe he was blaming himself. Maybe . . . something else was bothering him.

  “We need to rest and regroup, and then we’ll take action,” Father Juan said. “And we must honor those who have fallen.”

  They piled more stones on the resting places of the students and teachers, and dug graves for Eriko, Taamir, and Father Giovanni. They couldn’t chance remaining at the ruins long enough to bury all their dead properly.

  Holgar took off his wooden cross decorated with wolf heads and laid it in the pile of rubble on top of Kirstinne and her mate.

  Father Juan spoke over the three graves, then over the burial ground in general, and then they all retreated up into one of the caves that dotted the countryside, to rest, and to hide Antonio from the rising sun. They stood or sat in a loose circle, all of them bone weary and hungry, but unable to sleep and having no food among them. The kitchen and pantry had burned to the ground.

  Jamie prowled around the edges of the group, his pain radiating from him, as they discussed what to do next. He was making them all even more uptight.

  “Jamie, sit down,” Jenn said at last.

  “No!” He whirled on her. “This is your fault!”

  “Stop it, Jamie,” Father Juan said.

  “Why should I? Eri’s dead, Taamir’s dead, Skye’s gone, and she’s too wishy-washy to stake the vampire who stands in front of her.” He pointed a shaking hand at Antonio. Then Jamie faced her square on. “This is bollocks, and I’m not going to take it anymore, you stupid, inept bitch.”