But at that moment Jenn Leitner had had enough. She stood slowly and turned, every muscle coiled, and she stared at Jamie. She stepped closer to him. Her breath came out in ghostly puffs in the frigid air.
“Okay, Jamie, you want to go, let’s go,” she said softly.
His eyes dilated slightly, and she could see the hesitation in them as he glanced quickly at the others.
“Jenn,” Antonio said, in a cautioning tone.
“Just you and me,” she said. “This has been coming for a long time, and it ends now. Agreed?”
He spat in the dirt and then met her eyes. “Agreed.”
She nodded and then hit him first. Jamie’s nose made a satisfying crunch under her knuckles. Jamie staggered back. She followed up with a kick to his knee, hoping to take him down fast, but he twisted out of the way. Jenn was off balance, and as she struggled to recover, he cracked his fist on her jaw. Her head snapped back painfully, and pain seared through her.
He dislocated my jaw, Jenn realized. But she knew she had broken his nose. The question was, how far was too far? Or how far would be enough?
Jamie answered that for her when he leaped forward, knocking her onto her butt. He dropped on her, straddling her and pinning her to the ground. He raised his hand to hit her again, aiming for her jaw.
She spit in his eyes and then rammed her fist into his groin. While he was incapacitated, she flung him off of her and leaped to her feet, kicking him in the ribs until she could actually hear them breaking.
Sade screamed, and Holgar leaped forward and grabbed Jenn, dragging her back. She bit his hand, and when he yelped in surprise, she turned and punched him in the eye. The werewolf staggered back, eyes wide in shock.
“Let her go,” Jamie panted, struggling to his feet.
Holgar hesitated, and Jenn lifted her chin, glaring at him. She bared her teeth and did her best to imitate one of his growls. Holgar whined low in his throat, ducked his head, and backed up a couple of steps, acknowledging her as alpha.
Jenn spun around just in time to duck as Jamie threw a punch at her. She dropped to the ground, grabbed a handful of dirt, and flung it into his eyes. He grunted and half tripped. She slammed her hands against his ears before punching him in the eye too.
He roared in fury and swung blindly at her.
And that was when she knew she had him.
She pressed forward, kicking him in the solar plexus, and finished with an uppercut to the jaw that felled him like a tree. He lay on the ground for a minute, unmoving. She bent over, trying to catch her breath, daring to hope that it was over.
Which, of course, it wasn’t. Jamie exploded up from the ground with a roar and kicked her in the chest before she could get out of the way. She staggered and went down, but caught herself on one hand before springing back up. She punched him twice in the stomach before dancing out of his reach. She moved in again to clip him on the jaw and took a left to the side of her head. Her ears rang, but her jaw didn’t break.
She feinted to his left, and when he moved to block, she swept his feet from underneath him. She followed, landing on top of him, raining blows down on his face. She took careful aim at his throat and jabbed, and he coughed and grabbed at his throat. She had hit him hard enough to dislodge his Adam’s apple. He could choke to death.
She punched him again in the side, doing more damage to his broken ribs. Blood began to trickle out of the corner of his mouth, and she leaned down close to him until their faces were an inch apart.
“Do you yield?” she said, biting off every word as she continued to stare at him.
He hesitated, then nodded.
“Will you acknowledge my leadership and stop your sniping, your whining, and your bitching?” she demanded.
He wanted to say no, she could see it in his eyes, but his throat was beginning to swell, and he had little time before he lost the ability to breathe. He finally lowered his eyes and nodded.
She stood up. “Father Juan,” she said, “he’s going to need prayer and magick if he’s going to survive.”
The priest hurried forward to work on him while she faced Holgar, Sade, Noah, and Antonio. They stood facing her, their expressions mixed. “Will you follow me?” she questioned Antonio.
He nodded, staring at her almost as if he didn’t know who she was.
She turned to Sade. The girl reeked of garlic and fear, but she was still standing, still there, still willing to do her part. They needed someone to replace Eriko as Jamie’s fighting partner, and she was the only candidate. “Will you follow me?” Jenn asked.
“Yes.” She nodded like a bobblehead, terrified and wide-eyed.
Jenn turned to study Noah. He had proven himself time and again, and even now, after the loss of Taamir, he stood stoic, strong. He was a good man. He was a good hunter. “Will you follow me?” she demanded.
“To the ends of the earth,” he said, eyes clear and intense.
She cleared her throat. “You’ll be my partner.” She avoided Antonio’s gaze. “For now.”
“Good, Jenn,” Antonio murmured.
Finally she turned to Holgar. The werewolf had killed his father and his intended, and his partner had been kidnapped. His wounds were deep. So was his guilt. And the look of vengeance was in his eyes.
“Will you follow me?” she whispered.
“You didn’t need to ask,” he said.
He was right. She didn’t. Of them all he had never once questioned her, had always supported her. She would trust him to be Antonio’s partner until they could rescue his. Of all of them he would know when, if, Antonio needed to be . . .
No. She couldn’t even think it.
Father Juan was working feverishly over Jamie. It would be easier if the Irishman died. Easier, but not better.
“What do we do now?” Sade asked softly.
Jenn put her hands on her hips. “We hunt down Aurora. We make Estefan sorry he ever laid eyes on Skye. We take back this world.”
“We don’t have many people,” Antonio said.
“We don’t need many. We just need a few courageous souls to stand up, to say they aren’t going to take it anymore. And they’re not going to have the courage to do that unless we show them the way.”
“To fight the Devil?” Father Juan asked.
“If it comes to that, yes,” Jenn replied.
“What about Heather?” Holgar asked.
Jenn shook her head. “If we find her, we find her. But that’s not our immediate mission.” She ignored the looks of surprise on her teammates’ faces. It was true. It broke her heart, but they didn’t know if her sister was alive or dead, holed up somewhere or running with the other Cursed Ones. They had a world to save. With any luck, when they did, her sister would still be in it.
“We need to find somewhere we can plan,” she said.
Father Juan paused in his ministrations to Jamie long enough to look up at her. “I may have a place. I’ve been preparing for something like this for a while now.”
“Good. As soon as Jamie can move, we’ll go.”
“You need help too,” Noah said quietly.
Jenn had been struggling to ignore the pain that was raging through her. Talking was a special agony. She shrugged. Jamie was worse off. Father Juan could deal with her second.
Noah stepped forward. “I have some field medical training. May I?”
She nodded and tried not to cry while he pushed her jaw back in place. The relief was almost instant, producing a sort of euphoria throughout her body that allowed her to, at least temporarily, ignore the other damage.
She turned and looked down the hill at the pile of stone that used to be their university. The damage was fearsome. A few walls of the dormitory still stood, precarious, though the roof was gone. She thought of her diary, the new Hunter’s Manual, which she hadn’t risked taking with her.
“Do you think anything is salvageable?” she asked no one in particular.
“I’ll go in,” Antonio offered.
> “You’ll go first,” Father Juan corrected him.
That night they rested. The next day and night they made forays onto the grounds. They took turns entering the ruins, finding treasures—some apples, a dozen protein bars, Sade’s salve. Father Juan’s statue of St. Teresa of Avila, who swooned in religious ecstasy while a little cupid speared her. Jenn was relieved that her diary—the Hunter’s Manual—was safe under the charred remains of her bed. Holgar, by far the most practical at the moment, returned with changes of clothes for all of them.
Jamie asked Noah to retrieve a box from under his bed and then clutched it like a drowning man. Jenn suspected it was the gun he was building, the one that used silver bullets. She grimaced, but they could have used those bullets against the werewolves.
Father Juan used his cell phone to make some calls. A priest in Toledo offered them sanctuary, even though Rome had forbidden anyone to aid and abet any hunters.
They got into two university vans that still ran, and drove the four hours to Toledo. It was a beautiful, ancient city, though that beauty was marred by the presence of armed Spanish troops everywhere. Nervous Spaniards skirted around them. Vampires swaggered like arrogant noblemen.
“Toledo has a violent past,” Father Juan said. “The Grand Inquisitor, Torquemada, burned heretics and Jews in the central square. He targeted our patron saint, Saint John of the Cross.” Father Juan patted the statue of Teresa of Avila on his lap. “And Saint Teresa as well.”
“Nice,” Holgar said. “A violent past, and a violent present.”
The priest, Father Sebastian, offered them sanctuary in the gothic monastery. With the help of Father Sebastian’s housekeeper, the group arranged bedding. Jenn and Sade would stay together in another room. The poor girl was shell-shocked. She didn’t want to wash off her garlic, but Jenn pointed out that they were in a church, and vampires couldn’t enter.
“Except for him,” Sade said, pointing at Antonio, as the priest’s housekeeper led Sade away to take a good hot shower.
Except for Antonio. That gave Jenn hope that he really was coming back to them.
The Salamancans met in the sala for a meal of simple omelets and tea. Everyone was quiet, dejected. Then Jenn spoke up.
“Holgar,” she said, “I thought werewolves only changed during the full moon.”
Cutlery clanked against plates as everyone waited to hear his answer.
Holgar shook his head slowly. “We are forced to change then, but more mature wolves learn how to do it at will.”
“How mature?” Jenn pressed.
Holgar shrugged. “It varies from wolf to wolf. Sometimes when you reach your thirties, but it can happen much older than that.”
Jenn was disappointed. She’d hoped Holgar would be able to do it sooner. It would be a huge help to them in battle.
“How about younger?” Jamie asked, his voice hoarse.
Holgar shrugged. “It has been known to happen, though it is uncommon. Like I said, it varies, different for each wolf.”
“Like puberty?” Father Juan asked.
“Something like that.” Holgar sounded uncomfortable, as if it were too personal a topic to discuss.
“And you don’t have the ability to change at will?” Jenn asked.
“Not yet,” he said.
“That’s too bad,” she said grimly. “That could have been useful.”
“I know,” he replied softly.
“And the silver thing. That’s only when you’re wolfed,” Jamie said. “Otherwise, when you look like us, you can be killed like us.”
This would be the place where Eriko would tell Jamie to be quiet, Jenn thought sorrowfully. Or Skye would yell at him to leave off. She could almost hear them.
“Yes. When I am in human form, I can be killed like a human,” Holgar replied, as if he needed to punish himself by saying it aloud.
“Thought so,” Jamie said.
“I’d like to say Mass,” Father Juan told them. “I know you’re very tired, and not all of you are Catholics, but we need to mourn and acknowledge our losses.” Father Juan looked at Antonio. “Will you assist me?”
“With pleasure,” Antonio said, inclining his head.
Jenn swallowed. Antonio had told her that he was rededicating himself to God. Maybe that would help him stay true to his path. But she felt a terrible, wrenching loss as she, Holgar, Jamie, Noah, and Sade sat in a pew, while Antonio put on a stole and knelt with Father Juan before the altar.
Noah conducted himself with quiet dignity, and when Father Juan invited them all to pray, he knelt on the prayer bench beside Jenn and lowered his head. She felt tears welling. Noah placed his hand over hers, warm and strong.
Antonio moved through the ritual easily, bowing, crossing himself, holding a large missal for Father Juan. Jamie took communion. So did Father Juan. And after a long hesitation Antonio put the communion wafer in his mouth and crossed himself.
“Go in peace. The Mass is ended,” Father Juan said.
Noah lifted his head. “That was beautiful,” he told Jenn. She nodded, wondering if Antonio had seen Noah’s hand on hers.
“I suggest we all get some sleep,” Father Juan said.
“Agreed,” Jenn said.
“May I talk to you, Father?” Sade asked. “I’m so scared.”
“Of course,” Father Juan replied, although he looked exhausted. “Let’s sit here awhile, shall we?”
Both Noah and Antonio gazed at Jenn as she rose swiftly from the chapel and entered the room she would be sharing with Sade.
She was overwhelmed with sorrow. Eriko was dead, and Skye and her own little sister might be joining her soon. If she had known there was a chance of never seeing them again, she would have told Heather how much she loved her, and she would have thanked her teammates, told them how much she valued their friendship.
She had never thought of them as friends, but that was what they were. You couldn’t live and fight and risk your life for years with someone without forming a bond. Her heart ached for them, and for Heather.
So much pain.
She curled up on the narrow bed and opened the Hunter’s Manual.
She picked up a pen.
They had to keep the Cursed Ones from killing any others.
She took a deep breath and began to write.
I know who I am now. I am Jenn Leitner. I am the leader of Team Salamanca. We are this world’s crusaders, and this is our quest. We stand where others fall. We fight where others run. We triumph where others cower in defeat. And I lead the way. Together we will save the world, because we have to. Even in the darkest night, there is hope. I will save the world, because I am Jenn.
And I wouldn’t want to be anybody else.
Clouds undulated against the moon, then drifted away. Silvery beams hit the pages of her diary, transforming her tears to silver fdigree. Outside, a wolf howled in deep mourning. A hardened Israeli solder patrolled.
And ruby eyes beyond her window burned with longing.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
NANCY HOLDER has published more than seventy-eight books and more than two hundred short stories. She has received four Bram Stoker awards for her supernatural fiction and is the coauthor of the New York Times bestselling Wicked series. She lives in San Diego with her daughter, Belle, their two cats, and their two Corgis. Visit her at nancyholder.com.
DEBBIE VIGUIÉ is the coauthor of the New York Times bestselling Wicked series and several additional Simon Pulse books, including the Once upon a Time novels Violet Eyes and Midnight Pearls. She lives in Florida with her husband, Scott, and their cat Schrödinger. Visit her at debbieviguie.com.
CHAPTER ONE
For thousands of years the Cursed Ones hid in the shadows, fooling mankind into thinking they didn’t exist. Then one day they just . . . stopped. Skeptics turned into believers one fateful dawn. And no one was ever safe again.
No one knows why they made themselves known. Why they chose a Valentine’s Day in the early twenty-first ce
ntury to reveal their presence. Some say it had something to do with the end of the world. Others that they simply grew tired of hiding.
I was twelve when Solomon, the leader of the vampires, first appeared on TV and lied through his fangs to all of us. Thirteen when the war broke out. Fifteen when the United States declared a truce . . . when, in reality, we surrendered, and the nightmare really began.
Even after that, many of us couldn’t bring ourselves to actually say the word “vampire.” It was as if once we admitted it, then we’d have to believe in extraterrestrials or government conspiracies, too. Or in witches and werewolves . . . in anything and everything that could destroy us. Because we could be destroyed. We lost something so precious—our faith that eventually everything would be all right. Because it wasn’t all right . . . and few believed it ever would be again.
So among those of us who swore not to abandon all hope, vampires came to be called the Cursed Ones. We learned that it was the name given to them long ago by those few groups who knew of their existence yet never shared the knowledge. But the vampires weren’t the cursed ones—we were. They had seduced us with their hypnotic smiles and talk of peaceful coexistence and immortality even as they had mounted a war against us. Then they sought to turn us into their slaves, and drink from rivers of our blood.
I’m nearly eighteen now, and I have learned something about myself I might never have known, if I’d been able to live an ordinary life.
But there is nothing ordinary about my life.
Nothing.
Including me.
—from the diary of Jenn Leitner,
discovered in the ashes
THE VILLAGE OF CUEVAS, SPAIN
TEAM SALAMANCA: JENN AND ANTONIO, SKYE AND HOLGAR, AND ERIKO AND JAMIE
Barely sunset, and death exploded all around Jenn Leitner.
It was a trap, she thought.
The sky crackled with flames; oily smoke choked the air and burned her lungs. Jenn struggled not to cough, fearing that the sound would expose her. On her elbows and knees, her dark auburn hair loose and falling into her eyes, she crawled from beneath the red-tiled roof of the medieval church as it collapsed in a crash of orange sparks. Fragments of tile, stone, and burning wood ricocheted toward the blood-colored moon, plummeting back down to the earth like bombs. She dug in her elbows and pushed forward with the toes of her boots, grunting as a large, fiery chunk of wood landed on her back with a sizzle. She fought to stay silent as the pain seared through her. Biting her lip hard, she tasted coppery blood as she rolled to extinguish the flames.
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