Vanquished

by Nancy Holder

  Holgar slid her a glance and grinned as the wolves stopped. Then he took Jenn’s hand.

  The white wolf whined, and then the black. The others carefully watched, like bodyguards.

  “They want to talk to me alone,” Holgar said, letting go of her hand.

  “I should go. I’m the alpha,” Jenn argued.

  “They know you’re my leader, but they also know you’re not a werewolf,” Holgar told her. “They’re not used to mixing much with mundane humans. And besides, male werewolves are in charge. There’s an alpha pair, but the female’s the little woman.”

  “Do you think you can . . . ,” she began, wanting to ask him if he would be able to morph into a wolf at will if the need arose. But she also didn’t want the pack to know that so far he couldn’t make it happen. So she let the question trail off.

  “Wait in the truck. Behind the wheel. With your Uzi,” he added meaningfully.

  She wanted to argue. Instead she nodded and walked backward, not turning away from the pack. She watched them as cautiously as they watched her.

  From the safety of the cab she tracked Holgar as he walked up to the row of wolves, then stepped through a space between two of them. More golden eyes glowed from the stands of frozen trees. She bit her cheek and touched her Uzi on the passenger seat as the vehicle exhaust billowed around her like clouds. How big was the pack?

  Holgar reached the alpha pair. The black and white wolves turned and headed up the rise, then disappeared among trees and boulders there. Holgar lifted his arm and waved it back and forth for Jenn’s benefit. Though he couldn’t see her, she waved back.

  Four of the remaining six wolves raised their forepaws again. Then they slowly began to advance on Jenn’s vehicle.

  “Nice wolfies,” she muttered.

  * * *

  As soon as the stately pair of alphas passed into the ice forest, they transformed into a man and woman in fighting trim. They were clothed, which astonished Holgar. In his pack you had to dress and undress to keep from ruining your clothes.

  The woman’s long black hair cascaded down her shoulders, reminding Holgar of Aurora. The man’s white hair cupped his jawline.

  “We can speak in Russian,” the man said. “Put down your weapon.”

  Reluctantly, Holgar obeyed. Unless he could transform, he was now completely defenseless against this fighting pair.

  “I am Radu. This is Viorica,” the man informed him coldly.

  The woman slid Radu an irritated look, as if she didn’t like him speaking for her. Then she said to Holgar, “What do you want?”

  “You know who we are,” Holgar stated boldly. “We’re the hunters from Salamanca, and—”

  “And you took down some of our cousins,” Radu interrupted, narrowing his eyes, venom glowing in them. “That pack you fought on your way here runs with us.”

  “They ran with Lucifer,” Viorica said meaningfully. “We were not close.”

  “Both our packs run with Lucifer,” Radu snapped, not looking at her. Dismissing her. These two were nearly at war with each other.

  Radu raised his chin in a challenge to Holgar. “As you are a lone wolf, I invite you to apply for pack entry. I’ll select a young wolf to test you in battle.”

  “You know I’m on the other side,” Holgar replied. “Against Lucifer.”

  “The losing side,” Radu shot back.

  “Nej.” Holgar shook his head and took a couple steps to the left, trying to keep the smell of his fear downwind. “We’re looking for an herb we need. We want permission to search for it on your territory.”

  “Our territory is Lucifer’s territory,” Radu said, and Holgar smelled his fear. And then Holgar scented Viorica’s anger, directed not at him but at her mate. She didn’t want this alliance with Lucifer.

  Good. Maybe he could use that.

  “What’s the herb for?” Viorica asked Holgar.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Radu bit off. “We won’t give it to him.”

  “And now we can’t tell Lucifer what the Salamancans are up to,” she ground out, clearly furious with him.

  Radu’s face purpled. Both he and Holgar knew Viorica was right. Radu had played his hand badly.

  Holgar decided to push back a little. “There have always been vampires in Transylvania, ja? And they have always treated you like slaves.”

  “Watch what you say!” Radu shouted. His temper was flaring. Holgar could read shame and humiliation. A werewolf alpha should be subservient to no other creature, living or dead.

  Both alpha wolves transformed in an instant, Radu large and white; while she was smaller, Viorica’s flanks gleamed with muscle as she growled low in her throat.

  I have to change now, Holgar thought. He tried to force it. His blood began to pump harder. Adrenaline surged through his body. His jaw and fingertips began to tingle.

  Come on, come on, he told himself.

  Viorica growled again, golden eyes filling his field of vision. Working overtime not to panic, Holgar channeled all his energy into releasing his wolf nature. Nothing.

  “We should bow to no other being,” Holgar said in Russian, trying to stir his own emotions. To call out his wild side. “Ever.”

  Viorica growled and slowly advanced, sleek and deadly. Radu did the same.

  They’re going to kill me, he thought. An image of Skye filled his mind, then vanished. No. He wouldn’t let them take him. He wasn’t done with this war.

  He feinted an approach of his own, then dove to the right and grabbed up his Uzi. He was about to start firing when Viorica hurled herself at Radu, toppled him, and ripped out his throat.

  Blood splattered the snow as Radu’s howl became a scream. Then he went limp, returning to human form. Viorica’s muzzle dripped as she flattened his body into the white, howling in victory.

  The other werewolves came running. Still in werewolf form, Viorica stared at Holgar. He took a deep breath. He’d been unable to transform, and by her body language he sensed her great disappointment.

  As the werewolves joined them, Viorica changed back to human form. She was fully dressed, and blood smeared her mouth.

  She walked up to Holgar and brushed her lips across his cheek, marking him with the blood of his rival. She tipped back her head and looked into his eyes.

  “I’ll help you change,” she murmured, for his ears only. “If you’ll help us change.”

  “You killed your mate,” Holgar said, thinking of his childhood love, Kirstinne, whom he had killed in battle.

  “Radu was Lucifer’s lapdog,” she said. “I am not.” She raised her voice and spoke in a different human language to the approaching werewolves, who were changing into human form. Some were bending over Radu and looking over at Viorica. She’d hidden how large the pack was from Holgar and Jenn. He counted over twenty. Wails of grief and fury echoed through the forest.

  “I am telling them that we are joining with you,” she said. “That we will combine our packs—hunters and the werewolves of Transylvania. We’ve dreamed of throwing off the yoke of vampire rule for generations. In fact, we’ve been planning our rebellion for some time. I just took advantage of the moment.”

  Thank God you did, Holgar thought.

  “You’ll help us find our herb?” Holgar asked her.

  She licked more of her dead mate’s blood off her lips. “That and more,” she promised. “Much more.”

  She spoke again to her pack. The werewolves in human form smiled at him and began to clap him on the back, shake his hand, and embrace him. Holgar threw back his head and began to howl. They joined him, werewolf howls blazing through the night like fireworks.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Salamanca Hunter’s Manual: Allies

  It is a sad truth that human beings are weak. Though many will swear to help you in time of need, most of those will turn away if the threat from the adversary is too great. Though they promise to hide you and keep your secrets, they will shout them to the hilltops if the darkness comes for th
em. Choose your allies with great care, and never fully trust them. Or you will die.

  (translated from the Spanish)

  TRANSYLVANIA

  HOLGAR AND JENN

  As Holgar and Jenn followed Viorica and her pack toward their village, Jenn tried to process everything that had happened. They would spend the night with the pack, and tomorrow they’d search together for the Transit of Venus.

  “So, about Viorica,” she said leadingly, as Holgar wiped blood from his cheek.

  “What a black widow,” he replied, making a face. “You know, when my pack decided to ally with the vampires, I left. But Viorica plotted, and bided her time.”

  “If you’d stayed, you wouldn’t be here now, with us,” she reminded him. “You’d have attacked us at Salamanca with Aurora.”

  “And since Aurora would have had me, she would have won,” he bragged. Then his humor faded. “Except . . . she did win, pretty much, ja?”

  “The battle, but not the war,” Jenn said.

  Holgar nodded emphatically. “Not the war.”

  Holgar’s cell phone rang.

  “I have phone reception,” he said, surprised. He answered it. “Father Juan,” he said, nodding at Jenn. “Ja, things have gone well here. They’re going to help us.” Then, as he listened, his expression changed to bewilderment. “Ja. Yes. We’ll leave right away.”

  He hung up, still looking stunned.

  “What is it?” Jenn asked, her stomach twisting. She thought of Antonio in the cell. “Is it—”

  “It’s not Antonio,” he said. He hesitated a beat, and then he said, “Someone wants to meet with you tomorrow night. Father Juan and Noah will be there too. He gave me the rendezvous point.”

  “Who? Who wants to meet me?” Jenn asked.

  Holgar gave his head a little shake, as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

  “Solomon,” he replied.

  CASTLE BRAN, TRANSYLVANIA

  HEATHER

  Heather had made herself a secret little nest in an abandoned shed behind the castle. And the creature who had pulled her from the cistern protectively guarded her.

  She was beautiful. The realization came as something of a shock. There was bitterness in that she could not see her reflection for herself, but she saw the admiration mirrored in the eyes of her pet monster. And with the realization that the creature found her beautiful came another one.

  She had a plan beyond her killing of Aurora.

  She wanted to be like Aurora.

  Aurora was beautiful and sophisticated and so many things Heather had never thought herself to be. Heather had been watching the vampire queen since Berkeley, since Aurora took her prisoner. Humans and vampires alike both feared and adored Aurora. They rushed to do her bidding. And often the only reward they received for their troubles was a snapped neck.

  But it didn’t matter. There were always more to take their place.

  Aurora had wealth and luxuries Heather had never even dreamed of.

  But now Heather wanted them too. And for what Aurora had done to her, she deserved them.

  As she stalked Aurora, hoping to get her alone in the castle, Heather turned her eyes on Lucifer as well.

  A shiver went up her spine every time she thought of him. He was magnificent and terrible. Glorious and depraved. He was the soul of evil.

  She’d always heard that evil was beautiful, enticing. She had never believed it until now. Maybe it took the eyes of a vampire to see the truth. But evil was beautiful, pure of purpose, elegant in focus.

  And Heather wanted him with everything that was in her. The thought made her tremble with a kind of mad desire. Aurora was afraid of him. Heather could smell her fear when Lucifer approached, even when their bodies were intertwining.

  He was monstrous and dangerous and everything Aurora believed him to be. But Heather wasn’t afraid of him. What was there to fear? As a human she’d feared the Cursed Ones, feared losing her family. She had been right to be afraid, but her terror had not kept those things at bay. The existence she lived was a nightmare. Final Death would simply be a release.

  But to spend a night in his arms? Heather thought that might be the only taste of paradise she would ever have. A snatch of a poem she’d been made to memorize what seemed a thousand years ago came back to her.

  . . . Here at least

  We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built

  Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

  Here we may reign secure, and in my choyce

  To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:

  Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav’n.

  Paradise Lost by Milton. In her old life she and Tiffany used to make fun of it. “Where is hence? I’m going to drive to hence for my vacay. Wanna come?”

  Now she understood it. Not all could have heaven, and she knew she was one of those. So be it. She would gladly embrace Lucifer in this hell they lived in.

  And that was when she realized she’d been going about her plan all wrong. She’d been trying to catch Aurora alone so that she could kill her without being caught.

  But that wasn’t what Heather wanted.

  She wanted to kill Aurora where all the world could see, especially their glorious dark lord.

  TRANSYLVANIA

  JENN, HOLGAR, NOAH, FATHER JUAN, AND SOLOMON

  Although Holgar had originally planned for him and Jenn to spend the night with the pack in a compound in the forest, the werewolves understood when they told them they had to go. Viorica had even promised to find the Transit of Venus that they needed. So much luck in one day was hard to believe.

  Jenn looked tired, but determined, strong. On her guard, but ready to do what must be done.

  Noah and Father Juan greeted them; then, by tacit agreement, they parted company, concealing themselves in the trees, armed with stakes, crosses, Stars of David, holy water, revolvers, and machine guns.

  Holgar couldn’t figure out why Solomon wanted to meet. Every instinct in him screamed that this was some sort of trap. They were meeting sixty miles away from the monastery—too far for those Uzi-loving monks to serve as backup. It felt as if the Salamancans were sitting ducks about to be tagged so they could lead the birders to their nest. He should have asked Viorica for pack support. It would have been a good test of their new alliance, and, frankly, the Salamancans could have used the help.

  The sound of a helicopter filled the night air, and Holgar bared his teeth. It was time. The streamlined chopper came into view a minute later, lights brilliant as it descended. Holgar slipped out of the ring of light into the darkness, where he could better see without being as quickly seen. He crouched low to the ground, still wishing he could change at will if things went badly.

  He could smell the fear coming off his teammates. Even Noah. Holgar had warned them that the vampires would be able to smell it too, and they had repositioned themselves so that Solomon would have to exit the helicopter upwind of them.

  It was a small thing, but to creatures like werewolves and vampires, scenting fear on an enemy gave them a surge of energy, a boost. Denying it to Solomon would keep him that much more on edge. And they needed every edge they could muster. This was the president of the Vampire Nation.

  The chopper touched down. The rotors were still whirling as Solomon emerged and, with an exaggerated show, took off the sunglasses that were an affectation. Holgar felt a rumbling of hatred deep in his chest.

  Solomon approached Jenn, who stood a few feet in front of Holgar’s hiding place. Holgar clenched his jaw and positioned his Uzi. He sighted down it. Jenn was standing to the right of his firing line, as they had discussed. But it would still be far too dangerous to let loose.

  He knew Father Juan’s job was to monitor the helicopter. Like Holgar, Noah would be concentrating on Solomon. Holgar wished Father Juan had brought along Esther Leitner and Father Wadim. The four of them were spread too thin for such a dangerous rendezvous as this.

 
; “So, Ms. Leitner, we meet at last,” Solomon said, his voice slick and polished.

  “So it would seem,” Jenn said. Holgar smiled. She sounded cool, detached, and in control. Good. This was the Jenn who had nearly killed Jamie. This was an alpha to respect—and fear.

  “I believe we have a mutual enemy,” Solomon said, clearing his throat delicately. “Lucifer.” Solomon emphasized the name as though expecting it to cause consternation.

  Instead Jenn shrugged. “So?”

  Uncertainty flickered across Solomon’s face for a moment. It was quickly replaced again by the suave, sickening smile that he trotted out to charm millions on television.

  “I don’t know how much you know about him, Jennifer, but he’s legend, even among us. He won’t be easy to kill for anyone.”

  “Hmm,” Jenn said, sounding unimpressed.

  Solomon smelled worried. “Maybe you’re not getting this. If you thought I was bad—and we both know just how bad I am—wait until Lucifer makes a move. He won’t hesitate to wipe out all of humanity and us, too, to rule this world. No one is safe.”

  If he wipes out all of humanity, what will he eat? Holgar mused, glad to see that Jenn was still holding her ground. Shoulders back, head held high, she was a warrior. His admiration for his alpha surged.

  “Why are you here?” Jenn asked.

  Solomon’s grin changed, more real, less artificial. “Okay, you’re not big on the buildup. I admire that, so I’ll be equally blunt. We can help each other.”

  “How?” Jenn asked, curiosity and skepticism heavy in her voice. Holgar leaned forward, wanting to know how, too.

  “An alliance,” Solomon said, as if his answer should have been obvious. “We band together to destroy Lucifer and send him straight to hell where he belongs.”

  Holgar was so amazed that he nearly burst into laughter, his default mode when life got too weird. It was a good week for truces, wasn’t it? First the Transylvanian werewolves and now Solomon.

  “And then what? You alone rule the vampires, the world?” Jenn asked.

  Solomon slowly shook his head and his grin faded. “No. In exchange for your help in ridding us all of this tyrant, I and the remaining vampires will fade back into the shadows from which we came. I had hoped we could all live together in peace, but . . .” He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll try again in a couple more centuries.”