by Nancy Holder
He sighed. At least he could find something useful to do. From a small velvet sack beside his bed he pulled out his runes—rectangular black stones inscribed in gold with arcane symbols—and began to cast them, seeking answers.
An hour later he was still getting answers he didn’t like. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, the runes had never lied to him.
Battle was coming, and it was true that forces from without would sorely test his warriors. But the forces within were just as important, and those he could do very little about.
The stones told him that there was a darkness in Jenn’s soul that was blinding her on her path. Unless it could be lifted, all would be lost. He thought of the look on her face when she had first seen her father step off the helicopter. There had been murderous rage there. And she had ignored Paul Leitner since—or had seemed to.
Her inability to forgive him would hinder her in every aspect of her life, but most particularly in being able to trust Antonio and lead the others with a clear head. That was dangerous for all of them. But forgiveness did not always come easily, and in this case, her father had done nothing to truly earn it. He was repentant, of that much Juan was certain, but that wasn’t going to be enough.
He sighed and gathered up the stones. They clinked together as he put them back in the bag. He set it by his bedside and tried again to go to sleep.
* * *
Sometimes Esther thought she might be the only sane one on the funny farm. She had gotten some sleep, but mostly she had worried about Jenn and Antonio. She had stopped herself from going to check on them, though. It was a test, and Antonio needed to pass it without someone watching over his shoulder. It was also a risk, but most things worthwhile were.
She was also struggling with her anger toward her son. She knew she needed to go to him, talk to him. But she didn’t have the words yet, not like she’d had with Antonio.
Antonio was a good man fighting against the darkness inside of him.
Paul was a coward.
And she had no words of comfort for a coward.
Was it because of the life Charles and I gave him? Life on the run, always one step away from getting caught? Picking up in the middle of the night, making him memorize the details of a new false identity, forcing him to abandon his friends? She remembered one night in the car, speeding out of town, when he had sobbed hysterically, finally confessing that he’d been hiding a puppy under his bed. They couldn’t go back for it. Esther had called a local no-kill shelter and told them to pick up the little dog.
Antonio’s been handed a worse deal, she thought. At least he’s trying. My son caved at the first sign of a threat. He didn’t just leave a puppy behind. He handed my two granddaughters to the Cursed Ones.
Wearily, she finally rose. It was almost evening. She found the others gathered again in the dining room. Her relief at seeing Jenn and Antonio was short-lived as she realized that everyone was hovering around a computer.
“This should be it,” Noah said, and sat back.
A static sound filled the room, like a radio station not quite tuned in right. Finally it cleared up, and she could hear it crystal clear.
“ . . . of the Resistance with word of the latest tragedy in this war.” The man’s voice was shaking. Esther hugged herself and listened hard. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
“Last night just outside Milwaukee, humans imprisoned inside a concentration camp were massacred by vampires loyal to Solomon.”
Everyone shifted in their chairs and looked at each other. When Jenn met Esther’s eyes, Esther saw her own fear mirrored there. But when Antonio looked up at her, she saw the full understanding and horror of a man who had lived through World War II.
“More cities have been overrun by the Cursed Ones. America, when will you wake up? When will you see what is happening to your sons and daughters?” The man’s voice was pleading. Esther could feel his pain, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.
“But there is hope.”
Esther saw as everyone around the computer actually leaned forward, as though that would help them hear about the hope he offered.
“There are those who are still fighting. They have not given up. They are your heroes. There are fighters all over the world. And one group has done more than all the rest to strike back at the vampires who have been terrorizing your families and destroying your homes. Team Salamanca, we salute you and we pray you Godspeed.”
A look of surprise rippled across each face. Esther smiled grimly. These young people didn’t truly realize how special or how important they were, not just as a symbol but also as a fighting force to be reckoned with.
That was something she could help with. That was something she could teach them. And suddenly she knew why she was there instead of with her own group back in Montana. Her people were all seasoned fighters and could carry on without her. But here she was needed.
“This is Kent, the Voice of the Resistance, wishing you all a better future.”
And the voice was gone. Looking around, she could see the impact it had had on each of them. Hearing that one voice crying out in the wilderness did give them some hope, strength, resolve. She wondered if Kent, whoever he really was, realized that he was vital.
The clatter of pots and pans echoed down the halls, and she was brought back sharply to the present. The smells of food wafted from the kitchen. It was time for dinner.
The brown-robed brothers of the monastery appeared in ones and twos, casting side glances at Antonio. Their nigh-incessant chanting had ended, and now there was only silence from them. Father Wadim had explained that their order observed the vigil of contemplation when they were “home,” in the monastery. They had raised their voices in chanting so that Antonio could hear them, and know that he wasn’t alone.
Jenn’s mom arrived, supported by Sade. And last, escorted by two monks, Paul appeared in his handcuffs. Esther looked at the cuffs and felt another rush of shame. This was her son.
Paul saw Jenn’s mom and headed straight for her, a determined look in his eyes. Jenn’s mom hadn’t yet noticed him. Esther took a deep breath. This was going to go badly.
When Paul was four feet away from Leslie, Sade looked up, and the two stared at each other. Both sets of eyes widened.
“You!” they both cried simultaneously, loudly enough to be heard by all.
All other sound ceased instantly as attention focused on them. Leslie jerked and looked up at her husband.
But his gaze remained riveted on Sade. And hers on him.
“Hail, my lord Dantalion,” Paul said, in an eerie singsong. Esther shivered at the bizarre, unworldly sound of his voice—and of his words.
“Dantalion,” Sade echoed in that same voice. “May he feast on us forever.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I can’t believe how much I hate my father. It’s a part of me I’ve never seen before, and it’s freaking me out. I want to say I’m ashamed of it, or that I’m trying to stop it, but I’m not. It’s freeing, but I feel like a prisoner. I feel powerful, yet terribly weak. And the weird thing is, I hate myself for hating him like this—but I also love it. I love it, and I never want to stop. It’s like a magick spell, or a curse. Is this how the cursed part of Antonio feels? Because if it is . . . how can he be good? Because I don’t think I’m good anymore. I think I’m dark, and twisted. And unlovable.
—From the diary of Jenn Leitner,
retrieved from the ruins
THE MONASTERY OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF ST. ANDREW
FATHER JUAN, JENN, FATHER WADIM, ANTONIO, ESTHER, SOLOMON, PAUL LEITNER, AND SADE
Father Wadim’s breath billowed as he led the way down frigid stone stairs to the lower depths of the monastery, deeper even than Antonio’s vampire cell. In addition to Father Wadim and Father Juan, Jenn was accompanying the prisoners.
The steps had been swept clean, and monks were still getting rid of cobwebs and dust at the bottom of the staircase. The abbot had explained that the Brotherh
ood of St. Andrew had no wish to behave vindictively toward any soul “afflicted with darkness.” Jenn wondered what he would think of her if he knew how much darkness seemed to have filled her.
“Dantalion, Dantalion, I am here.” Her father’s whispers echoed off the walls.
“May he feast upon us,” Sade added fervently.
They couldn’t help it. They didn’t know, she thought, but her anger only grew. Barely able to contain her rage, she balled her fists and bit down hard on her lower lip.
No one was sure how Sade and Jenn’s father had recognized each other as Dantalion’s minions. Not even Antonio understood exactly how the mesmerism worked—if Dantalion made them check in with him on occasion, or if he could see directly through their eyes. Jenn thought back to the Battle of Salamanca, when Dantalion had been able to convince Antonio that he had been set on fire. Had he watched the fighting through Antonio’s eyes?
Now they knew that Sade had been the spy in their midst, revealing whatever she knew to Dantalion and, through him, Jenn assumed, to Solomon. Had Sade known she was? Is that why she had come to the academy in the first place? Jenn figured that Aurora and her sire had planted spies in Solomon’s camp as well. Secrets and mistrust ran everywhere.
Jamie will be disappointed that the spy wasn’t one of the original Salamancans, Jenn thought. Maybe it was small-minded and unfair of her, but she’d put up with Jamie’s sour attitude for a long, long time. Even though she was worried about Skye and him, she found that with him gone she was no longer bracing herself for some kind of snarky retort every time she said two words aloud. Just thinking about dealing with him again made her tired . . . and so very, very angry. It was as if her hatred of her father were spilling into every other part of her life.
All this personal stuff . . . it’s too much on top of everything else. I don’t know how to deal with it.
“Jenn?” Antonio asked softly. She remembered his hand around hers, squeezing it in comfort.
She didn’t remember his fangs on her throat.
I’ve been mesmerized too, she reminded herself. I know how impossible it is to fight against it.
“Jenn?” Father Juan said, and she jerked herself back to attention. She looked into the cell—a small square that had been cut into the rock. There was a cot, a small desk, and in a sort of antechamber what appeared to be a portable toilet and washbasin. Her heart clutched. Her father was their prisoner. He had betrayed her in return for safety, and what had happened to him instead? He had become a complete and total victim, a puppet, a dupe.
“Please, Mr. Leitner,” Father Juan said gently, “go inside.”
Ducking his head, Jenn’s father turned to obey, then turned back and grabbed Jenn’s hand. She caught her breath. Father Juan stood poised to intervene.
Her father blinked at her in deliberate rhythm. Morse code. When Solomon had paraded him on TV, he’d tapped his leg, sending out a secret message to Jenn. Don’t come. I love you, he’d said. But Jenn didn’t know Morse code, and she didn’t know what he was saying now.
Somewhere inside his mind, her father struggled to be a father.
Twin tears streamed down her cheeks as she jerked her hand out of his grasp. She wouldn’t forgive him, ever. She couldn’t.
“God bless and protect you,” Father Juan said, making the sign of the cross. Jenn’s father hissed.
“Your god has lost this war,” he said. “Lucifer will cleanse the world of him and all who follow him.”
Jenn’s lips parted as she traded shocked looks with Father Juan. Lucifer? Dantalion is in league with him ?
Betraying no further emotion, she stepped back as Father Juan guided her father into the cell and closed the heavy metal door with a clang. A tiny rectangle was cut into it, and through it Jenn watched as her father sat down on the cot.
“Jenn,” he whispered brokenly.
I hate you, she insisted.
She and Father Juan moved away from the door just as Father Wadim approached. Antonio and Holgar followed him. Noah had remained behind to guard Sade.
Holgar took up position beside her father’s door. Neither Holgar nor Noah would reveal their presence to their prisoners. Food and other personal business would be attended to by monks.
Once they were upstairs, Jenn whipped out her cell phone as she, Father Wadim, Antonio, and Father Juan took seats at the dining table, Antonio facing the doorway, scanning anxiously, as if for more intruders. The three of them looked as thrown as she felt.
“What’s Solomon’s number?” she asked Father Juan.
“I’ll punch it in,” he said, taking the phone from her.
Jenn watched him. “That double-crossing vam—”
“Señora?” Antonio said, half rising. “Are you all right?”
As Jenn’s grandmother paused on the threshold, she looked haggard. She shrugged and walked slowly into the room, as if the wind had been knocked out of her sails.
“It’s Leslie,” she said. “She’s having a rough time of it. She’d taken to mothering Sade, and now, with Sade locked up . . .” She ran a hand across the side of her mouth and let her hand drop to her side. “And then, seeing Paul like that. Leslie had been pushing hard for a rescue mission, ever since we realized he was communicating by tapping during those broadcasts. Then he finally shows up, and he’s in thrall to a vampire we thought was dead.”
“Plus, there is the heartbreak of Heather,” Antonio said.
The heartbreak. Well put. This war is destroying my family, Jenn thought. Her throat tightened, as if she were choking on more rage, more fury.
“Yes, our Heather,” Esther agreed. She shook her head. “I wish Charles were here.” She sighed and looked at the others. “And I’m guessing from the looks on your faces that there’s even more bad news.”
“The call has connected,” Father Juan announced.
“Hold on,” Jenn said to her grandmother, as Father Juan handed the phone to her.
“Jennifer, have you missed me?” Solomon said pleasantly.
Jenn made sure he was on speaker, although the sound wouldn’t carry very far. “Why don’t you put this on speaker so your friends Dantalion and Lucifer can hear what I’ve got to say?” she said sourly.
“Dantalion? What are you talking about?” Solomon asked on the other end of the phone.
“What’s going on?” Esther murmured to Antonio. Antonio remained silent. Since Antonio had been in the room when Paul Leitner and Sade had revealed each other to be spies, Solomon probably already knew he was at the monastery. But as with the others, it had been agreed that Antonio should stay off the radar.
Father Juan gave Esther a grim half smile. “We’re not sure.”
“Jennifer?” Solomon said anxiously. “Dantalion? What are you talking about?” Jenn quickly filled him in.
“Lucifer? Dantalion is with Lucifer?” Solomon repeated. Either he was a very good actor or he had been truly caught off guard, just as they had been.
“My father’s been Dantalion’s spy while he’s been with you,” Jenn told him. “He’s been telling us all your secrets,” she lied. But she could have kicked herself. It had just occurred to her that they should have seen if Antonio could demesmerize her father and Sade both. They could still do that. Or maybe it would be dangerous. She was sure of so little.
“Dantalion’s alive. And he’s with Lucifer,” Solomon said again, as if he just couldn’t get over it.
“What about Milwaukee? What happened there?” Jenn demanded, changing the subject.
“That was done by rogue vigilantes, without my permission,” Solomon said. “I swear I had nothing to do with it.”
“That’s what you said when the president’s daughter was converted on national TV,” Jenn said.
“Do you think I would authorize an attack at the same time I’m trying to make peace with you?” he asked, sounding wounded.
“You tell me,” Jenn shot back. “In fact, I want you to tell me everything you’ve done. And are doi
ng. All of it. Or I’ll come and get you myself, Solomon. I’ll drive a stake through your lying, evil heart. I swear it.” The rage inside her roared like a wild animal. She wanted to break something.
Kill someone . . .
“You? You aren’t . . . ,” Solomon began in a patronizing tone; then he cleared his throat as if thinking the better of what he’d been about to say. “Okay, okay, Jennifer. Here it all is.”
And he told her about his supersoldiers, and how he’d double-crossed Dantalion in Russia, and that he had a spy at Project Crusade who had told him about the virus. Antonio, Father Juan, Father Wadim, and Gramma Esther listened intently. It dawned on Jenn that she was the youngest person in the room, but she was the one in the leadership position. A little fillip of panic tickled the base of her spine.
I was chosen, she reminded herself. I can do this.
“So I came to you because I need allies. My vampires will fight with you against Lucifer,” Solomon concluded. “In return, I want the antidote.”
The antidote that they didn’t have. She decided to test him. Mentally crossing her fingers for luck, she said, “Oh, come on. Your spy at Project Crusade must have some hidden away for you.”
“I think something happened to him,” he said. “The line went dead while he was briefing me.”
Jenn wondered if Noah had had anything to do with that. She’d have to ask him.
“What about your best friend, the president?” she prodded. “Can’t he get it for you?”
There was a pause. “You don’t have it either, do you,” the vampire said.
Jenn’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t say that.”
“What about the president?” Father Juan said loudly. “Doesn’t he want his ally to survive? Or is humanity turning its back on the charming vampire from California?”
“You don’t want to piss me off, priest,” Solomon hissed through the phone. “You really don’t. If I come at you from one side, and Lucifer attacks from the other . . .”
Father Juan smiled thinly. “Then you’ll deplete your troops before you face each other.”