Vanquished (16 page)

The vampire shook his head. “No. That was my condition for working on it, and my handlers agreed.”

Noah cocked a brow. “But you’ll die too.”

Sherman shrugged. “I can’t risk it getting into the wrong hands.”

Noah thought about Jenn. She would have argued with the man, for the sake of Antonio, but the doctor was right. When it came to something like this, you wanted all your exits closed off.

Nodding, Noah gave the man a salute. “When?” he asked.

“Soon. I know it’ll work. I just want to make sure it works perfectly,” Sherman said. Then his eyes ticked to a place behind Noah. “But I’m not sure you’ll have a chance to tell anyone that help is on the way.”

Noah spun and came face-to-face with Greg, the leader of the black crosses. Their paths had crossed the night Greg had forced Team Salamanca at rifle point to stand down from their self-appointed mission to expose Solomon’s treachery at his press conference with the president.

“So now you know what we’ve been trying to create, what we’ve been protecting,” Greg said quietly.

“It’s fantastic,” Noah said, scanning the space behind Greg. There was no one else with him, at least not inside the room. How many were gathered outside? “We’ll win the war.”

“Yes. So you have to understand, there are a lot of folks—even in our government—who want us stopped.”

“You can count on the support of Team Salamanca,” Noah said steadily.

“I believe that’s true,” Greg said. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and the hair on the back of Noah’s neck raised on end. It wasn’t a good smile. Noah himself had given that smile on more than one occasion. He slid his hand into the back of his waistband and let his fingers close around the knife he had concealed there.

“What would you like us to do to help?” Noah asked, stalling for time.

Greg’s demeanor didn’t change. “Thanks, but the best answer is ‘nothing.’ We can’t risk tipping the vampires off in any way. Jenn and the rest of you provide a great distraction, a place for the Cursed Ones to focus all their energy. We need you all to be able to continue exactly as before.”

Noah nodded.

“Which means I can’t let you leave this facility,” Greg said.

Noah swung his left arm, and Greg blocked it easily, but missed Noah’s right arm swinging in low with the knife. Noah felt the knife slide into Greg’s flesh, piercing his side, missing the major organs but dropping the man to the ground. Blood pooled everywhere. Noah let go of the knife and leaped over the body, jamming his stolen ID badge through the reader. The door slid open, and he blinked in shock to see no troops waiting for him on the other side.

But from the corridor to his left he heard the sound of running feet. So he took off to the right.

He had to warn the others about what was coming.

If he could make it out alive.

Jamie’s bike went through the block of stone, and suddenly he was in a tunnel, the walls barely visible and no
light revealing any end, madly trying to slow down as he burst into victorious laughter. He swore every good curse he knew as he throttled down, aware that he had yet to confirm if friend or foe had created this magickal illusion. The scrying stone was so hot by then that as soon as he stopped the bike and leaped off, he dug in his pocket, grabbed the stone, and tossed it to the ground. Blisters rose instantly on his fingers. He grabbed the Uzi and whirled in a circle, such a mess of adrenaline, terror, and relief that he knew he had no real hope of using it.

“Jamie!” a girl shrieked, and he knew her for Skye.

Then out of the darkness the little witch flew, in a white robe with golden spangles, her dreadlocks gone and her blond hair plaited down her back like a medieval princess. “Don’t shoot me!” she shouted.

He had time to lift the Uzi from around his neck as she threw herself into his arms and showered his face with kisses. Kissing for joy wasn’t much his thing, but he let her do it, laughing again, and grabbed her and whirled her in a circle.

“How did you find me?” she cried.

Then his street education reasserted itself, and he eased her away. He crouched behind the fallen bike and pointed the weapon in the direction he had come, seeing only blackness.

“I was followed,” he said. “Magicians or wizards or witches or something. On motorcycles. Four.”

“Oh, Goddess.” Her giddiness evaporated, and she crouched down beside him. She began to murmur a spell.

“That better be a fighting spell,” he said. “It’s your ex, ain’t it.” It wasn’t a question. “I shot one of them. I hope it was him.”

She sucked in her breath but went on with her spell casting. Jamie kept his Uzi sighted. “Is there an escape route? Where are we?” The order of his questions didn’t matter if she could take the time to answer them.

Murmuring still—sounded like Latin—she tapped him on the shoulder. She had conjured up a little ball of glowing light above her upturned palm. She darted into the blackness, and he had no reasonable choice but to follow her.

She was a damned gazelle as he stumbled along, tired from his ride, legs shaking from all the adrenaline. Everything in him wanted to stand his ground and prepare for an attack. If it was her ex, then from what Jamie knew he was a magick user of the first water, more powerful than Skye. He wondered how she’d escaped him. Or
if
she’d escaped him.

“Skye,” he began. She pointed over her shoulder, and he looked.

There was a scraping sound, like the grating of stone on stone, and from either side of the tunnel they were in—he saw now that it had been carved out and reinforced with timber, the whole lot rickety and old—two hulking figures pulled themselves out of the rock: head, shoulders, torso,
arms, legs. They were unfinished and lacking in detail, as if they were a child’s clay creations. As they stepped out of the rock, they seemed to harden into moving statues. Then they stood side by side, enormous—seven feet, Jamie estimated—their backs to Skye and him.

She said,
“Defindite nos!”
and the creatures took a mighty stride forward, toward the opening of the cavern.

“Come on, Jamie,” Skye said.

Street fighter that he was, Jamie knew better than to ask questions at the wrong time. Still, he kept firm hold of the Uzi as he trailed after her. Soon the two giants were lost to his field of vision. Then he heard a rumble, low and practically subsonic.

“I’ve created a wall in front of them,” she said.

“And they are?”

“Defenders. I’ll explain later.”

She scooted along a warren of tunnels, never hesitating as she forked left, then right, then went straight. After a time he heard dripping water. They hurried around to the right, and they were going up a flight of stairs cut into the rock. The little light ball kept glowing merrily away. She ducked into another hole cut in the rock, and he saw a proper little room—a camp bed, a propane stove, and a very elaborate witch’s altar presided over by a statue of the Virgin Mary, lavender and white candles, a spray of lavender tied up with a white string, some colorful crystals, and a seashell. She sent the glowing ball to the candles, and they
lit up one by one. She looked older. She looked as if she had been through a lot.

She sank to her knees and bowed her head, speaking in a language that wasn’t Latin, Spanish, or English, and waved her hands about. Witchy matters. He came up beside her. She reached up, found his hand, and squeezed it. “Are the others okay?”

“Holgar’s fine. Gone off with Jenn and Antonio.” Then he realized that she probably didn’t know about Eriko. He didn’t want to tell her. Not now, anyway. “What are Defenders?”

“Like golems. I doubt our ‘friends’ will get through my wall. I’ve gotten quite good at them,” she said, with a hint of pride. “How did they find you?”

“I don’t know. I think finder’s spell.” He winced. “Father Juan gave me a scrying stone to find
you
, but I dropped it back in that tunnel.”

“Oh, dear.” Her eyes grew wide. “They may be able to trace us.”

“You got backup?” he asked, grimacing as he pictured his lost weapons back in the hard saddlebags of the bike. “Witch mates? I traveled here alone.”

“Backup.” She took a breath. “Jamie, we’re on White magick ground. You know the code.”

“An it harm none,’” he intoned. Then he frowned at her. “Leave off. Those bastards were throwing lightning bolts at me, and
we’re
not supposed to harm
them
?”

“L-lightning bolts?” she echoed, looking terrified.

“Yeah. That some signature of his?” he asked. “Your ex, what was his name? Est—”

She covered his mouth with both her hands. “Don’t say it. Names have power. He might hear you.”

He shifted his weight. “Maybe he’s the one I shot.”

“I hope so,” she blurted; then she paled and looked down at her white robe. The spangles were moons and stars. She looked like people he’d seen etchings of about to be burned at the stake or getting their heads chopped off.

“We have to do something,” he said. “If they do break down your wall and overtake those Defender lads, we’re in big trouble.” He picked up one of her candles and mimicked the sound of gunfire. “Take that, you big mean, bad person! I harm you not with my candle!”

“Show respect,” Skye snapped, taking the candle from him.

“Skye?” said a voice. There was a girl in the doorway, also dressed in a white robe. She had dark hair and skin. “Who’s this?”

“Farrah, this is Jamie. He’s one of the Salamancans. Farrah is one of my—my coven sisters.”

“Your Salamancan coven?” Farrah said, looking askance at him, then down at his Uzi. “Why are you here?”

“Coven?”
Jamie repeated, narrowing his eyes. Skye reddened and kept her gaze averted.

“Skye’s with us now,” Farrah said, moving protectively toward Skye. “Not you lot.”

“What?”
Jamie cried.

Skye grimaced. “No one asked me to make a choice.”

“It went without saying,” Farrah retorted.

“But I belong to both. It was that way before—”

The boom of an explosion shook the earth beneath their feet. Pebbles and chalky dirt sprinkled down from the ceiling. Farrah cried out and grabbed onto Skye. For his part, Jamie checked his Uzi.

“Nice try, witchy, but I think they may be coming through your wall,” Jamie said, as a second explosion rocked them. “Come on.”

“What’s going on?” Farrah asked.

“He was followed,” Skye said. “I made a wall—”

Farrah’s shock was obvious. “
Followed?
Weren’t you going to come and warn the rest of us?”

“He just got here. Farrah, please, get the others. These men are Dark Witches. I set out two Defenders, but they could get past them.”

“How did they know about the tunnel?” Farrah demanded. “How did Jamie? Did you reveal it?”

“Hey, leave off. I’ve seen that trick before,” Jamie cut in. “Thought I’d take a chance. I was scrying for her, and—”

“Scrying?”
Farrah shook her head in disbelief. “Is there
anything
about our Art that you haven’t shared with the Salamancans?”

“She didn’t. Our priest did,” Jamie snapped, not liking the witch at all. Farrah looked bewildered. “Talk later. Time
to sound the alarm. Assemble your people. We may have a nasty fight on our hands. These lads were hurling lightning bolts at me.”

Farrah took Skye’s arm. “We have to get out of here, Skye,” she said. “Move to safety.”

Jamie blinked. “There is no ‘safety.’ There’s fighting.”

“Not like this. Not White Witches,” Farrah said firmly. “Skye, let’s go.”

“You don’t know what they’re like,” Skye told Farrah. “My ex allied himself with the Cursed Ones. He’s done their magicks. They’ve changed him.”

“All the more reason to leave,” Farrah insisted. “Let’s
go
.”

Skye looked from Farrah to Jamie and back again. It was clear she was torn. Jamie was incredulous. He was about to remind her of the vows she took as a hunter—to hunt, to attack, to destroy. That was their mission.
Not
to protect.
Not
to defend. But to
fight
—to the death, if necessary. Suicide mission with one, but if only these witches would take a stand—

“Jamie, I’m with you,” Skye told him. “Farrah,
please
, get the others.”

“It’s the wrong thing to do!” Farrah cried.

“If it’s . . . him, we can’t outrun them,” Skye shot back. “Just tell the High Priestess. Tell her. That’s all I ask.”

Farrah frowned. Then she nodded, obviously coming to a decision.

“Thank you.” Skye took a deep breath and looked at
Jamie. “I can try to create more Defenders. Maybe they can hold the line until my coven sisters reach the cavern.”

“Agreed,” Jamie said, flashing her a look of approval.

Together they negotiated the warrens and tunnels by way of her little glow light. Another explosion shook the tunnel, and one of the supporting timbers broke free.

The two stone Defenders stood a few yards ahead of them, shifting on their massive feet. Skye’s wall before them seemed to wobble and shimmer, and Jamie’s hair rose up as if he’d just walked into a field of static electricity.

“They’re breaking it down,” she said.

“Does that mean they’ve breached the outer wall?” he asked. Grimly she nodded her head. “Then they’ve got my weapons and, if they find it, the scrying stone.” He raised his Uzi. “Get ready. The only way out for us is through.”

“Right,” she said, raising her arms. She began to chant.

“Don’t hold back,” he warned her. “They ain’t.”

She kept chanting. A wind whistled past him and rushed around the room. He grinned at Skye as the evidence of her power manifested.

The wall jittered. The two Defenders took another giant step forward. Jamie wished he had a rocket launcher. Or twenty.

He could almost see through the wall. See a dark-haired man lying outside the cave, and three others aiming streams of energy at the stone.

“Is that . . . ?” he asked.

“Yes,” she murmured, sounding stricken. “But he’s not the one lying down. You didn’t get him.”