Vanquished (19 page)

“But, Lucifer, if
they
find them, and realize that they don’t last long . . .”

Dantalion. Lucifer’s assistant, from what Heather could tell. Nearly just as dangerous.

“What is the problem with that?” Lucifer interrupted Dantalion. “If they think the creatures pose no threat, they’re mistaken. It’s wonderful if they underestimate us. We can continue to replace the ones that wear out for as long as we need.”

They were coming closer. Heather looked left, right, trying to find some way to get out of their way before they spotted her. She looked down at her hands. She had forgotten she was covered in filth and dried blood. Everyone in the castle, vampire and human alike, was so
clean
.

“Aurora,” Lucifer called out. “What light from yonder window breaks?”

Trapped,
Heather thought.
Caught.
Then, panicking, she looked down at the water in the cistern again. Moving with the speed endowed her by vampirism, she looped one leg over the lip of the container, and then the other, and ducked her head beneath the surface. She could stay like that for hours. She wouldn’t need to come up for air, ever.

Now Aurora was saying something about a party. As her words carried through the water, they were a bit muffled. But it was clear to Heather that Aurora wasn’t going to go out as she had originally planned.

Fury rushed through Heather, and she balled her fists, feeling the water mixing with the layers of grime as her thumb ran over her knuckles, turning the blood and earthen crust to slime. She rubbed her fingers together, then
trailed them up her arms. Then remembered that she was hiding, and that if her movements disturbed the surface of the water, she would be revealed.

So she went back to waiting.

And waiting.

Then something dove into the water, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked her straight up. Her eyes filmy, she couldn’t see what had hold of her. She flailed as she dangled; then her vampire instincts took over, and she hissed and snapped, grabbing what she saw now was an arm, half rotted and covered with fur.

Without warning she was dropped. She landed on her bare feet and threw herself at her attacker. Her force threw it on its back, and she straddled it, hissing and preparing to rip open its throat.

But it whimpered.

Heather was a Cursed One, which meant that she was evil. She would never show mercy just because someone sounded hurt. That was the time to go in for the kill. But as she paused and stared down at the thing beneath her, curiosity overcame her. It was so
gross
, like a Frankenstein monster sewn together from hacked-off bits of dead human . . . and decomposing werewolf and rotten vampire, complete with glowing eyes.

Then the thing said in a tortured, gravelly voice, “Oh, so lovely.”

Panicking all over again, Heather whirled around, fully
expecting to see Aurora—and Dantalion and Lucifer—behind her. But there was no one there.

The monster raised a hand and pointed at her. At Heather. And it said, “Lovely.”

Jenn was in hell. After the werewolf attack, it took only one more day to reach their destination. The monastery of St. Andrew topped a jagged mountain peak of hallowed ground, but rivers of spilled blood had soaked into the stones at the base of the castlelike fortress. Vampires had terrorized Transylvania for centuries. After hearing only a few stories of the massacres that had taken place at the doors of the gloomy, drafty monastery, Jenn was surprised that the snow on the hillsides stayed white.

As soon as they arrived, Brother Cristian and Brother Dorin showed Jenn the special vampire prison cell the monks had built centuries before, when they began their work of “cleansing” vampires of their terrible curse. It was where they wanted to house Antonio. Religious murals of angels smiting demons covered the ceiling of the cell, and on the walls hundreds of crosses were crammed between wooden stakes that pointed inward from all directions.
There were special wheels that could be turned so that the walls shot toward each other with astonishing speed. In the ever-narrowing space, a vampire would be forced to watch as the stakes approached him, then ended his undead life.

Jenn wanted to protest, to say that Antonio didn’t belong in such a dangerous place. What if someone accidentally set the wheels in motion?

Even worse, their reassurances of turning vampires to the light were hard to prove. The last vampire they claimed to have made “good” had left the monastery in 1896. According to their records, her name was Elizabet, and she had stopped drinking human blood. She left the monastery in the company of two monks, with the intention of traveling to the sacred grotto of Lourdes, France, where it was said that miraculous cures occurred when one prayed there to the Holy Mother.

“Why would Elizabet go there, if she was no longer cursed?” Jenn asked dubiously.

“She no longer drank human blood, but she was still a Cursed One,” Brother Dorin said. “She wanted to ask the Holy Mother to cure her of vampirism altogether.” He rarely spoke, and the sound of his voice startled her. It was very hoarse and labored, and she wondered if he’d had some sort of throat injury.

Something similar to her own, perhaps.

Jenn took a deep breath. “And did she get cured?”

The two monks looked at each other, and then at her.
“We don’t know. There was a fire, and many of our records were lost.”

“Aren’t there always fires when it’s convenient to have them?” Jenn asked irritably, then let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . he—and I—we were kind of hoping . . .” She trailed off and stared at the cell.
Antonio,
she thought. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but this wasn’t it.

“Since the cross does not hold him back, we need to put him in here,” Brother Cristian said. “We must think of everyone who lives here.”

“God is a merciful Father,” Brother Dorin said. “Perhaps if we pray together—”

She swallowed. “The cell is fine. I’ll see if any of my people need anything.”

“God needs you,” Brother Dorin said.

Well, He knows where to find me,
Jenn thought, turning away.

After they had escaped from the werewolves, Antonio hadn’t spoken a word to her. Inside the van he’d kept his back turned, head bowed, and when she’d started to reach out a hand to him, she’d drawn it back. Holgar had seen her do it, and had nodded sadly. She knew that Holgar had always liked Antonio. They were two men who lived with the knowledge that the supernatural forces within them could turn them into monsters.

Except Antonio’s not a man. He’s a vampire.

Her back like iron, tears streaming down her face, she left the hellish place.

After Antonio was put in his cell, chanting filled the monastery. Ancient, holy rhythms rose and fell. The monks were begging God to fill their brother Antonio with His grace.

Father Wadim, the head of the brotherhood, conferred with Jenn. He assigned rooms for the group and apologized for the bad heating. He also told Jenn that she would be able to use her cell phone. It took a few tries to reach Father Juan, but finally she heard his calm, Spanish voice. She told him they had arrived safely. She withheld the information about Antonio’s attack, telling herself it was because Father Juan had a lot of news to tell her. But the truth was, she didn’t want him to know, ever. He would have to, of course. But what if he told the monks to turn the wheels?

Father Juan assured her that Gramma Esther was fine.

“That’s great news,” Jenn said, struggling to be happy when her own news was so grim.

“And Jamie has found Skye. They’re together, but still in England. I’m afraid her ex is proving dangerous and difficult to evade,” the priest went on.

“Estefan has found her?” Jenn knew she was terrified of him. She pressed her fingers to her temples and wondered, not for the first time, if Eriko has suffered from so many headaches because of the stress of being the leader.

“So far they’ve been able to outrun Estefan and his
Spanish coven brothers. Skye’s been performing strong spells to blot out their trail, and I’ve tried to help her,” Father Juan said.

“Oh, God,” Jenn said, her chest constricting from a breath she now realized she’d been holding mentally for weeks. “What about my mom and Sade?”

“Call them and see,” Father Juan said, then relented. “Your mother’s fine, if stressed and frightened. Sade is another matter. When you speak to them, tell them to come to you.”

“Just the two of them? Alone?” Jenn asked.

“Remember, Jenn, after your father betrayed you to Aurora, your mother joined the resistance. She’s been on dangerous recon missions. The news about Heather was a huge blow to her, and I think for a time she felt very helpless. But Sade has not recovered from the shock of the battle at Salamanca. And your mother has had someone to take care of. It’s helped her rally.”

Jenn swallowed hard. “So . . . no word on Heather?”

“Not through any of my contacts, nor through magick. I’m sorry.”

“And Noah?”

Father Juan shook his head. “I’ve had no word from him. I’ll be honest; that worries me.”

* * *

After all the team members had been contacted, they began to arrive. Jenn’s mother and Sade were the first. Anxiously
waiting for them in the entryway to the dank, grim chapel, where rows of candles glowed as testament to the many prayers the monks were saying for Antonio’s sake, Jenn wore a black turtleneck sweater to hide the wound Antonio had inflicted on her.

“Jenn,” her mother said, wrapping her arms around her.

Jenn tried not to feel intense hurt as she felt the stiffness in her mother’s embrace. It was obvious that her mom still blamed her for Heather’s transformation into a vampire—when it should have been Jenn’s father she blamed. As Jenn did.

“Your father was on TV again,” Jenn’s mom said as Father Wadim brought her some green mint tea. He was very tall, with a stripe of gray hair wrapped around the middle of his head, like Friar Tuck of
Robin Hood
. He was wearing a dark brown robe with a huge cross dangling from a rope belt, and sandals. That was the habit all the monks wore inside the monastery, and Jenn had no idea how they could keep their feet from freezing.

“Welcome,” Father Wadim said to Jenn’s mother and Sade. Still dressed for the severe weather, Sade stood passively by, watching. The chants rose and fell around them, and Jenn’s throat constricted. She wanted her mother to be somewhere else. To be safe. Not to know about a world where holy men prayed to make vampires good.

“Okay, sweetie, let’s get you settled in,” Jenn’s mother said to Sade. She brushed an errant tendril of hair away
from Sade’s forehead. Sade didn’t so much as blink.

Jenn’s mom turned to Father Wadim. “If you could show us to our room?”

“I thought maybe you could stay with me, Mom,” Jenn said. “And Sade, of course. It’s hard to heat the monastery, so we’re doubling up. When Gramma, Jamie, and Skye get here—”

“If,”
her mother corrected her, and she turned her back on Jenn.

* * *

Father Juan and Gramma Esther arrived next. Jenn flew into her grandmother’s arms. Jenn could tell that Esther sensed that things were not right, but Esther didn’t ask, just hugged her back tightly. Wiping away a tear, Jenn turned to face Father Juan.

“I’ve still had no word from Noah,” Father Juan said, his eyes troubled.

She took the words like a body blow. “There’s something I have to tell you,” Jenn said. Her ears roared with the pounding sound of her pulse. She felt very cold, very frightened, very alone. “It’s about Antonio.”

His deep-set eyes softened with pity as he took one of her hands in both of his. She was so numb she couldn’t feel his skin against hers.

“I already know, Jenn,” he said. “Father Wadim met us halfway down the mountain and told me all about it. He described the cell to me. I’m going down now to talk to
Antonio. He doesn’t want to see me. He doesn’t want to see anyone, but he must.”

She took a breath. “Maybe I should go with you.”

Father Juan shook his head. “You’re the last person on this earth he should see.”

I used to be the first,
she thought, anguished.

After Father Juan left her, she staggered into the chapel, sat in a pew, and laid her forehead on her hands as she clung to the weathered, dark wood. She cried all the tears she’d kept in for so long. Her eyes pressed against her knuckles, she cried until her stomach hurt and her head throbbed and her back ached. She was aware of people entering the chapel, leaving. Of someone stroking her hair, bending over to kiss the top of her head. She yearned for it to be Antonio, then recoiled from the thought. And then she cried some more.

When she woke, she was in a bedroom on a simple cot with a plain brown blanket pulled up to her chin. Sunlight streamed in through a window. She stared into it, thinking of vampires who might one day walk in daylight. Her throat ached, and she thought of Antonio down in his prison.

She forced herself to get up. She was still wearing her turtleneck sweater and jeans, but the bandage was in place.

In the dining room she found Father Juan talking quietly with Esther and Holgar. The incessant chanting seemed like familiar background noise. Jenn walked in, acknowledging everyone with a nod of her head as she covered a yawn.

“Hello, Jenny,” her grandmother said as Jenn kissed her cheek.

“What’s going on?” she asked, wondering if Father Juan had been the one to carry her out of the chapel.

“Did you sleep well?” Holgar asked her. So he had tucked her in.

She nodded. “Thanks,” she said, and he flashed her a quizzical smile.