Vanquished (7 page)

“Thank you,” she said. “Blessed be.” She turned to her sister. “Merrily met, and merrily parted.”

A tear ran down Melody’s cheek. No one else answered as she let herself out the front door.

“I’m going,” Jamie announced.
“Now.”

They were sitting in a little anteroom off the monastery’s chapel. They’d been about to leave when Father Sebastian had glided in like a short, skinny angel of the Lord Himself
and taken Father Juan off for a chat. Now the priests were back, and two tenser men Jamie had never seen. Which meant . . . more
talking
.

And not fighting.

Talking didn’t solve anything. All the plotting and planning in the world hadn’t saved Eriko, and it wouldn’t save Skye. Staking vampires would, and killing sympathizers would. Blowing up the enemy’s stronghold would.

But not talking.

If the hunters of Salamanca were the last best hope of mankind, maybe it was time to restore his Catholic schoolboy faith in miracles.

Although that would be a miracle in itself.

Jamie pulled on his black duster and picked up his duffel, which clanked with weapons. He’d packed his two special guns—the one with silver bullets and the one he was building that would fire wooden ones. Talking was shite, and it was time to take action. With one foot past the threshold, he froze as Father Juan called to him.

“Jamie, one moment,
por favor
,” he said, carrying his own small gym bag. Because Father Juan asked politely and—oh,
hell
—because he was Jamie’s priest, Jamie huffed loudly and shifted his weight on his hip.

“
Gracias
, my son. Thank you.” Father Juan set the bag on the marble floor. “My friends, please listen.”

Jamie blew air out of his cheeks. Jenn’s ma and that African bint so fond of garlic—Sade—sank down on a red
velvet sofa like refugees, the ma’s eyes all bloodshot and Sade patting her hand, her own eyes vacant, like a doll’s. Holgar had been fixing the zipper on Jenn’s grandmother’s flak jacket, and he turned to give the two fathers his full attention. Such a nice little werewolf. Give him a pat on the head and get him some goat entrails.

“We’ve had a message from the Brotherhood of Saint Andrew,” Father Sebastian announced. His eyes and cheeks were sunken. Despite the fact that he’d made it clear he was on their side, he gave Jamie the shudders. “They’re Romanian. They’ve heard of you, Antonio, and they admire you deeply. With Father Juan’s permission, I told them something of your struggles, and they’ve offered their help.”

The vampire was all ears on
that
.

“They’ve helped many souls overcome the devil’s temptations,” Father Sebastian said. “They’re located deep in the family seat of the legendary Vlad Tepes—you would know him by his other name, Dracula. They know much about vampiric evil.”

“Dracula?”
Jenn’s mother cried.

“Myth,” Jamie assured her impatiently. “Well, the real Dracula was a warrior and he impaled people, but he wasn’t a vampire.” He pointedly cleared his throat. “But is this the right time for that?”

“Jamie’s right,” Antonio said, shocking Jamie by agreeing with him. “We have more important things to do.”

Yeah. We should stake you and be done with it,
Jamie thought.

“But . . . could they make him
not
a vampire?” Jenn asked in a soft voice. Her cheeks were blazing red as coals.

Oh, yeah, she still loves the sucker. American girls—who can understand them?

“No, unfortunately not,” Father Sebastian said gently. “As for Dracula being a myth, I wish that were true.”

“The lad’s
real
? Get on with you,” Jamie said, incredulous. “But to get back to the point: We
should
be looking for Skye.”

Jamie was a son of the Church, a cradle Catholic, but his obedience only went so far. If Father Juan wanted to hit the road, well and good. But Jamie would be damned if he was going to do anything to help Antonio while Skye was unaccounted for. Jamie’s entire reason for going to the bloody academy to learn to fight vampires in the first place was to become the Hunter. He’d trained in hopes of receiving the elixir that bestowed heightened strength. He’d planned to then hightail it back to Northern Ireland to settle a few scores and take care of his own folk.

And if there was anyone among this sorry crew he called his own, with Eriko gone, it was Skye York. English, yeah, but for the love of Mike, why the
hell
wasn’t Holgar tearing the world apart to find her? Holgar was Skye’s fighting partner.

Because of Antonio, that was bleedin’ why. Sodding bastard. It was clear everyone thought he was more important
than Skye. And more important than any of the rest of them. But he was a
vampire
, and he would always be a vampire—evil, disgusting, soulless. Damned in every sense of the word.

Antonio had fooled Father Juan with his seminary studies and his prayers, but Jamie knew that sooner or later the Curser would drop the act. And Antonio de la Cruz had finally shown his true fangs. He’d lured everyone to “rescue” him in Las Vegas, where’d he gone on a killing spree and nearly drained a baby at its own christening.
That
was who was getting all the attention. Meanwhile, the warlock stalker who was in league with the very same vampire who had kidnapped Antonio had hold of Skye. And no one was doing shite about it.

Jamie clenched his jaw. Arse-backwards, the lot. If he could take out Antonio with his wood-bullet gun once it was finished, he’d be doing their side a favor.

“Thank you, Father Sebastian,” Father Juan said, dismissing the other priest. “I’ll give you an answer for the Brotherhood after I’ve had a chance to talk with my team.”

Father Sebastian lowered his head. Then he made the sign of the cross over each person in the room. Father Juan and Antonio crossed themselves as well. It was an abomination, Antonio doing that. Jamie hated him down to the soles of his boots.

Father Juan glanced at Jamie, and Jamie pursed his lips and made a show of obediently crossing himself.
Bloody hell.

After Father Sebastian left, everyone looked expectantly at Father Juan.

“I’ve cast the runes,” Father Juan said. “And some things have been revealed to me.”

Skye,
Jamie thought, holding his breath.

“Runes? What’s he talking about?” Jenn’s mother asked. “What are those? What about Heather?”

“Shh, Leslie,” Jenn’s gran murmured. “Let him speak.”

Father Juan began, “I have prayed about them.” He gazed directly at Jenn. “Your leader is right. It’s time to take the fight to our enemies. Antonio must go to Romania to protect himself from—let us call it—a relapse.”

Jamie opened his mouth to say all the things he was thinking. Father Juan held up a hand for silence. Jamie grudgingly stayed silent.

“And each one of you—of us—must be as strong as we can be. I have been casting magicks since your graduation, and I believe I can create more doses of the Hunter’s elixir. Enough for all of you hunters.”

“Too right!” Jamie shouted.

When he hadn’t received the elixir, he’d nearly packed it in and left. But to have a second crack at it . . . his faith in miracles was restored.

Holgar grunted. “Hunter elixir on top of werewolf strength? That would make me hard to beat.”

“The same is true for Antonio,” Father Juan said. “Which is why we must be sure of him.”

“You said you could only make the one dose,” Jenn cautiously reminded the good father. “Because of the ingredients. And all your other supplies were burned up in the fire.”

Father Juan nodded at Jenn. “It’s true that my things were destroyed. Including the single most important ingredient: the petals of a rose that grew in the garden at Salamanca—a rose called
las Lagrimas de Cristo
, the Tears of Christ. It took two years of cultivating the rosebush to harvest enough petals for one dose. But I’ve had word that a similar flower grows along the French and Spanish border, in the maquis.”

“I was changed into a vampire in the maquis,” Antonio said, his voice subdued. “I know the terrain. I should go with you, Father.”

“No,” Father Juan said. “You need to go to Romania. And I want Jenn to go with you. And as backup, Jamie.”

“Holgar can be backup,” Jamie insisted. “
I’m
looking for Skye.”

“My son,” Father Juan began, “let’s think this through. We’ve no way to get in touch with Skye. I tried to reach the Circuit to ask them for news, but they’re not responding. We need more information—”

“Damn it to hell!” Jamie shouted. “We need to
track her down
.”

“I’ll go with you to get the rose,” Esther told Father Juan.

“No,” Jenn’s ma protested, but Esther patted her hand.

“Yes, dear,” Esther murmured. “We all have to do our part. You look after Sade.”

Yeah, so much for that one helping out.
Sade was a freak and a wreck.

Father Juan seemed to catch the old woman’s determined expression, and dipped his head. “Thank you, Esther. Accepted.”

“Can you . . . can you use this elixir to change Heather back?” Jenn’s mom asked, her voice small and agonized. She slid a glance toward Antonio. “Though I suppose you’d have already done that. Unless he
likes
being a vampire.”

Antonio frowned, clearly offended. But Jamie thought what she said held some truth. Immortality, superstrength—lots of men would trade their souls for that.

Father Juan looked at the others. “Jamie, you may go look for Skye.” He picked up the gym bag and unzipped it, retrieving a rectangular white crystal.

“This scrying stone may alert you when you’re closing in on her. The range is approximately twenty miles.”

“Finally,”
Jamie said, grabbing it. He’d been wondering how, with all his magicks, the priest hadn’t offered anything in the search for Skye. It was about time.

“Then
I
should be the one—,” Holgar began, but Father Juan shook his head.

“There will be werewolves after you, Holgar. You will also go to Romania. You have a better chance of fighting
them off with Antonio and Jenn than you would alone, distracted by so personal a mission.”

Now it was Holgar’s turn to sigh. Jamie reveled in Holgar’s defeat.

“When did you make this stone?” Jamie asked. “How long have you planned to give me leave to find her?”

Father Juan’s only answer was a philosophical shrug. “There are billions of square miles on the planet, Jamie. That will only work when you’re within twenty miles of her.”

“It’s a start,” Jamie insisted.

Father Juan gave Jamie a measured look, then turned to Jenn and Antonio. “You two and I have something to discuss before we part.” And then he said to Jenn’s grandmother, “Señora Esther, please go into the next room and tell Father Sebastian that we accept the offer of the Brotherhood of Saint Andrew, and that Antonio de la Cruz will travel in the company of Jennifer Leitner and Holgar Vibbard.”

“Yes, Juan,” Esther said. Jamie liked her. He remembered how well she had run her camp in Montana. She was worth twenty of Jenn any day.

Sade was starting to rock back and forth.

“Who’s looking for Heather? Why didn’t you make a—a stone for
her
?” Mrs. Leitner cried.

“We’ll find her, Mom,” Jenn said. “You have to trust Father Juan. And—and me.” Her voice was tight and anxious. But she didn’t go over to hug her mother. Jamie took note, and filed that information away.

Sade wrapped her arms around Jenn’s mother. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and the two held each other.

“Here are new cell phones for all of you,” Father Juan continued, dipping into the bag. “I’ve programmed everyone’s numbers, but I want you to take the time to memorize them. I’ve already given one to Noah.”

At Noah’s mention, Jenn’s cheeks reddened. Jamie’s eyes narrowed. Oh, she fancied him, then? Had Antonio figured that out? That would make their trip to Romania all the more interesting. Now Jamie was almost sorry he wasn’t going along.

“Now, for other matters,” Father Juan said to Jenn and Antonio. “Private ones.”

* * *

Father Juan led Jenn and Antonio into a side chapel separate from where he had given Jenn’s mom the terrible news about Heather. There was one small pew, barely big enough for two people. At the end of the pew, a statue of St. John of the Cross stood elevated above a row of flickering candles. Antonio and Father Juan dipped their fingers into a small silver font attached to the wall, bent their knees, and crossed themselves. Jenn just waited, feeling the odd person out.

“We don’t have much time,” Father Juan said, “and so I’ll be blunt.”

Jenn’s chest tightened. It seemed that every time they spoke in private, there was more bad news. Reflexively, she
began to reach for Antonio’s hand, then stopped herself. Those days were over.

But they weren’t. Antonio firmly slid his fingers around hers and squeezed. Her throat tightened, and she had to shut her eyes to keep the tears away.

She didn’t squeeze back.

She expected Father Juan to start with a prayer, as he usually did. Instead he asked, “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

“Pardon?” she asked.

“Padre?”
Antonio said.

“You heard me right. You spent two years at the Academia pining for each other, neither admitting your feelings. But I knew, I watched you, and every time I sent up a prayer or cast the runes, the answer was always the same.”

Jenn sucked in her breath, terrified of what he would say.

“The two of you belong together.” The priest laced his fingers together in demonstration. “Spirit. Mind. Body.”