Vanquished. Part 22

"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 G.o.d 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 them. 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 s.n.a.t.c.h 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 h.e.l.l:

Better to reign in h.e.l.l, 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 h.e.l.l 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.