Vanquished. Part 26

"Antonio?" His name came out as a whisper.

He dipped his head. "Si, Jenn." That voice. His voice. She swallowed hard against the tide of emotion inside her. Except for a few words during the battle with the werewolves, they hadn't spoken since the attack.

"Are you . . . okay?" It sounded lame, and she didn't even know what "okay" meant anymore. Are you going to murder us? How did you ask that?

"I will be," he said firmly. He looked at her father, and Jenn thought she saw red glowing in his eyes. To her shame she wished Antonio would lose control and attack him.

"We had a little heart-to-heart," Gramma Esther said. She looked at Jenn's father, and at Jenn. She crossed to Jenn and bent down in front of her. She pushed ringlets of Jenn's hair away from her forehead. "Now, how about you fill us in on what happened to you?"

Jenn opened her mouth and then closed it, having no idea how to begin. In the background, Holgar and Father Juan kept laughing.

An hour later Jenn stood in the dining room, staring at everyone else gathered there. Jenn's mom had come to, but the monks had given her something to calm her nerves, and she had gone back to Jenn's old room. Sade hadn't left the room she shared with Jenn and her mom when Jenn and the others had returned, and now she fussed over Jenn's mom as she tucked her in bed.

Noah insisted on handcuffing Jenn's father's wrists; then he escorted him to a previously unoccupied room and made sure that monks were stationed to watch him. Jenn was incredibly grateful to Noah for taking charge of their prisoner, because there was no way she could trust herself to deal with her father even on that rudimentary level.

"Where's Heather?" he'd asked. The question still rang in her ears. A thousand wicked retorts had come to mind, but none of them was so painful as the truth. We don't know.

Father Juan and Holgar had both regained their composure and were sitting quietly, soberly, at the table where they took their meals. Antonio and Gramma Esther sat across from them. Jenn took a place next to Holgar, where she could study Antonio. Noah sat down next to her when he returned from "securing" her father. Noah was chewing his cinnamon gum. When he offered her a stick, she took it. Antonio watched them together. He watched everything.

They quickly filled Esther and Antonio in on Solomon's offer, as well as his goodwill return of Jenn's father. The two listened carefully to everything before the general discussion began.

And after it had gone on for three hours, they were still no closer to knowing what to do about it. Finally Father Juan stood up with a yawn. "We're all exhausted. Might I suggest that we get some sleep and come at this again in a few hours?"

"Good idea," Jenn agreed. She was so tired she kept fuzzing out and missing parts of the debate.

Everyone had agreed that if Solomon sided with Lucifer, their cause was hopeless. But his offer of an alliance could easily be a ruse, and he might already be in league with the other vampire-helping him gather intel, or trying to soften them up for the later attack.

But if Solomon was telling the truth, he could be a valuable a.s.set, if not a totally trustworthy one.

It seemed like an impossible situation. Jenn hoped that sleep would make things clearer. At least for her.

The others began to disperse, but Antonio stood, looking a bit lost. After a moment she understood. Unlike the rest of them, he had no room to go to. He'd spent his time in the cage downstairs. Gramma Esther must have arrived at the same realization, because she put a hand on Antonio's arm.

"Why don't you sleep in the hall outside Jenn's room, guard her against any intrusions while she gets some rest?"

The suggestion surprised Jenn, but Antonio looked so grateful it was almost comical. Then the seriousness of the situation penetrated. Her neck ached where he had bitten her, and she resisted the urge to rub it.

Jenn nodded her a.s.sent and headed for her room, Antonio trailing behind her at a respectful distance. Gramma Esther must have her reasons for trusting Antonio, or else she wouldn't have suggested that he guard Jenn while she slept.

Jenn didn't trust Antonio, but she trusted Gramma Esther. For now that would be enough.

Alone in his room Father Juan quickly realized that even though he was bone weary, sleep was not going to come. Frustrated, he sat up and debated his limited options. He wasn't in the mood to speak with anyone, even to be around anyone, which pretty much meant he was trapped in his room.

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 pa.s.s 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 ident.i.ty, 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 ma.s.sacred 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 G.o.dspeed."

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 Brotherhood 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 a.s.sumed, 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 att.i.tude 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.