Vanquished. Part 32

Holgar was listening, head c.o.c.ked to the side. He was sitting with them all at dinner, even though he had already eaten; he was a werewolf, and raw meat was still gross regardless of the country you ate it in. Antonio, too, sat at the table. He was drinking something from a goblet, and Jenn tried not to think too hard about it. If it was blood, she didn't want to know.

They hadn't had a chance to speak privately about what Father Juan had said to them. She blushed just remembering it. The priest was right. There was darkness in her. She could feel it. But how could there not be?

She sighed. It was too much of a headache for the moment. All she wanted was to have one evening of peace. With her mom refusing to come out of her room and her father and Sade locked up, she had high hopes that she would get just that.

The howling stopped, which really got Holgar's attention, Jenn noted. He straightened, his pupils dilating slightly.

A single cry pierced the night. It was sad and terrible, and it sent a chill down her spine. She could see why mankind had always feared wolves, even when they didn't believe in werewolves. There was something eerie about their cries.

What was it Dracula would say? Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!

And then, as she watched, Holgar bared his teeth.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"It's a wolf from Viorica's pack. Says he needs to see me. Something is wrong."

He rose abruptly from the table as Jenn's heart flew into her throat. "She couldn't be . . ." She couldn't bring herself to say the word "dead." Not when they'd finally found an ally who had agreed to help them fight Lucifer. Not when they'd finally caught a break.

From Holgar's grim expression she could tell he was worried about the exact same thing.

"I'll find out."

"You shouldn't go alone," Jenn said.

"I'll go with him," Antonio said, rising quickly. "If there's a problem, I can help."

"Ja," Holgar said approvingly.

"We could all go," Jenn offered.

Holgar shook his head. "A show of force like that could be seen as hostile. If something has changed, Antonio will have my hide."

"Your back," Antonio corrected softly.

"That too," Holgar said without cracking a smile.

"Okay, but be careful," Jenn said, pushing back her plate. She wasn't hungry anymore.

"If we're not back in an hour, come get us," Antonio said, locking eyes with her.

She nodded, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

It was cold outside, and Holgar wore a jacket. Antonio walked beside him without even bothering to roll down the sleeves of his shirt. Holgar envied him that. Werewolves were impervious to cold only when in wolf form.

Well, maybe not impervious, but certainly far better equipped to deal with it.

"You're shivering," Antonio noted.

"Because it's freezing," Holgar said, wanting to make a joke, but not sure the other was ready for such things. Antonio seemed on edge. And rightly so. The wolf who had been calling to him was nervous too.

Holgar hoped nothing had happened to Viorica. They needed her. He needed her. She'd promised to help him learn how to change more easily. Her Transylvanian pack actually coached their young in how to change at will instead of waiting for it to happen, as they did in his Danish pack. And just how did she do it without shredding her clothes? He had to know.

Holgar and Antonio were a couple hundred yards from the monastery when the werewolf approached, still in wolf form. Holgar scowled. They could still understand each other, but it was rude, particularly when Antonio could not.

"What's wrong?" Holgar asked.

The wolf danced from one foot to the other.

Why is he stalling? Holgar wondered.

Suddenly the wind shifted, and Holgar could smell the wolf's fear and hatred. And there was something- "Run!" he shouted to Antonio, turning back toward the monastery. A moment later something ripped through him, and he fell to the snow as he heard the report of a rifle.

A second shot rang out, this one sounding completely different from the first, and Antonio hit the snow beside him. A tranquilizer dart was protruding from the vampire's neck.

They tranqued him. They tranqued him and they shot me.

And then his insides began to burn, and fire traced its way along his veins.

They shot me with silver.

Something was wrong; Noah could feel it. Holgar and Antonio should have been back already. At the very least they should have heard more howling, but there hadn't been any since the pair had left.

Jenn's fear was there in her eyes for all the world to see, and Father Juan wouldn't stop pacing.

Noah stood. "I'm going out there," he said.

It was the signal everyone seemed to have been waiting for, and they all exploded into action. He didn't bother to tell them to stay put. It would do no good. So a minute later he, Jenn, and Father Juan strode outside.

Esther was stationed just inside the monastery doors with half a dozen monks, all armed, all prepared for an a.s.sault.

Because that was what it felt like was happening. It felt like they were under siege.

Fortunately, it wasn't snowing, so the tracks the two had left were crisp and clear. Noah followed them at a jog, keeping eyes and ears focused for any attacks that might come from the side.

Jenn kept pace with him while Father Juan followed behind, covering them with a stake in one hand and a gun in the other.

The farther they went, the more Noah's skin crawled. Then, finally, he saw a dark shape in the snow. He pointed to it, and Jenn took off at a dead run. Lighter than he, she didn't sink as far into the snow with every step.

He swept his Uzi from side to side, trying to see where danger would be coming from. Father Juan caught up to him, and together they approached Jenn, who had fallen to her knees beside a body in the snow.

Noah looked down.

Holgar.

His chest looked like hamburger, and there was so much blood in the snow.

Too much blood.

"He's dead!" Jenn screamed.

CASTLE BRAN.

AURORA, ANTONIO, LUCIFER, AND DANTALION.

Aurora had kept her promise to her dark lord. She had brought him the traitor Antonio, proving her love, her devotion to him. Why then did she feel more nervous than before?

The werewolves who had helped her, those still loyal to Lucifer, laid the unconscious vampire on the floor and then departed quickly. She'd shot Antonio with enough tranquilizers to keep him out for two nights at least. The last thing she'd wanted was for him to awake on the journey and escape.

Or get himself killed in the process.

As for the werewolf, she had shot it through the heart with a silver bullet. It turned out you could keep a good man down. You just had to have the right weaponry.

"I'm so proud of you," Lucifer congratulated Aurora, his eyes glowing like embers as he stared at Antonio's inert form.

"Thank you," she whispered, smiling up at him with what she hoped were doting eyes.

"So, the enigma. We can see it at last for ourselves," Dantalion said as he entered the room.

Aurora fought the urge to bare her fangs at him. She hated him and was infuriated that he hadn't died in Russia like he was supposed to. But as long as Lucifer favored him, there was nothing she could do.

Dantalion was crafty. She had yet to figure out a way to discredit him with her sire. She was sure that he knew she hated him and returned it in full measure. Which meant she needed to watch her back as well.

"Do you think it's his blood?" Dantalion asked.

"We'll find out," Lucifer replied. "Bleed him, study it."

"And if it's not his blood?" Aurora asked, trying to calm her fear. After all, hadn't she already experimented with bleeding him? Of course, she had been more interested in his psyche than his physiology.

"Then we'll carve him up inch by inch until we figure out exactly what makes Sergio's little priest tick," Lucifer said, his voice dripping with menace.

Aurora shivered as she studied the unconscious Spanish vampire. She had sworn to kill Antonio de la Cruz. She wanted him dead. But somehow the thought of what Dantalion and Lucifer had in mind sent her into a near-mindless panic. They were butchers, both of them. Antonio deserved everything they did to him, and more. Just . . . what if they ever did anything like that to her?

She'd have to find a way to get rid of Dantalion soon. Maybe then she could rest easier. With the Russian vampire out of the picture, it would be just her and Lucifer . . . and the memory of whatever they had done to Antonio.

It's not that I pity him, she insisted. But she found herself thinking of the Inquisition, and how they had tortured her entire family, making them confess that they observed Jewish customs, to save their souls for Christ. But the Church hadn't cared about their immortal souls. The greedy bishops had wanted their lands.

Everyone in her family burned alive, even her little sister.

I've done worse, she thought. And taken pride in it. Antonio killed Sergio, my love. I should save my worst tortures for him.

She'd already tortured him with the finesse of centuries of cruelty. She had driven him back to the fold of evil, only to lose him. And to hear from Dantalion via his spy, the little hunting student Sade, that Antonio had undertaken some kind of pilgrimage to Romania to make sure he remained "good." Didn't it seem that fate decreed a reunion?

Despite torture and torment, something inside Antonio de la Cruz reached its arms toward heaven. Sergio had attacked him and changed him into a vampire while he'd been trying to save someone else. Aurora had been changed into a vampire while trying to save herself. Was that the difference?

I don't care. It doesn't matter, she thought. But ever since her dream, somehow, it did matter.

TRANSYLVANIA, ON THE GROUNDS OF THE MONASTERY.

JENN, NOAH, HOLGAR, AND FATHER JUAN.

Jenn heard no sound as she knelt over Holgar's body. Maybe she was screaming, maybe the others were shouting orders at each other to cover her and Holgar while they searched for the shooter-she heard nothing. Shock was like a live wire that made her tremble and jerk. Holgar was the best of them. He couldn't be dead.

Her hands fluttered uselessly over the b.l.o.o.d.y mess that had once been flesh and bone. He had been shredded to pieces.

Returning to her side, Noah flicked on a flashlight. A glint of something shiny in the snow caught her eye. She picked it up. It was a small shotgun pellet. No wonder he looked like he had been riddled with bullets. She held it up to the flashlight and heard Father Juan suck in his breath, and his words pierced her silence: "It's silver."

Silver. Silver killed werewolves. That was why Holgar wasn't sitting up and complaining to her about how much the pellets had stung. Whoever had done this had done so on purpose. They had come hunting a werewolf.

But what of a vampire?

She didn't see Antonio anywhere. Was it possible he was tracking down Holgar's killer? Or had he, too, been killed, his ashes scattered on the winds so that she could never find them, never know for sure?

She heard Noah talking, something about the number of tracks in the snow, but she couldn't focus on what he was saying.

She lowered her forehead and pressed it against Holgar's. She wanted to cry, but there were no tears left. And the loss was too great. She could hear Father Juan and Noah resume their search of the area, trying to understand what had happened.

And then, as her fingertips held Holgar's head, she felt something stir beneath them.

She blinked, then held her breath, focusing all her energy on what it was she had felt.

There, beneath her fingertips, was the tiniest pulse in the vein in his temple.

"He's alive!" she shouted.

TRANSYLVANIA.