Vanquished (33 page)

It did not come.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Lucifer had raised a hand to hold off the throng of vampires ready to tear her apart. She knew that if he dropped that hand, they would kill her.

She stared calmly at Lucifer. His face was inscrutable.

“You dare to kill my protégée?” he asked in an icy, contained tone. “On this night of all nights?”

“Yes, and I’d do it again gladly,” Heather said, raising her chin even higher. All eyes were on her. Because she was brave. And because she was beautiful. Though she was dead, she had never felt so alive.

He cocked his head. “Why?”

“Because—especially on this night of all nights—you deserve better.”

Lucifer stared at her for a long moment, as though reading her soul. She held nothing back, letting him see all of it.

He grabbed her hair with lightning speed and tilted her
head backward. She didn’t flinch. She just continued to stare at him. And after an eternity had passed, he chuckled.

“I’ve been waiting for you a long time, my queen,” he said. Then he bent and kissed her.

It was her first kiss, ever, and it was everything she had ever wanted, ever dreamed, and so much more. When Lucifer pulled away, in his eyes she saw the promise of a thousand nights by his side and a thousand days in his bed. And she laughed with the joy of it.

“And I’ll be with you when you kill them all,” she said.

“Perfection!” Dantalion shouted, raising his arms. On his cue the room burst into thunderous applause and cheers, and she dropped a deep curtsey, as if born to it.

The arrival of Skye and Jamie with close to thirty others left everyone scrambling to feed them, find them places to sleep, and get organized. Jenn was happy for the distraction and willingly put herself in the thick of things. She didn’t want time to think. But thoughts—fears—still crept in, and she was afraid she was going to collapse into hysterics at any moment.

It was close to dinnertime when Father Juan tracked her down in the chapel. He eased himself into the pew next to her.

“No word,” he said quickly; then, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

She swallowed hard. She’d hoped for news of Antonio. “It’s the only quiet place here now.”

“I’m afraid it’s going to get busier,” he said.

She waited for him to go on.

“Esther’s been in contact with her resistance cell from Montana.”

“And?”
Let them know something. Let them tell us where he is.

“It seems they’re heading here.”

Jenn felt her eyes bug out of her head.
“Here?”

He nodded. “And it looks like they aren’t the only ones.”

“How are they all finding us?” Jenn asked.

He shrugged. “Apparently the word is out. And I understand that Kent has been encouraging anyone who can to join us to fight Lucifer. It’s coming. Somehow Kent knows. He’s calling it the final battle.”

“Final battle,” she repeated. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean. It’s been a hard, bloody war. But I have a feeling that one way or another it’s about to end.”

“Either we win or they do?”

“Kent says that resistance cells are trading information, making preparations,” he said. “It may be
our
final battle. But perhaps the fight will go on.”

Jenn closed her eyes at the waves of fear, and some kind of strange, wild eagerness rushed through her. “Some days
I’m so tired that I have to remind myself that I care which way that goes.”

He patted her arm. “It’s understandable, Jenn. But you must remember that you’re fighting on the side of right.”

“And you are not alone,” an unfamiliar voice rang out. “None of us is. Not anymore.”

Jenn turned to see a young Asian man standing just inside the chapel doors. He was dressed like an old-fashioned samurai, right down to the sword slung across his back. His short hair was close-cropped, and there was a ghostly familiarity to his face.

And in a rush she knew who he was.

Kenji Sakamato. Eriko’s brother the Hunter.

She blinked at him in astonishment.

“How are you here?” she finally asked.

His smile was tinged with the kind of pain and sorrow that she was all too familiar with. “I heard that your team was in need of a new Hunter,” he said.

Jenn stood swiftly and crossed to him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he didn’t shy away from the contact. She looked him in the eyes. “No one can ever replace your sister. But we are honored to have you with us.”

He bowed and she did likewise.

“My sword is yours,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“I would very much like to meet the good vampire that I have heard of,” he said.

Jenn took a moment to respond.

“That will have to wait,” she said finally.

Holgar had told her that Aurora had Antonio. She tried not to think about what Aurora might be doing to Antonio at that very moment.

Tried, and failed.

“When it is less difficult, I will be happy to meet him,” Kenji said.

Before Jenn could explain, another figure darkened the doorway. The young woman who stood there seemed like she was from a different lifetime.

It was Tiffany, one of Heather’s best friends. Jenn remembered her being at Papa Che’s funeral.

Tiffany stepped forward, and Jenn was astonished at the transformation in her. Tiffany had always been slender, but now she was lean and tough-looking, with muscles and sinew twisting the length of her arms. Her once-beautiful long hair was now short, functional.

“Tiffany?” she asked, disbelieving.

Tiffany nodded.

“What are you doing here?”

Tiffany leveled intense blue eyes at her. “After what happened to Heather, I joined the resistance. And now I, we, are here to help.”

Jenn turned to Father Juan. “Just who else is coming?”

He smiled. “Everyone.”

When I was a little girl, I had so many dreams. I was going to become a princess, or the president, or an astronaut. I thought anything and everything was possible. Life was an adventure. Then the war came, and I dreamed of fighting the Cursed Ones. Then I dreamed about Antonio de la Cruz.

I stopped dreaming the first time Aurora kidnapped him.

I know that for some people, dreams can come true. I know it, but I don’t really believe it.

—From the diary of Jenn Leitner,
retrieved from the ruins

More fighters arrived every day. Feeding them and housing them was a real problem, putting increasing pressure on Jenn to attack Lucifer. The longer they waited, the less able she would be to take care of her people—and the more exposed her numbers would be to Lucifer.

The full moon glinted against new-fallen snow and made the salt circle scintillate. Standing in the precise center of the sacred space, Jenn wore a white gown made of monastery bedsheets. Her long auburn hair was crowned with a wreath of evergreens and Transit of Venus. In her left hand she held a mirror, symbol of the Feminine Principle of the Universe—giver of life and all that was beautiful and good—and in her right a crossbow, symbol of the Goddess as huntress, protector, destroyer.

While searching for a name for the new coven, Gramma Esther, revered as the oldest woman in the monastery, had suggested they call it the People’s Coven. The coven dedicated to all of humanity, no matter their religion or creed, or if they were evil or good. Under the direction of Skye, their High Priestess, they were there to bless and strengthen the Goddess’s chosen warrior. The Warrior of the People:

Jenn.

Esther stood in the circle, hands joined with little Autumn and Father Juan, wearing a borrowed spangled robe splotched with Estefan’s blood. All those who had brought robes with them from England wore them, bloodstained or not. The monks had offered bedsheets for some of the others, but there weren’t many to be spared. Father Juan wore a white hassock. More witches had arrived, from France, Germany, Russia, Spain itself, and a dozen other countries, having divined that a new coven had formed, one born of courage and strength, dedicated to saving the Lady’s people. Sisters and brothers from Australia, Brazil, China, Zimbabwe, and other countries were traveling to Romania, hoping for the blessing of joining their magickal kindred in the final battle. There were at least fifty witches present, and more on the way. The coven was becoming an army—with Skye as its head, answering in turn to Jenn.

Sensing that the war was about to spill blood onto the very ground on which they stood, Skye had called for the ritual to anoint Jenn with the blessings of the Goddess and all her children—witches male and female both.

Standing beside Skye, Soleil and Lune served as her handmaidens. Soleil held a bowl of water, and Lune held aloft a sword tipped with a burning white candle. Although the wind had whipped up, the candle stayed lit.

Skye raised her athame toward the moon, and began.

In the circle

Is the Goddess

In the circle

Of the Goddess

Life, light, love.

Divine maiden, mother, crone.

You are the Mother of all goodness.

We give You our hearts, spirits, bodies,

And call You to us.

Come down, Blessed Mother,

And take Jennifer Leitner, our warrior,

In Your arms.

Skye lowered her ritual knife into the water. She beckoned Jenn to bend her head over the bowl. Jenn did so, seeing her own face reflected in ripples, candlelight. The full moon glowed behind her like a halo.

“We accept Jenn’s birthright for her. We lay claim to the power of the Mother. We receive blessings from the Lady of the Moon, and the Lord, and the Spirits of the South, the North, the East, the West.” Skye looked over at Father Juan. “And all the saints and apostles.”

He dipped his head.

“So mote it be,” the entire circle chanted.

“We accept blessings for those who are not here to accept them on their own behalf,” Soleil declared.

“So mote it be,” everyone replied.

Jenn swallowed hard and thought of Antonio. Skye and Father Juan had performed magickal spells on his behalf before—to cleanse him of evil and bring him back to the light.
If only Antonio were here now.

“We accept victory in battle,” Lune said next.

“So mote it be.”

“All special cares and concerns, let the Mother grant them,” Father Juan said.

“So mote it be.”

“And please take care of my bunny until I get back,” Autumn put in softly.

“So mote it be.”

“Let the circle move,” Skye decreed.

All the people in the circle put their arms over one another’s shoulders and began to walk to the left. Somewhere a drumbeat began, and the shoes of the witches crunched in the snow to its rhythm. The circle wound around Jenn, Skye, Soleil, and Lune. Then, without any prompting, each person in the circle dropped their arms, rotated in a small circle of their own, and began to sing.

“May you be blessed in the arms of the Holy Mother.”

Then they joined hands and circled Jenn and the other three again.

“Come to her. Strengthen her. Protect her,” they chanted.

Jenn’s spirit lifted; she felt as if she were rising toward the stars, and a woman’s face glowed in front of her. The heavenly woman smiled gently at Jenn.

Arms encircled Jenn, holding her. It was Skye.

“Come back to Earth,” Skye said, “and receive the blessing of each witch.”

One by one, each member of the circle approached Jenn, paused, held up their left hand, and murmured a blessing on her.

“For strength in battle,” Gordon said, his hand extended.

“For purity of purpose,” said another.

“So she doesn’t get hurt,” Autumn intoned.

“For winning,” Gramma Esther said.

“For the light of forgiveness,” Father Juan said.

Jenn’s face tingled. She still couldn’t forgive her father. Or still wouldn’t.

The blessings took over an hour, and when they were done, the others drifted away to give Jenn time alone with their High Priestess. Exhausted, exhilarated, Jenn gave Skye a hug.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

Skye’s answering smile was troubled. “The coven has given you good weapons, Jenn, but the more open-hearted you are, the more powerful they will be. There are barriers between you and the blessings we want to bestow on you. You have to trust the Goddess. You have to love.”

Anxious, Jenn pulled away slightly. “Isn’t it enough that I’m willing to lay down my life?”

Skye sighed. “No, actually, it’s not. That’s why our way
is so difficult.” She cupped Jenn’s cheek. “But it’s worth it. Please, Jenn, try.”

Then Skye raised her left hand above Jenn’s head and said, “So mote it be.”

* * *

More people had arrived. They had told the Salamancans that word of a worldwide attack on humans was spreading, and cells of resistance fighters were trying to talk civilians into battling the vampires. But one word of dissent landed you in a camp.

“And they’re horrible places,” whispered a hollow-eyed man as Father Wadim dressed deep lash marks across his back. He had been freed by some brave teenage prisoners who had orchestrated an escape. “They take the strongest ones for blood, and force the rest of us to work. I had to build more cells. And dig graves.”

Skye tried to put thoughts of death out of her mind as she descended the staircase into the gloomy darkness where she had helped Holgar lock himself up the night before. He had fully recovered from his injuries, but they hadn’t had a real chance to talk. She hadn’t yet been to sleep, and she was still keyed up from the ritual. It had been a perfect night for Drawing Down the Moon, but it also would have been a good night for them to go up against Lucifer, since Holgar would have been in wolf form and at his most powerful and least vulnerable. He was still having trouble shifting at will.