Vanquished (35 page)

Would Jamie turn those guns on his teammates?

Would Noah break his promise and try to kill Antonio if they found him?

Would Antonio break all his vows and kill them?

The road had been so very, very long, but one way or another it was ending. Either the vampires would be wiped out, or they would. This hazy nightmare would be over.

Maybe if she survived, she could go back to being just Jenn.

* * *

Noah was ready. He had nothing left to lose. This fight had been coming since the day the Cursed Ones had first
made their presence known. He was just grateful he’d been allowed to live to see it, to participate in it.

None of the others in the room knew what had to go into the preparation of the elixir. He knew and had agreed to help Father Juan in the end. They both understood sacrifice, and besides, none of Father Juan’s team would be able to do what was required. So it fell to him, the outsider.

Wasn’t that always the way for his people? Chosen, called, yet always alone, always the outsiders.

If it gave him the strength to do what had to be done, then he would embrace that.

* * *

Father Juan smiled. He never would have children in the normal sense of it, but these, and so many others like them, were his spiritual children. He had done everything he could to prepare them. As always, just as in past trials, past battles, and long-forgotten wars, he worried that it wasn’t enough.

But this time he felt a new peace. God was going to let him die at last. His Lord was going to let him know the rest that had been denied him for so very long. Every time he’d closed his eyes and death had touched him, he’d been reawakened to help save the world yet again.

Yes, this time was different. He could feel it. He believed it. It was truly the end.

And he would make a great ending of it, helping his
children in the best way he could, equipping them with what they needed to prevail. In a way, Father Juan was sorry that he wouldn’t get to see their victory or celebrate it with them. But this was better.

“We don’t have enough of the ingredients to make separate batches of the elixir. You must all share it,” he told them. “And it will be temporary.”

Jamie’s eyes flashed in frustration, and Juan barely suppressed a smile.

“This is a good thing,” Father Juan said. “Holgar has confided in me that Eriko suffered terribly from the toll the elixir took on her body. No Hunter had ever mentioned the pain before.”

“No one had lived as long, no doubt,” Jamie said.

Holgar grunted.

“So the ‘boost’ will fade after a few weeks, and your bodies will gradually return to normal.”

Father Juan could see Holgar nod almost imperceptibly. He was glad Holgar had come to him about Eriko’s terrible condition. Holgar was sure that the side effects had been slowly killing Eriko.

Father Juan nodded to Noah, and he moved to join him.

“Pray, meditate, prepare yourselves. The elixir will be yours tonight,” Father Juan instructed.

Jamie sank to his knees and crossed himself. Skye closed her eyes and began to chant softly. Holgar took off his shoes and shirt, preparing to be at his swiftest. Jenn just
stood, looking lost, and Father Juan’s heart bled for her.

But there was nothing more he could do for her.

Father Juan parted a curtain and led Noah into a small antechamber, where Esther waited for them. He had set up a small altar on which the ingredients that they had secured at such trouble waited.

“You’re sure?” Esther asked him.

“I’m sure,” Father Juan replied. He turned to Noah. “It’s time.”

The end of all is come
Our hearts you will not tame
The past is gone far away
And now comes the final game
Don’t think that you have won
Just because we’re still
For what we cannot have
We will, most surely, kill

“Last-ditch effort,” Solomon announced as he whipped out his cell phone. Katalin was seated at a new table behind him, staring into her crystal ball. Tears and sweat dripped down her face. He’d pressured her for answers, and so far
all she had come up with was more predictions about his demise. “I’ve sent a fleet of planes to Romania loaded with vampires, monsters, and crack-shot soldiers.”

She said nothing, just kept staring.

“So I figure if . . .
he
. . . will listen to reason, I can switch sides with one phone call. I mean, does he even
know
about the virus? I can be useful to him,” Solomon went on.

He finished dialing, and the phone on the other end rang. A connection was made.

“Hello,” a breathy woman’s voice answered. It sounded familiar.

“Jennifer?” he asked, surprised. “Jennifer Leitner?”

His query was answered with a hiss.

“Solomon, I’m here,” Lucifer said into the phone. Just hearing his voice made Solomon quake.

“Listen. I had a terrible lapse in judgment when I announced our existence to the human race,” Solomon said. “I didn’t think.”

Silence.

“I should have checked in with you first,” Solomon continued. “But I—I didn’t know you were real.”

More silence.

“So, listen, I’m sending soldiers in a show of support.”

“Support,” Lucifer echoed.

Katalin made a strangled sound and pushed back from the table.

“The final battle,” Solomon said. “It’s happening, right?”

Silence. Lucifer was making it very clear that he didn’t have to interact with Solomon if he didn’t feel like it. They weren’t equals.

“Look, with me at your side, you’ve got the entire Vampire Nation at your command. I know things that could help you. You know, like about the virus?”

“Virus?” Lucifer said. “What—”

Then Katalin grabbed her crystal ball, raced across the room, and smashed it over Solomon’s head. He was shocked; before he could react, she reached into the folds of her dress, pulled out a piece of the table he’d broken earlier, and rammed it into his chest. Or tried to. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a feral roar as she threw herself against his chest again.

Solomon gave thanks for his Kevlar vest and lunged at her, fangs extended, sinking them into her neck.

His face burned as if she had lit it on fire.
Holy water.
He recoiled, taking half her neck with him. The holy water splashed into his eyes, blinding him for the moment. And suddenly he hurt
everywhere
. What was she doing to him?

“Dantalion, stop her!” Lucifer bellowed through the phone.

He was burning up. His skin was blazing away, turning black, disintegrating. He dropped the phone as the holy water melted muscle, then bone. The pain—

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” Dantalion said as he, Lucifer, and Heather headed for the dungeon. They wound down the circular stone staircase, Heather attired in another of Aurora’s beautiful gowns. She had just found a very interesting book in Aurora’s room, and she held it against her chest. “I couldn’t stop the little Gypsy from killing him in time. At least now we know the new magicks work.”

“I should never have agreed to let you send her to him. So far your mesmerism has caused us nothing but headaches,” Lucifer said. “She wasn’t even useful as a spy. He kept so much from her.”

“At least he’s dead,” Dantalion said. “Our greatest enemy is gone.”

Lucifer stopped and glared up at Dantalion. “You’re much stupider than I was afraid of.”

Kill Dantalion,
Heather thought.
Kill him now.
Like Aurora, her predecessor, she didn’t like him and trusted him less.

Lucifer glanced past Dantalion toward her, as if he could read her mind. She smiled at him.

“Don’t ever answer my phone again, or I will kill you,” he said to her.

“Okay, no problem,” she replied, unfazed. She had
never met Solomon, and the temptation to talk to him had been too great to pass up. Of course, she had seen Solomon on TV for years, ever since he’d announced that vampires were real and he was their leader. She’d begged Jenn to take her to Spain so she could hunt the Cursed Ones too. Stupid Daddy, who had made a pact with Aurora that if he gave her Jenn, the vampire queen would leave the rest of his family alone.

My dad is stupider than Dantalion.
Still she supposed she should be grateful for his treachery. She was here because of him. And Aurora was dust because of her.

Lucifer led the way into the dungeon, sweeping past Dantalion’s latest batch of supersoldiers in various stages of creation.

The creatures were still decomposing at an alarming rate. Dantalion’s outbuilding laboratory reeked of putrid hybrids, the stench so horrible that Dantalion had stopped using it. Dantalion was trying to slow the rate of spoilage by immersing the creatures in various chemical baths or injecting them with preservatives and vitamins. When she had asked Lucifer why they still bothered with the experiments, he’d told her that he hadn’t lived so long by ignoring the future.

As the three passed, one particularly gruesome nightmare raised its head from a tank and said, “Lovely.”

Heather faltered. It was her monster.

Doesn’t matter. He served his purpose,
she thought.

“Antonio, do you know anything about a virus?” Lucifer asked, as he opened the slot in the center of the door of Antonio de la Cruz’s cell.

Antonio was manacled to the wall, sagging from his wrists. His head hung down against his chest. Dim light played on the crown of his matted hair. There was blood everywhere. His shirt was in tatters, and his jeans barely covered him. His feet were bare.

“Virus,” Lucifer said, from the safe distance of the doorway. “Come on, Antonio. What do you know?”

The vampire didn’t respond. Lucifer turned to Heather. “Maybe you should throw the book at him.”

“Maybe I should torture him with my new magicks,” Dantalion offered.

“Or I should,” Heather said.

Antonio jerked. Then he slowly raised his head. His eyes blazed scarlet.

“Heather,” he whispered.
“Ay, no.”

Lucifer looked from Antonio to Heather. Then he grabbed Heather and yanked her across his chest. He slipped his free hand around her neck and squeezed.

“Of course you care for her,” Lucifer said. “The sister of Jenn Leitner; the vampire you were trying to save. Tell me about the virus or I’ll rip off her head.”

Heather was curious to see what Antonio would do. Curious, but unafraid. Lucifer was crazy about her. And if she died, she died. She had killed Aurora; she’d had her
vengeance. Anything that came after was . . . a bonus.

Antonio’s face was a portrait in agony, cut and burned, his expression frantic as he shook his head.

“Don’t, Lucifer. The answer is simple. Solomon has a spy in Project Crusade. The black crosses let the spy think there’s a virus that can wipe out our kind. But it’s a lie.”

“
You’re
lying,” Lucifer said, tightening his grip on Heather’s neck. It was a good thing she didn’t have to breathe. But she whimpered for Antonio’s benefit, and raised up on her tiptoes.

“There was a scientist, Michael Sherman. He was working on the virus before he was converted,” Antonio said.

“He’s a vampire?” Lucifer said.

“
Sí
. After his conversion, the black crosses took him prisoner and locked him up. They tried to force him to resume working on it, but they finally realized he can’t get it to work. They’re pretending that it was successful to throw Solomon off. That’s all I know,” Antonio said, looking anxiously at Heather. “I swear it.”

“Do you swear in the name of your God?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes, in the name of Christ, I do,” Antonio said, staring at Heather as if she were drowning and he wanted to jump in to save her.

“Hmm,” Lucifer said. “All right.” He let go of Heather. Then he took the book from her. “Sergio’s Book of Spells.” He showed it to Antonio. “Did your sire share his magick use with you? I suppose he did. We’ve come a long way since 1942.”

“We should kill him,” Heather said.

“We will,” Lucifer replied. “Just not right now.”

* * *

As Dantalion reached the landing to the dungeon stairs, Rasputin, his Russian wolfhound, greeted him with slathering kisses. Rasputin’s eyes glowed brilliant red, and his vampiric canine teeth were a sight to behold.

Dantalion gave him a few pats, then took in the sight of the gathering of Lucifer’s thirteen vampiric sorcerers. They’d done a wonderful job creating the magickal potion that had burned Solomon to death. It had been a simple matter to slip it to Katalin. Solomon’s organization wasn’t as secure as that arrogant vampire liked to imagine.

The great hall was still decorated from the welcoming celebration, except that heavy black curtains shielded the vampires from the daylight. And the cages containing their human captives sat empty.
Eat the rich,
wasn’t that what they used to say? The rich were often a bit stringy. So were the famous.

Surrounded by tall black tapers in golden candle-holders, the sorcerers stood in a ring. Their robes were black, decorated with red bats, beautifully setting off their eyes, which weren’t the normal glowing rubies of bloodlust but deep, shiny black. Enormous ebony leather books with maroon bindings sat on ornate golden stands before the vampires, and in the center of the room they had erected a primitive-looking stone altar. Gagged with a black silk scarf
and swathed in a matching robe, a familiar-looking human girl was bound to it.

“Hey, Flavia,” Lucifer’s new companion, Heather Leitner, trilled, as if delighted to see someone she knew about to serve as a human sacrifice. “We should sacrifice Antonio, too,” Heather said to Lucifer.

“I would still like to study him,” Dantalion said.

“I’m not convinced he’s told us everything he knows about this virus,” Lucifer countered.