Vanquished (40 page)

“This is the virus,” Holgar said to Skye in English. “It comes in two parts. Viorica told me about it when she came to see me on my sickbed. She hid one of the vials in the monastery for me to find. She kept the other.”

Viorica nodded. “Tell her that the lab your Noah infiltrated was a decoy. That I have been working for the black crosses for a long time, and they got the vials to me shortly before you were shot,” she said to Holgar, again in Russian.

Holgar translated. Skye covered her mouth with both hands, then threw her arms around Holgar and kissed him hard on the lips. “You’re going to save the world!” she cried.

“Help. Help me, now.” Holgar heard the distant voice of Antonio de la Cruz. He
was
there. Holgar’s heart sank, even in the midst of humanity’s triumph.

“Skye,” Holgar said. “I hear Antonio. He needs help.” He squinted up at the castle. “But I don’t think he’s in there.” He looked around and pointed toward the southern perimeter of the courtyard. “That way, I think.”

Skye swallowed hard and took Holgar’s hand in hers. “You mustn’t hesitate, Holgar. You know Antonio wants the virus to be unleashed.”

“For helvede,”
Holgar whispered.

Then a young girl raced up to Skye and tugged on her arm. Her face was ashen, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Skye, Skye!” she cried, in an English accent. “A man
named Antonio sent me to find you. Jenn is hurt. She’s dying!”

“What?”
Holgar cried. He swayed, and Viorica shot out a hand to steady him.

“Goddess,” Skye said, looking from the girl to Holgar. “Show me.”

The two took off running.

“No,” Holgar said, his heart skipping beats. “Not Jenn.” In his distress he began to change into wolf form.

“Easy, easy,” Viorica said in Russian, grabbing the vial of blue liquid from him. “What’s going on?”

He whimpered and forced his change to stop. He and Viorica had promised to remain in human form after she had handed off the vial to him. They had also agreed to stick together and back each other up. In case something happened to one of them, the other one could mix the two parts of the virus together.

“Viorica, Jenn’s been wounded. She may be . . . may be dying. Wait, please. I’ll be right back.”

“Holgar, no!” Viorica shouted.

Running, he easily closed up the distance between Skye and the little girl, and himself. He began to change again. Then he realized what he was doing. He had a mission, and it wasn’t to save Jenn. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he said to Skye, “Viorica and I will move downwind. We’ll mix the compound there. It will give you time to work healing magicks on Jenn. Then Jenn and Antonio might have a few
minutes before . . .” He trailed off, suddenly unable to bear what it was he must do. “But once we open the vials, the virus will spread like wildfire.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Holgar.” Then she raced on. Holgar quickly doubled back to Viorica.

* * *

“Gather as many witches as you can,” Skye said through her tears to Autumn. But be careful, luv. I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

“I won’t fail you,” Autumn said fervently. She let Skye run ahead as she darted toward a group of witches battling a vampire.

Then Skye rushed toward four people gathering around a prone figure. She recognized Antonio’s profile, and behind him Jenn’s parents and
Heather
? On high alert, Skye started to call Holgar for help, but she knew he had to stay with Viorica. Fighting down her horror, she scanned the courtyard for other familiar faces. There was fighting everywhere—humans covered in blood as vampires tore out their throats, bodies piling up. She realized that every second Holgar and Viorica delayed, human lives were being lost.

She could see the group, which was standing almost like a tableau. Antonio was bent over Jenn’s throat with his eyes glowing red. Jenn’s mom was screaming at Antonio.

Heather, too, was caught in bloodlust. She stood behind her mother like a cat about to pounce on a mouse—and
her mother, who was focused on Antonio menacing Jenn, had no idea how much danger she was in herself. Heather’s father stood behind Heather, riveted with shock.

“Antonio, no!” Skye shouted. “Antonio, stop!”

Antonio’s eyes seemed redder still, and his fangs hovered mere inches from Jenn’s neck.

“No!” Skye shouted. “Lady, I am your daughter. I am your High Priestess, and Jennifer Leitner has received special blessings of protection from you. I call on you. I have drawn you down and into me, and I have served you faithfully. I demand the fulfillment of your promises to my coven sister and me. Save her now. Save her from all harm.”

Then, as she raced toward the Leitner family and Antonio, they froze. Still as statues, as if locked in ice, each person held their pose. Skye kept running. Above her the dark bat shapes flew and darted, attacking humans and werewolves, causing them to slump and fall to the ground. She leaped over bodies to get to Jenn and the others.

Then witches converged on the scene, acknowledging her. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a cross just as Antonio—

As Antonio—

“No!” she screamed.

As Antonio’s eyes turned a deep brown, and he made the sign of the cross over Jenn.

Paul Leitner pulled a stake out of his pocket, grabbed
Heather by the shoulder, whipped her around, and plunged it through her heart.

Heather looked at him and said, “Daddy?” like a frightened little girl. “Mommy?”

“Forgive me for not saving you,” Paul whispered.

Seeing what her husband had done, Jenn’s mother screamed again, and fell to her knees in the dust that had been her younger daughter. Behind her Paul Leitner sobbed and collapsed—just as one of the shadow bat shapes landed on his head and dug its talons into his scalp.

“No, stop!” Leslie Leitner screamed, punching at it, trying to grab it off her husband’s head. But it seemed to be made of shadow, and her fists went through it.

Skye and the other witches circled around Jenn and Antonio. Antonio looked up at her with a tear-streaked face and said, “Can you help her?” Soft, brown eyes, human tears, a man fighting mesmerism. Battling death for his beloved. And all the faith that she had ever placed in Antonio, in his goodness, and in his love for Jenn was rewarded in that moment.

Skye trembled from head to toe and wondered if Holgar and Viorica had opened the vials yet. No time for that; she joined hands with the witches and said, “Goddess, keep faith with us. Jenn is your daughter. We are your children. Do as you promised. I charge you.”

“Oil, I must have oil,” Antonio said in a shaky voice. “I must have it now. I am going to perform the anointing of the
sick.” He looked down at a dark splotch spreading from one of Jenn’s Velcro pockets and opened it. Inside lay a vial of some sort, but it was broken.

“Oh, no,” Skye murmured. “That was elixir. For you, Antonio.”

“I don’t think there’s oil in it,” he said, testing the texture between his thumb and forefinger.

“I have essential oil of angelica,” one of the witches said, pulling it out of her pocket and handing it to Antonio. His hand was shaking so badly that Skye was afraid he was going to drop it.

Skye opened the vial for him. A sweet scent wafted into the air. She thought of the virus again, and wondered if she should tell him what was happening. She handed the vial back to him. He tipped his forefinger against it, and made the sign of the cross with the oil on Jenn’s forehead. Holding her breath, Skye bit her lip and watched. She couldn’t even tell if Jenn was still breathing.

“Th-through this holy anointing . . .” Antonio stopped, and cleared his throat. “May the Lord in His love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit.”

Softly, Skye chanted a spell of healing in Latin, as much for Antonio as for Jenn, so that he, too, could wield the magick of his faith. The other witches followed suit.

Then Antonio anointed Jenn’s limp hands. “May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up.”

* * *

I beat Dantalion,
Antonio silently told Jenn.
With the help of God, I fought against his mesmerism just now. I thought of you, and how much I love you, and how I need to be a man you can love. Please,
mi amor, mi luz,
fight against death with me. Oh, my love, oh, Jenn. I can’t lose you. I can never lose you again.

In the forest in 1941 Sergio Almodóvar had changed Antonio into a vampire while Antonio had been giving a fellow freedom fighter last rites. Antonio had been unable to stop Sergio from turning him into a monster. Then something had happened, and he had been freed from committing atrocities, and from heaping sin upon sin on his head. It had been an act of grace.

Grace had descended upon him once more. He was free of the clutches of evil again, to do all he could for the soul of the woman he loved. He prayed that Skye could heal her body. He looked into the mirrors of Skye’s crown, seeing Jenn’s reflection but not his own. As it should be—he was a vampire. Jenn was not.

But then Skye lowered her head, and he saw she was weeping. Terror ripped through him. Tears rolled down the little witch’s cheek as she looked back up at him and shook her head.

“You must have faith in your Lady,” Antonio begged her. “Save her.
Please.
”

* * *

The castle was burning, but not fast enough, and Cursed Ones kept pouring out of it. There were so
many
of them that not even the elixir singing in Noah’s veins could even
the playing field. Noah thought of the charges he and Jamie had set. He’d been grappling with a human fighter who had suddenly turned against him—Noah suspected mesmerism—and to end the battle without killing the man, Noah had shot him in the leg. The man writhed in pain, and a strip of Velcro gave way as Noah ripped open a pocket on his own pants and pulled out the detonator.

He was about to depress it when he spotted a group of people on the ground at the southern wall of the courtyard. He squinted and made out who they were—Leslie and Paul Leitner, Skye and some of her witches, and
Antonio
. How had he gotten free? And who was that on the ground?

Jenn.

His blood ran cold. Ignoring the wounded human, Noah headed toward them. A Cursed One converged on the gathering and was just about to attack one of the women in the circle when Paul Leitner ran at the vampire with a cross extended, putting it on the defensive. The fanger turned and ran toward Noah, and he staked it with ease.

When Noah reached the circle, his worst fears were realized: Jenn lay on the ground, mortally wounded. Her face was gray, and her lips were turning blue.

“No.
No
,” he said, grief and fury coursing through him. They were losing the battle, and now
Jenn
. . .

He saw his own face reflected in the mirrors of Skye’s crown. Streaked with blood and ash, grief-stricken, enraged. Noah had to fight the impulse to knock Antonio out of the
way and take his place beside the woman he, too, loved.

“Noah,” Skye said, choking back tears. “Holgar and Viorica have . . .” She took a breath. “They have the virus, Antonio,” she said directly to the vampire. “They each have a vial, and they’re going to mix them together. Once they do . . . there will be very little time.”

Stunned, some of the witches stopped chanting and stared at Antonio. He absorbed the information with a single, hard swallow. Then he steadfastly nodded and continued to perform the rite. From the look on his face and the sound of his voice, Noah guessed that it was a ritual blessing for the dead.

Then Jenn’s lips parted, moved. Skye cried out.

“She’s alive!”

She’s dying,
Noah thought. He knew the signs . . . very well. He thought of Chayna, and he wanted to scream.

“What? What, Jenn?” Skye asked. “She’s trying to talk,” she told them. Then she leaned over and placed her ear to Jenn’s lips. She was quiet for a moment, and then she sucked in her breath.

“No, Jenn,” she said. Skye was quiet again, listening. “Oh, Goddess.”

She reached out and grabbed Antonio’s hand. “She wants you . . . she wants to be like you,” she said. “So you’ll have a few more moments together. She knows she’s dying.”

Everyone, including Antonio, reacted with revulsion. He shook his head. “I would never do that,” he said hoarsely.
“Never.”

She bent down and listened. Pulled Antonio down beside her.

“Listen to her,” Skye implored Antonio.

* * *

Jenn couldn’t move or open her eyes. The pain was more than she could stand. She knew she was broken, and that she was about to die. In her mind—or somewhere else—she stared at Father Juan, who floated in the center of a blazing white light. He was crying, too.

You must make Antonio listen to you, Jenn,
Father Juan said.
You must drink from him. So much depends on it.

“Antonio, you swore . . . ,” she mumbled. “Rosalita . . . never let another woman you loved . . . die . . .”

“No, Jenn, not like this,” Antonio said. He kissed her ear, the side of her face. He was crying. “Let me hear your sins and absolve you. I—I will see you in heaven.” He cried harder.

He doesn’t believe that,
Father Juan whispered.
He thinks he’s going to hell.

“Father Juan,” Jenn whispered.

“He’s not here. Let me anoint you, Jenn, so that you can . . . that you can die in a state of grace, and . . .” Antonio trailed off.

“Father . . . says you must,” Jenn finished.

“Do you hear that, Antonio?” Skye said. “Father Juan is speaking to her.”

“Oh, my God, baby,” Jenn heard. It was Gramma Esther. “Dear God.”

There was murmuring. Jenn couldn’t make out the words, but the voices belonged to Skye, Esther, and Antonio.

“Baby, baby!” Leslie Leitner cried. “Honey, we love you! Please stay with us!”

“Father Juan,” Jenn managed. “’Tonio, he’s here.”

“No, Jenn, you’re delirious,” Antonio said, but through the haze of pain Jenn heard the uncertainty in his voice.