Vanquished (6 page)

“Good, because that way we can focus on what
is
a problem,” Jenn said, her voice grim.

Jamie lit a cigarette.

* * *

Antonio’s heart bled for Jenn. He would have given anything to comfort her as a man would comfort the woman he loved. But though Jenn had grown from a naive, self-deprecating
girl into a strong woman, he had not changed. He wasn’t a man.

As Antonio fretted, Jenn spent the next half hour laying out how they would get Noah to Budapest. They also talked about Holgar’s attackers.

Then Jenn brought up Antonio’s grandsire: Lucifer, who had sired Sergio. Aurora had called out his name during the battle of Salamanca. Lucifer was truly the Devil, and if they had to go up against him, they would be damned.

Antonio couldn’t concentrate. All he could do was stare at the gentle curve of Jenn’s lips, the way they shaped each word, and the wisps of her dark auburn hair.

At last the meeting was over. Holgar’s eyes were glassy, and Antonio wondered how badly the stab wound was affecting him. They were all to pack, grab a quick nap, and get some food before leaving the monastery that night. All except for Noah, who would be leaving immediately for Hungary.

As the others filed out, Antonio lingered, staring at Jenn. She loved him, despite what he was. Why couldn’t that be enough?

It’s not a question of enough,
he thought.
I have promised myself to someone else. To God.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay. But he needed to say something, anything.

Jenn gave him a pained smile. He reached out to touch
her cheek, but caught himself. He could see the blood rise to her cheeks, and desire swept through him.

Then he forced himself to turn. He had barely any control over his dark urges. And he had rededicated himself to the priesthood. She was the woman he loved, a child of God in need of saving, a savior who could change the world. But only one thing mattered.

She was forbidden fruit.

Vampires favored cities, where they could find plenty of warm bodies and sheltering buildings. The majority of them shunned the lonely and isolated places of the world. Which was exactly why witches had sought those places out. After her sister’s wedding, Skye’s entire coven had gone underground to avoid being caught up in the war against the vampires.

Her family had moved deep into the heart of Epping Forest, where they maintained a tiny cottage previously used only for lunar celebrations and private family rituals. Skye knew that was where they would be, unless something had happened to them.

Skye doggedly made her way through the brush, catching sight of a will-o’-the-wisp—a flicker of light. These flickers were said by some to be the burning coal carried by
a minion of Satan as he lured the curious to their doom. In Skye’s family’s faith, the lights were sent by the Goddess to aid the lost.

“Help me now, Lady,” Skye murmured, as she reached a familiar stand of oaks.

One of Skye’s cousins lived on the outskirts of the forest. The cottage’s sloped roof was visible, and Skye followed a trail that was more memory than a physical landmark, until at last she was standing at the front door.

She stared for a moment at the old planks, her heart skipping a beat, as she wondered if she had come to the wrong place. A simple brass handle hung where there’d once been a silver door knocker in the shape of the crescent moon.

She squared her shoulders and forced herself to knock anyway. Regardless of who lived there, she was still badly in need of food and water. She prayed that the occupants would be willing to help.

An ultraviolet porch light clicked on. The light wasn’t something she could see, but Skye could feel it. The bulb was a relic from the first years after the Cursed Ones went public. People had rushed to buy them, thinking that the UV would harm vampires as the sun would.

They hadn’t worked. No one was really sure what the sun’s light did. But the more superstitious had hung on to their lights, swearing that the UV kept vampires at bay.

The door opened just a crack, and a blue eye stared out
at her. Skye tried to smile, hoping that it would somehow compensate for being streaked with blood.

The door slammed shut.

“Please, I need your—,” Skye began.

The chain clinked and the door swung open. Skye’s twenty-four-year-old cousin Summer anxiously regarded her. Skye moved to throw her arms around her, but Summer tensed and took a step back.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Blessed be,” Skye said, struggling to hide her disappointment at the lack of traditional witchly greeting—of any greeting, for that matter.

“You can’t come in,” her cousin said, stubbornly setting her jaw.

Skye blinked, fighting to hold back tears. “You can see that I’m hurt.”

“From fighting,” Summer said. “Am I right?”

Skye looked into her eyes and saw anger there, and fear.

“Escaping,” Skye said. “But it wasn’t because of—”

“We don’t take sides in the conflict, and we don’t recognize those who do.”

“Then you’re lying when you say you’re not taking sides,” Skye snapped. “Please, just some water—”

Summer slammed the door in her face. Miserable, and worried that she wouldn’t be able to make it much farther before she collapsed, Skye took a deep breath and stepped off the porch. She stared into the forest and hoped
that her parents would be more understanding, or at least forgiving.

She began to walk. She’d gone only about fifty feet when a sudden sound behind her caused her to turn. Standing there was Summer’s husband, Nigel. He held out a glass of water and a brown sack.

“Thank you,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. She took the glass of water and drank it down, wishing there were more of it. She handed it back, and Nigel gave her the bag. She opened it and saw a few slices of bread and a chunk of Stilton cheese.

“Thank you,” she said again, realizing that he hadn’t said a word.

He nodded and turned to go.

“Wait!”

He turned to look at Skye.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked.

“It would be doing you harm not to help you. But there’ll be the devil to pay if she finds out,” he murmured, then walked away.

Skye’s legs trembled. She devoured the food. She was still dehydrated, but she felt a little better after she had finished eating. She folded the bag and slid it into her boot. Witches respected the earth in all ways.

The whole world’s gone to hell. My cousin has disowned me, I could die at any moment, and I’m worried about littering,
she thought, smiling slightly.
Some things never change.

Two hours later, as Skye stood staring at her family’s cottage, she realized that some things had changed too much. The cottage had once been a simple structure, one large room that they all shared. She could remember many a night choosing her spot on the floor and rolling out her sleeping bag.

Now several new additions completely obscured the original building. Enormous and rambling, it no longer seemed to spring out of the earth, but rather to ride upon its back. The new construction was glass and metal. There was nothing natural or beautiful about it, and it made her sick to see it. The grand old pollarded tree, which had once held a swing, had been cut down to make way for the expansion.

She trudged forward slowly, mindful of the reaction that she had gotten from Summer. When she was almost to the door, it opened, and Melody, her sister, flew out.

“Skye!” she cried, and hugged her.

Skye hugged her back, sobbing with relief at the welcome. When she pulled free at last, she looked at Melody closely. Her sister had a baby bump under her embroidered peasant blouse.

“You’re pregnant!” Skye exclaimed.

“Six months. This will be our second,” Melody said with a proud grin as she laid a protective hand on her belly.

Second.

The word made Skye feel as if she were falling. She was an aunt and she’d never known it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Gathering up her loose, caramel-colored curls, Melody made a little face. “Llewellyn takes the whole
underground
thing seriously,” she said.

Fear bubbled up in Skye. What else had she missed in the three years she’d been gone? Was everyone all right?

“Everyone’s fine,” Melody assured her warmly. Melody had always been able to read her like a book. “Come inside and see for yourself.”

Skye followed Melody into the cottage. She remembered what Jenn had said after she’d returned home for her grandfather’s funeral. She prayed to the Goddess that she would get a warmer reception than Jenn had.

She blinked as she looked around, trying to match her memories to what she was seeing. She saw absolutely no evidence that witches owned the place. Gone were the rows of fragrant dried herbs that had hung from the rafters. The York family charms—White magick sigils hand-painted on the walls, dating from the Middle Ages and even earlier—had been replaced by landscapes of rolling English hills and light-blue wallpaper. Furnished with an oak dinette set, a daybed in blue chintz, and some scattered chairs, the room looked like a pleasant room in a hotel.

A second story had been added, accessed by wooden stairs and a white metal handrail, which was ugly, yet
functional. From the sounds above, the rest of the family were about to join them. Skye took a deep, nervous breath.

A playpen in the corner caught her eye. Skye’s heart jumped. A toddler a little more than a year old solemnly gazed at her from over the top of the bars. The little one was dressed in brown corduroy pants and a tan shirt decorated with puppies.

“My son,” Melody said.

Tears stung Skye’s eyes. She had a nephew. She had missed his birth. She didn’t even know his name.

Melody’s husband, Llewellyn, and Skye’s parents descended the stairs. Skye’s father, always very handsome, looked old. Both her parents smiled hesitantly at her but didn’t move to embrace her.

Skye bit her lip and forced herself not to run to them. “Blessed be,” she said, hearing the emotion in her voice.

“Blessed be,” the rest intoned.

“Merrily met,” Melody added in a whisper.

“How . . . it’s good to see all of you.”

“It’s a surprise to see you,” her mother replied faintly.

Skye tried to decipher her tone but couldn’t. No one moved. The toddler babbled, and Melody picked him up. Skye got the impression that her sister was trying to avoid the tension in the room.

“I’ve missed you all,” Skye whispered. “I was wounded, and I thought to come home.”

“And you’ve come to your senses?” Skye’s mother asked in a tight voice. “You’re done with it?”

“And you’re sorry?” her father said. He stood unmoving, and she realized that leaving the team was the price for their help.

No. Not their help. Their love.

Skye’s heart broke. She wanted to collapse on the floor. She had been through so much—too much—to stand there and face their judgment.

But then she thought of Holgar. He had walked away from his family, his pack, everyone he cared about. He had done it because fighting the Cursed Ones was the right thing to do.

Skye had run to the academy to escape Estefan. Only fourteen, she hadn’t wanted to tell her family that she had an evil stalker. With sudden clarity Skye realized that she hadn’t told her parents about Estefan not because she believed they couldn’t help her, but because deep down she had believed that they
wouldn’t
. They would have just hidden her away from him. They never would have trained her how to stand on her own and defend herself.

And staring at their faces now, she knew she had been right to go. In a flash, the guilt she had felt for leaving her family for Salamanca vanished. She had done what she had to do in order to save her life. There was no shame in that.

“I’m injured,” she said slowly. “I would appreciate some food and water.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity.

“So, you didn’t come because of us?” Melody asked. “You came because you’re
hungry
? I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “That was unkind.”

“No,
I’m
sorry,” Skye said. They used to be so close. Lying about Estefan, then running away, had changed all that.

Skye looked at her mother. “I can’t, not just yet.”

“If not now, then when?” her mother asked quietly. There was a challenge in her voice. Skye was the prodigal daughter returned home, but she would only be forgiven if she stayed.

“Mummy, I can’t,” she whispered.

“Then you should go now,” Llewellyn said. “And we’ll forget that you were here.”

Skye cleared her throat. “Followers of the Goddess take care of strangers. Don’t I rate that much?”

“That much,” her mother affirmed. She gestured to the dining table. It was a cheesy modern thing made of fake wood, not their old table, the one Yorks had carved their initials in for over a century.

“Sit and eat,” her mother said coolly.

Skye knew she needed the strength to travel to rejoin the others; otherwise she would have left. She sat down stiffly and refused to look again at the little boy who was jabbering away in Melody’s arms. She had always wanted to be
an aunt, but even that was denied her. If her family wasn’t going to help her any more than they would a stranger, then she would offer them no more than a stranger would.

Her mother set down an earthenware pitcher and a cup. It was teatime, and Skye smelled steeping lavender and jasmine, her mother’s special blend. But no tea was offered, only water. By the time her mother brought Skye two cucumber-and-watercress sandwiches, Skye had drunk all the water. She could feel her injuries begin to repair themselves. She aided them with a whispered spell.

She ate quickly, eager to be gone. When she was done, she stood slowly, aware that this was the last time she was likely to ever see her family.