Vanquished

by Nancy Holder

  DOVER, ENGLAND

  SKYE AND JAMIE

  The room around Skye and Jamie erupted in flames. Beneath her feet Skye could hear the startled screams of the other patrons of the inn as fire engulfed the entire building in one blinding moment.

  “Where are they?” Jamie roared, his voice barely audible over the crack and whoosh of the flames.

  They were trapped with no way out. Once more Estefan was calling the shots, herding them in the direction he wanted to go.

  And this time he was killing innocent people. People Skye realized she couldn’t save.

  She grabbed hold of Jamie’s arm and yanked him toward the window. Before they reached it, she lifted her other hand and exploded the glass outward. She shoved Jamie halfway through it.

  “We can’t jump. It’s four stories down!” he shouted.

  An explosion rocked the ground, and she could feel the floorboards starting to give way beneath them. Heat and smoke rushed up toward them both.

  “No choice!” she screamed. She hit him low, hard enough to throw him off balance and to send him toppling through the window with a shout of terror.

  She sent a spell chasing after him, which slowed him and cushioned his fall right as he hit the ground. His weapons bag clattered down beside him. She hoisted herself up into the window frame just as tongues of fire began to lick at her hair. With a scream she hurled herself out.

  She didn’t have enough time to properly cast the spell before she hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. She tried to pull herself to her feet and realized that some of her ribs were broken.

  And there was the taste of blood in her mouth. She prayed it was from a bitten cheek and not a punctured lung.

  Jamie scooped down and picked her up and then ran with her into the darkness. She tried to cast spells to protect those they left behind, but she couldn’t focus. Her magicks were being blocked.

  Then, in her mind, she could hear Estefan laughing. But even over that horrendous sound there was a worse one, the screams of the dying as they burned to death in the old inn. She screamed, too, sharing their pain, their desperation, because she was powerless to help them.

  And still Jamie ran, his arm wrapped around her broken ribs, making the pain unbearable. A root shot up from the ground and tripped Jamie. Skye went airborne and slammed into a tree with a thud before sliding down the trunk to the ground.

  Fresh blood blurred her vision, and she whimpered in pain and fear.

  Come out, come out, wherever you are, Estefan’s voice taunted.

  “Skye!”

  She turned at the strangled cry from Jamie. He was sprawled on the ground, hands wrapped around his leg. Bones were jutting out through holes in his pants. The same root that had tripped him now snaked up and over him.

  Magick.

  The root encircled one of the broken bones extending from Jamie’s shattered leg and yanked it suddenly downward.

  She wouldn’t have believed that the shriek of pain that followed could have come from a human if she hadn’t been watching Jamie.

  She lifted her hand and whispered a spell, wheezing as she did so. She could taste blood in the back of her throat. Punctured lung.

  Panic flooded her, but she forced herself to finish the spell. The root released its hold on Jamie’s leg bone and dropped to the ground, once more a harmless object.

  One, two . . . She heard Estefan’s voice in her head.

  Why was Estefan counting? She dragged herself across the ground toward Jamie. She needed to heal his leg.

  Three. Four.

  If she could just help him, then he could escape. At least one of them would.

  She sobbed in agony as she touched his leg and felt her own bones shattering as she took the injury and made it hers while mending his.

  Five. Six.

  Her chest contracted even more with the extra pain and trauma of Jamie’s injury. She was amazed that he had lived through the attack; Estefan had nearly crushed him. How had he endured?

  Her bones began to knit, but so very, very slowly. She wanted to scream, but now she was having problems just drawing breath. The cries from the inn had stopped, which probably meant that all there were dead. Despair poured through her, and she gasped at the very real psychic pain overlaying the agony of Jamie’s wounds.

  Seven.

  The bone fragments fused, but she didn’t have time to repair the muscle or nerve damage. She wouldn’t be able to move.

  To escape.

  “Go!” she shouted to Jamie.

  Jamie pushed himself to his feet, his leg nearly collapsing when he tried to put weight on it. He remained upright, though, swaying slightly as he tried to catch his balance.

  “C’mon, then, Skye,” he slurred, staggering forward as he tried to bend down and extend a hand toward her. He sucked in his breath through his teeth, still in pain. “Bugger. Skye, up.”

  Eight.

  “Go!” she repeated. “I can’t hold him. Get out of range.”

  “I bloody well won’t leave you,” he ground out.

  “Get free,” she ordered him. “Then I’ll come.”

  Nine.

  “No, I won’t—”

  She was out of time.

  Furious with him for not listening, wild to save him, Skye summoned magickal forces and flung them at Jamie. He stumbled backward, blinked, and opened his mouth, probably to argue some more. She managed another push, her body shrieking at her to get back to the healing.

  “Go!” she screamed at him.

  “Bloody hell,” Jamie swore.

  He stared down at her, picked up his bag, and hobbled toward the darkest part of the woods. She gave him one last push.

  She was alone.

  Ten.

  Skye tried to heal her lung, but she couldn’t think. There were words that had to be said. They were right there, on the tip of her tongue. She opened her mouth.

  Ready or not, here I come.

  And all her words left her.

  THE MONASTERY OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF ST. ANDREW

  JENN, HOLGAR, NOAH, ANTONIO, FATHER JUAN, JENN’S FAMILY, AND SADE

  The welcome party for Solomon arrived back at the monastery, having driven the entire way in silence. Jenn sat up front with Father Juan, who drove, while Holgar and Noah flanked her father in the backseat. The ice forest retreated from the bright beams of the vehicle, or so it seemed to Father Juan. Jenn sat ramrod straight, like a statue, and he had yet to see her so much as blink her eyes.

  He was still mulling over what Solomon had said. With the vampire, they could never take anything he said as gospel, as he could always be counted on to look out for his own skin. That was what had led Solomon to make the offer in the first place. Which meant Solomon was running scared.

  Of what, though? The resistance fighters around the world amounted to no more than buzzing flies where the Cursed Ones were concerned, and Solomon had been so dismissive of Project Crusade. That could have been an act. Maybe Solomon did know about the virus, and that was what had terrified him so badly he’d run for shelter with his enemies.

  Or maybe he’d been telling the truth about being afraid of Lucifer.

  Either way, they had a big decision in front of them—one they most certainly could not discuss when there was a possible spy in their midst. Father Juan glanced in the rearview mirror at Paul Leitner. Despite all the years Father Juan had trained hunters, he didn’t know how to tell if someone was under a vampire’s sway. He didn’t know if there was a certain look or any telltale mannerisms to those who knew what they were looking for. When he’d watched Antonio mesmerize Heather, she hadn’t seemed any different to him—just quieter.

  He’d have to take Paul to Antonio. And he’d probably have to remind Antonio that murder was a mortal sin. This man had hurt Jenn beyond the telling—just as Antonio had, in his own way.

  Wearily, Father Juan rubbed his forehead. Leitner was a complication none of them needed, but, as Spaniards liked to say, it was what it was.
At least Jenn hadn’t killed him on sight. Father Juan would have to be grateful for the small miracles for now, and take them where he could find them.

  When they finally entered the monastery, Father Juan was tempted to breathe a sigh of relief, although nothing was over and they weren’t safe, not truly. His age was sitting on him heavily, and he could feel all the years as though they were piled on top of him like one blanket after another.

  He was ready to be done with it all, and he hoped that God would see things his way soon.

  Vaguely he registered that the ever-present chanting seemed to have stopped. He had no time to wonder about the significance of that. His mind was racing as he rehearsed how to tell Esther and Leslie Leitner about Paul. A dozen steps into the building, though, he realized two things: The cat was well and truly out of the bag, as Esther stared at them with shock. And to add to Father Juan’s anxiety, Antonio was free and peering around Esther to see what it was that had caused her consternation.

  The stress was all too much. He wanted to cry.

  And then he saw Holgar. The tall Dane’s mouth twitched; then he burst out with a hearty guffaw, followed by rolling, full-hearted laughter. Tears ran down Holgar’s cheeks.

  And Father Juan couldn’t stop himself from joining in. As Holgar doubled over, Father Juan laughed so hard that his sides ached, and he sank down right onto the icy stone floor, to the amazement of all of the monks, who had converged on their location from seemingly everywhere.

  Half of them were staring at the priest making a spectacle of himself, while the other half crossed themselves as they took note of the vampire at large among them. Antonio was staring down at Father Juan in amazement.

  He heard Paul Leitner ask, “What’s going on?”

  And although it was the most natural question in the world, Father Juan had no easy response. In fact he had no answers at all. All he could do was laugh helplessly. Holgar joined him on the floor, tongue lolling out, blue eyes shining with the ridiculousness of their situation.

  Jenn was gazing thunderstruck at Antonio, ignoring everyone else in the room. Wiping tears from his eyes, Father Juan heard pounding feet and looked up as Jenn’s mother arrived. Of course. Because that was the only way things were going to get more ludicrous.

  Leslie Leitner screamed, but with excitement or fear or anger or shock he didn’t know, and at the moment he couldn’t care. He and Holgar just kept laughing. And then Holgar began uncontrollably howling, and Jenn’s father turned white as a ghost.

  And it was that much funnier.

  * * *

  Noah eyed the priest and the werewolf, wondering if the two of them had finally gone mad. Well, if so, at least they had each other, which was more than most who went mad could say. Then he turned his full attention on Antonio, his blood pressure skyrocketing at the sight of the vampire who had attacked Jenn—free and uncaged, unfettered.

  But after the initial surprise of the group’s arrival, Antonio only had eyes for Jenn. And Jenn was just as mesmerized by him.

  Noah slid a stake out from the quiver on his hip, ready to use it at a moment’s notice. He had sworn to Jenn that he wouldn’t kill Antonio, but all bets were off if the vampire decided to go on a rampage. Still, Noah was torn between watching him and watching Paul Leitner, who was numbly staring at his wife, mother, and daughter in turn.

  And then Paul Leitner did the wrong thing. He opened his mouth and asked, “Where’s Heather?”

  Quick as a cat, Jenn turned on him with death in her eyes. Had her grandmother not leaped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, Noah had no doubt that Jenn would have killed her father then and there.

  And she wouldn’t have been wrong to do so.

  If Leitner was compromised, then the longer he was alive, the greater the danger for the rest of them. He should be interrogated, forced to tell anything and everything he knew about Solomon. And then killed. Noah gritted his teeth, wishing for a moment that his new hunting team had the discipline of his old one, or of the Mossad.

  But for all their emotional baggage and crazy, messed-up sentimentality, Noah had to give them one thing: In all their time together, they’d only lost one of their team, while he was the only survivor of his. So they must be doing something right.

  Then Jenn’s mom fainted dead away, which stopped the incessant screaming, so that was a bonus. Jenn caught her and gently draped her in a chair. Noah felt for the woman. He imagined that she had never expected to see her husband alive again, and after what he’d done to her daughters, she probably had never wanted to. But there was still a bond there, one that only death could break. Better for her, too, if they killed him quick.

  Noah would have no problem making that happen. No problem at all.

  * * *

  Jenn was relieved when her mother finally stopped screaming. She couldn’t think with that sound rattling around in her brain, crowding out all her sane thoughts.

  Or was it Antonio’s warm brown eyes that were making her brain feel like mush? He stood, shoulders hunched, uncertainty on his face, behind Gramma Esther. Had her grandmother let him out? Had he mesmerized her like he’d mesmerized Jenn herself the day he’d bitten her?

  She hazarded a glance at her grandmother and saw that the other’s eyes were clear, quickening with thought as they took in the scene around her. She looked like a woman who was fully aware and fully in control.

  I wonder what I looked like when I was under his sway.

  Jenn took a step forward, then another, having to skirt Father Juan’s legs to do so. He and Holgar were still laughing themselves sick on the floor.

  Antonio gazed at her, but stayed behind her grandmother as if she were a human shield. Which one of them was her grandmother protecting from the other?

  “Antonio?” His name came out as a whisper.

  He dipped his head. “Sí, Jenn.” That voice. His voice. She swallowed hard against the tide of emotion inside her. Except for a few words during the battle with the werewolves, they hadn’t spoken since the attack.

  “Are you . . . okay?” It sounded lame, and she didn’t even know what “okay” meant anymore. Are you going to murder us? How did you ask that?

  “I will be,” he said firmly. He looked at her father, and Jenn thought she saw red glowing in his eyes. To her shame she wished Antonio would lose control and attack him.

  “We had a little heart-to-heart,” Gramma Esther said. She looked at Jenn’s father, and at Jenn. She crossed to Jenn and bent down in front of her. She pushed ringlets of Jenn’s hair away from her forehead. “Now, how about you fill us in on what happened to you?”

  Jenn opened her mouth and then closed it, having no idea how to begin. In the background, Holgar and Father Juan kept laughing.

  * * *

  An hour later Jenn stood in the dining room, staring at everyone else gathered there. Jenn’s mom had come to, but the monks had given her something to calm her nerves, and she had gone back to Jenn’s old room. Sade hadn’t left the room she shared with Jenn and her mom when Jenn and the others had returned, and now she fussed over Jenn’s mom as she tucked her in bed.

  Noah insisted on handcuffing Jenn’s father’s wrists; then he escorted him to a previously unoccupied room and made sure that monks were stationed to watch him. Jenn was incredibly grateful to Noah for taking charge of their prisoner, because there was no way she could trust herself to deal with her father even on that rudimentary level.

  “Where’s Heather?” he’d asked. The question still rang in her ears. A thousand wicked retorts had come to mind, but none of them was so painful as the truth. We don’t know.

  Father Juan and Holgar had both regained their composure and were sitting quietly, soberly, at the table where they took their meals. Antonio and Gramma Esther sat across from them. Jenn took a place next to Holgar, where she could study Antonio. Noah sat down next to her when he returned from “securing” her father. Noah was chewing his cinnamon gum. When he offered her a stick, she took it. Anton
io watched them together. He watched everything.

  They quickly filled Esther and Antonio in on Solomon’s offer, as well as his goodwill return of Jenn’s father. The two listened carefully to everything before the general discussion began.

  And after it had gone on for three hours, they were still no closer to knowing what to do about it. Finally Father Juan stood up with a yawn. “We’re all exhausted. Might I suggest that we get some sleep and come at this again in a few hours?”

  “Good idea,” Jenn agreed. She was so tired she kept fuzzing out and missing parts of the debate.

  Everyone had agreed that if Solomon sided with Lucifer, their cause was hopeless. But his offer of an alliance could easily be a ruse, and he might already be in league with the other vampire—helping him gather intel, or trying to soften them up for the later attack.

  But if Solomon was telling the truth, he could be a valuable asset, if not a totally trustworthy one.

  It seemed like an impossible situation. Jenn hoped that sleep would make things clearer. At least for her.

  The others began to disperse, but Antonio stood, looking a bit lost. After a moment she understood. Unlike the rest of them, he had no room to go to. He’d spent his time in the cage downstairs. Gramma Esther must have arrived at the same realization, because she put a hand on Antonio’s arm.

  “Why don’t you sleep in the hall outside Jenn’s room, guard her against any intrusions while she gets some rest?”

  The suggestion surprised Jenn, but Antonio looked so grateful it was almost comical. Then the seriousness of the situation penetrated. Her neck ached where he had bitten her, and she resisted the urge to rub it.

  Jenn nodded her assent and headed for her room, Antonio trailing behind her at a respectful distance. Gramma Esther must have her reasons for trusting Antonio, or else she wouldn’t have suggested that he guard Jenn while she slept.

  Jenn didn’t trust Antonio, but she trusted Gramma Esther. For now that would be enough.

  * * *

  Alone in his room Father Juan quickly realized that even though he was bone weary, sleep was not going to come. Frustrated, he sat up and debated his limited options. He wasn’t in the mood to speak with anyone, even to be around anyone, which pretty much meant he was trapped in his room.