Crusade

by Nancy Holder; Debbie Viguié

  She held her breath. Goddess, protect me, she thought.

  The light winked off. The patrol car moved on.

  Thank you, Lady.

  Lightning flashed overhead, followed by a rumble of thunder across the rushing black waters of the river. Gazing up at the scudding black clouds, she made magicks over the scrying stone, murmuring the address of the safe house. With any luck she would—

  “Skye,” came the whisper on the wind.

  Still squatting, she whirled around. The lights across the river twinkled, and the river rushed on. Then the sky cracked open, and rain rushed down hard, like rain on the moors back home. Tensing, she squinted through it, seeing nothing but the sudden, violent storm as it dervished around her. With a cry she got to her feet and dashed for the closest shelter, the underside of a balcony tumbling with ferns and geraniums.

  Then the rain became a torrent, rocketing water crashing down with unnatural force. A cascade of water sluiced over the pavement and shot into the gutters, curling in waves toward the storm drains.

  Magick? she wondered. Was this normal for New Orleans? And had she really heard a voice calling her name?

  His voice?

  Holding the top of her coat firmly closed, she whirled on her heel and broke into a run. Her boots clattered on cobblestones; her breath came in grunts, and she ran faster, as fear mounted on fear.

  NEW ORLEANS

  TEAM SALAMANCA

  “Jenn, despierte. Wake up,” Antonio murmured, gently shaking her.

  She jerked and opened her eyes, bolting upright as he put his hand on her shoulder. He was holding a flashlight, and the room was dark. His eyes were nearly black, and he looked very serious.

  “There’s a heavy rain. The sewer tunnel’s filling up. We have to leave.”

  “What?” She slung her feet over the side of the bed and stood as he helped her up.

  “We’re moving to higher ground,” he said.

  Eriko stuck her head in the door. She had on a dark blue raincoat, and a black baseball cap concealed her eyes. “Let’s move,” she ordered. “Now.”

  Jenn was muzzy with sleep. Usually in the midst of a mission—which was what this was—she would wake right up; she figured this time she was exhausted from traveling so hard. She stumbled as she stepped into her boots and buckled them shut, then rummaged in her pocket for her cell phone. The charge was nearly gone. She tucked it back into the pocket and followed Antonio out of the room as he hoisted her duffel over his back.

  “Let me carry it,” she insisted, flushing as she trotted behind Eriko. He gave it to her, and for a moment she thought about changing her mind. It was heavy and she was tired.

  Antonio took up the rear. They assembled in the same room where Jamie and Marc had sparred. Outnumbered by rebels, her teammates were slapping on body armor and knee pads, lacing and buckling their boots. The patches of Team Salamanca were blurs of color among all the shadowy shades of black.

  And there was Skye, sopping wet in her heavy black maxi coat, her skirts and boots, pushing past Bernard and Lucky. When she saw Jenn, she ran to her and threw her arms around her.

  “I found her. She’s okay. Well, pretty okay.” Skye pushed her wet braids away from her face as she looked at Jenn. They looked like blond spider legs. “Aurora keeps her in a cage. She was kind of wheezing.”

  “Oh, God.” Jenn felt dizzy. “She’s got asthma. Did you see an inhaler?”

  “Are you mad? Yeah, and Aurora’s vaccinated her against the flu as well,” Jamie sniped. He came up to Skye and patted her shoulder. “Good work, witchy.”

  Scowling, Skye moved her shoulders as if to bat him away. “God, Jamie, you don’t need to be so harsh. She’s Jenn’s sister.”

  “Yeah, I got the memo.”

  “Were they . . . did they . . . ?” Jenn began, and what she wanted to ask, but couldn’t, was, Did you?

  “I can’t lie to you, Jenn,” Skye said. “Yes. They had been drinking from her. But they’ve stopped because she’s sick.”

  Jenn swayed. Skye gripped her arm. “We’re going to get her out.”

  Jamie jerked his head at Eriko. “What are we going to do, a dozen people running out the front door? I’m sure the locals will think it’s a bunch o’ lads having a session.” He mimed drinking a beer. “Laissez les bons temps rouler, eh, gents?”

  “We’re going down into the tunnel.” Marc turned to the Salamancans and addressed them all. “Which is why we have to leave now. The water level is rising.”

  “In the feckin’ sewer?” Jamie cried. “I don’t see why we have to leave at all. Even if the sewer fills up, you’ve got the ground floor to bivouac in, and none the wiser.” He looked at Skye. “You can put up some of them spells—”

  “Hush,” Skye gritted, as Marc’s people stirred and looked at Skye. Silence fell like a house over the room.

  “Spells? She can use magick?” Marc asked, halfway to slinging a submachine gun over his head. He looked from Skye to Father Juan and then to Eriko. Silence.

  Then Father Juan said, “Yes,” not adding that he could use magick, too.

  “And you were not going to mention it?” Marc’s voice thrummed with tension and fear.

  “It’s only for defense,” Skye said quickly, her face turning red. Water dripped from her hair down the side of her face, and she shook it off like a poodle. “I can’t hurt anyone with it. But I can make us harder to notice while we’re all escaping.”

  Pursing his lips, Marc walked to an open box of ammo on the table and stuffed some clips into the pockets of his jacket. Jamie joined him, examining the boxes of ammunition and breaking one open, then holding a round up to the artificial light.

  “I thought you knew that was why we sent her,” Eriko said, crossing to Jamie and yanking the clip out of his hand. “She had the best chance to infiltrate, because she can use magicks.”

  “I missed that.” Marc’s voice was icy with anger. The others were very quiet.

  “Then how did you figure we got her in?” Eriko asked, genuinely confused.

  “We’ve pulled off an infiltration now and then. Going undercover,” Marc said, gritting his teeth. Lucky and Bernard nodded.

  “What, you just walk in?” Jamie asked admiringly. “Lad, you got a pair.”

  “We’ve got a cause,” Lucky cut in.

  Marc glared at Eriko, then at Father Juan. “When we leave this place, we’ll become a hundred times more vulnerable. We’re wanted. No doubt the word’s out on you, as well, so we’re even more vulnerable because of you.”

  “They still think I’m a vampire,” Skye said. “And Aurora is planning something big. They’re going to kill Solomon.”

  “What?” came a chorus of voices, faces staring at Skye.

  “Yes. She thought I’d come to New Orleans because of her. She’s at the center of something.”

  “Well, ja, you did come because of her,” Holgar reminded her. He grinned faintly. “Just not in the way that she thinks.”

  Marc exhaled. “Merde. I don’t want more suckers in my city. Is there anything else we need to know about?”

  Eriko gestured to the ammo. “We don’t use guns.”

  “Well, we sure the hell do,” Bernard informed her.

  “We don’t know much about hunters. Do you have some kind of prohibition about killing human beings?” Suzy sounded forced, as if she was trying to keep the peace.

  “Yeah, stupidly,” Jamie cut in. “We only do it as a last resort. Kill ’em, I mean.”

  “We go on missions,” Eriko elaborated. “Our objectives are defined. We’re sent out by our master.” She lowered her head in Father Juan’s direction.

  “I send them where I think they’ll do the most good,” Father Juan elaborated. “They’re secret missions, of course.”

  “Except someone’s been spilling a few deets.” Jamie gave Father Juan a look. “For all we know, they told Aurora we’re here.”

  “Aurora didn’t sound like she knew,” Skye said. �
�She said that Heather was the Hunter’s sister.”

  “Back to these missions,” Marc said. “We do the same thing.”

  “Most of the time there are no humans on the other side,” Eriko replied.

  “That we know of,” Jamie muttered.

  “Pardon?” Marc said, frowning. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that if you have extra weapons, my team will take them.” Father Juan stepped forward with his hand extended. “With thanks.” He looked at Jenn. “We’ll do whatever it takes to save your sister.”

  “That’s a slippery slope, Father,” Jamie said. Father Juan didn’t react.

  “Thank you, Master.” Jenn’s voice was strained. She was afraid she was going to burst into tears, and she’d cried enough.

  Jamie grunted and slid a glance toward Eriko. “A word?”

  Eriko raised her chin as if bracing herself to deal with Jamie. The two walked a bit apart. Antonio narrowed his eyes, and Jenn could tell he was eavesdropping on them. As they talked, Suzy left the room and then returned, hefting two overstuffed backpacks.

  “This one is water. The other one is protein bars and beef jerky,” she said. “We’ve still got a lot of trail mix too.”

  “You should jumble them up,” Jenn told her. “If you lose one, you won’t lose all your water or all your food.”

  Suzy blinked, nodded. “Good idea.”

  Lucky held out a submachine gun to Jenn. He was already wearing one around his shoulders. “Do you know how to use this?” he asked her.

  “I’m a little rusty,” she admitted as she put the strap around her neck and hefted the weapon, “but we did have basic weapons training at the academy.” She grasped the barrel and the hilt. “This is an Uzi, and it has an open-bolt design. That helps with the balance. But we should keep them decocked as much as possible, to prevent contamination. Such as sewer water.”

  She gazed at him. “Also, it’s good to rest between bursts and lower your weapon. Bam-bam-bam, rest. Otherwise you might wind up shooting at the moon.”

  Lucky whistled. “You should open up more academies, Father. You could train more fighters.”

  “Oui,” Marc said. “Why be so elitist? What do these hunters possess that sets them so much apart?” When Marc spoke, he looked at Jenn, and she could feel her cheeks burning.

  “We usually engage in hand-to-hand combat. As you know, guns don’t work on vampires. We’ll teach you all we can,” Father Juan said.

  “Including magick?” Lucky asked, moving to stand beside Marc. “I’ve never met anyone who could do magick. That’s so freaky.” He smiled over at Skye. “Can you do, like, love spells and stuff like that?”

  “I can’t,” Skye blurted quickly, suddenly busy with a satchel containing sharp-tipped stakes and vials of holy water.

  “Can you make our phones work?” Marc asked.

  “I tried while I was gone. And I tried to cast protective spells over your place, here. I couldn’t tell if they formed properly.” Jenn’s training in scanning for what was out of place kicked in. Skye was acting fragmented. Torn, literally. Something was very wrong.

  “We have another safe house in the Quarter,” Marc said. “We’ll regroup there, and then we’ll leave.”

  Jamie and Eriko rejoined the group. Eriko cleared her throat and said, “I want to discuss the plan more fully. We’re carrying a lot of gear. We’ll have to stow it before we launch our rescue attempt.”

  “I say leave it here,” Jamie insisted, stuffing ammo clips into his Velcro pockets. “There’s no point bogging ourselves down. The higher floors should be okay.” Jamie grabbed an Uzi with one hand and a Magnum .457 in the other. He looked like a kid at Christmas.

  “You weren’t here,” Marc said, “when Katrina hit.”

  “It’s only raining,” Jamie said.

  “This is New Orleans. We’re below sea level,” Marc countered.

  “There should be two teams,” Holgar piped up. “One to move things, one to rescue Jenn’s sister.” He raised his hand. “I’ll help with the rescue.”

  “You should go with the gear. You’d make a proper beast of burden,” Jamie drawled.

  Holgar narrowed his eyes. “I’m keeping score, you know.”

  “And it’s a hundred thousand to zero, by my count,” Jamie replied.

  “Well, I’m the one who can follow the magick traces I left,” Skye said, “so I have to go.”

  “Vale, vale,” Antonio said. “Of course Jenn and I are going.” He stood closely beside her.

  Jamie turned to Eriko. “What do you say, ducks?”

  Eriko nodded and stood beside her fighting partner. “But you should be careful loading your pockets,” she said, wrinkling her forehead. “It will be difficult for you to reach your stakes and holy water if the ammo clips are in the way.”

  “I used to carry a lot more than this in Belfast,” he retorted, patting the breast pocket of his olive green jacket. “And that was to go to the shop and buy me da a pint.”

  “Northern Ireland is a good analogy,” Marc said. “Or Paris, after the Nazis conquered France. The vampires have taken over, and they’re very brazen. They have terrorized the police and the mayor into submitting to them. No human can expect justice. For vampires it’s close to paradise.”

  “Closer to hell,” Jamie said.

  “Maybe that’s why Aurora brought your sister here,” Bernard added, nodding at Jenn. “If she wants to put down roots, it says a lot about her strength if she can snatch a family member from under the nose of a hunter.”

  “To underscore my point,” Marc cut in, “the people here do what the Cursed Ones want. Some of them are too afraid not to. But the truth is that many of them have better lives since the vampires came. Poor people, the powerless—the vampires are using them against us. And they’re happy to be used.”

  “It makes them feel useful,” Holgar ventured.

  “It does.” Marc apparently wasn’t in a joking mood. “There are prices on our heads. We’re worth a lot dead. It is more than likely that humans will shoot at you.”

  “Bring it on,” Jamie said, cocking the Magnum.

  “The Uzi is a good weapon,” Antonio said, looking at Father Juan. “When we get home, perhaps we should reconsider our way of doing things.”

  “We’re hunters,” Eriko said. “Not commandos.”

  Marc rested his arms on his Uzi. “Yeah, well, you define the mission to match your enemy, not the other way around, eh?”

  “Sensei?” Looking flustered, Eriko bowed in Father Juan’s direction.

  Jenn took a step toward Eriko. “My sister is in mortal danger.” She picked up another Magnum .457 and held it out to Eriko, but it was so heavy that her arm swung in an arc until she grabbed it with her other hand. That definitely took the edge off her challenging gesture.

  Father Juan hesitated. Then he said, “I’m sorry, Eriko, but please take the gun. We’ll sort this out when we get home.”

  When we get home. Jenn licked her lips and swallowed hard. When, not if.

  “Let’s move out,” Marc said.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Though our flesh is pale and cold

  We are beautiful to behold

  Love us for our peaceful way

  And never once our trust betray

  For to harm us is to harm your own

  To cut the flesh and break the bone

  For with us gone you soon would find

  You’d be lost both in body and mind

  NEW ORLEANS

  THE RESISTANCE AND THE HUNTERS OF SALAMANCA

  With Eriko beside him Marc opened the convent door that led to the sewer and immediately panned the area with his Uzi, while she painted the darkness with her flashlight. Gazing over Eriko’s shoulder, Jenn saw rushing water where, before, there’d been a trickle from the French Quarter’s storm drains. Despite the increase in the amount of water, it didn’t smell any worse than the first time she’d been down there. But she wondered how they wo
uld be able to move through the tunnel—it would be waist-high on her, and rising.

  Marc nodded at Bernard, Matt, and Lucky, who climbed down the stairs, then disappeared behind them. They reappeared a few seconds later with the first of four flat-bottomed boats, each approximately ten feet long, with benches stretching horizontally between the two sides of the hull.

  “These are called pirogues,” Marc announced. “Cajun boats. There are seventeen of us. Bernard, Lucky, Suzy, and I will go with the extraction team. That makes eleven. The rest of my people will take the gear to the safe house in shifts. We’ll meet there.”

  Suzy looked a little uncomfortable as she made room for Skye on her bench as Suzy climbed aboard. She had taken out her pom-pom ponytails and pulled her hair back with an elastic band. Skye was twisting the silver ring on her thumb, her face pale, her rasta braids fuzzy and unkempt.

  The atmosphere had changed as soon as Skye’s witch identity had been revealed, and had worsened when Eriko had protested their arming themselves with conventional weapons. Now that they were on the move, it was even worse. The Resistance was uneasy around them now, and that was bad. Marc’s people wanted to get rid of Aurora. Jenn wanted to save her sister’s life. But the Resistance had no compunctions about killing humans in order to serve the greater good. If Heather got in the way, and it came down to Jenn’s sister or their vampire target, what would Marc’s soldiers do?

  Antonio, Jenn, and Father Juan climbed into a boat.

  “If I may,” Marc said, pushing off their boat, then gracefully climbing aboard, wet up to his knees. A wooden pole about six feet long lay along the right side of the benches, and he picked it up and thrust it into the water. “This is how we steer in shallow water,” he explained.

  The current caught them, and they glided away from the convent entrance. One rider in each boat turned on a flashlight, guiding the captain. In Jenn’s boat Father Juan was the light keeper.

  The tunnel became narrower, and darker; the flashlights played over the beady eyes of the rats that squeaked from moss-covered, trash-strewn crevices in the walls and then scurried away. On Marc’s order everyone ducked their heads as the tunnel ceiling dropped, making it harder to watch where they were going—and to see any potential attackers.