Five minutes turned into ten. Ten minutes turned into twenty. Her throat tightened more until every breath was a gasp. She began to panic. She was going to die alone in a cage in New Orleans.
She thought of Jenn, coming to save her. She thought of Aurora and all the vampires like her that she wanted to kill. It can’t end like this!
Suddenly the door to the parlor opened, and she trembled. Instead of the servant, though, Aurora herself strode into the room. She glided across the floor, resplendent in a purple bustier and a bell-shaped gown of purple and green. She had forgone her customary reds. Her black hair was piled on top of her head and held in place with glittering purple clips. A dark-skinned man accompanied her, dressed in a black caftan and a round, feathered hat. He wore a necklace of what appeared to be finger bones around his neck.
Human finger bones.
Aurora strode up to the cage, and Heather didn’t have the strength to pull away from her. She was getting shaky, and her head was swimming. Not enough oxygen; must breathe.
Aurora took in her and the useless inhaler with a sweeping glance. “Caffeine excites the heart; it makes the blood taste different, and yours is already bitter enough. I don’t permit it here.”
“Please, can’t breathe,” Heather managed to whisper. “Inhaler.” She grabbed her own throat and felt like she was choking. Something about it seemed so familiar, like it was a dream. I’m dying, she realized with a start. All those lectures from her parents about keeping her inhaler close had all been meant to prevent this. But I did keep it close, she thought wildly. I was a good girl.
Her thoughts began to fragment and fly apart. Aurora stood, arms crossed over her chest, looking at her with distaste.
“Maybe we could find one somewhere. We don’t have to worry about inhaling.”
Aurora tapped her fingernails against her fangs. “You have to last. You’re part of my celebration. The sister of a Hunter, a worthy sacrifice to my lord indeed. But of course she’s not even the big-ticket item. It’s who’s with her. Antonio de la Cruz.”
Jenn was in the city! Jenn could save her!
Invisible fingers tightened their grip on her throat, and Heather sank to the floor of the cage. Aurora crouched down so that she was eye level with her. She could see the vampire’s eyes, awash with red. Just like blood.
The vampire began to smile, revealing her fangs. Heather wanted to whimper, to move away, but she couldn’t. There was no strength left in her limbs. She was dying, suffocating. It hurt so bad.
“Hmm, obviously, you aren’t going to last. It seems I must make the sacrifice, and taste your sickness. After all, what they don’t know . . . will hurt them.”
She gazed into Heather’s eyes. “So listen to me, bonita Heather Leitner. I can end your torment in one of two ways. If you wish to live, nod your head. If you wish to die, do nothing.”
What? What had she said? Heather, who is Heather? The name sounded like it should mean something, but as darkness filled her peripheral vision, even that slipped away.
The invisible fingers tightened once more, and there was no more wheezing, no more struggling, no more gasping. There was just darkness and pain.
“Nod your head if you want to live,” a voice commanded her.
She should really answer the woman.
NEW ORLEANS
ANTONIO, BERNARD, AND ANDREW
Dawn broke while Antonio, Bernard, and Andrew crept through the sewers below the French Quarter. Antonio felt it as a burst of heat and then a heaviness, like additional gravity pulling him toward the earth. Sergio, his vampire sire, had explained to him that the sensation was partial proof that the souls of vampires awaited them down below in the underworld. Sergio’s god was Orcus, lord of the dead and punisher of those who broke their oaths.
Another oath broken. He’d lasted less than a year in Sergio’s royal court, revolted by his lord’s definition of pleasure. Unspeakable cruelties.
But time to get to business. As Bernard led the way, Antonio tapped Andrew on the shoulder. The man turned with his flashlight, and Antonio locked gazes with him. Andrew blinked, and Antonio turned on his charm.
“It makes sense to go on without me,” he said. “We’ll meet back at the mansion.”
It took a little over a minute to convince him. Bernard required more effort. But soon Antonio found himself alone.
The day was long and unproductive. He saw no other vampires, and just listened to people talking in subdued voices as they walked down the sidewalks above him, worn down into submission, drowning in fear. Them. Us. The Cops. The you-know-who. Shh, don’t say that. Please, just let it go. Just like it had been during World War II.
He had wondered all these years what had happened to the brothers and Frère Jacques.
And then:
“There’s a new krewe this year, called Krewe du Sang.” A pause. “And yes, it’s what you think it is.”
“They’re having their own parade?”
“Tonight. They’re taking video, seeing who shows. Taking care of anyone who does.”
“What are—”
“Shh. Cops.”
Antonio’s mouth dropped open. Du Sang meant “of the blood” in French. The vampires were having their own parade during Mardi Gras?
He flew through the sewers as he returned to the mansion in the bayou. He found shortcuts through the underground tombs and managed to creep through the blackness of the bayou. But he ached, feeling scorched and exhausted. Drained by the sunlight he could not see, he forced himself to slow down as he came to the place where he would need to exit. It was behind the house, so he could walk in the shade from its overhanging roof as he went around to the front. He pulled his hood over his face, tucked his hands inside his sleeves, and blasted out of the sewer.
He could feel the burn of the sun instantly. A second and he had gained the shade next to the house. He forced himself to stop for a moment before walking slowly around the front of the house.
Marc stood just inside the house, his Uzi pointed at the door. Antonio nodded at him and came inside. Marc looked, waited, then said, “Where are Bernard and Andrew?”
“¿Cómo?” Antonio replied in Spanish. “What? They left. I stayed in the sewers. And I found something out. The vampires are going to have a Mardi Gras parade. Tonight.”
Marc blinked, incredulous. “You’re serious?”
“Krewe du Sang,” Antonio replied.
“It’s not on the schedule.” Marc looked hard at Antonio. “No matter. We’ll strike.”
“What if the girl isn’t with them?”
Marc set his jaw. “I’m not passing this up.”
“They could retaliate and kill her. She’s important to us.”
Marc began to speak, but clamped his mouth shut instead. What was he going to say? That Heather wasn’t important to him?
“I’m going to get something to eat,” Antonio lied. “I’m starving.”
“Wait.” Marc grabbed his arm. “How did you get back here?”
“Hitched, and then walked. I was careful.”
Marc didn’t look pleased, but he nodded tersely at Antonio, and Antonio left the room. He headed for the kitchen and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and took a bite, even though he found peanut butter to be rather repulsive. Then he went in search of Father Juan and Eriko.
Jenn was standing in the hall, looking much better than when he’d left. There was even a little color in her cheeks. He wanted to take her in his arms. But he kept his distance.
“Jenn,” he said, and he heard the odd mixture of measured calm and heightened anxiety in his voice as she started to walk toward him. He held up a hand. “The vampires are throwing a parade.” He told her about the Krewe du Sang.
She went dead white. “Aurora said she would convert my sister at Mardi Gras.”
He nodded. “I know. I think this is the break we’ve been looking for. Our prayers are being answered.”
“Oh.” She covered her mouth wi
th her hands as tears welled. She swayed, and he wanted to catch her, hold her. But he felt his fangs lengthen, responding to the intoxicating scent of adrenaline. When she took a step toward him, he held up a hand, much as he had seen young priests ward off pretty parishioners who had crushes on them.
“Antonio, do you think, really, that we can get to the parade and rescue her?” she asked in a small voice. She broke down. “Heather.”
He wanted to take her into his arms and smooth her wild red hair. To kiss the crown of her head, and hold her. He could feel her careful barriers crumbling as she broke down into sobs, and his own began to tumble. His fangs were sharp. He smelled her blood. Heard her heartbeat like a thundering promise. He needed blood.
But not hers. For the love of God, not hers.
“Jenn, listen to me,” he said sternly. “You’re a hunter. God has chosen you for this holy calling.”
She shook her head. “Father Juan chose me.”
“With magicks and prayer,” he said, hoping that he didn’t betray his own uncertainty about Father Juan’s methods by his tone of voice. “This is a mission that our team has been given to fulfill.”
“We weren’t trained to rescue people,” she said, and her body language begged for comfort—she leaned toward him, eyes huge. “We were trained to kill vampires.”
“Perhaps this is God’s way of expanding our mission,” he said, very glad that Eriko was nowhere near to hear him talking like this. “Maybe this is a crucible, a test—”
She blinked, shocked. Her face hardened. “How can you say that? How can you believe in a God who would hurt my sister, maybe even kill her, for a test?”
“He’s not hurting her. Aurora is,” he countered.
And then he could no longer stay away from her as she raised her chin defiantly and tears ran down her cheeks. She backed away; he followed and gathered her in his arms. Her pulse roared.
“There is so much evil in the world,” he said, “that God must do all he can to seek out the good. These things are not his doing, but he must make use of them.”
“No,” she whispered, “you’re so wrong. You’re so wrong.”
He cupped the back of her head, and her red hair fanned out over her shoulders as he gazed down at her angry, terrified features. Por Dios, he wanted to taste her. His thirst was nearly overwhelming.
“In this I’m right: God doesn’t want your sister to die. He wants us to save her. Can you do that, Jenn?”
Don’t surrender, don’t succumb, his mind whispered.
“Hunter,” he said, “can you do that?”
He watched her struggle, and loved her for that struggle. This life, this entire world, was a crucible. It was the crusade of their times, and they were the knights, the warriors.
But last time you fought, you lost, he reminded himself, remembering the night he became a vampire. You lost everything.
“Yes,” Jenn said, taking a deep breath. “I can do that.”
Not everything, then, he thought.
Then she reached to kiss him on the lips, and he let himself have that. Soft, warm, she loved him, a monstrous abomination, a Cursed One. This might be all they ever had, this moment, this kiss, this love. So he gave in to it, aware that his fangs were lengthening, that by now his eyes were glowing. Hunger, want, and desire waged their own war inside him. And then he won again, prevailing as he finished the kiss and took her hand.
“We’re going to save her,” he promised her.
“All right.” She gave his fingers a squeeze, and the sweetness of the gesture nearly broke his heart.
They went together to find Father Juan. Antonio was in the midst of filling him in when noise and shouting erupted from the front of the house. It was Bernard.
“We’ve bagged a sucker!”
* * *
Everyone came to see the captured vampire. And Skye felt a moment of panic.
“It’s Nick,” Skye announced, nearly overcome with shame as she had to essentially confess that she hadn’t tried to stake him. “The one I left Aurora’s lair with. He ran off before I could do anything.”
“Yo, I’ve never seen you before in my life,” the vampire retorted. Then he hissed. His eyes were red, and his fangs were out. He was surrounded by Salamancans and the Resistance, in the room with the settee where Jenn had lain when they’d first arrived.
Once he’d realized that Andrew and Bernard had returned with a vampire, Antonio had made himself scarce. Skye tried not to think about what would happen if Nick, detecting the presence of another vampire, denounced him to the group.
“I wore a disguise,” she said. And then she realized that he might know who had magickally blocked her.
She was almost afraid to find out.
Eriko approached him, showing him a stake in her right hand and a cross in the other. He stumbled backward, then whirled around and turned his head as Holgar, now facing him, extended his stake and cross, mirroring Eriko.
“He tried to attack us,” Bernard informed them, sneering at Nick. “It was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m weak because it’s light out. And I’m hungry,” Nick wheedled. “She wouldn’t let me feed.” He peered at Skye. “Dude, you didn’t have a heartbeat. Having no heartbeat is not a disguise.”
Skye licked her lips. “I’m a witch. I can conjure magick spells. You’ve got one like me, don’t you?”
“One?” Startled, he laughed. “We’ve got a whole pile of witchy people, from all over the world. And voodoo guys, too. We got some big kahuna coming in tonight, in fact.” He saw her face fall, and he squared his shoulders. “We’re, like, majorly dangerous.”
“I can see that,” Eriko drawled. She walked toward him. He looked from her to Holgar and back, and groaned again.
“So you went back to Aurora,” Skye pushed.
“Yeah. I told her that you bailed on me and I went after you. She was really pissed off, and she said we had to move. I got in such major trouble.” He shook his head. “So she says I have to ‘man up’ and get my own food for a while. I can’t gnaw on anybo—I have to fend for myself.”
“More like ‘vamp up,’” Holgar said.
“It’s not funny,” Jamie snapped. “So, where did you move to? Tell us, and we may spare you.” He glided toward Nick, unarmed, hands in the pockets of his black leather trousers. He pulled a baggie of unpeeled garlic from his left pocket. “You know what we do with this? We stuff your mouth with it until the inside of your mouth starts bleeding.”
“No way,” Nick said, eyes bulging. “Oh, man.”
“Just tell us,” Eriko said, nodding at Jamie, who opened the bag.
“Oh, come on, you guys,” Nick pleaded. “If I tell you . . .” Then he trailed off, as if it had just occurred to him that he was surrounded by his mortal enemies. “Whoa.”
“Tell us. In detail,” Eriko said.
“I’ll show you. I’ll take you there,” he said, his voice rising. “Please?”
“And tell us about the witches with Aurora,” Skye ordered him.
“Well, they’re not witches, exactly. They’re witch doctors. Y’know, voodoo dudes.” He looked hopefully around the circle. “With the drums and stuff.” He smiled hopefully at Alice, who had just swept into the room in her ceremonial black-and-purple robe.
“Traitors,” she said, spitting on the floor. “When I tell Papa Dodi—”
“Oh, yeah,” the vampire said, nodding like a bobblehead. “He’s supposed to meet up with us for the parade.”
A heavy silence crashed down around the room. Skye looked from the vampire to the voodoo sorceress and back again.
“No,” Jenn whispered. In the stillness her voice echoed against the walls, down the corridors.
Alice pressed her forehead with both her hands. There was no other sound for at least five seconds. Skye moved to her and put her arm around the distraught woman.
“Maybe it’s not what it looks like,” Skye said. “Maybe Papa Dodi is one of
us, infiltrating Aurora’s group—”
“Um, we call them courts,” Nick offered helpfully. “And I think he’s pretty jazzed to be with us. Aurora’s going to convert him.” He brightened. “I’m sure she’d convert you guys if you wanted.”
Glares of hatred melted him into a puddle. “Just sayin’,” he muttered.
Skye glanced over at Alice. Twin tears streamed down the older woman’s face. She looked hard at Eriko.
“Find out what you need to know,” she bit off. Then she swept out of the room.
After the vampire had spilled his guts, they staked him. Antonio watched from the shadows, saw the clueless surfer fall to his knees, screaming and begging. Three seconds after that he was dust.
The hunters of Salamanca conferred. The freedom fighters of New Orleans did the same. Then they met at a long, rickety table, Eriko seated across from Marc. Father Juan sat at Eriko’s right hand, and Bernard served as Marc’s advisor.
After a while Marc and Eriko pushed back their chairs, and each went over to his or her team. Father Juan excused himself and left the room. The hunters stood near the front door, Jamie leaning against the wall with his head tilted back, as if he were supremely bored. He lowered his head when he saw Eriko walking toward them.
“So it’s settled?” he asked her.
“Hai,” Eriko replied. “Marc will drive us back to town. Our whole team, and his core group—Bernard, Suzy, and Matt. We all go to the parade, and then our team breaks off to go to Aurora’s new lair.”
“I gather the rest will take on the parade,” Jamie said.
“Hai.” She hesitated a moment, and then she went on. “Marc’s objective is different from ours. The Resistance sees this as their one big chance to inflict as much damage as possible. They hope to inspire the people to help them.”
“The parade spectators,” Holgar said, as if to make sure he understood what she was saying.
“Hai.” Eriko bobbed her head. “And we will rescue Heather.” Her cheeks turned pink.
She doesn’t think that should be our primary objective, Jenn realized, shocked to her core. She wants to help Marc.
Crusade Page 30
