"This shall be the end result." He then stripped of one glove and held out the naked hand to her like a bishop offering his ring to be kissed.
If Faith had any doubts about the brujo's madness, they were wiped away with that one statement. She was a healer, not a miracle worker.
"You may begin."
She had touched demons, so she could touch this. That's what Faith told herself when she saw the hand, but she was shaking nonetheless when she reached for it.
It was cold, ice cold, and again Faith noted the difference between this thing and Otto whose hands were warm and fully fleshed. This hand was skeletal and the skin was peeled back like it had been burned, but instead of the soft skin found beneath the average kitchen burn, this peeling revealed more dry, cracked skin. While she'd never touched a hundred year old corpse before, this is what she would imagine it to be.
Tyn's lessons number three and four came into play when she called the golden light to her fingers and sent it into his to search for something she could cure without giving him an advantage. She didn't scream and she kept her eyes cast down. His body was riddled with rot from the poisons that coursed through his systems.
Faith said a silent prayer of thanks that she'd finally learned to control her gift. If she'd touched this creature before, the backwash would have killed her. She began with his liver and kidneys, but when she tried to send the golden light to cure the riddled organs, she couldn't do it. This thing had killed over and over and curing even a small part of him would be an insult to those murdered women.
As her anger at the injustice of it rose, the golden light changed. It burned, but this time she felt no shame in it. It was no different than Lucien's sword. In her righteous wrath, Faith shot jolt after jolt of her power into him and when she felt him stiffen, she added a little more.
"Run!" she shouted at the top of her new voice.
Laura came through the door, towing a protesting Rosie behind her.
"Run!" she screamed as the brujo's gloved hand grabbed her wrist.
There was iron in the skeletal grip, but Faith refused to let go. As his bones ground into hers, she was tempted to scream, but she was afraid the girls would return if they thought she was being hurt. She knew, too, as with Tyn, this brujo would enjoy it.
She didn't release her grip on his wrist until she was sure the girls were away. His hands went to her throat, squeezing the life out of her as she was lifted off her feet. Smoke billowed out of the prison room as the smoldering fire Laura started in the straw bedding for the demon took hold. They'd hoped the fire would be the distraction that would enable Faith to escape.
There would be no escape for her. The girls were free. That was what mattered.
"Lucien! Lucien! I'm sorry!" Faith cried out in her mind. It was her last thought before the room began to fade.
*****
“To your beginnings, I commend you,” Lucien said quietly over the last of the dead. He wondered if the Ruling Council would hold him responsible for what had happened here and decided it didn't matter. Yes, he had neglected the enclave, but they had never seen him as their leader and there was no reason to believe they would have taken his advice if he'd had any to give.
As it had with his sister, the massacre had damaged something inside them that a hundred years of peace couldn't cure. They had lost their will to live and only went through the motions without doing anything to improve their lot. He hadn't done much more, but he was lucky. He had old Vasco, who believed his forty years of loyal service as Vigilante gave him the right to speak bluntly.
"If you meet your death, where will that leave us, the People? Your father made his plans as did your mother's father before him and his father before that. You have a duty to those who served before you. You have a duty to the pledge your people made to mine. You have a duty to see the People are protected once you are gone."
Vasco had chosen his words well. Duty was all he had to sustain him. That duty had taken him to Canaan's House where he came away with so much more than two trainees and a stowaway.
With a nod to the two men left to keep watch over the bodies, Lucien closed the gates of the enclave. Álvaro and Lalo, trucks loaded with survivors, were already on their way to the village to sound the all clear and arrange for the burials of the Paenitentia dead once the sun was up.
In spite of the tragedies of the day, Lucien was smiling as he started the truck and pulled away. He was doing that a lot lately, smiling, and Faith was the reason. Her quiet ways brought him peace. Her laughter lightened his heart. The response of her delicate body beneath him made him feel like a king. She made him believe in a future worth looking forward to. It was time to move on to that future.
The urge to make their mating permanent came over him each time they had sex and he tried to hide it from her, knowing the scars from her past would prevent her from accepting his offer of the white rose. He would hide it forever if he had to. When the current chaos was past, he would make her his mate, sharing the red rose. It would be enough for them both.
The two familiar trucks pulled off the road had him hitting the brakes and pulling off, too. The two bodies lying beside one of them had him leaping from the truck and running.
"I'm not dead," Vasco said when he rolled the old man onto his back. "He is."
He flung his arm toward the other man who had a screwdriver handle sticking out of his chest, Mendoza from the store. The dead man wasn't Lucien's concern. Vasco was and Vasco didn't look good.
"Let's get you into the truck and get you home," he said.
"No. I'm not going to die. Consolata said so." Vasco smiled. "She's a good woman, my Consolata. Faith is a good woman, too." He raised his arm and waved it vaguely toward the hills. "She's up there with Evrard. Long time. He must need help. Go. Go. Leave an old man to his dreams."
"Lucien! Lucien! I'm sorry!"
"Faith?" Lucien was on his feet, scanning the area. "Faith!"
Two figures were running down from the hills and Lucien ran in white light to meet them. They screamed when he appeared.
"Where's Faith?" he demanded.
"In there," one said and pointed.
Lucien directed the girls to stay with Vasco and ran with his short sword in hand. Between the escaping girls' footprints and the drag marks with larger footprints heading toward it, the opening wasn't hard to find. He crawled through, cursing inwardly because of the slow of access and the faint smell of smoke.
He didn't hesitate before entering the room. There was no time. The smoke was already burning his eyes. He didn't hesitate when he saw the dark robed figure holding Faith by the neck. He threw the sword.
The sword was well balanced and he'd used the move before when hunting demons. It should have struck home, but as he threw, the robed figure was jolted up against the desk he stood behind and dropped Faith. The sword clattered to the floor. Faith was left choking on one side of the desk while the robed man slid across it.
Lucien snatched up the fallen blade and grabbed Faith around the waist, prepared to defend her as he carried her to the tunnel exit. Faith had other ideas.
"Evrard," she shouted, her arms and legs scrabbling uselessly in the air. Evrard had saved her life. She wouldn't leave him behind now that there was a chance he could be saved.
Following her reaching hands, Lucien saw the pair of legs on the floor, sticking out from the side of the desk near the wall. The legs were tied and unmoving. The few seconds it took to assess the situation removed Lucien's choice. Sword in hand, the robed figure arose, and slashed down across the desk. Lucien leapt back, Faith still dangling from his arm, saving her from being sliced. He dropped her behind him and went on the attack.
"Lucien, he's a vampire. Be careful!"
The Liege Lord had no time to think about where this creature came from. The claw-like hand gripping the sword spoke of great age which should also mean weakness. This creature wasn't weak. After the initial slash made in anger, the vampire handled the sword as if
he was born to it.
They engaged, each testing the other's proficiency.
"You handle that sword like a cudgel, boy," The vampire sneered. "You always were heavy handed with a blade."
The criticism sounded familiar, but the days of losing his temper over such remarks was far in the past. He kept his concentration on the pattern and flow of his opponent's moves. That the cowl was pulled so far forward put him at a disadvantage by cutting off the signals given by the face and eyes.
Thrust, dodge, parry, and riposte, the battle went on. The robes disguised the movement of the vampire's legs and yet Lucien felt familiar with his style.
Faith chose not to be an idle watcher. The best way she could help Lucien was to free Evrard. In the few minutes since the fight began, she'd untied his legs and tried to move him out from where he was wedged between wall and desk. Both he and the desk were too heavy to move. Her only recourse was to heal him first and hope he was strong enough to extricate himself.
She thrust her power into him and healed his wounds more quickly than she'd ever healed before. The effort made her dizzy.
"Evrard. Evrard, please," she begged, "Lucien needs your help."
The desk shifted an inch. Evrard was awake and moving. Adding her strength to his, they managed to move the heavy desk and she was able to unbind his hands. The smoke was growing thicker and she could see the light from the flames.
"Hurry! Lucien needs you."
"Get her out of here, Evrard," Lucien called over her.
With a flurry of moves, the vampire danced Lucien back into the far corner. Faith bit her lip, but Evrard recognized Lucien's move for what it was. He was clearing the route for their escape.
"Move! Now, now!" Evrard hissed in a low voice. He grabbed Faith's hand and dragged her toward the opening which was now enveloped in smoke making its way to freedom, too. He pushed her into the tunnel and once she was on her knees and crawling, told her, "Lucien and I will be out in a minute."
Lucien kept his robed opponent engaged until he was sure Faith was free. He kept his feet moving, sliding back and forth to avoid the thrusts of the vampire's longer blade.
"Come on, boy. Make your move. I have better things to do today than play nursemaid to a coward," the vampire goaded the Liege Lord as he thrust again. Metal crashed on metal as swords clashed. "No aggression. No audacity. You'll never be a swordsman of any merit."
Again Lucien had the feeling of déjà vu and then suddenly, he knew who this vampire was. As unbelievable as it was, this was Apollinaire ad Gautier. The vampire must have seen the recognition in Lucien's face.
"That's right, you incompetent little ass. You couldn't bring second death to me any more than you could bring it to your father." The surprise on Lucien's face made Apollinaire laugh. "I saw it. I was hiding up here and saw it." He threw back his hood and tore the robe from his neck exposing the deep scar.
Overcome with Battle Rage, the young Lucien had no memory of killing the demons in the hacienda or of bringing second death to his father's Second. It was all a blur clarified later by the servant's who'd witnessed it and buried Apollinaire in the same mass grave as all the rest. In his madness, it was conceivable that the young and inexperienced Guardian failed to decapitate the Second.
Lucien's father was another matter. He was a man of courage and conviction and when he was turned, some of that must have remained with him. He fought the Blood Rage and ran to the place he was least likely to find victims. The day after the massacre, Lucien hunted him down. Álvaro's ancestor, also called Vasco, went with him.
"No son should have to do this alone," that Vasco had said.
They'd searched for hours. It was almost dawn when his father found them, but instead of attacking, the Liege Lord had stood before them with his arms spread wide, inviting Lucien to bring him second death. Father and son stared at each other for what seemed to be a very long time. Then, in one swift movement, Vasco had swung the sword he was carrying and taken the Liege Lord's head.
"No son should have to kill his father," he'd said to the grief stricken Guardian.
Lucien was forever grateful to that long ago Vasco and the role of Vigilante had remained with his family ever since.
"You didn't deserve that golden band, boy," the vampire sneered.
He thrust his sword at Lucien's middle, but this time Lucien didn't side step as the vampire expected. Instead, the Liege Lord stepped forward and grasped the vampire's wrist and held it outward as if they were about to dance. Now behind the hilt of the longer sword and safe from its threat, Lucien drove his short sword into the soft and putrid tissue of the vampire's gut.
"You're right, Apollinaire," Lucien said quietly as he drove his father's Second to the ground and slowly retrieved his blade. "I didn't deserve that golden band, but I am no longer that boy. I am a man and Liege Lord of my father's House."
With one swift stroke of Lucien's blade, Apollinaire ad Gautier's head rolled to the side and rested against the wall.
Evrard, without weapons, had run to the oil lamp and removed its chimney and loosened its cap thinking to throw the lamp onto the vampire and engulf it in flames.
Lucien looked over at him and nodded. "Do it," was all he said.
"I serve at my Liege Lord's command."
Evrard ad Gautier tossed the lamp with its burning wick onto the headless body of his uncle before following his Liege Lord out of the tunnel.
*****
Having ordered Evrard to drive the others back to the House, Lucien put his arm around Faith's shoulder and watched the column of smoke drift away as it rose up out of the ground.
"You could have gotten yourself killed, you know."
"I know, but I couldn't leave those girls in there one moment longer. Rosie would have died. I couldn't lose another girl. I couldn't, Lucien. I had to go." Faith looked up at him, eyes pleading. Would he understand better if she told him she had no choice? No, he wouldn't, because she did have a choice. As strong as the compulsion was, she could have refused to follow it.
"I understand," he said, smiling down at her, "I don't like it, but I do understand. This time it worked out right."
Lucien did understand. Faith curled into him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his chest. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her and if she didn't hang on, she'd float up to the stars. Gazing up at those stars, she saw something else.
"Lucien, Look!"
Lucien looked where she pointed and saw nothing. "Did you see a shooting star?"
"No, look again, can't you see it?"
At the top of the hill above them, the cloud of white shimmering mist that she'd come to think of as Engracia, began to rise up into the sky. From all over the Hills of the Dead, other misty lights appeared, all rising to converge with that central mist and then ascending to the heavens as one. It was a sight Faith would remember for the rest of her life.
A great wrong had been righted and Faith and Lucien had been a part of it.
Later that day, in the warm cocoon of their bed, Faith found the courage to tell Lucien of another wrong, one that still had to be made right.
"I have to see my sister. Hope has a right to know. Please understand, Lucien. I need to go home."
Chapter 40
It was a month before Faith was able to make the trip. During that time, the House of Guardians had been filled to overflowing between the villagers who came to help and the Paenitentia who'd taken up residence on the second floor. Most of the Paenitentia wandered about in shock, not knowing what to do without ad Gautier to reassure them that all was well and a prosperous future was around the corner. Lucien was trying to contact family members who might take them in.
With Agdta's support, Faith became the mistress of Lucien's House, sorting, organizing and refereeing the occasional spat when necessary. There was one argument, however, that she stood and watched like everyone else and like everyone else; she enjoyed it.
It happened one day
during the chaotic week that followed the demon outbreak. Briza, who'd been running back and forth between village and hacienda, turned the running of her shop over to the woman who worked part time for her and moved her things into Álvaro's room without, apparently, mentioning this to Álvaro.
"These are not weapons," he shouted as he dumped a load of pretty panties and bras on the kitchen table.
The women working in the kitchen snickered and one of them commented, "For a woman, they can be. Depends on how you look at it, I guess."
"Your weapons are where weapons belong; in the Weapons Room," Briza retorted. "I needed a place for my things."
"You have a place for your things in the village, over your shop. Things were fine as they were," he said belligerently. He put his hands on his hips and glared at the watching women who made no move to turn away.
"Fine as they were?" Briza threw down the towel she'd been using to dry dishes and marched up to him, mimicking his stance. "What? Visiting me in the middle of the night when no one would know?" she shouted. "Am I your woman or am I your whore? Because if I'm your whore, you'd better start leaving money on my table when you leave." She poked him in the chest with her finger. "A lot of money!"
Álvaro grabbed the hand with the poking finger and pulled her from the room. "We need to talk. This is no one's business but our own."
"You made it their business when you threw my panties on the table. Am I your woman or am I not?" they heard her ask again as the two disappeared down the hall.
Dito followed the pair, her tail twitching high in the air, thinking she'd found an ally in her war with the Vigilante.
"Consolata always liked her," Vasco said with a grin from the doorway where he'd been watching.
An hour later, flushed and smiling, Briza returned to gather her things from the table. Swaying her hips from side to side as she walked away, she looked over her shoulder and winked. "Now I have two drawers," she said, "and the only weapon is the one he brings to my bed."
Guardian's Faith Page 35
