The Damned (37 page)

“How’s it going, Holgar?” Juan asked him.

Holgar hesitated. “Good so far. I asked for a cage. I’ve been taking a lot of sleeping pills and tranquilizers. I don’t want to howl and frighten the others.” His face was tight, grim. “The full moon’s coming. I won’t be going out.”

Juan nodded, but he was concerned. What would these people do to Holgar if he did get out?

“Vale,”
Juan said, tabling the discussion they should have about that. Antonio was his more immediate concern.

“Where are Eriko and Jamie?” he asked.

“Eriko’s resting,” Holgar said. “Jamie’s sitting with her.”

“She’s all right, though?” Juan ventured.

“Right enough. She’s having trouble sleeping. Taamir and Noah have fit right in.” Holgar looked at Jenn. “That leaves . . . two.”

Jenn took a deep breath. “Skye’s with Antonio. She’s been with him a lot and . . .” She trailed off and choked back a sob. Holgar put his arm around her, and she lowered her head, pressing her forehead against his chest.

“Shh, shh,” Holgar whispered.

There was a tenderness between them that intrigued Father Juan. He hadn’t seen this side of Holgar before. He knew that wolves, though feared by many, were solici tous and loyal pack mates, while constantly aware that there was a pecking order that must be maintained. But what must the Danish werewolf think of his alpha, displaying such weakness?

“I was about to get something to eat. Rule one when you’re living with livestock: Don’t get hungry.” Holgar smiled at them, recapturing his jauntiness. “That’s a joke. Jenn’s grandmother stole a whole truckload of field rations, and a team just brought back about a hundred apples. Are you hungry, Father?”

“No, thank you, Holgar.” If he was going to say Mass, then he would fast.

Holgar moved away, leaving Jenn and Father Juan to walk alone. Father Juan took note of Esther as she drove the truck around a tent. She gave him a wave. The shadows were lengthening. Day was dying, and night would bring new challenges.

“Take me to him,” he said quietly.

Jenn lowered her head, and he made the sign of the cross over it. Either she didn’t notice it or pretended not to. She had no reason to have faith in God; he hoped He would give a better accounting of Himself in the days to come.

Not that God owes any of us an explanation
, he thought.

Father Juan and Jenn walked into a copse of scrubby trees that appeared to be the remains of an orchard. His foot came down hard on a stone. Finally they reached a building made of concrete blocks, where a young man in paramilitary gear stood guarding the entrance. He had dark, curly hair like Antonio’s and he wore a Star of David around his neck. He was holding an Uzi. The unpainted metal door behind him displayed the words
CAUTION NO ADMITTANCE
handwritten in black marker.

“Noah,” Father Juan guessed. He held out his hand. “It’s good to meet you, my friend.”

“Father Juan. I wish it were under better circumstances,” Noah replied. He looked at Jenn. “I have to warn you. He’s worse.” Then he ticked his gaze up at the sky.

“When it gets dark, it’s harder for him to . . .” As before, Jenn couldn’t finish her sentence.

Noah pulled keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. Jenn stepped in first, and Father Juan followed.

The light was dim. A canvas curtain had been pulled across the bare room. An electric light cast the silhouette of a cage on the fabric. It was similar to the one back in Salamanca that imprisoned Jenn’s sister. Father Juan’s heart went out to Jenn afresh. Her sister converted, her father a traitor, and now Antonio. Yet she stood there, reasonably composed. There was a miracle—the strength of the human spirit.

He hadn’t answered Esther’s question about Jenn’s status as leader because he hadn’t known the answer. As he guided the hunters, he prayed for them constantly. He also performed the same ancient magicks that, unknown to most, had surrounded the original Crusaders who rode for Jerusalem back in the Middle Ages. He invoked the wisdom of the Goddess and the power of God for the most useful parts each of the hunters could play. And the answer that kept coming was that Jenn Leitner, of the six, must lead.

Father Juan hadn’t wanted to frighten his youthful warriors by admitting to them that his own wisdom hadn’t governed his choice. They had no idea who and what he really was, and he knew he couldn’t tell them. But he had faith that the runes he threw and the novenas he conducted on their behalf were good and right. That the answers he received were truthful. It always came back to faith.

Skye’s profile was outlined behind the curtain, and she was murmuring an ancient healing prayer in Latin. Jenn and Father Juan both stopped and waited for Skye to finish. When Skye breathed a heartfelt “so mote it be,” Father Juan crossed himself.

“No!”
came a roar of fury from inside the cage. Metal rattled. Beside him Jenn caught her breath.

“Could it be that he’s been possessed?” Jenn asked him quietly. “I know you’ve performed exorcisms in the past.”

“You do?” He hadn’t realized. That part of his life had been over long ago, before he’d come to the Academia.

“So do you think if you exorcised him, that would help?” she pressed.

“We’ll have to see,” he said honestly. He had no idea. He didn’t know how to help Antonio. He didn’t actually know what had happened to him.

“We’ll have to see,” he said again, “but we
will
do something.”

Apparently satisfied with his answer, Jenn pulled the curtain away.

The cage, made of stainless steel, had been pushed into the corner of the room, and Skye was perched on a camp chair facing it. She turned at the sound, and her face lit up. Books, lit candles, and the sacred objects of the Craft—herbs, crystals, flowers—sat on a small wooden table beside her chair. Her Circuit had come through for her, sending supplies to her via a post office box in the little town.

All Father Juan could see of Antonio were his red eyes, glowing in the darkness like candle flames. But waves of fury radiated from the vampire, as powerful as ocean tides. They were the same waves that magicks rode, and prayers. Antonio’s entire being expelled the passions of his personal demons—the forces that drove even ordinary men to evil, and sin. How much worse must it be for a man forcibly changed into a vampire?

Father Juan made the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he began, “peace be with you.”

“Vete al diablo,”
Antonio replied in Spanish. Go to the Devil.

Skye rose and embraced Father Juan. She was trembling. Father Juan placed his hand on the crown of her head, blessing her. As she stepped back, he was shocked at the change in her. Her face was thin, and deep circles ringed her eyes.

He turned to Jenn. “Why haven’t you told her to rest? She’s exhausted.”

Jenn’s cheeks reddened, and he knew why. She was desperate to have Antonio back.

“Oh, she did try to make me take breaks,” Skye said quickly. “I just wouldn’t listen. Besides, I think I—I’m getting somewhere.” She looked down. She was lying. Everything about her posture spelled futility. Was she sugarcoating her opinion to spare Jenn? Father Juan couldn’t tell.

“Well, I’m here now. You should go rest.”

“Really, I’m fine,” Skye insisted.

“I won’t hurt him. Go and rest. I’m saying Mass in an hour. Let the others know.”

“Yes, Father Juan.” Skye’s lower lip quivered. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m not,” Antonio said, as the little witch left the building. His voice was gravelly. He barely sounded like himself.

Father Juan looked at him. “And why is that, Antonio?”

“Don’t say that name! That’s not my name! I was converted, and I have a new name. The name of a demon!”

“And what name is that?” Father Juan asked calmly.

“Legion,” Antonio said. “I am one of millions. We will swarm over the earth, and we will cleanse it of the vermin that infect it.” His eyes blazed. His fangs seemed to have grown longer. There was nothing of the gentle priest who had begged God to lift the horrible curse of vampirism from him.

Juan pulled his missal from his pocket and opened it to the day’s lectionary. “Do you remember when we would say our prayers together, my son? You often start your waking time with vespers.”

“Get that away from me!” Antonio raged. He flung himself as far away from Father Juan as possible. “You!” he shouted at Jenn. “Let me out of here or I’ll rip out your throat.”

“Let me sit a while with him,” Father Juan said. “Send Holgar in. Perhaps there’s something you can do to help your mother or your grandmother.”

“Mom’s left with a team to rescue a spy in Solomon’s movie company.”

“Oh? That’s very good.” He managed a smile.

“Yes.” She tried to smile back. “My mom’s so brave.”

“Like daughter, like mother.” He tried to keep his tone light, although he was on the verge of despair. Antonio was so far gone. It hurt his heart to see the vampire this badly changed.

Or is he changed at all? Has this been lurking beneath his humanity all this time?

Jenn left. He turned to Antonio. Antonio’s eyes burned. His fangs gleamed.

“We’re coming,” Antonio whispered. “You won’t be able to stop us.”

“Is that what Aurora told you?”

Antonio turned his back. “I don’t speak to humans. I kill them.”

“Even Jenn?”

“I don’t know anyone by that name.” His voice was icy. “That’s a stupid name anyway.”

Father Juan had arrived on a difficult night, and Eriko was glad he was there. Even though he had drugged himself, Holgar howled and yipped all night. With her strong hearing she detected Antonio flinging himself against the bars of his cage, trying to get out. Eriko was afraid the Defenders would turn on the hunters and drive them away. And she, for one, was in no condition to leave.

She was afraid that she was dying. The pain had become nearly unbearable, a throbbing deep inside her bones. Her entire body hurt, constantly, and like Holgar and Antonio she could find no rest.

On the third day that Father Juan had been at the camp, Eriko went to him and told him that she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t want to tell him just how bad it was. She was ashamed, as if it were her fault, and she didn’t want him to feel that it was somehow
his
fault, for giving her the elixir. In Japanese culture it was very important to make sure your superiors saved face. So she minimized just how bad it was.

Father Juan and Skye conjured healing spells that worked for a little while, but then the pain came back with a vengeance. Eriko saw that the effort had taken a lot out of them, and she knew they were trying to help Antonio. So she lied, announcing that she felt much better and didn’t need any more help.

I’m the Hunter. I’m needed
, she reminded herself. But she could wait, until Antonio was helped.

At least that was what Eriko kept telling herself.

“Let’s see how Antonio is doing tonight,” Father Juan suggested to Jenn. “Perhaps there’s been some improvement.”

Jenn swallowed hard, and he felt so sorry for her. Had he been wrong to pair her with Antonio? The runes insisted that Jenn and Antonio shared a destiny. But what on earth could the nature of such a destiny be?

They entered his prison together. Skye was in her usual chair. There was a simple woven basket beside her on the floor. Antonio kept to the back of the cage. But Father Juan could still see his glowing red eyes. Could hear him hissing like a snake.

“Mi hijo
, my son, how is it with you?”

Antonio’s answer was another roar of outrage. Then he raced across the cage and threw himself against the bars. Father Juan jerked but stood his ground, and so did Jenn. Skye dug her hands into the basket, then flung something white and crystalline at Antonio. Salt, Father Juan realized, for spell casting.

“By the Triple Mother and Her consort, the Horned God, I free thee from the chains of bondage!” she cried. “I release thee from thy torments! I return thy free will to thee!”

“I have my free will!” Antonio shouted, grabbing the bars of his cage and shaking them. “I finally have it back! I am a vampire! For half a century I denied what I was. I tried to act like one of you. But I’m not like you. You’re my food, and I’m a god to you.”

“He’s begun to remember,” Juan murmured to Jenn. “That’s a good sign.”

“Is it?” she whispered. “Antonio,” she said loudly. “This is not you talking.”

His glowing red eyes turned in Jenn’s direction. Fury blazed there. And nothing else—no love, just a predator’s lust for his prey.

“Sí, idiota
, it is me. It’s finally me.”

“No. Because you wouldn’t call me that.” Jenn’s voice quavered.

“Aurora freed me,
idiota.
All that misery, twisting myself into something I am
not.
To satisfy a myth.”

“The god you believe in is not a myth,” Father Juan said calmly.

“The god I
believed
in tortured Aurora and her family. Her sire freed her. I contain multitudes! I know the sins your god has perpetrated against us. And it’s time we all fought back. We will crush you. All of you!”

Juan made the sign of the cross. Antonio recoiled.

“If my god is myth, why does the cross bother you?” Juan asked.

“Don’t start with that! All symbols of human faith disturb us equally. But
our
symbols of faith are coming. You’ll be helpless before them.”

Juan kept his voice steady. “What symbols might those be?”

Antonio sneered at him. “We are not fools.
Or
traitors. You can stake this one out in the sun, and we won’t tell you.”

“Because you don’t know. Aurora didn’t tell you, did she? She didn’t trust you with the information. Because she put you under a spell. It will wear off, and you’ll come back to us.” He didn’t know that, but he wanted to shake the demons’ hold on Antonio.

“Don’t try your tricks on us.” Antonio’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t care if you believe us or not. Aurora will come back for this one. With an
army
.”