The Damned (44 page)

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Authors: Nancy Holder,Debbie Viguie

BOOK: The Damned
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Giovanni’s pale face turned ash gray.

“You saw this in your vision?” Juan asked softly.

Giovanni nodded.

“Someone’s coming,” Juan said, raising his voice enough to be heard by all. “We don’t know who or what is out there, but it’s a good bet they’re not friendly.” He made the sign of the cross over each row, then over Giovanni, then over himself.

“Bless you, my children,” he said. Then he turned to Giovanni. “I have to go downstairs to check on Antonio and Heather.”

“Father,
prego
, don’t go anywhere,” Giovanni begged him.

Juan hesitated. Then he nodded. There was no time.

Juan ran back down the hall, his student hunters and instructors falling in behind him. They burst out into the night, and the air felt electric. Giovanni kept pace.

“Is it a good idea to leave the building?” he asked.

“We’re not set up to handle a siege in there,” Juan replied.

“We should have been better prepared,” Giovanni said.

A roar boomed through the night like the tide coming in and crashing against the shore. It buffeted Father Juan’s eardrums and rattled his spine.

Father God. Blessed Mother
, he thought, crossing himself.

“I don’t think we could have prepared for this,” Father Juan replied.

“What do you—?”

A wave of Cursed Ones came over the wall, dropping down inside the university walls. There were a dozen vampires dressed like soldiers in black clothing, their eyes molten rubies, fangs extended like stilettos. A dozen more appeared at the top of the wall. And they kept coming. There weren’t dozens of invaders, Juan realized. There were hundreds.

Just on the other side of the gate, Father Juan heard the howling of werewolves. Up and down the line students gasped.

“Holgar?” he said aloud.
Are the werewolves coming to help us?

Next to him Sade, the tall, willowy Ethiopian girl with the ebony skin, slathered more garlic-infused salve on her face, then popped half a tin of garlic mints in her mouth. The stench was overwhelming even to his human nose. Smart girl, that one.

“Use your garlic!” he shouted up the line.

And then, then the vampires rushed over them like a flood.

In her cage, Heather hissed and shrieked. Eyes scarlet, fangs glistening, she hurtled herself at the bars in an uncontrolled frenzy. Screams from above pierced Antonio’s eardrums, and explosions rocked the foundations of the ancient building. Smoke and the smell of blood poured into the tight space. His fangs extended. He hissed.

Vampires, attacking.
It must be Aurora
, he thought.
Here for me.

Antonio gripped the bars and shook hard, fighting to get free. Aurora didn’t have to do this. He’d go with her, if she’d spare the others.

But he couldn’t get out. He and Father Juan had been careful to make sure he couldn’t escape his confinement.

“They’re coming!” Heather screamed, panicking. So Heather was afraid of the invading Cursed Ones. She didn’t see them as liberators. That was good . . . if he could get her to be quiet. Her shouts would alert the vampires to her location—and his. If he’d been alone, he would have called out to the vampires himself. He would have demanded that they take him to Aurora. But Heather was Jenn’s sister, and he would die to protect her.

“Look at me, look,” Antonio said. He had to calm her down. “Heather. When I say for you to do a thing, you must do it.”

The room shook hard, and bricks and plaster rained down on him. For a few moments he lay dazed on the wooden floor of his cell while Heather screamed and screamed. Along the floor, smoke rolled like a dark gray carpet. A fire had broken out in the catacombs. He felt the heat against his cheek.

“Get me out of here!” Heather yelled.

Werewolves howled, creating a crescendo of wild sound. He thought of Jamie, whose family had been murdered by werewolves. Thought of Father Juan and the others aboveground. Worried about Heather.

“Heather,” he said soothingly, calmly, as he got to his hands and knees. He pushed up from the rubble; just as he did, more fragments cascaded from the ceiling. “I can help you,
mi Luz.
I’ll save you. Listen to me, and I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”

“No!” she shrieked, but as she turned to look at him, he caught her eye. Pushed. She thrashed and looked away.

Then looked back.

Another wolf howl erupted somewhere close by. The
rat-a-tat
of gunfire.

“Heather.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. She was a vampire; she would be able to hear him. He pushed warmth into his voice. Enticement. Seduction. “I’m here, and I will keep you safe.”

He heard the shouts of humans dying. The cruel laughter of vampires on the hunt. More howls. The smoke grew thicker. Plaster dusted his shoulders. They were locked in.

Vampires could burn to death.

“Escúchame,”
he said distractedly then switched to English. “Listen to me, Heather.”

Focusing, he finally got her to lie in the corner and pull her blanket over herself. He wished he had the power to mesmerize from afar. Then he could summon someone to come let them out.

The building rocked again.
Dios
, would it fall down around them? That was one way to get out of here.

The wood beneath his shoes began to smoke.

Above him there were fewer shouts.

No gunfire.

A single wolf howl.

And a vampire was coming down the stairs.

Ay, here it is, then
, he thought.
I won’t let them take me alive again. I won’t go back to what I was.

There was no movement in Heather’s cage. He had to get her out.

He reached into his pocket for the rosary given to him by Father Juan upon their return. Then smoke billowed around a tall, dark figure, and Antonio left the cross in his pocket. Orange flames danced behind the figure. Two red glowing eyes lasered directly at Antonio.

Then the figure took a step forward, and Antonio jerked in surprise. It wasn’t Aurora.

It was Sergio, his sire.

Sergio Almodóvar, whom he had humiliated before all vampiredom. Sergio, whose unnamed sire wanted the renegade Antonio de la Cruz brought before him.

Sergio, whom Antonio feared more than Aurora, despite everything she had done to him.

Antonio felt a horrible tug, as if on his very soul. A call from the darkness, where it was cool and where there was no fire raging around his celf. From the shadows, where Antonio could be invincible, immortal.

Ay, no
, he thought fearfully.
No, I won’t go back.

The darkness tugged.
He is my sire. I owe him my existence.

No! I won’t be damned.

Sergio looked hard at Antonio, and then he smiled as Antonio fell to his knees and bowed his head.

“Antonio,” Sergio said. He smelled the fear rolling off his erstwhile protégé. Which did Antonio fear, himself or the flames? This basement was a death trap. He’d thought simply to collect Antonio, not to rescue him. “Long time
.

“My lord,” Antonio whispered. “Orcus has brought me to you at last.”

“You don’t fool me,” Sergio replied, testing him. He watched the smoke rising from the floor in Antonio’s cell. There was another cage beside his, apparently empty. “You’re a traitor.”

“I was. And for that I accept any punishment you offer. But I was . . . I recently found myself again. I don’t know what happened to me, Sergio. But whatever it was, it’s gone.”

Antonio de la Cruz raised his head. Brilliant red eyes, such cheekbones. Perfect fangs. Sergio felt an ache. The young vampire was so handsome. He’d been such an excellent killer. Had Aurora really brought him back into the fold?

Smoke was rising from the floor beneath his own boots. He would have to make this quick.

“Why are you locked in here?” Sergio asked him.

Antonio smiled bitterly. “Why do you think?”

Sergio covered his head as fiery debris plummeted from the ceiling. By Orcus, there was a lot of it! Wooden beams, a desk, books crisping in a flash fire. Ironically, Sergio’s young quarry was safer inside the cage—at least for the time being.

“Why did these people not kill you?” Sergio asked, dodging a shower of embers.

Antonio smiled lazily. “They want to make me good again.”

“Can that happen?”

Flames licked the floor and began to devour it. Sergio stepped closer to the cage, and the section he’d been standing on broke apart. Embers flew up. He looked around, assessing the danger. His sire wanted Antonio alive.

“I don’t know if it can happen. But if you will take me back, perhaps we can prevent it from happening to others,” Antonio said.

Cagey.

“Let me out. Let me join you in the fight,” Antonio said. “I know I need to prove myself to you. But I
am
back, Sergio.”

The wall behind Antonio’s cage burst into flame. Antonio darted to the front, put his hands on the bars, and hissed. He let go, and Sergio saw burn marks on his palms.

“Sergio,” Antonio said. His eyes matched the flames licking at his back. His fangs gleamed in the ruby light. “Sergio, please.”

“Why did you leave? What happened to you?” Sergio asked.

Antonio inched as close as he could to the front of the cage without holding on to the bars again. He hissed and hopped from one foot to the other.

“Tell me,” Sergio demanded.

“I don’t know,” Antonio said. “It was like . . . waking from a dream. I was suddenly revolted by what I’d done.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it.” He brushed the bar with his hand, and it sizzled against his skin again.

“Sergio,
please,”
he said.

“Repudiate your god,” Sergio said, “and I might begin to believe you.” He smiled, recalling his sire’s story of rescuing Aurora from the hands of the Spanish Inquisition. Those men of God had barbarically tortured her entire family and burned all of them alive, leaving her for last. Antonio had killed their descendants. Now Antonio was threatened with the bonfire unless he renounced his heresy.

“He is not
my
god. I spit on Him,” Antonio said fiercely. And when he did spit, Sergio heard a sizzle.

The room was getting very hot. Antonio might only have seconds before the flames grabbed him. Sergio had made his point.


Bueno.
Good,” Sergio said.

Then the wall behind Sergio burst into flame. Surprised, he leaped out of the way of a fiery flare. Moving backward, he stumbled against the hot metal of Antonio’s cage. If Sergio didn’t act fast, he and Antonio would soon be sandwiched between two walls of flame.

“Antonio!” cried a voice. It was a girl’s, coming from the empty cell—not so empty after all. A vampire had been hiding there.

“Antonio!”

“Who’s that?” Sergio asked.

“A new convert,” Antonio replied. “I’m not sure how much you know about what’s been happening.”

Sergio ducked as a large chunk of burning plaster plummeted from the ceiling. Antonio didn’t flinch.

“Try me,” Sergio said.

“Her name is Heather,” Antonio replied in English, so that Heather would know what was happening. “Aurora converted her to use as bait for the Salamanca hunters, so she could get to me. Her sister is Jenn Leitner, their leader.”

“You bastard! Shut up!” the girl—Heather—shouted.

“It worked,” Sergio said, also in English. “Aurora
did
get to you.”

“Aurora has a Dark Witch with her. I think he helped her bring me back.”

“Antonio, you are
evil
!” Heather started shrieking. “Get me out of here! Help me!”

A Dark Witch?
Sergio was fascinated. What
had
Aurora been up to? He had to know.

So . . . I won’t kill her. And I’d better tell Philippe the deal’s off before he does it for me.

“Very well. I warn you, Antonio,” Sergio said in Spanish, bending down and grabbing a sharp piece of charred wood. “One false move and I will kill you.”

“I deserve death for what I’ve done,” Antonio replied, then showed his fangs. “But I’d rather live another ninety years at least.”

“There must be a key to this thing,” Sergio said, examining the cell’s lock.

“No. It can be easily unlocked from the outside. Just not the inside,” Antonio said. He mimed twisting first one latch, and then the other. “This cell was strengthened so that I . . .” He trailed off as a round of howls echoed off the burning buildings above them. “Sergio, do you have werewolves in your attack force?”

“Come and see,” Sergio said, as he set to work freeing Antonio. He looked at Heather. “We’ll leave her here.”

Antonio hesitated, then shrugged. “As you wish, Sergio.”

“Unless she’s special to you.”

“I like her, but it would be extra baggage, to have the sister of a hunter around.”

Perfect answer
, Sergio thought. But Antonio was no one’s fool.

“Is she ‘good,’ as you were?”

Antonio waggled his hand. “On the cusp, maybe.”

“Then perhaps we should take her with us.”

“Whatever you decide.”

Sergio suddenly wasn’t so certain of Antonio. The vampire was being awfully passive, not the rash, fierce blood-sucker who had terrorized Madrid. Was it an act?

“I’m burning!” Heather screamed.

Very slowly, Sergio opened the door to Antonio’s cage. He took a few steps back to give Antonio room to escape, but kept the charred stick pressed against Antonio’s chest, directly where his unbeating heart lay. One false move, and he would thrust it into Antonio’s chest and turn him to dust. Antonio was his height. They could have been brothers—
were
brothers of the fang. He searched him for weapons and found nothing.

“Okay, now let the girl out,” Sergio ordered him.

As Antonio turned around, Sergio pressed the piece of wood into Antonio’s back. It was long enough to hit his heart if Sergio pushed it through.

Above them the screaming and dying continued. The old buildings were going up like tinderboxes. The werewolves cut loose with another round of howls.

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