Part 2 (1/2)

”We are here to honor his memory and to commit his soul to Orcus,” Emilio continued. ”G.o.d of Light, G.o.d Below, look upon your most loyal son with favor.”

Around Aurora the others stirred, reflecting on the dark G.o.d or G.o.ddess they themselves wors.h.i.+pped. Like humans, vampires followed many deities, wors.h.i.+pped in many ways. For some, their underworlds were ruled by beings connected with light and the returning of their souls. For Aurora Abregon, there was only one thing that felt right. She rent her clothes, as her Jewish ancestors had done, ripping the finery with vampiric strength, and she wailed-mourning in the style of the ancient Romans, of Orcus.

Those who had brought flowers ringed them around the base of the fountain. Those who had brought blood spilled it into the waters-an offering and a remembrance.

I will remember you. I will never forget who did this to you.

As she let out another cry, her heart was truly broken. Aurora would not have killed Sergio, had she had the chance. She knew that she would have forgiven him for every wretched, horrible slight, every cutting insult, every wrong he had committed against her.

She might have tortured him for a few weeks, but she would have declared the slate wiped clean.

Fueled by her pa.s.sions, Aurora led the procession back to the crumbling palace. But even as she thought of the banquet that was waiting, her misery was so great that she had no hunger. She was too angered by her grief to eat anyone.

”My friends,” she said, facing the a.s.sembly. ”Sergio must be avenged. Swear a blood oath with me that you will kill his a.s.sa.s.sin-the traitor Antonio de la Cruz.” She raised her left hand and sliced a fingernail across her palm. Blood welled up and began to drip as the others followed suit. Under the moonlight the vampires bled.

”He is as good as dead,” Emilio said; the others inclined their heads.

And Aurora smiled.

CHAPTER TWO.

Salamanca Hunter's Manual: The Eternal Battle

It may feel as if your struggles against the Cursed Ones are endless. This is true. The enemy can-and will-create more of his kind, and all of them seek your death. So you may question if your holy calling has meaning, and why you must press on when fortune favors you so little. Remember this: The Savior, too, had doubt, and yet He prevailed when it mattered most. If you fight without ceasing, dedicating your soul to the conquering of the foe, you will receive the ultimate reward-not in this world, but the next.

(translated from the Spanish) MADRID, SPAIN.

HEATHER AND AURORA.

I'm starving. I need blood, Heather Leitner thought as she crouched in the overgrown gardens outside Aurora's ruined palace. Her threadbare jeans and shredded sweater were barely distinguishable from her hair and skin. She was coated from head to toe with dirt and dried blood. She looked like an animal-or a nightmare.

She was faint with hunger, and she had trouble remembering how she'd tracked Aurora to Madrid. During the battle in Salamanca, Aurora's vampire army had piled into trucks and vans, and Heather had yanked open the car door of an unsuspecting motorist unlucky enough to be in the vicinity, dragged him out, and taken off after them.

Did I kill the driver? Did I drink his blood?

She was drawing a blank. Or maybe she couldn't face the truth. If she had drunk of him, would she still be this hungry?

She closed her eyes, sick to her soul at the thought. To bite a human being, to drink their blood. It sounded . . .

. . . wonderful.

Clenching her fists, she swayed with weakness as she studied the silhouettes of the Cursed Ones through the stained gla.s.s. Which one was Aurora?

”I'll kill you,” Heather whispered, feeling her fangs pressing against her thin, chapped lips. ”I swear to G.o.d I'll turn you into dust.”

If she didn't drink from a living creature, she would lose the fragile hold she had on her sanity. And Heather had to stay sane.

So she could kill Aurora.

TOLEDO, SPAIN.

THE SALAMANCA HUNTERS MINUS SKYE.

In the courtyard of the ancient Toledo monastery, Jenn made a double fist and flung herself at Noah. The hardened Israeli soldier dropped to the ground and swept out his leg, grinning at her when, unable to stop her momentum, she tumbled forward and face-planted in the dirt. Then he grunted in surprise as she rolled onto her back, grabbed his ankle, and yanked it toward her chest. He teetered for a moment, then fell on his b.u.t.t.

”Ha!” she shouted. Before she could gloat any further, Noah straddled her, catching her wrists in one hand as he mimicked slas.h.i.+ng her throat with his other.

”How did you do that?” she managed between gulps of air as he sprang to a standing position, then pulled her to her feet.

They were both wearing clean white T-s.h.i.+rts and sweatpants, courtesy of the brothers in the monastery. Their feet were bare. Noah's hair was crazy wild from the tussle, but it only added to his allure. He had freckles across his nose, like her, and his dark eyes were almost as heavily lashed as Antonio's.

Antonio. Jenn drew a slow, steadying breath. She had hoped that sparring with Noah would take the edge off her tension, not add to it. After all, there was no her and Antonio. Before leaving America for Spain, Antonio had shut the door on any hope of their having a relations.h.i.+p. He had told her that he was renewing his vows of poverty, obedience, and chast.i.ty to the Catholic Church. He'd been studying to become a priest when Sergio had changed him into a vampire, and Antonio believed that only through prayer and strict observance of his holy orders could he keep from becoming a depraved, soulless Cursed One forever.

”How did I do that? I let you take me,” Noah said, as he sidled away from Jenn and took a sip of water from a gla.s.s on a wooden tray. He tipped back his head and poured a little of the water over his face. ”Then I came in for the kill.”

He grinned at her, then grabbed a pack of cinnamon gum from the tray, pulled out two sticks, and handed her one. He was trying to quit smoking because it bothered her, and cinnamon gum was his weapon of choice. It also happened to be her favorite flavor.

”Krav Maga?” Jamie said, coming up behind Jenn. Without the chance to shave his head, he'd let caramel fuzz obscure some of his tattoos. Jamie was a Northern Irish street fighter with tons of anger issues. ”We were teaching our tricks to Marc Dupree. Jenn mention him? We got him killed in New Orleans.”

Noah stared back at Jamie. ”I thought Jenn beat that lippy c.r.a.p out of you.”

Jamie flushed and made a show of adjusting his Adam's apple, which Jenn had dislocated during their fight in the cave. He smiled sourly at her, and she tensed, angry and wary. She should have known Jamie would never really accept her as his leader.

”Talking s.h.i.+te's a bad habit of mine,” Jamie said, which was probably the closest he would get to an apology. Still, it meant a lot to hear it, and Jenn relaxed slightly.

Noah chomped his gum. ”Habits can be broken.”

Jamie ignored his comment. ”May as well smoke 'em while I've got 'em. I've got nothing better to do.” He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and fished a lighter out of his jeans pocket. He lit the cigarette. The pungent scent of burning tobacco irritated Jenn's nose as he exhaled, blowing smoke at Noah, taunting him with forbidden fruit; the two had been smoking buddies before Noah quit.

”We have something to do,” Jenn said. ”We're having a meeting about it tonight, after dinner.”

Appraising her, Jamie took another drag on his cigarette. ”You're one for the mysteries. Why not just tell us now?”

Because it's daytime, and the suns.h.i.+ne makes Antonio tired and sluggish, and I want him at his best when we discuss our next move, she thought.

Without replying, she sauntered out of the courtyard.