Part 5 (2/2)
Skye cleared her throat. ”Followers of the G.o.ddess take care of strangers. Don't I rate that much?”
”That much,” her mother affirmed. She gestured to the dining table. It was a cheesy modern thing made of fake wood, not their old table, the one Yorks had carved their initials in for over a century.
”Sit and eat,” her mother said coolly.
Skye knew she needed the strength to travel to rejoin the others; otherwise she would have left. She sat down stiffly and refused to look again at the little boy who was jabbering away in Melody's arms. She had always wanted to be an aunt, but even that was denied her. If her family wasn't going to help her any more than they would a stranger, then she would offer them no more than a stranger would.
Her mother set down an earthenware pitcher and a cup. It was teatime, and Skye smelled steeping lavender and jasmine, her mother's special blend. But no tea was offered, only water. By the time her mother brought Skye two cuc.u.mber-and-watercress sandwiches, Skye had drunk all the water. She could feel her injuries begin to repair themselves. She aided them with a whispered spell.
She ate quickly, eager to be gone. When she was done, she stood slowly, aware that this was the last time she was likely to ever see her family.
”Thank you,” she said. ”Blessed be.” She turned to her sister. ”Merrily met, and merrily parted.”
A tear ran down Melody's cheek. No one else answered as she let herself out the front door.
TOLEDO, SPAIN.
FATHER JUAN, FATHER SEBASTIAN, JENN, ANTONIO, JAMIE, HOLGAR, SADE, AND ESTHER AND LESLIE LEITNER.
”I'm going,” Jamie announced. ”Now.”
They were sitting in a little anteroom off the monastery's chapel. They'd been about to leave when Father Sebastian had glided in like a short, skinny angel of the Lord Himself and taken Father Juan off for a chat. Now the priests were back, and two tenser men Jamie had never seen. Which meant . . . more talking.
And not fighting.
Talking didn't solve anything. All the plotting and planning in the world hadn't saved Eriko, and it wouldn't save Skye. Staking vampires would, and killing sympathizers would. Blowing up the enemy's stronghold would.
But not talking.
If the hunters of Salamanca were the last best hope of mankind, maybe it was time to restore his Catholic schoolboy faith in miracles.
Although that would be a miracle in itself.
Jamie pulled on his black duster and picked up his duffel, which clanked with weapons. He'd packed his two special guns-the one with silver bullets and the one he was building that would fire wooden ones. Talking was s.h.i.+te, and it was time to take action. With one foot past the threshold, he froze as Father Juan called to him.
”Jamie, one moment, por favor,” he said, carrying his own small gym bag. Because Father Juan asked politely and-oh, h.e.l.l-because he was Jamie's priest, Jamie huffed loudly and s.h.i.+fted his weight on his hip.
”Gracias, my son. Thank you.” Father Juan set the bag on the marble floor. ”My friends, please listen.”
Jamie blew air out of his cheeks. Jenn's ma and that African bint so fond of garlic-Sade-sank down on a red velvet sofa like refugees, the ma's eyes all bloodshot and Sade patting her hand, her own eyes vacant, like a doll's. Holgar had been fixing the zipper on Jenn's grandmother's flak jacket, and he turned to give the two fathers his full attention. Such a nice little werewolf. Give him a pat on the head and get him some goat entrails.
”We've had a message from the Brotherhood of Saint Andrew,” Father Sebastian announced. His eyes and cheeks were sunken. Despite the fact that he'd made it clear he was on their side, he gave Jamie the shudders. ”They're Romanian. They've heard of you, Antonio, and they admire you deeply. With Father Juan's permission, I told them something of your struggles, and they've offered their help.”
The vampire was all ears on that.
”They've helped many souls overcome the devil's temptations,” Father Sebastian said. ”They're located deep in the family seat of the legendary Vlad Tepes-you would know him by his other name, Dracula. They know much about vampiric evil.”
”Dracula?” Jenn's mother cried.
”Myth,” Jamie a.s.sured her impatiently. ”Well, the real Dracula was a warrior and he impaled people, but he wasn't a vampire.” He pointedly cleared his throat. ”But is this the right time for that?”
”Jamie's right,” Antonio said, shocking Jamie by agreeing with him. ”We have more important things to do.”
Yeah. We should stake you and be done with it, Jamie thought.
”But . . . could they make him not a vampire?” Jenn asked in a soft voice. Her cheeks were blazing red as coals.
Oh, yeah, she still loves the sucker. American girls-who can understand them?
”No, unfortunately not,” Father Sebastian said gently. ”As for Dracula being a myth, I wish that were true.”
”The lad's real? Get on with you,” Jamie said, incredulous. ”But to get back to the point: We should be looking for Skye.”
Jamie was a son of the Church, a cradle Catholic, but his obedience only went so far. If Father Juan wanted to hit the road, well and good. But Jamie would be d.a.m.ned if he was going to do anything to help Antonio while Skye was unaccounted for. Jamie's entire reason for going to the b.l.o.o.d.y academy to learn to fight vampires in the first place was to become the Hunter. He'd trained in hopes of receiving the elixir that bestowed heightened strength. He'd planned to then hightail it back to Northern Ireland to settle a few scores and take care of his own folk.
And if there was anyone among this sorry crew he called his own, with Eriko gone, it was Skye York. English, yeah, but for the love of Mike, why the h.e.l.l wasn't Holgar tearing the world apart to find her? Holgar was Skye's fighting partner.
Because of Antonio, that was bleedin' why. Sodding b.a.s.t.a.r.d. It was clear everyone thought he was more important than Skye. And more important than any of the rest of them. But he was a vampire, and he would always be a vampire-evil, disgusting, soulless. d.a.m.ned in every sense of the word.
Antonio had fooled Father Juan with his seminary studies and his prayers, but Jamie knew that sooner or later the Curser would drop the act. And Antonio de la Cruz had finally shown his true fangs. He'd lured everyone to ”rescue” him in Las Vegas, where'd he gone on a killing spree and nearly drained a baby at its own christening. That was who was getting all the attention. Meanwhile, the warlock stalker who was in league with the very same vampire who had kidnapped Antonio had hold of Skye. And no one was doing s.h.i.+te about it.
Jamie clenched his jaw. a.r.s.e-backwards, the lot. If he could take out Antonio with his wood-bullet gun once it was finished, he'd be doing their side a favor.
”Thank you, Father Sebastian,” Father Juan said, dismissing the other priest. ”I'll give you an answer for the Brotherhood after I've had a chance to talk with my team.”
Father Sebastian lowered his head. Then he made the sign of the cross over each person in the room. Father Juan and Antonio crossed themselves as well. It was an abomination, Antonio doing that. Jamie hated him down to the soles of his boots.
Father Juan glanced at Jamie, and Jamie pursed his lips and made a show of obediently crossing himself. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.
After Father Sebastian left, everyone looked expectantly at Father Juan.
”I've cast the runes,” Father Juan said. ”And some things have been revealed to me.”
Skye, Jamie thought, holding his breath.
”Runes? What's he talking about?” Jenn's mother asked. ”What are those? What about Heather?”
”Shh, Leslie,” Jenn's gran murmured. ”Let him speak.”
Father Juan began, ”I have prayed about them.” He gazed directly at Jenn. ”Your leader is right. It's time to take the fight to our enemies. Antonio must go to Romania to protect himself from-let us call it-a relapse.”
Jamie opened his mouth to say all the things he was thinking. Father Juan held up a hand for silence. Jamie grudgingly stayed silent.
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