Part 10 (1/2)

Jenn never liked being alone with her thoughts when she was on patrol. It was her turn, though. She, Holgar, and Antonio had made their way to a safe house on the outskirts of Bucharest that was owned by the Brotherhood of St. Andrew. The crescent moon hung low in the sky, and soon the sun would be up.

Would the enemy succeed in making it possible for vampires to walk in the sunlight? She'd had a dream once where she and Antonio were strolling along a beach in the sunlight, holding hands, kissing.

Her throat tightened, and she willed her tears away. Father Juan had to be wrong. She and Antonio weren't destined to be together. In her mind she saw Noah smiling at her. She remembered the hard muscles of his chest as they sparred . . . and the vein in his neck pulsing from exertion. He was a living, breathing guy with a beating heart. While Antonio . . .

Stop this. Pay attention. You're on patrol.

She scanned the area and moved down an alley. She smelled frying meat. A baby squalled. ”This is the Voice of the Resistance.”

Jenn sucked in her breath and froze in her tracks. It was Kent's voice, speaking in English, and it was coming from a nearby window. She crept softly to it and peered just over the sill. Inside a small room lit only by a candle, two women sat staring intently at something that she realized must be some sort of sophisticated radio.

She ducked back, flattening herself instinctively against the brick wall. Part of her wanted to warn the women, let them know that they could easily be discovered listening to a forbidden broadcast. But she was afraid that if she made a sound, she wouldn't hear what Kent had to say.

” . . . more cities have fallen to the vampires. I'm sad to report that in j.a.pan, Kyoto has been the latest casualty. While it is possible that the Kyoto Hunter has escaped the city, we are not holding out much hope.”

Jenn's breath caught in her throat. The Kyoto Hunter. Wasn't that Eriko's brother, Kenji? Or was this yet another Hunter, who had already filled his shoes? The tears she had held back began to fall as she thought of Eriko, dead at the hands of Aurora. They hadn't contacted her family. They didn't want anyone to know.

”And tonight I have a message for a special friend. Jenn, if you can hear this, or if someone can reach her: Jenn, follow in Bram's trail and you will find friends waiting to aid you. I wish I could say more. But you know why I can't. And for now this is Kent, praying to make it through one more day and believing that this cursed darkness will pa.s.s.”

Oh, my G.o.d. Stunned, Jenn gripped the cement around the bricks as she strained to hear more. White noise followed. Then there was silence. Then she could hear the two women speaking quietly together, in a language she didn't understand.

This was the first time she had heard from Kent since they had been stopped from taking down Solomon by Greg and the black crosses back in America. She was so glad he was still alive . . . and still fighting. It was thrilling to hear her own name on Kent's lips-until she finally processed what he'd said. He had told her to ”follow Bram's trail.” The only Bram she could think of was Bram Stoker-the author of the novel Dracula. Dracula, which took place in Transylvania, which was part of Romania. Which was where they were.

A hopeful thrill danced up her spine.

Friends in Romania.

CHAPTER SIX.

Mortals, mortals fade away

Vampire lords are here to stay

We'll make you crawl, make you whine

Drink your blood down like it's wine

Who's to blame? you want to ask

Who's the fiend you must unmask?

Gaze upon yourselves and grieve

It is you-your fear, your greed

LEEDS CASTLE.

SKYE AND THE CIRCUIT.

After pleading her case the best she could, Skye was sent out of the castle while the High Priestess and the other witches debated if they should join Skye in active battle. She walked the hedge maze, marshaling her magickal forces, remembering how on the winter solstice her family would chalk out a labyrinth to walk in the garden behind the cottage. But now that they had hidden all traces of their heritage from the world, had they abandoned creating a labyrinth, too?

Then she remembered that the last time she had walked a maze, Estefan had tormented her with distorted images of the time she'd gotten lost in a fun house as a little girl. She'd told him that story soon after she'd first met him at her sister's handfasting at Stonehenge. She'd been so foolish, lowering her guard, a.s.suming he was going to be her s.e.xy protector, keeping her safe from the Cursed Ones, from everything.

Anger moved inside her, and she began to tremble. Suddenly the maze was a trap; the clouds billowed like smoke around the moon, casting Skye in darkness. She began to run, cras.h.i.+ng into a hedgerow as she turned left. Twigs scratched her as she pushed her way back out. She brushed against another as she whipped around to the right. She whirled in a circle, her breath coming fast. She had to get out, get free. Something was coming. Something bad . . . She covered her mouth with both her hands to keep from screaming.

Stop, she commanded herself. You are a child of the Lady. You are a hunter.

The hedges rustled as if something was about to burst free of them. Skye murmured a finder's spell, then raised her voice and shouted the words in Latin. The hedges were made of yew trees, highly magickal, and therefore responsive: The hedge stilled. Then the leafy wall to her left s.h.i.+mmered subtly. She ran along it. The row perpendicular to that hedge also s.h.i.+mmered, and she turned left when she reached it. Beyond, more leaves glittered. As a wind picked up, she followed the magickal light. Slowly it began to dim. She repeated the spell, feeling the drain on her energy.

Instead of glowing, the hedge in front of her burst into flame. The heat smacked her face, and as she jumped backward with a cry, the one behind her did the same. Shocked, she ran; each leafy wall she pa.s.sed blazed with fiery orange and scarlet flames.

She uttered spells. Stop, stop, she ordered the fire, but it continued to rage as she charged along the walls, then took a breath and pushed through one. Her feet slipped on rocks; there was a stone mound before her, and the black maw of an entrance. She stumbled inside, where it was cool and wet. She dashed down slick, uneven stairs as smoke followed her inside.

Coughing, she whirled in a circle. She was in a cavern. She heard running water and ran in its direction.

A hole in the roof poured in silvery moonlight. The clouds must have parted. She darted past figures in hollows made of stone and sh.e.l.l. Then she stumbled to a stop in front of a trickling waterfall. Crouched at its base, a representation of the Green Man stared up at her. His features crafted of stone leaves and ivy, he was a symbol of rebirth and pagan forces, but not a figure her family revered. He was male, while they followed the Lady.

Yet he is here, and so am I, she thought, as she gazed down at his likeness. She stretched out a hand and laid it against his cheek.

”Will you help me?” she asked aloud. ”Green Man, will you give me shelter?” No, that was not what she wanted. ”Jack of the Green, Herne, Forest Man, will you give me dominion?”