Part 42 (2/2)

But then Skye lowered her head, and he saw she was weeping. Terror ripped through him. Tears rolled down the little witch's cheek as she looked back up at him and shook her head.

”You must have faith in your Lady,” Antonio begged her. ”Save her. Please.”

The castle was burning, but not fast enough, and Cursed Ones kept pouring out of it. There were so many of them that not even the elixir singing in Noah's veins could even the playing field. Noah thought of the charges he and Jamie had set. He'd been grappling with a human fighter who had suddenly turned against him-Noah suspected mesmerism-and to end the battle without killing the man, Noah had shot him in the leg. The man writhed in pain, and a strip of Velcro gave way as Noah ripped open a pocket on his own pants and pulled out the detonator.

He was about to depress it when he spotted a group of people on the ground at the southern wall of the courtyard. He squinted and made out who they were-Leslie and Paul Leitner, Skye and some of her witches, and Antonio. How had he gotten free? And who was that on the ground?

Jenn.

His blood ran cold. Ignoring the wounded human, Noah headed toward them. A Cursed One converged on the gathering and was just about to attack one of the women in the circle when Paul Leitner ran at the vampire with a cross extended, putting it on the defensive. The fanger turned and ran toward Noah, and he staked it with ease.

When Noah reached the circle, his worst fears were realized: Jenn lay on the ground, mortally wounded. Her face was gray, and her lips were turning blue.

”No. No,” he said, grief and fury coursing through him. They were losing the battle, and now Jenn . . .

He saw his own face reflected in the mirrors of Skye's crown. Streaked with blood and ash, grief-stricken, enraged. Noah had to fight the impulse to knock Antonio out of the way and take his place beside the woman he, too, loved.

”Noah,” Skye said, choking back tears. ”Holgar and Viorica have . . .” She took a breath. ”They have the virus, Antonio,” she said directly to the vampire. ”They each have a vial, and they're going to mix them together. Once they do . . . there will be very little time.”

Stunned, some of the witches stopped chanting and stared at Antonio. He absorbed the information with a single, hard swallow. Then he steadfastly nodded and continued to perform the rite. From the look on his face and the sound of his voice, Noah guessed that it was a ritual blessing for the dead.

Then Jenn's lips parted, moved. Skye cried out.

”She's alive!”

She's dying, Noah thought. He knew the signs . . . very well. He thought of Chayna, and he wanted to scream.

”What? What, Jenn?” Skye asked. ”She's trying to talk,” she told them. Then she leaned over and placed her ear to Jenn's lips. She was quiet for a moment, and then she sucked in her breath.

”No, Jenn,” she said. Skye was quiet again, listening. ”Oh, G.o.ddess.”

She reached out and grabbed Antonio's hand. ”She wants you . . . she wants to be like you,” she said. ”So you'll have a few more moments together. She knows she's dying.”

Everyone, including Antonio, reacted with revulsion. He shook his head. ”I would never do that,” he said hoa.r.s.ely. ”Never.”

She bent down and listened. Pulled Antonio down beside her.

”Listen to her,” Skye implored Antonio.

Jenn couldn't move or open her eyes. The pain was more than she could stand. She knew she was broken, and that she was about to die. In her mind-or somewhere else-she stared at Father Juan, who floated in the center of a blazing white light. He was crying, too.

You must make Antonio listen to you, Jenn, Father Juan said. You must drink from him. So much depends on it.

”Antonio, you swore . . . ,” she mumbled. ”Rosalita . . . never let another woman you loved . . . die . . .”

”No, Jenn, not like this,” Antonio said. He kissed her ear, the side of her face. He was crying. ”Let me hear your sins and absolve you. I-I will see you in heaven.” He cried harder.

He doesn't believe that, Father Juan whispered. He thinks he's going to h.e.l.l.

”Father Juan,” Jenn whispered.

”He's not here. Let me anoint you, Jenn, so that you can . . . that you can die in a state of grace, and . . .” Antonio trailed off.

”Father . . . says you must,” Jenn finished.

”Do you hear that, Antonio?” Skye said. ”Father Juan is speaking to her.”

”Oh, my G.o.d, baby,” Jenn heard. It was Gramma Esther. ”Dear G.o.d.”

There was murmuring. Jenn couldn't make out the words, but the voices belonged to Skye, Esther, and Antonio.

”Baby, baby!” Leslie Leitner cried. ”Honey, we love you! Please stay with us!”

”Father Juan,” Jenn managed. ”'Tonio, he's here.”

”No, Jenn, you're delirious,” Antonio said, but through the haze of pain Jenn heard the uncertainty in his voice.

”Wait. Father Juan is . . . don't you know who Father Juan is?” Gramma Esther was saying. ”He's a saint. Saint John of the Cross. If he says you're supposed to do this, Antonio, I say it must be done.”

”Antonio, the virus is coming,” Skye said. ”Time is running out.”

”If she dies now, she dies with G.o.d,” Antonio said. Jenn heard his grief, the agony. ”How can you ask me to do this?”

”If you don't do it, I'll stake you before the virus gets to you,” Noah said.

Then the frantic howl of two werewolves rang out. Yipping and barking . . . as if for help.

”Noah,” Skye said. ”It's Holgar and Viorica. They're in trouble. See if you can help them.”

”I'm not leaving her,” Noah insisted.

”If you don't go, I'll tear out your throat,” Antonio told him.

Noah swore. Jenn faded for a few moments, staring at Father Juan. The light was so beautiful. She wanted to go to him. She wanted to be done.

Antonio, she begged Father Juan. Let him come too.

Then she heard a collective gasp. Though her eyes were closed, she could see them all, as if she were looking down on them.

Father Juan stood in front of Antonio, s.h.i.+mmering in a cloud of white light. He gazed down at Antonio and placed his hand on the crown of Antonio's head. Antonio stirred as if he felt the warmth, and the substance.

Fear not, Father Juan said. He spoke in Spanish, which Jenn miraculously understood with ease. You are my beloved son. You and you alone have taken the blood from my veins. Trust in me. Do as I tell you.

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