Part 43 (2/2)
Then the monster grunted, and dropped him. It fell on top of him. Noah saw the hideous face, the glazed, open eyes. It was dead.
Someone pushed it off Noah's body. As the haze of pain engulfed him, one thing became crystal clear.
”Chayna,” he whispered, as she held him in her arms. His wife. His love. ”Chayna, you're dead.”
I'm here, she said, though he couldn't see her. He just knew that she was there.
”Tell me what you said,” he begged, gasping through fresh pain. ”When I . . . when I killed . . .”
Thank you. He felt her smile, felt her love. I said thank you, Noah.
He swallowed hard. He smiled against the agony.
You saved me, she said.
And then he died.
”Look,” Autumn said, returning to Skye's side.
Bishop Diego, Lune, and Soleil headed their way along with other witches and Catholics. All around them vampires were choking, falling, and turning to dust.
”The virus,” Skye whispered. ”It's coming. It's here.”
Skye reached forward and kissed Antonio on the cheek, folding her arms around him as if she could protect him from death. ”I'm sorry, Antonio.”
He didn't answer. He was staring down at Jenn, who lay still in his arms, gazing up at him with love, and so many hopes and regrets.
”I love you,” Jenn whispered.
”Te amo,” Antonio answered. ”Forever.”
”No, look,” Autumn insisted, pointing at Skye's crown.
Barely able to move her eyes, Jenn followed the little witch's insistent finger. She found herself staring at her own reflection in the shards of mirror.
Then she caught her breath, and let out a laugh of pure amazement.
Because she saw Antonio's reflection there too.
Jenn laughed again. Looking confused, Skye took off the crown and studied it. Her eyes widened. She looked from it to Antonio, and back again.
”Oh, my G.o.d,” Antonio murmured. ”My G.o.d.”
”It's a miracle!” Skye cried.
And everyone in the little group began to cheer.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
As Dr. Sherman promised, the virus was carried on the air, and it infected the entire planet. Within twenty-four hours all the vampires were dead.
Antonio and I survived, because we are not vampires. I have to say it again: We are not vampires.
As far as we can tell, we're ordinary people. And we are the new Hunters of Salamanca-a pair. It's a name we're proud to carry. With all the vampires gone, we have to decide what to do, exactly, how to go about healing the world. But we have some ideas about that.
And so we'll be writing a new Hunters' Manual, together. This is the last page of my diary, recovered from the battlefield, from the ruins of the SUV that I was riding in at the beginning of the a.s.sault. I had packed it along with all my weapons. Habit, I guess. I've become so accustomed to having it with me.
That will change, though. It's time to start a new book.
And a new life, with Antonio.
-from the diary of Jenn Leitner,
retrieved from the ruins
THE MONASTERY OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF ST. ANDREW.
THE ALLIES.
Jamie watched as witches and soldiers, street fighters and Catholics crowded into the monastery. Some camped outside. No one wanted to leave. All of them were happy to be alive, and more than a little surprised.
The effects of the elixir wore off.
The Salamancans took over the little chapel of the monastery for three funerals: Noah's, Father Juan's, and Heather's. Two coffins, one urn, a h.e.l.la lot of priests, and a rabbi, for Noah. Seemed you had to have a Jew bury you if you were a Jew, or you were considered an ”abandoned corpse.”
Jamie wore a black sweater, jeans, and kicker boots. He dearly wished for a smoke, but he'd given it up, in honor of Noah.
Skye and the coven wore street clothes and crowns of roses. n.o.body had time for special outfits, except for His Eminence Diego Cardinal Gutierrez, once a bishop and now promoted on the battlefield, who had flown in from Spain just before the battle with a heavenly host of old friends of Father Juan's; and Father Wadim, who was officiating; and his monks. They'd given Antonio a brown monk's robe to wear; he was serving in the capacity of a layman-a faithful member of the Catholic Church, but not a priest or someone hoping to be one. Jamie figured that had something to do with Jenn. He was working his way toward being happy about Antonio being alive.
But Jamie had more important things to do at the moment than nurse habitual vendettas. He had matters of the soul to ponder, and of saying farewell to those who had given their lives for the cause. Jamie knew the funeral Ma.s.s: knew the words, knew when to stand, kneel, and pray. Gramma Esther had shared the story of the elixir, and no one, least of all Jamie, knew what to think about Father Juan. Questions of all sorts swirled in his mind. Had Father Juan really been a living saint-the patron saint of Salamanca, St. John of the Cross? Had he, Jamie O'Leary, taken communion with one of G.o.d's own chosen? The thought made him tremble more than the Cursed Ones ever had.
<script>