The Damned (23 page)

“—hell happened?” It was a male voice with a thick Russian accent. He was speaking in English. Lucky break for Jamie. “Where are all the
matroyshkas
?”

“Two hunters took them down.” More English, very American.

“The two men from the Middle East?” said the thick Russian voice.

“No. A vampire and a little Asian girl.”

Antonio and Eriko!

“Where d they come from?” asked the Russian.

A creature jumped Helmet. The two grappled. Helmet gained the upper hand, so Jamie stayed planted, listening.

“Unknown. They’re no longer a problem. The other vampires took the vampire.”

“Other
vampires? What are you saying?” asked the Russian.

“The vampire with long black hair?” the American replied.

Aurora
, Jamie thought.
She’s here? She got Antonio? But Eri, what about Eri?

“What?” the
Russian said. “Who?”

“Yeah, I thought they were with you. Well, anyway after they took the vampire into custody, they killed the girl.”

Jamie blinked. Eriko. His breath stopped. Eriko.

Eriko,
dead?

Rage tore away his sight, his thoughts.
“No!”
he bellowed, seeing nothing, feeling nothing as his reflexes took over.

If Eri was dead, then so was everyone else.

Jamie leaped into the room, and suddenly saw everything in ultrasharp focus. A white-haired vampire in jeans and a black sweater sat at a computer terminal. A man in white cammies and a gas mask was standing in front of him.

Then, from another door in the back, the three monsters charged into the room. They headed straight for Jamie. Jamie sprayed all three with his machine gun, but they kept coming. He dropped the weapon and jumped forward, staking each of them in turn.

“Get me out of here!” the Russian—the vampire—shouted at the man in the white cammies.

“First send Solomon the data.
All
the data,” said White Cammies, moving backward, putting both Jamie and the vampire in his line of fire.

“Don’t be an idiot!” the vampire yelled.

“Now!” the
man bellowed.

The white-haired vampire typed frantically. The white-cammie man fired and nearly took off Jamie’s left foot. Jamie flung himself behind a metal shelf, listening to the ping of gunfire as the man strafed him.

“Get out!”
hissed Helmet Guy as he darted behind the shelves, crouching down beside Jamie. He handed Jamie the machine gun he’d dropped. “We want the vampire. That’s Dantalion!”

The guy in the white cammies sprayed bullets at Helmet and Jamie.

“It’s sent!” the white-haired vampire shouted.

Then the poison hit Jamie. It seared his eyes, his face, his nose. Everything fell away. He couldn’t feel, didn’t know if he was moving. Inching forward, he patted his jacket pockets.
Grenades
, he thought.
In my pocket. Eri.

Then someone screamed, “Detonator!”

Eri
, Jamie thought.

Darkness. Pain. Cold.

A growl pierced the ringing in his ear. Holgar?

Jamie looked up. A Russian wolfhound was staring down at him as he lay sprawled in the snow.

Jamie dropped his head back. Damn it. Goddamn them all. The Cursers and the war and the werewolves and just feckin’ everybody.

The dog grabbed his sleeve in its teeth and tried to pull him through the snow. With a harsh sob Jamie staggered to his feet and stumbled after the dog into the night. Jamie was sopping wet and covered with ash. He prayed to the Blessed Virgin that it was all that was left of Dantalion. Had he pulled a grenade? He couldn’t remember.

It didn’t matter. Because Eri was dead.

The animal began to bark and veered sharply to the left. Maybe the dog had come with people looking for survivors. Jamie slammed into a tree, spinning around to see flames and oily black smoke shooting into the air. Screams and explosions from the palace formed a wall of sound.

He fell down, unable to move. It didn’t matter, if she was dead. Of course she was dead. Everyone he cared about was dead.

A minute later the dog began to bark in a frenzy. He’d caught the scent of something.

Silhouetted against the red and black, Holgar ran toward Jamie.

The dog lunged forward at the sight of him, and for a moment Jamie thought it was going to try and tear out the wolfman’s throat. Instead the dog began to lick Holgar’s hands and face in welcome.

“Jamie!” Skye burst out, lurching forward from behind a tree. “Jamie, oh, my God, what’s happened to you?”

“Did you get him?” Noah asked, as the rest of the team—minus Antonio, minus Eriko—raced toward him.

For a moment Jamie couldn’t make sounds come out of his throat. And the first sound that did was a wail of fury.

“Eriko’s dead.” He couldn’t move as tears and blood ran down his face.
“God.”

Stunned silence followed.

“What?” Jenn asked finally.

“The vampires killed her.” His throat was raw.

More silence.

“How do you know?” Noah asked.

“Some American told Dantalion. Before the place blew.”

“American?”
Jenn echoed

“So you saw Dantalion? Is he dead?” Noah pressed.

“Blimey, give im a moment, will you?” Skye spat. “Look at him. He’s half dead himself.” She began to murmur a healing spell in Latin. He wanted to tell her not to bother.

“You didn’t see a body?” Holgar asked.

“The place
blew
!” Jamie yelled.

“Not Dantalion’s. Eriko’s,” Jenn said gently.

Jamie shook his head, trying not to fall apart in front of them.

“Eriko’s strong,” Jenn said softly. “She might have fooled them. We have to find her. Maybe she’s okay after all.”

He hated himself for glomming on to that slender hope. He nodded slowly.

“How d you get out?” Noah asked him. “Someone help you?”

Ignoring him, Jamie sat up. “Does anyone know the way back?” he asked, taking a ragged breath.

“I do,” Holgar said. He bent down and seemed to whisper to the dog for a moment. The animal disappeared into the night.

“What did you tell him?” Skye asked Holgar.

“I told him he was free to go find someone who could actually love him,” Holgar said. Then he began to head off at a lope. Noah and Jenn reached down and each took one of Jamie’s arms. Slowly they eased him to his feet.

Jamie began staggering along. And he couldn’t help but think bitterly that at least the dog was going to get a happy ending.

It was a simple thing to trace his way back to where they had left Antonio and Eriko. As it turned out, though, it was a lot easier than even he had anticipated.

Holgar smelled blood, and lots of it. He took a deeper breath and underneath it all could smell Eriko. Her scent was still fresh, but fading as though she was retreating or . . .

“Skye!” he called. His partner scrambled to keep up with him as he raced forward. Holgar was going the right direction, but the scent was fading, only to be overtaken by another, most unpleasant one.

“What is it?” she gasped.

“She’s dying. We’ve got a minute or less.”

He could run far faster, but Eriko needed Skye’s healing skills. He didn’t have to say a word as silent understanding passed between them. Holgar swung Skye onto his back. He hissed in pain at the contact with his wounds, which were still healing, but put on a burst of speed as he headed for a thicket of snow-covered trees.

“Eriko!” Skye cried, pointing straight ahead.

Holgar saw the shape of a human lying in the snow. As soon as they reached her side, Skye dropped off his back into a crouch next to the dying Hunter. Her hands began to fly over every cut, staunching the flow of blood that was carrying Eriko’s life with it.

Holgar touched Skye’s back, knowing that witches sometimes had ways to draw energy from other beings—defensive magicks—but not knowing if she could, or would, do it.

He could
feel
Skye’s momentary hesitation, but his entire body began to tingle, and fatigue crept over him. His own body protested as its attempts to heal itself were placed on hold, the energy being diverted instead to Skye.

Holgar could scent the fear on the others as they approached. With an anguished cry Jamie collapsed to his knees next to Eriko’s head, but wisely did not reach for her like he so obviously wanted to. Instead he began praying, his voice cracking, entreating every saint and Buddha and Allah and every other deity Holgar had ever heard of and then some to intervene on behalf of the dying girl. After a moment’s hesitation, Taamir and Noah knelt on either side of Jamie and began to pray as well, one to Allah, one to Adonai. The three men’s voices began to blend together, their words different but their faith strong and intertwining.

Holgar glanced up at Jenn, who stood there looking helpless. He knew that she questioned religion, and he could tell at that moment she desperately wished she could join her prayers with the others. But something held her back. She glanced down at him and saw the way he was touching Skye, and understanding lit her eyes. She carefully knelt beside him and placed her hand next to his on Skye’s back, helping to fuel the young witch as she practiced the healing arts of her religion. All this to keep Eriko from prematurely experiencing one of the key elements of
her
religion: death and the subsequent reincarnation of the soul.

Skye’s back felt hot where Holgar’s hand was touching it, and the energy practically crackled from her fingertips as she worked. Jenn began to droop, and he very gently pushed her back, breaking the connection. Skye hunched her shoulders a little, but he knew she understood. It did no one any good if the efforts to save Eriko put Jenn in danger. It was taking its toll on him, as well, but he had more strength to give. Holgar dropped his head to his chest and dug deep.

When at last he was teetering on the verge of losing consciousness, the other three men eased him out of the way and offered their energy without even a breath’s pause in their prayers.

Ten minutes later Skye removed her hand from Eriko. Everyone stopped, waiting for a sign.

“I think she’s going to make it,” Skye said, her voice hoarse. “We’re going to need to stay here for a while, though, before we can move her.”

“How long?” Jenn asked, her voice strained.

“I don’t know,” Skye said. “I’ll work around the clock, Jenn. I’ll make her better.”

“I can stay with her. Maybe you lot should go after Aurora,” Jamie offered.

“No,” Jenn said, her voice quiet but firm. “We get in trouble when we split up. We’ll stay until Eriko can travel. Besides, she’s not the only one who needs to heal.” She looked at Jamie.

“Then this is our place. Our ground,” Jamie said. He reached up and yanked his tattered Salamanca patch from his shoulder, jabbing it into the snow.

“We didn’t put down our flag in New Orleans,” Skye said.

“We failed New Orleans,” Jenn murmured.

“I don’t know what happened here,” Jamie said. He looked at the smoky sky. “Wonder if there’s survivors. Ain’t gonna look.”

Skye trailed a fingertip down Eriko’s forehead. “We need to take care of our own.”

Holgar nodded, then with a sigh lay down, cheek to the snow, wishing like anything he were a wolf and not a man, even as the dawn spread its rays in the east and the reign of the night came to an end.

Jamie, ever so gently, lay down next to Eriko and stroked her hair while Jenn, Taamir, and Noah made quiet plans. Skye turned and looked at Holgar, eyes full of pain, and he lifted up an arm. She hesitated for only a moment and then scooted over next to him before lying down, using his arm as a pillow. Her body was tense, as though she were unsure about the contact.

“I didn’t bring them here; I didn’t,” she said. He heard the pleading for understanding—and perhaps for forgiveness—in her voice. “I should have spoken up about
him
before, but I didn’t know he was working with Aurora.”

“Get some rest,” Holgar whispered and she nodded.

“I should have—”

“Shh. We all have secrets,
min lille heks
.” He stroked her back as she slowly relaxed.

Including me
, he thought.

Skye lay still, feeling the warmth of Holgar beside her, wishing she had the strength to heal him. He had saved both her and Eriko, and she knew he was in excruciating pain from his wounds. Even his ankle wasn’t fully healed. She could tell from the way he’d run when he was carrying her.

How had everything gone so horribly, horribly wrong? The lab was destroyed; that was a good thing. Dantalion had been stopped for good. Mission accomplished. But at what cost?

Antonio knew everything about the resistance cells they had been gathering information on across the world. People who were already risking their lives by standing up to the Cursed Ones were in even greater danger now that Aurora had captured Antonio. The Salamancan hunters had to rescue him before something happened. By now, though, Aurora and Antonio were long gone. And so was Estefan. She hadn’t felt him in her mind since Holgar had saved her. It was a relief, but it worried her because she was pretty sure they were now far away.

Where are they taking Antonio?
She thought about her glimpse into Estefan’s mind. She tried to focus it. The mind was a strange thing. It could show you perfect replicas of certain memories, like the house of mirrors. Other times it presented images that were tinted by emotions and context, almost like impressionist paintings. She stared closely at the vision of Aurora and Antonio held in her memory, trying to tell if there was anything else she had seen in Estefan’s mind at that time.

Goddess, help me to remember
, she prayed silently. She breathed deeply in and out, to cleanse herself of fear, anger, uncertainty, even the sensation of Holgar’s warm arm beneath her cheek. She tried to focus on that image, tried to put herself in it.

What had Estefan been thinking of Aurora and Antonio at that moment? Aurora was standing, while Antonio lay unconscious at her feet. She was clearly the victor. She was the master, and Antonio was the servant. And there, behind Aurora, had been a shadow. It was Estefan, laughing at Antonio’s plight, himself victorious because Aurora was victorious. Himself a master because she was a master.