And little Skye cried, too, as her foot stepped over the threshold.

But being ostracized was the least of her worries. Because her b.a.s.t.a.r.d ex was still out there. And the Cursers still walked the earth.

And Jamie knew they'd be lucky to survive the coming night.

CHAPTER NINE.

And all our plans

You now shall see

The world is ours

The land, the sea

None can stop us

No man, no G.o.d

Upon your lives

We now do trod

THE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS, EN ROUTE TO THE MONASTERY OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF ST. ANDREW.

JENN, HOLGAR, AND ANTONIO.

"Red wine, drink it," Brother Cristian urged Jenn as he pulled back the blanket they had strung across the back of the panel van to give her privacy. They wanted her to eat red meat and drink red wine to restore her blood. It wasn't that Antonio had taken so much; it was that the tear he had ripped in her neck had made her bleed badly. They had st.i.tched up the wound and covered it with bandages.

"Later, I think," Holgar said.

Brother Cristian sighed and let the blanket drop back into place.

In the four days since Antonio had attacked her, he had refused to see her. Unable to reach Father Juan, the four brothers of St. Andrew had held several long discussions with Jenn and Holgar, trying to get a better understanding of Antonio's current "spiritual condition." Jenn had been in a state of shock, unable to speak, to believe that Antonio could have done what he had done. She lay still and silent. At night Holgar held her, murmuring to her in Danish, promising to keep her safe.

They chained Antonio's wrists and ankles, blindfolded him, and locked him into the back of an old military transport vehicle very like the one they had used in Russia. Jenn thought about telling them that chains couldn't hold a vampire, but she couldn't make herself speak. Her mind slid over fears that the Brotherhood didn't know what they were doing. Or that they might decide he had sunk too far into evil and stake him. Sometimes when she touched her bandages, she wanted them to stake him. Then tears of shame and grief would roll down her face, even though she remained as still and silent as ever.

The vehicle they transported Antonio in was old, struggling as it chugged up the steep mountain pa.s.ses. The four monks took turns driving. They had to stop often to let the engine cool down. Their journey was torturous. Holgar told her that a monk guarded Antonio night and day, telling rosary beads, praying without ceasing for Antonio to find his way back to them. She didn't ask Holgar if he thought it would happen, and he didn't say.

Then one night, after Holgar had changed her bandage and settled her against his chest, the howls of wolves shattered the coc.o.o.n of her sickbed. She jerked, hard, as their shrill cries grew louder, closer, wilder. Holgar held her fast; she felt his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and heard him swear in Danish under his breath. His arms tightened around her until it was almost painful. When she shifted, he loosened them and rested his chin on the crown of her head.

"Lille skat," he said gently, "I have to leave you for a little bit. Just a little while."

There was tension in his voice, and it dawned on her that Holgar hadn't been simply comforting her all this time. He had been guarding her too, and making sure that Antonio couldn't get anywhere near her.

"What do they want?" she asked. They were the first words she had uttered since Antonio had bitten her, and her voice was hoa.r.s.e and scratchy.

He hesitated.

"Tell me," she insisted. "I'm still your leader." Then she burst into sobs. She cried hard, her body contracting, and Holgar crossed his arms over her chest, cupping each shoulder, allowing the release she had so desperately needed. In her mind she was back in the safe house, alone with Antonio; his eyes were crimson, and he opened his mouth wide, as if daring her to turn away from the sight of his fangs coming at her. Deliberately mesmerizing her, taunting her, and then . . .

"Oh, G.o.d," she ground out. "Oh, my G.o.d."

"Ja, it's good to face it," Holgar said into her ear. "Ja, Jenn."

She cried for another minute or so, then forced herself to dam her tears. She wanted to weep and scream forever, but she knew they needed to discuss the crisis at hand. "I'm okay," she said firmly, wiping her face. She molded her hands around his and squeezed them. "Tell me."

"Well, you know there's a price on my head," he said. "And this pack, well, they've come to claim it."

"So it's a werewolf pack," she said. And something clicked back into place inside her. Something worked again. She was being called into action. It was time to do her job-to lead her team, even if it was just a team of two. "How many?"

"I think six," he said. "The alpha and his mate, three males, and one female. The alpha's saying that they know who I am, and that we're trespa.s.sing on his territory." He c.o.c.ked his head, listening to the howls. "And that there is a vampire named Lucifer who will pay handsomely for my pelt."

"Lucifer," she said, chills running down her spine. Always Lucifer. They had thought Solomon was their biggest problem, but Lucifer was d.o.g.g.i.ng them. Solomon baited Jenn by parading her traitor father, Paul Leitner, on TV and having him beg Jenn to turn herself in for a crime she didn't commit. But it wasn't Jenn whom Solomon wanted. It was Antonio. And Lucifer wanted Antonio. Maybe if they found out that he'd attacked her, they'd lose interest in him.

She hitched a couple of breaths, forcing herself not to lose her composure. Holgar grimaced in response.

"I knew I shouldn't have come," he said, but she heard the mixed emotion in his voice. If he hadn't been there when Antonio had attacked her, she'd probably be dead.

Unless Antonio stopped himself, she thought. Maybe he would have been able to. Maybe- Holgar pulled away the blanket. Jenn slowly sat up by herself and looked at Brother Cristian, who smiled with delight at the sight of her. But his smile faded as Holgar repeated the werewolves' demand. Brother Cristian's eyes widened, and he made the sign of the cross in the air.

"If the driver can slow down the van just enough for me to jump out, then you can put some distance between everybody and the pack," Holgar added.

"Everybody else, you mean. Holgar, you can't wolf at will," Jenn insisted. "They'll rip you to shreds."

"They're promising me that if I come out in human form, unarmed, no harm will come to any of you," Holgar translated.

"You're not going out there," she insisted. She turned to Brother Cristian. "Break out the weapons."

The priests had come well provisioned with Uzis. Werewolves possessed remarkable powers of healing, but it was possible to take one out with a barrage of submachine-gun fire if you could get off enough shots to cut it in half before it took your throat.

"Okay," Brother Cristian said, nodding. He said something to the driver, who picked up a radiophone and spoke into it. Jenn heard the crackle of a response from Antonio's transport vehicle.

Their vans slowed, then rolled to a stop. Neither driver turned off his engine, keeping them idling in case they needed to make a fast getaway.

"Let's go," Jenn said.

"Not you," Holgar insisted. "You're too weak."

She raised her chin a notch and gave him a long, level look. "For now, you and I are fighting partners, Holgar, and I'm not letting you go out there by yourself."

"Noah is your fighting partner," Holgar said. "And that crazy Israeli would kick my a.s.s if I took you outside with me."

"Then prepare to get it kicked," Jenn said, as she crawled to the side of the van where they had stowed their jackets. She got hers and began slipping her arms into the sleeves. The world spun. Her throat hurt. She still hadn't recovered from the loss of blood.

Holgar sighed heavily. "Okay, boss lady, you win. Please hand me my jacket."

"Here," she said, grabbing it up and holding it out to him. When he didn't take it, she looked in his direction.

And that was when he clocked her, his fist against her chin, which hurt, and everything fuzzed yellow, and then black.

Holgar caught the unconscious Jenn in his arms. Brother Cristian made the sign of the cross over Holgar. Then the brother pointed to himself and to Jenn, saying, "I am taking care of her."

Holgar gave Jenn one last look as he opened up the van's side door and stepped out, forcing himself to stay as calm as possible. His aggressive instincts had fully engaged, and he was hoping they would push him into transforming. Tonight was only a crescent moon, barely a fingernail slice, nearly as far from the full moon as could be.

Snow tumbled down. The alpha of the werewolf pack stood before him in human form. He wore white snow gear-pants and a parka with a hood lined with rabbit fur. He was tall, with high Slavic cheekbones and crystal blue eyes. His lips were curled in a sneer.

The alpha held up a hand, and the rest of the pack slunk from behind trees and boulders. Six total, as Holgar had counted, wearing magnificent, silvery pelts. So they could all change at will. Impressive. And bad news for Holgar.

They growled and fanned out, flashing their teeth at their common foe. Holgar monitored himself for signs of transformation. To his intense disappointment, he felt nothing.

"Holgar Vibbard, is Marku Barbu," the alpha introduced himself. "And is time for dying." Sneer, sneer.

"Vuy govorite po-russkiy?" Holgar asked him, which meant "Do you speak Russian?" in Russian. The alpha frowned, clearly not comprehending. Holgar had thought it was worth a shot. "Cartoon English for you, then, friend Marku," Holgar said. "Is not time for Holgar dying. Is time for all werewolves killing vampires. Vampires evil. Werewolves good."

The alpha's mouth twisted. "Pack of Marku are making peace with vampire king."

"Lucifer," Holgar said loudly, and the wolves of the pack took a step backward-retreating in submission and fear. "Lucifer is not friend. Is killing Marku."

"I am alpha," Marku declared, throwing back his chest. "Marku say, Holgar Vibbard die."

Without warning, the alpha wolfed. Holgar had never seen such a rapid transformation-muzzle stretching, ears flattening, eyes turning a golden yellow in mere seconds. His clothing exploded off him. Then the werewolf dropped to all fours, his front paws barely touching the snow as he sprang at Holgar.

Holgar threw himself to the side as the werewolf knocked him down. Holgar clenched his jaw so that no scream would escape him, although the pain was terrible. As he tumbled backward into the snow, all he saw was a crescent moon and two glowing eyes.

For helvede, he thought. I really am going to die.

Then he heard a blast of Uzi fire and animal whimpering. Someone on his side had shot someone on Marku's side. Beneath the fusillade he shouted out his fury as the alpha dragged him by one wrist, teeth sunk deep through the muscle into bone. Holgar twisted and flailed, trying to grab a rock with his free hand, a tree branch, anything, as he slid through the snow.

All he could hear was the pop-pop-pop of Uzis and the outraged howling of the wolf pack. And he heard in their voices just how terrified of Lucifer they were. Although they howled about victory over their enemy and the imminent death of a rival alpha, what they were really singing about was a reprieve from their own death sentences if they brought Lucifer the body of Holgar Vibbard.

As Marku dragged him, Holgar's head slammed against a rock so hard it felt as if his brains were being scrambled. Karma for punching out Jenn, he supposed. Some werewolves worshipped various wolf G.o.ds-the Fenris Wolf, for one-but Holgar's Danish family was nominally Lutheran. He sent up a prayer to G.o.d and Jesus just in case they really existed-asking not for admission into heaven, but for the strength to last long enough for Jenn and the others to get the h.e.l.l out of there. He wanted the deafening roar of the Uzi to recede into the distance.

I actually wish Jamie were here, he thought as his vision filmed over. He saw two crescent moons and dark smudges of treetops. If we had another good fighter on our side- His hand caught on to something sharp, and pain stabbed just as hard. Was Marku going to drag him to death?

Then the air seemed to press down, and he almost saw something shooting through the air above him. Suddenly Marku let go of him. Dazed, Holgar managed to raise his head just in time to see Marku go flying toward the treetops. The alpha's howls were punctuated by yips as the rest of the pack dodged and pitched in a swirling dervish of fur. A gout of blood spurted from the neck of a male, and it fell onto its back, shrieking in agony.

As Holgar watched, Antonio seemed to materialize from out of nowhere, his eyes glowing like coals, on his knees bent over the werewolf, long fangs clamped on the werewolf's throat. The werewolf kept struggling. One of the other wolves leaped at Antonio; Antonio threw his arms around the one he had attacked and whirled around, using the struggling werewolf as a weapon to slam into his a.s.sailant.

Antonio still wore manacles around his wrists, but his chains had been broken. He threw the limp wolf to the snowy ground and scooped up Holgar, carrying him toward the van. A chorus of howls rose up behind them. Brother Dorin and Brother Cristian had Uzis, one trained on Antonio and one on the werewolf pack. Holgar gave them a dizzy wave to signify that he was all right.

"In, in, in!" Brother Cristian shouted at Antonio as Brother Dorin let loose a hail of sub-machine gun fire over Antonio's head. Werewolf blood was dripping down Antonio's chin.

The panel-van door was open. Jenn was in the middle of climbing out. She saw the blood on Antonio's face and pointed her Uzi at him.

"He's attacked Holgar!" she shrieked.