"We are here to honor his memory and to commit his soul to Orcus," Emilio continued. "G.o.d of Light, G.o.d Below, look upon your most loyal son with favor."

Around Aurora the others stirred, reflecting on the dark G.o.d or G.o.ddess they themselves worshipped. Like humans, vampires followed many deities, worshipped in many ways. For some, their underworlds were ruled by beings connected with light and the returning of their souls. For Aurora Abregon, there was only one thing that felt right. She rent her clothes, as her Jewish ancestors had done, ripping the finery with vampiric strength, and she wailed-mourning in the style of the ancient Romans, of Orcus.

Those who had brought flowers ringed them around the base of the fountain. Those who had brought blood spilled it into the waters-an offering and a remembrance.

I will remember you. I will never forget who did this to you.

As she let out another cry, her heart was truly broken. Aurora would not have killed Sergio, had she had the chance. She knew that she would have forgiven him for every wretched, horrible slight, every cutting insult, every wrong he had committed against her.

She might have tortured him for a few weeks, but she would have declared the slate wiped clean.

Fueled by her pa.s.sions, Aurora led the procession back to the crumbling palace. But even as she thought of the banquet that was waiting, her misery was so great that she had no hunger. She was too angered by her grief to eat anyone.

"My friends," she said, facing the a.s.sembly. "Sergio must be avenged. Swear a blood oath with me that you will kill his a.s.sa.s.sin-the traitor Antonio de la Cruz." She raised her left hand and sliced a fingernail across her palm. Blood welled up and began to drip as the others followed suit. Under the moonlight the vampires bled.

"He is as good as dead," Emilio said; the others inclined their heads.

And Aurora smiled.

CHAPTER TWO.

Salamanca Hunter's Manual: The Eternal Battle

It may feel as if your struggles against the Cursed Ones are endless. This is true. The enemy can-and will-create more of his kind, and all of them seek your death. So you may question if your holy calling has meaning, and why you must press on when fortune favors you so little. Remember this: The Savior, too, had doubt, and yet He prevailed when it mattered most. If you fight without ceasing, dedicating your soul to the conquering of the foe, you will receive the ultimate reward-not in this world, but the next.

(translated from the Spanish) MADRID, SPAIN.

HEATHER AND AURORA.

I'm starving. I need blood, Heather Leitner thought as she crouched in the overgrown gardens outside Aurora's ruined palace. Her threadbare jeans and shredded sweater were barely distinguishable from her hair and skin. She was coated from head to toe with dirt and dried blood. She looked like an animal-or a nightmare.

She was faint with hunger, and she had trouble remembering how she'd tracked Aurora to Madrid. During the battle in Salamanca, Aurora's vampire army had piled into trucks and vans, and Heather had yanked open the car door of an unsuspecting motorist unlucky enough to be in the vicinity, dragged him out, and taken off after them.

Did I kill the driver? Did I drink his blood?

She was drawing a blank. Or maybe she couldn't face the truth. If she had drunk of him, would she still be this hungry?

She closed her eyes, sick to her soul at the thought. To bite a human being, to drink their blood. It sounded . . .

. . . wonderful.

Clenching her fists, she swayed with weakness as she studied the silhouettes of the Cursed Ones through the stained gla.s.s. Which one was Aurora?

"I'll kill you," Heather whispered, feeling her fangs pressing against her thin, chapped lips. "I swear to G.o.d I'll turn you into dust."

If she didn't drink from a living creature, she would lose the fragile hold she had on her sanity. And Heather had to stay sane.

So she could kill Aurora.

TOLEDO, SPAIN.

THE SALAMANCA HUNTERS MINUS SKYE.

In the courtyard of the ancient Toledo monastery, Jenn made a double fist and flung herself at Noah. The hardened Israeli soldier dropped to the ground and swept out his leg, grinning at her when, unable to stop her momentum, she tumbled forward and face-planted in the dirt. Then he grunted in surprise as she rolled onto her back, grabbed his ankle, and yanked it toward her chest. He teetered for a moment, then fell on his b.u.t.t.

"Ha!" she shouted. Before she could gloat any further, Noah straddled her, catching her wrists in one hand as he mimicked slashing her throat with his other.

"How did you do that?" she managed between gulps of air as he sprang to a standing position, then pulled her to her feet.

They were both wearing clean white T-shirts and sweatpants, courtesy of the brothers in the monastery. Their feet were bare. Noah's hair was crazy wild from the tussle, but it only added to his allure. He had freckles across his nose, like her, and his dark eyes were almost as heavily lashed as Antonio's.

Antonio. Jenn drew a slow, steadying breath. She had hoped that sparring with Noah would take the edge off her tension, not add to it. After all, there was no her and Antonio. Before leaving America for Spain, Antonio had shut the door on any hope of their having a relationship. He had told her that he was renewing his vows of poverty, obedience, and chast.i.ty to the Catholic Church. He'd been studying to become a priest when Sergio had changed him into a vampire, and Antonio believed that only through prayer and strict observance of his holy orders could he keep from becoming a depraved, soulless Cursed One forever.

"How did I do that? I let you take me," Noah said, as he sidled away from Jenn and took a sip of water from a gla.s.s on a wooden tray. He tipped back his head and poured a little of the water over his face. "Then I came in for the kill."

He grinned at her, then grabbed a pack of cinnamon gum from the tray, pulled out two sticks, and handed her one. He was trying to quit smoking because it bothered her, and cinnamon gum was his weapon of choice. It also happened to be her favorite flavor.

"Krav Maga?" Jamie said, coming up behind Jenn. Without the chance to shave his head, he'd let caramel fuzz obscure some of his tattoos. Jamie was a Northern Irish street fighter with tons of anger issues. "We were teaching our tricks to Marc Dupree. Jenn mention him? We got him killed in New Orleans."

Noah stared back at Jamie. "I thought Jenn beat that lippy c.r.a.p out of you."

Jamie flushed and made a show of adjusting his Adam's apple, which Jenn had dislocated during their fight in the cave. He smiled sourly at her, and she tensed, angry and wary. She should have known Jamie would never really accept her as his leader.

"Talking s.h.i.te's a bad habit of mine," Jamie said, which was probably the closest he would get to an apology. Still, it meant a lot to hear it, and Jenn relaxed slightly.

Noah chomped his gum. "Habits can be broken."

Jamie ignored his comment. "May as well smoke 'em while I've got 'em. I've got nothing better to do." He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and fished a lighter out of his jeans pocket. He lit the cigarette. The pungent scent of burning tobacco irritated Jenn's nose as he exhaled, blowing smoke at Noah, taunting him with forbidden fruit; the two had been smoking buddies before Noah quit.

"We have something to do," Jenn said. "We're having a meeting about it tonight, after dinner."

Appraising her, Jamie took another drag on his cigarette. "You're one for the mysteries. Why not just tell us now?"

Because it's daytime, and the sunshine makes Antonio tired and sluggish, and I want him at his best when we discuss our next move, she thought.

Without replying, she sauntered out of the courtyard.

"Stones. That girl's grown 'em."

She didn't know if she was meant to hear Jamie, but she smiled grimly to herself. If Jamie had respect for her newfound toughness, it had come at quite a price. Becoming a leader meant changing-a lot. She'd done things she wished she were incapable of doing. And would do them again.

Noah and Antonio were seasoned soldiers-Antonio had fought in World War II, and he carried battlefield scars both inside and out. Noah had been in the Israeli special forces-the Mossad-when the vampire war had broken out. Father Juan had privately counseled Jenn never to ask Noah about his missions.

"You wouldn't want to know," he'd told her.

But as the leader of a vampire hunting team, she knew she should ask. She needed to know what he was capable of. There were darker times ahead, which would require darker deeds.

Then there was Jamie. He wasn't troubled by ethics or morality. For Jamie it was kill or be killed, with no further discussion necessary. Eriko had been the only calming influence on him, and now that she was dead, it seemed that the only way to get Jamie to calm down was to knock him out.

I'd have no problem doing that, she thought, as she rapped softly on the housekeeper's door. She opened it gently and crossed from the simple sitting room to the bathroom. Senora Nevado had offered the use of her bathtub to Sade and Jenn, the only two women on the Salamancan hunting team-until they found Skye. Of course, no one used the word "hunting" anymore. To appease the Cursed Ones, the Catholic Church had ordered all vampire hunters to stand down and, if they weren't Spanish, to go home. Jenn's team was disobeying, and theoretically, Father Juan had been excommunicated. No longer part of the Church and no longer a priest, he wasn't to say Ma.s.s or give communion-but he'd done both since. Antonio, himself a very strict Catholic, had a.s.sisted Father Juan at Ma.s.s and taken communion from the priest's own hand.

To Jenn, the Church's betrayal of vampire hunters was more proof that religion was silly. It was true that crosses and holy water repelled vampires, but so did other religious symbols. Noah used the Star of David. She had a theory that the symbols worked because they were representations not of some G.o.d, but of goodness. Jenn believed in goodness, if not in G.o.d. She had grown up in a vaguely Christian atmosphere, as her family was originally from Bavaria, a Catholic section of Germany. Antonio had his own opinions, of course: "Deep down, it must be that you really believe, Jenn. In your soul, where it counts." Which could be why crosses worked for her.

The only "counting" she was interested in was how many vampires they had to kill until the world belonged to the human race again.

Jenn took off her workout clothes and stepped into the shower. She let the hot water sluice over her head. As she toweled off and dressed, she thought she heard familiar voices through the wall. She gathered up her things and darted down the hall. Her grandmother sat facing the entryway, and Jenn's mom was on the sofa with the housekeeper. Gramma Esther saw Jenn first. She rose from her chair and caught Jenn in her arms as Jenn nearly crashed into her.

"Gramma, Mom," Jenn said, as her mother burst into tears and got to her feet. Jenn moved to her and held her. "Mom, we'll find her. We'll find Heather."

"My baby?" her mother gasped, clinging to Jenn. "Oh, G.o.d. My baby."

Jenn cast a furtive glance over her mom's shoulder at her grandmother. Did they not know that Heather had been converted-changed into a vampire? Jenn's father had offered Jenn to Aurora to guarantee the safety of the rest of the family. It was a promise Aurora had broken, instead kidnapping Heather to lure Jenn-and Antonio-to New Orleans. Aurora's ultimate target had been Antonio, but first she'd amused herself with Heather.

I'm going to kill you, Aurora, Jenn promised. She trembled, but one steely-calm look from Gramma Esther told her she needed to keep herself under control. Her mother needed her.

Did she cry like this when I ran away from home to join the academy? she wondered. She didn't think so.

"Where did Heather go?" her mom wailed.

"Here is wine," the housekeeper announced. Unnoticed by Jenn, she'd left the room and returned with a bottle of what looked like port and four small gla.s.ses. Jenn was eighteen, and in Spain that was an acceptable age to drink, but Jenn hadn't gotten used to it yet. Still, she took the gla.s.s Senora Nevado poured for her. Jenn's mother drank hers down quickly, but Gramma Esther barely sipped hers. Instead she looked hard at Jenn, as if trying to convey her a silent message.

"When did you get here?" Jenn asked.

"Just a few minutes ago. An old friend offered us a lift," Gramma Esther said meaningfully. "He's moving to Budapest."

Jenn blinked in shock. Did Gramma Esther mean Greg, the leader of the black crosses? He was their contact with the covert government operation dubbed Project Crusade.

A gentle rap came at the door, and Father Juan poked in his head. "Ah, I see that you found Jenn," he said. "Please, Leitner ladies, I have found a place where you will be more comfortable while we talk."

Jenn put her untouched gla.s.s on Senora Nevado's tray, murmured "Gracias," and turned to go. The housekeeper gestured for Jenn to hand over her towel and workout clothes. Jenn complied and thanked her again.

The group was silent as they entered the little chapel. Jenn was disappointed not to see Antonio. She felt a deep pang, as if part of her were missing too.

Father Juan gestured for the three to sit in one of the pews. Then he bowed on one knee, crossed himself, and slid into the pew in front of them, half turning to face them. Jenn studied his face as he looked around, ensuring that they were alone.

"I have some things I need to tell you," he said. "I must caution you to keep them to yourselves. Although we are surrounded by my brothers in Christ, we are not necessarily among friends."

"What do you mean?" Jenn's mother asked nervously.

"You are aware that the government of your country is cooperating with the Cursed Ones," he began.

"Yes," Gramma Esther replied. "And so was my son, Jenn's dad."

Jenn clenched her fists in her lap as fresh anger surged through her. Her grandmother said the words so matter-of-factly, as if she were talking about a stranger. Maybe, in her mind, she was.

"He knows that was a mistake," Jenn's mom cut in, looking pale and wan. "And that's why we have to get him out of there."

Gramma Esther made no comment.

"Perhaps you also know that Spain, alone, has refused to surrender." Father Juan's face darkened. "Until now. The hunters have been ordered to disband, and we priests must no longer teach or lead them. I have refused to stop, and for this I have been cast out of the Church."

Esther pursed her lips while Jenn's mother wiped away her tears. "So it's not safe in Spain," Jenn's mother said. "Jenn, how could you bring Heather here?"

Jenn felt dizzy. Mom doesn't know Heather's been converted, she thought. Jenn peered under her lashes at Father Juan, who shook his head surrept.i.tiously at her, as if to say, I'll tell her.

"You know a few things about us," the priest went on slowly. "You know, for example, that we have among us a vampire who fights for humanity."

"He was at the camp," Jenn's mom said, fidgeting nervously with her fingers. "Something happened to him, didn't it? He had become evil again."

"Antonio is battling his curse, and I think he will win." Father Juan cleared his throat.

He's going to tell them the truth about Heather. He has to. It's not a secret among the hunters, and if he doesn't reveal it, Jamie might, out of pure spite.

"It is true that Heather has gone missing," he said.

Jenn's mother sobbed once, heavily. Jenn squeezed her hand, then put her arm around her mother.

Her grandmother was very still. "Go on. Say what you need to say, Father."

"Aurora, the Cursed One who kidnapped Heather, turned her into a vampire," he said, his voice soft, his words crystal clear.