FATHER JUAN.

Father Juan knelt in the gloomy chapel of the monastery and gave thanks for the heaps of Transit of Venus beside him. The leaves of the herb glowed like moonstone. By the light of the G.o.ddess the werewolves had found a large patch of it, and they had transformed into human form to harvest it for Father Juan.

Afterward, when Holgar had slid behind the wheel of their SUV, Viorica had raised her slender arm in farewell. He'd rolled down the window, and she'd said something in Russian. He had replied very softly under his breath. Softly, and tenderly.

In the chapel Father Juan's cell phone rang. Crossing himself, he answered it. When he heard Bishop Diego's voice on the other end, he couldn't help but smile.

"How's it going, old friend?" he asked by way of greeting.

"Better, I think, than for you," Diego said, sounding skeptical.

"Any luck on turning the tide in Rome in our favor?"

"I'm afraid not. But courage, Juan. There are many here who would help if they were only shown the way."

"Isn't that what I sent you there for, to show the way?" Juan teased gently.

"Si, and I'd rather you had sent yourself."

Juan laughed, and it felt so good.

Then Diego's tone grew more somber. "Tell me, old friend, is it true you're trying to gather the ingredients to make the Hunter elixir?"

Juan sobered quickly. "Yes. I want to make enough for all of them."

"Do you have a priest a.s.sisting you?" Diego asked, more somber still.

"No," he admitted.

"Father, you mustn't," Diego cried, reverting, as was his habit when he was stressed, to a deferential tone toward Juan.

Father Juan smiled gently, grateful that he had such a friend. "I must. Don't be sorry, my old friend. All things end some time."

"Not all things, in my experience," Diego said pointedly.

"But they should."

"An argument for another time," Diego said. "Now let me pray."

SOMEWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES.

KENT WALLACE.

In his sleeping bag in the abandoned Pizza Hut, Kent woke with a shout. Sweat was pouring down his body, and he was shaking. The imagery of the dream faded, but not its meaning. He pressed his hands to his eyes. It was time. Years of watching, waiting, guiding, praying had come to an end. All the players were on the board, all the pieces in motion. It was now or never. It was time to gather all the allies together from the corners of the world.

Time to take the fight to the Cursed Ones.

He nodded to himself and got up.

Time to let everyone know just what time it was.

BOOK THREE.

ERESHKIGAL.

All ceased and I abandoned myself.

Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.

-St. John of the Cross.

sixteenth-century mystic of Salamanca.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Salamanca Hunter's Manual: Your Vows.

The calling to become the Hunter of Salamanca is like any other summons to serve G.o.d. To be free from earthly distractions, to walk alone, and to place your sacred duty above all other concerns. You are married to destruction.

(translated from the Spanish) THE MONASTERY OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF ST. ANDREW.

ANTONIO, JENN, FATHER JUAN, AND ESTHER.

There was a soft knock on the door of the little bedroom Jenn had made her sanctuary, and Jenn rose to open it. Her grandmother stood there, a wry smile twisting her features.

"What is it?" Jenn asked, dread settling in the pit of her stomach.

"Father Juan wants to see you in the chapel."

"Oh," Jenn said, searching her grandmother's face for a clue as to what it might be about.

If Esther knew, though, she was good at hiding it. Jenn followed her out into the hallway.

"You've been spending a lot of time with him," Jenn said, instantly regretting it. It sounded like an accusation when she'd just meant it to be a general comment.

Esther nodded. "He's a fascinating man. I've been enjoying our talks."

"How fascinating?" Jenn asked. She told herself she wanted to know more about Father Juan-not that she was concerned about her grandmother spending so much time with him.

Esther chuckled as though at some private joke. "More than he'll admit."

Jenn waited, but her grandmother didn't say any more. When they reached the door of the chapel, Gramma Esther gave her a quick wink and then turned and walked away.

Jenn watched her for a moment, then went inside. It was very dark except for rows of lighted candles in gla.s.s holders in front of a statue of a sad-looking monk. Jenn guessed it was St. Andrew.

Father Juan was waiting at the front of the chapel. He wore a gold stole over his shoulders, and he was standing in front of the altar, talking to someone in the first pew. With a start she saw that it was Antonio.

Father Juan glanced up and saw her. He beckoned to her to come sit on the bench beside Antonio. She hesitated, then walked forward.

Antonio gave her a weak smile that showed no fang. His dark brown eyes were warm and natural-looking, so she allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. She still remained on guard, though. Mesmerize me once, shame on you; mesmerize me twice . . . , she thought.

Father Juan stared at her, and she ducked her eyes, wondering if he could see her doubts and fears in them.

"Now that you're both here, there's something we should discuss."

She felt Antonio shift uncomfortably next to her, and she flushed. He couldn't possibly want to discuss what happened, could he? There was no way Jenn wanted to dissect the attack or its aftermath. Maybe Father Juan just wanted to talk about Solomon, Dantalion, and Lucifer with them in private. But why? Surely there was nothing he had to say that couldn't be said in front of the others?

Father Juan cleared his throat, and she hunched her shoulders as though bracing for a physical blow instead of a lecture. In many ways she'd prefer it.

"Antonio de la Cruz, you are my brother in Christ and my spiritual son. The Church gave you sanctuary in Salamanca, where your namesake, Saint John of the Cross, studied as well," Father Juan began. He c.o.c.ked his head. "And what would you say is the most important thing Saint John had to say to us?"

Antonio did not hesitate. "'Nothing is obtained from G.o.d except by love.'" His voice was hushed.

"The exact words of the saint himself. You learned your lessons well." Father Juan patted Antonio's cheek. "But have you made those lessons your own?"

Antonio cleared his throat. "I believe that I have, Father."

Father Juan put his hands on their shoulders. "I bid you both kneel."

Antonio pulled down the prayer bench, then knelt on both knees. Feeling awkward, Jenn knelt beside him. Where her shoulder brushed his, she felt the chill of his skin. It was cold in the chapel, and Antonio had no body heat.

"This is another thing Saint John said." Father Juan placed his hands on top of their heads. "'Where there is no love, put love and you will draw out love.'"

"What are you doing, Father?" Antonio asked, his voice still hushed.

"In the tradition of the Church, we believe that the purpose of the sacrament of marriage is to create new life-whether that be of children, or the new lives of the united couple through the expression of mutual love and support. But there are those who, for various reasons, cannot be together in this way."

Us, Jenn thought, and she closed her eyes as tears spilled. She wanted to die of embarra.s.sment. Antonio had made it clear that they couldn't be together in any way, first by his words, then by his actions.

The scar on her neck still hurt, though the wound had finally healed. "Phantom pain," that was what one of the brothers had called it.

Father Juan removed his hands from the crowns of their heads. Jenn kept her eyes closed as she listened to his voice.

"Ever since you came to the Academia, Jenn, I have cast the runes in order to know the best path for you, and for Antonio. And the answer is always that you must be together. Your power, combined, is what will save us."

She shut her eyes more tightly, aware that beside her, Antonio shifted his weight.

"I can't, Father. I've given myself to G.o.d," Antonio said.

"And what is G.o.d but love?" Father Juan replied.

"But . . . I'm a vampire."

Jenn heard the self-loathing in his voice. And despite her own turmoil, she opened her eyes and placed a supportive hand on Antonio's. His chest rose.

"You're the only vampire capable of such devotion. Such love," Father Juan said. "But you're holding back."

"Out of love," Antonio whispered. He turned to Jenn, and his eyes welled with real tears. "Because . . . I love."

Antonio, Antonio, Jenn thought, nearly overcome with the force of her emotion. I love you.

"Out of fear. Because you fear," Father Juan corrected him. "And this terrible fear prevents you from loving Jenn as fully as G.o.d wants for you. And for her."

Jenn caught her breath. What is he trying to say?

"You must free yourself to love her as much as you possibly can. But you've created such obstacles to giving yourself."

"Because I'm a Cursed One," Antonio said.

"And what would you say to another Cursed One who sought to love G.o.d? If he came to you on bent knees, head bowed, humbled and broken-hearted?" Father Juan prompted.

"None of us is deserving of the love of G.o.d," Antonio replied. "But He loves us anyway."