THE ALLIED FORCES.

More fighters arrived every day. Feeding them and housing them was a real problem, putting increasing pressure on Jenn to attack Lucifer. The longer they waited, the less able she would be to take care of her people-and the more exposed her numbers would be to Lucifer.

The full moon glinted against new-fallen snow and made the salt circle scintillate. Standing in the precise center of the sacred s.p.a.ce, Jenn wore a white gown made of monastery bedsheets. Her long auburn hair was crowned with a wreath of evergreens and Transit of Venus. In her left hand she held a mirror, symbol of the Feminine Principle of the Universe-giver of life and all that was beautiful and good-and in her right a crossbow, symbol of the G.o.ddess as huntress, protector, destroyer.

While searching for a name for the new coven, Gramma Esther, revered as the oldest woman in the monastery, had suggested they call it the People's Coven. The coven dedicated to all of humanity, no matter their religion or creed, or if they were evil or good. Under the direction of Skye, their High Priestess, they were there to bless and strengthen the G.o.ddess's chosen warrior. The Warrior of the People: Jenn.

Esther stood in the circle, hands joined with little Autumn and Father Juan, wearing a borrowed spangled robe splotched with Estefan's blood. All those who had brought robes with them from England wore them, bloodstained or not. The monks had offered bedsheets for some of the others, but there weren't many to be spared. Father Juan wore a white ha.s.sock. More witches had arrived, from France, Germany, Russia, Spain itself, and a dozen other countries, having divined that a new coven had formed, one born of courage and strength, dedicated to saving the Lady's people. Sisters and brothers from Australia, Brazil, China, Zimbabwe, and other countries were traveling to Romania, hoping for the blessing of joining their magickal kindred in the final battle. There were at least fifty witches present, and more on the way. The coven was becoming an army-with Skye as its head, answering in turn to Jenn.

Sensing that the war was about to spill blood onto the very ground on which they stood, Skye had called for the ritual to anoint Jenn with the blessings of the G.o.ddess and all her children-witches male and female both.

Standing beside Skye, Soleil and Lune served as her handmaidens. Soleil held a bowl of water, and Lune held aloft a sword tipped with a burning white candle. Although the wind had whipped up, the candle stayed lit.

Skye raised her athame toward the moon, and began.

In the circle Is the G.o.ddess In the circle Of the G.o.ddess Life, light, love.

Divine maiden, mother, crone.

You are the Mother of all goodness.

We give You our hearts, spirits, bodies, And call You to us.

Come down, Blessed Mother, And take Jennifer Leitner, our warrior, In Your arms.

Skye lowered her ritual knife into the water. She beckoned Jenn to bend her head over the bowl. Jenn did so, seeing her own face reflected in ripples, candlelight. The full moon glowed behind her like a halo.

"We accept Jenn's birthright for her. We lay claim to the power of the Mother. We receive blessings from the Lady of the Moon, and the Lord, and the Spirits of the South, the North, the East, the West." Skye looked over at Father Juan. "And all the saints and apostles."

He dipped his head.

"So mote it be," the entire circle chanted.

"We accept blessings for those who are not here to accept them on their own behalf," Soleil declared.

"So mote it be," everyone replied.

Jenn swallowed hard and thought of Antonio. Skye and Father Juan had performed magickal spells on his behalf before-to cleanse him of evil and bring him back to the light. If only Antonio were here now.

"We accept victory in battle," Lune said next.

"So mote it be."

"All special cares and concerns, let the Mother grant them," Father Juan said.

"So mote it be."

"And please take care of my bunny until I get back," Autumn put in softly.

"So mote it be."

"Let the circle move," Skye decreed.

All the people in the circle put their arms over one another's shoulders and began to walk to the left. Somewhere a drumbeat began, and the shoes of the witches crunched in the snow to its rhythm. The circle wound around Jenn, Skye, Soleil, and Lune. Then, without any prompting, each person in the circle dropped their arms, rotated in a small circle of their own, and began to sing.

"May you be blessed in the arms of the Holy Mother."

Then they joined hands and circled Jenn and the other three again.

"Come to her. Strengthen her. Protect her," they chanted.

Jenn's spirit lifted; she felt as if she were rising toward the stars, and a woman's face glowed in front of her. The heavenly woman smiled gently at Jenn.

Arms encircled Jenn, holding her. It was Skye.

"Come back to Earth," Skye said, "and receive the blessing of each witch."

One by one, each member of the circle approached Jenn, paused, held up their left hand, and murmured a blessing on her.

"For strength in battle," Gordon said, his hand extended.

"For purity of purpose," said another.

"So she doesn't get hurt," Autumn intoned.

"For winning," Gramma Esther said.

"For the light of forgiveness," Father Juan said.

Jenn's face tingled. She still couldn't forgive her father. Or still wouldn't.

The blessings took over an hour, and when they were done, the others drifted away to give Jenn time alone with their High Priestess. Exhausted, exhilarated, Jenn gave Skye a hug.

"Thank you so much," she said.

Skye's answering smile was troubled. "The coven has given you good weapons, Jenn, but the more open-hearted you are, the more powerful they will be. There are barriers between you and the blessings we want to bestow on you. You have to trust the G.o.ddess. You have to love."

Anxious, Jenn pulled away slightly. "Isn't it enough that I'm willing to lay down my life?"

Skye sighed. "No, actually, it's not. That's why our way is so difficult." She cupped Jenn's cheek. "But it's worth it. Please, Jenn, try."

Then Skye raised her left hand above Jenn's head and said, "So mote it be."

More people had arrived. They had told the Salamancans that word of a worldwide attack on humans was spreading, and cells of resistance fighters were trying to talk civilians into battling the vampires. But one word of dissent landed you in a camp.

"And they're horrible places," whispered a hollow-eyed man as Father Wadim dressed deep lash marks across his back. He had been freed by some brave teenage prisoners who had orchestrated an escape. "They take the strongest ones for blood, and force the rest of us to work. I had to build more cells. And dig graves."

Skye tried to put thoughts of death out of her mind as she descended the staircase into the gloomy darkness where she had helped Holgar lock himself up the night before. He had fully recovered from his injuries, but they hadn't had a real chance to talk. She hadn't yet been to sleep, and she was still keyed up from the ritual. It had been a perfect night for Drawing Down the Moon, but it also would have been a good night for them to go up against Lucifer, since Holgar would have been in wolf form and at his most powerful and least vulnerable. He was still having trouble shifting at will.

In her vision, though, he had been in human form when fighting Lucifer and his forces.

And in my vision he was killed.

She shuddered, determined to find a way to keep that from happening.

At the bottom of the stairs she pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Holgar had told her they had been keeping Antonio in the room for a while before she and Jamie had gotten there. He had figured if it was good enough to hold a vampire, it was good enough to hold him.

She opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle him.

He was sitting up, staring at her. With a rush of relief she saw that he was wearing the sweatpants he'd had on the night before. His shirt was still crumpled up on the floor, and she couldn't help but stare at his chest and shoulders.

So strong.

"Good morning," he said.

"It will be if we get to kill Lucifer today," she drawled.

He smiled at her.

So s.e.xy.

"I'll be ready in a minute," he said.

She should leave the room. She'd seen him shirtless dozens of times before, but it had never affected her like this. She could feel her cheeks turning pink as she stared without meaning to.

"Is there something you want to say?" he asked, his grin slowly fading.

So perceptive.

It was now or never. And given the battle ahead of them, never was a very real, very immediate possibility. She couldn't do that to either of them. She closed the door behind her, not wanting anyone to accidentally disturb them. Taking a deep breath, she walked over and sat down beside him.

She looked deep into his eyes and could feel herself shaking. It was as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice and just knew she was going to fall.

The only question was, would she crash to earth or fly toward the heavens?

"Skye," he said. He took her hand in his. Warm, comforting. "What is it?"

She cleared her throat and drew a deep breath. "I've had a lot of time to think recently."

"We've all had too much time to think," he said.

"Yeah, but it really helped me work some stuff out."

He bent his head toward her, totally engrossed in what she was saying. Nervously, she bit her lip.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you, wondering how you were, when we would see each other again," she said.

"Same here," Holgar said. "You're my partner. I was angry that I wasn't allowed to come and find you."

"It's good that you didn't. You were needed here, from everything I've heard. And it gave me a lot of time to just think."

He brushed a finger against her cheek, and she trembled.

"You can tell me anything," he a.s.sured her.

She swallowed. Why is this so difficult?

He pulled his hand away. "But you can tell me later, if that would be better."

"No," she said, panic flooding her. There might not be a later. She dropped her eyes. "Okay," she murmured. "I love you."

"I love you too."

She looked up at Holgar and realized that he didn't understand. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up, and she shook her head. His smile began to fade.

"Not as a friend, or as a partner. Holgar, I-I love you, and I want to be with you."

His smile faded, and his eyes took on a strange look. She could feel herself beginning to panic. He doesn't feel the same way. That's okay. At least I told him.

"Like a mate?" he asked.

She almost started laughing. A mate was British slang for a best friend. But that's not what Holgar was likely referencing. He was a werewolf, and they called their spouses mates.

"Like a mate," she said, managing not to giggle at the unexpected language barrier.

He still looked confused and a little lost.

"For helvede," she said, using his favorite curse word. And then she leaned forward and kissed him.

She tasted surprise on his lips for just a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him. She would have to do a healing spell on her bruised ribs later, but at the moment she didn't care. All she cared about was the pa.s.sion, the yearning, she felt from him.

When at last they broke apart, she whispered again, "I love you."

"I love you too," he said.

And looking into his eyes this time, she knew that they were talking about the same thing.

"So, do we want to give us a shot?" she asked, breathless.