falling apart, and Jenn needed a shoulder, and strong arms around her. Someone who knew her, who loved her.
An image of Antonio blossomed in her mind. She shook her head. That one could not be him.
My father is with Solomon. He’s a traitor to the human race. Did Gramma see him on TV? What’s happening to us? To my family?
Shaking, she went to her room and crawled into bed, ignoring the soft knock on her door. Tensing, she thought—hoped, dreaded—that it might be Antonio, but it was Brother Manuel, the cook.
“Hunter?” he murmured in English. “I have make the breakfast.”
He was sweet to speak English to her whenever he could. She turned her face to the wall and stared into the shadows.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cursed Ones, so we are named
But you’re the ones whose hearts are maimed
Let us now come to your side
As our love burns deep inside
All that we are we bring to task
All that we have is yours, just ask
We love mankind for all you are
And take you each as a guiding star
T HE I MPERIAL H UNTING P ALACE O UTSIDE M OSCOW T HE H UNTERS OF THE S TARS OF D AVID AND THE S ONS OF THE C RESCENT
The mission’s failing , Noah Geller thought, as he fell to his knees in the moonlit snow. His back hunched, he leaned on his hands and panted like a dying animal. Hideous creatures whooped as they dogged him through the forest—human eyes, vampire fangs, and wolf jaws.
Mustering all his strength, he staggered back up to his feet. He was sweating inside his winter jacket. He lurched left, stumbling into a slender, icy tree trunk; he grabbed on to it and then slid down, grimacing as splinters peppered his wound.
He’d run as long and hard as he could, but the injury had won. Dizzy, he crumpled onto his side. More blood bloomed from his white uniform, spreading beneath him like a red parachute deflating against the earth. His chest burned as if someone were dumping hot coals inside his rib cage, and just when he thought he couldn’t bear the pain, he went strangely numb. Despite the five years he had spent in the Mossad, the Israeli special forces, he’d never been shot before, and he didn’t know if this was how it was supposed to feel.
But as he examined the darkened snow in the moonlight, he knew it was bad. And the teams were running out of time. Dantalion, a centuries-old vampire, had commandeered the palace for his experiments, to create a vampire, human, and werewolf hybrid, a supersoldier to unleash on the human race. And those supersoldiers were chasing after Noah and the Stars of David, and Taamir’s Arab team, the Sons of the Crescent. Some of the creatures had been hunters at one time, and their training plus their enhanced prowess gave them a terrible advantage over Noah and his teammates. Dantalion’s minions had dragged off most of them; those they couldn’t catch, they killed.
Before Dantalion, Russian government scientists had used the palace as a laboratory and created dozens of strains of viruses and plagues. People stayed well away from the palace grounds. All the plants in the once-lush gardens had withered and died. No birds flew. No frogs croaked. Babies born within a ten-mile radius came out wrong, and rarely lived. The palace’s evil history served as a deterrent for some freedom fighters, but not all:
It was on this filthy, snowy ground that Noah Geller was about to die.
“Shit,” he murmured. He pulled out his radio.
It no longer worked.
So he thought about Chayna, whose large Star of David pendant he wore around his neck. Chayna, his young wife, his true love, with her red hair and huge green eyes, and the gap between her two front teeth.
Seeing her as she was before he’d killed her.
Listening as heavy footfalls approached.
T OULOUSE, F RANCE
S KYE AND H OLGAR
It was ten in the morning, and the sun was poking through a murky layer of cloud cover. The old bridge was beautiful. The river was clear. Holgar had some old Gackt jammin’ through the speakers, and he was singing
An image of Antonio blossomed in her mind. She shook her head. That one could not be him.
My father is with Solomon. He’s a traitor to the human race. Did Gramma see him on TV? What’s happening to us? To my family?
Shaking, she went to her room and crawled into bed, ignoring the soft knock on her door. Tensing, she thought—hoped, dreaded—that it might be Antonio, but it was Brother Manuel, the cook.
“Hunter?” he murmured in English. “I have make the breakfast.”
He was sweet to speak English to her whenever he could. She turned her face to the wall and stared into the shadows.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cursed Ones, so we are named
But you’re the ones whose hearts are maimed
Let us now come to your side
As our love burns deep inside
All that we are we bring to task
All that we have is yours, just ask
We love mankind for all you are
And take you each as a guiding star
T HE I MPERIAL H UNTING P ALACE O UTSIDE M OSCOW T HE H UNTERS OF THE S TARS OF D AVID AND THE S ONS OF THE C RESCENT
The mission’s failing , Noah Geller thought, as he fell to his knees in the moonlit snow. His back hunched, he leaned on his hands and panted like a dying animal. Hideous creatures whooped as they dogged him through the forest—human eyes, vampire fangs, and wolf jaws.
Mustering all his strength, he staggered back up to his feet. He was sweating inside his winter jacket. He lurched left, stumbling into a slender, icy tree trunk; he grabbed on to it and then slid down, grimacing as splinters peppered his wound.
He’d run as long and hard as he could, but the injury had won. Dizzy, he crumpled onto his side. More blood bloomed from his white uniform, spreading beneath him like a red parachute deflating against the earth. His chest burned as if someone were dumping hot coals inside his rib cage, and just when he thought he couldn’t bear the pain, he went strangely numb. Despite the five years he had spent in the Mossad, the Israeli special forces, he’d never been shot before, and he didn’t know if this was how it was supposed to feel.
But as he examined the darkened snow in the moonlight, he knew it was bad. And the teams were running out of time. Dantalion, a centuries-old vampire, had commandeered the palace for his experiments, to create a vampire, human, and werewolf hybrid, a supersoldier to unleash on the human race. And those supersoldiers were chasing after Noah and the Stars of David, and Taamir’s Arab team, the Sons of the Crescent. Some of the creatures had been hunters at one time, and their training plus their enhanced prowess gave them a terrible advantage over Noah and his teammates. Dantalion’s minions had dragged off most of them; those they couldn’t catch, they killed.
Before Dantalion, Russian government scientists had used the palace as a laboratory and created dozens of strains of viruses and plagues. People stayed well away from the palace grounds. All the plants in the once-lush gardens had withered and died. No birds flew. No frogs croaked. Babies born within a ten-mile radius came out wrong, and rarely lived. The palace’s evil history served as a deterrent for some freedom fighters, but not all:
It was on this filthy, snowy ground that Noah Geller was about to die.
“Shit,” he murmured. He pulled out his radio.
It no longer worked.
So he thought about Chayna, whose large Star of David pendant he wore around his neck. Chayna, his young wife, his true love, with her red hair and huge green eyes, and the gap between her two front teeth.
Seeing her as she was before he’d killed her.
Listening as heavy footfalls approached.
T OULOUSE, F RANCE
S KYE AND H OLGAR
It was ten in the morning, and the sun was poking through a murky layer of cloud cover. The old bridge was beautiful. The river was clear. Holgar had some old Gackt jammin’ through the speakers, and he was singing
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