Read Online The Damned by Nancy Holder, Debbie Viguié - Free Book Online

set them down in the circle. The man—tall, smooth shaven, maybe twenty—smiled lopsidedly at Holgar and extended his hand to Skye. He had long, curly blond hair, white eyebrows, and blue eyes. He looked more Danish than Holgar.
    “Bienvenue,” he said. “I’m the leader of this cell.”
    “Hello,” Skye replied, shaking his hand. “I’m—”
    “No names,” he replied. “We’re glad to see you. Coffee? Tea?”
    “Tea would be lovely,” Skye said. “We’d both love it.”
    The others began to take their seats too. Holgar counted three women besides Skye and the girl who had led them in. Three guys: Mr. Danish Pastry, Holgar himself, and the guy who’d been unfolding the chairs. The stern fellow at the window had not joined them.
    “So,” Holgar said, “you know who we are, even if we aren’t saying our names. And why we’re here.”
    “Oui,” said Mr. Pastry as he poured two cups of tea and brought them to the Salamancans. “We have some information for you. Here in Toulouse there is a local Cursed One named Philippe Gaudet. His brother controls the Vieux Carré in New Orleans. The French Quarter.”
    Skye nearly choked. “Blimey, I saw a little fanger get staked for saying that. By Aurora herself.”
    “Oh?” Pastry’s eyes widened.
    “We’re pretty sure Aurora killed Christian Gaudet,” Holgar confirmed.
    “Hmm.” Pastry processed that. “Well, Aurora and Philippe Gaudet met three nights ago. Here, in Toulouse. And she told him that Solomon ‘doesn’t matter anymore.’ Those were the words she used.”
    Holgar was shocked. Solomon was the worldwide leader of all the Cursed Ones. When he had announced their existence to the world, he had described his role as “like your president.” But he was more like a dictator—like Hitler, all smiles for the TV screen while ruthlessly taking over the human world.
    “Blimey,” Skye said again, her kohl-ringed eyes raccoon enormous. “If that were true, if they’ve killed Solomon, oh, that’d be brilliant.”
    “Solomon’s not dead,” Pastry said. “But we think Aurora and Gaudet are hatching their own scheme. Maybe they plan to assassinate him. We don’t know.”
    “How do you know any of this?” Holgar asked the pastry.
    “We have eyes and ears,” he replied neutrally.
    “Maybe Paul Leitner is acting as a spy for her. Maybe that’s why he’s in Solomon’s camp,” Skye ventured.
    “Who’s Paul Leitner?” the pastry asked. Holgar and Skye fell silent, and Pastry scowled. “Trust goes both ways, my friends.”
    “He’s a team member’s father. Only he’s on their team,” Skye said.
    “A collaborator.” Pastry clenched his jaw. “When the war is over, they’ll all be dead.”
    Holgar smiled at him. It was good to hear those words from another resistance fighter.
    “But not by our hand,” Skye said, looking anxious. “We’re not about killing our own people.”
    “If they’re with the Cursed Ones, they’re not ‘our own people,’” Pastry replied.
    Holgar held out his cup. “May I have some more tea, please?”
    “Of course,” Pastry replied. “Anything for one of our people.”
    Beside him, Skye fretted.
    V ENICE, I TALY
J AMIE AND E RIKO
    They were supposed to have parked their car at the entrance to Venice, but that lot was closed. So Eriko and Jamie had left the car two miles distant from their rendezvous spot with their Venetian contact, and hoofed it so that she wouldn’t assume they weren’t coming. But little Sofia, just ten years old, had faithfully waited.
    Jamie was shocked to see such a biteen as herself wandering about on such a dangerous errand. Even though Sofia looked nothing like Maeve, she set him in mind of his dead sister. Maeve was his darlin’ girl, ripped to pieces by a pack of Irish werewolves while the local Cursers looked on, doubled over in laughter. The anger burned deep and hot; it never went away. That was what he wanted; his rage kept him alive.
    He hated this war,