by Morgan Rice
The man nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Caitlin.
“They left for Jerusalem some time ago,” he said. “If you were one of the masses coming to be healed, I would tell you it’s too late. But then again, I know you have not come to be healed. No. You have a very different purpose, don’t you?” he asked, still staring at Caitlin.
Caitlin nodded back, sensing that this man already knew everything. And for the first time in her life, she had another feeling: that this man was close to her Dad. And that he knew where he was. The feeling sent a chill through her body. She had never felt so close to him before.
“I’m looking for my Dad,” Caitlin said, and could hear her own voice trembling with anticipation.
The man smiled back.
“And he is looking for you.”
Caitlin’s eyes opened wide in surprise.
“Do you know him?” she asked.
The man nodded back.
“Where is he?” Caitlin asked, impatient.
But the man merely sighed, turned, and walked to a window pane. He stood there for a long while, looking out at the sea.
“It is not for me to say.”
All of these riddles were driving Caitlin crazy. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to know where he was.
“Why can’t you just tell me?” Caitlin asked, upset.
The man paused.
“I could tell you,” he said, “but you wouldn’t listen.”
That only deepened Caitlin’s confusion. She had no idea what he meant.
“You are in the final time and place,” he continued. “You are closer to finding your father than you can imagine. But there are also powerful forces at work. Dark forces. There is much at stake, and they want the shield. And they will stop at nothing to have it.
“The time is coming when you are going to have to make a choice. To make a great sacrifice. Remember that your father and the shield must come before all else. Before all personal desire. Even before family. Do you understand? It won’t be easy. There will be hard choices for you to make. But you must make them. For all of us. Do you understand?” he asked again.
Caitlin slowly nodded back, but she didn’t quite understand. What choices would she have to make? Was this man seeing her future? She had an eerie feeling that he was.
“We are all counting on you,” he added. “You must find your father. You must get the shield before they do. If they get it first, there will be unthinkable evil and cruelty for all time to come.”
Caitlin felt more of an urgency than ever to find her father, and the shield, especially before the others. But she still had no idea where to begin.
“You cannot meet your father until the timing is right. Not one second before, not one second after. There is a cycle of fate in the universe. The stars must line up perfectly. And then, and only then, will you meet.”
The man turned and faced her, and Caitlin sensed that he knew even more—not only about her father, but about Scarlet.
“And what of my daughter?” she asked. “Is she here? In this time and place?”
“Yes,” the man replied simply.
His direct answer surprised Caitlin, and thrilled her at the same time. Scarlet was here. She was alive. She felt flooded with relief—and also anticipation. She had to find her.
“Where is she?” Caitlin demanded.
The man shook his head.
“Again, that is not for me to tell you. But I will tell you this: until you find your father, you will not find Scarlet. Search for Scarlet, and you will lose them both. Search for your father, and you will find them both.”
“But I don’t know how to find him,” Caitlin snapped, frustrated.
“Oh, but you do,” the man replied. “You have already found the first clue. You trusted your intuition, and it has worked. It sits there now, in your hand.”
Caitlin suddenly remembered: the Star of David. She held it in her palm, examining it, wondering.
The man crossed the room slowly, reached out, and took the star. He held it up, examining it. He nodded in satisfaction.
“See?” he said. “I couldn’t have found this. It was meant for you. And you alone. Only you can use it.”
Caitlin looked over at Caleb, befuddled. He looked back at her blankly.
Use it? she wondered.
“How?” she asked.
He looked over at the golden pedestal before the cabinet. Caitlin followed his gaze.
There, in the center of the pedestal, was a hollowed-out shape. As she looked closely, she was shocked to realize that the shape was in the exact size of the Star of David.
She looked at the man for confirmation, and he handed the star back to her and nodded.
She turned and walked over to it. She gently held out the star, and placed it inside the pedestal.
It was a perfect fit, sinking down into the small the space.
Suddenly there was a noise, high above her head. Caitlin looked up and saw a small portion of the ceiling retract, and the sound of scraping stone. As it opened, a shaft of sunlight streamed in at a sharp angle, illuminating a small patch of wall, about a foot wide.
Caitlin was shocked. She hurried over to the wall with Caleb. As she looked closely, she noticed this section was different than the rest of the wall. As the sun hit it, she could just barely make out letters, carved into the stone.
It was a message. Carved in ancient, Hebrew letters, running from right to left.
She had no idea what it meant. She looked over at Caleb, hoping he did.
“Can you read it?” she asked.
He nodded, wide-eyed in surprise. He looked as if he’d just seen a ghost.
“It is a message,” he said, and turned and looked at her. “And it is from your father.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Scarlet roamed the narrow streets of Jerusalem with Ruth, feeling unlike she ever had. She felt as if something inside her had been unleashed, something she didn’t understand, and couldn’t contain. She felt more animal than human. She was roving, looking for her next kill, and she didn’t even trust herself.
The taste and smell of blood filled Scarlet’s every pore. Her first kill had been indescribable, something beyond what she could have ever imagined. The feel of that man’s blood filling her veins did something to her, something she couldn’t explain: she felt filled with power and strength at the same time. Reborn.
Yet it also whet her appetite. It turned on a switch inside, made her realize how good it could feel—and it demanded more. She now roamed the streets wildly, watching people’s throats, zooming in on the pulsing of their heartbeat. She felt an itch inside her veins, a thirst for more victims.
She also felt a fresh sense of rage, of entitlement, that she never had before. And of fearlessness. She turned down another alleyway, this one crowded with people, and this time, she no longer cowered, hid from anyone. Instead, she walked boldly, strutting right down the center. And when people got too close to her, she merely put her shoulder into them and knocked them out of the way.
“Hey little girl, watch it!” a man yelled.
Scarlet turned and smiled at him, feeling her fangs protruding, feeling her eyes glowing red, and heard the guttural sound she made. She saw horror and fear on the man’s face, and watched him quickly turn and run away. She knew that, now, she was a thing to fear.
Scarlet heard Ruth snarling beside her, too, and she felt more of a kinship with Ruth than ever. She also could feel Ruth picking up on her rage, sharing it. The two of them were like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.
Scarlet spotted the vendor she had seen before, with his huge rack of meat. This time, she was determined to get Ruth fed.
The vendor saw her coming, and stood out before his booth. He reached up his hands and started whistling like crazy. It was a loud, piercing whistle, cutting through the crowd.
“Guards! GUARDS!” he shrieked.
But Scarlet didn’t pause. She walked right up to him.
The big, beefy man reached down to grab Scarlet, and she felt his paws on her arm. He was strong, stronger than she could have imagined, and the old Scarlet would have slunk away in fear.
But now, she was unafraid. On the contrary, she hoped for this, relished it.
With an ease unlike any he could have imagined, she twisted his big arm around, leaned up her elbow, and brought it down the back of his, cracking his arm in half. The man shrieked out in pain.
She then reached over, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hurled him through the crowd. The huge man, well over 300 pounds, went flying through the air as if he were a child’s toy, and went crashing into the booths, knocking over dozens of carts, small tables crashing onto all the vendors. People screamed in fear and confusion, and the crowd recoiled, away from Scarlet. They kept a safe perimeter, looking back at her with complete bewilderment.
Scarlet turned back to the meat on the spit. She grabbed the entire hunk, snatched it off, and held it out to Ruth. Ruth snarled as she tore off every last scrap of meat, eating the entire thing, which was even bigger than her. Ruth ate and ate, until Scarlet could feel that she was sated.
Scarlet suddenly heard a sharp whistling noise and turned to see dozens of Roman soldiers marching towards her from one end. She heard another whistling, and turned in the other direction to see dozens more marching at her from the other.
But again, Scarlet was unafraid. On the contrary, she looked forward to the idea of battle, to having an outlet on which to vent her unquenchable need for violence. She didn’t wait for them to approach, but instead, charged right for them. They trotted towards her, hands on their swords and on their shields, but she sprinted for them at lightning speed.
Scarlet jumped into the air, and planted her two feet on the chest of the lead soldier, kicking him with such force that he went flying backwards, knocking down a dozen soldiers like dominoes.
The other soldiers jumped on Scarlet from behind, knocking her to the ground.
But with hardly any effort, she merely jumped up and threw back her arms, and as she did, she sent them flying in every direction. They smashed into the walls, and collapsed onto the ground.
The remaining soldiers faced her, pausing, and she could see the fear in their eyes. Three of the them drew their swords and charged.
But from Scarlet’s perspective it was as if they were moving in slow motion. She ducked and dodged, and their swords swung by harmlessly. She snatched one of their shields, then spun around and smashed one in the head, then pulled it back and threw it like a Frisbee, knocking another one in the chest and sending him to the ground.
Ruth came charging beside her, leapt into the air, and pounced onto the chest of the third soldier, taking him down before he could swing.
Scarlet looked down and saw the dozens of soldiers sprawled out before her, and she felt more invincible than ever.
That was when she felt it. Suddenly, from behind, she felt a net being hurled over her, enveloping her, and Ruth. She tried to yank it off, but as she grabbed it, she felt herself inexplicably weaken. The material was so cold, had such a strange sensation to the touch. And it was so heavy.
That was when she realized: the net was made of silver. And as it touched her body, it drained her strength and power. It made her weak, helpless, just like any other human.
She felt the bodies of the remaining soldiers pouncing down on her, pinning her to the ground.
And the last thing she saw, as she turned her neck, was the furious face of a Roman soldier, bringing his fist down hard, right for cheek.
CHAPTER NINE
As the sun began to set, Sam walked with Samantha in a desolate part of the streets of Jerusalem, far from anyone. They had been walking for hours, Samantha silently leading him, and he had followed without a word. There was something about her—there had always been something about her—that made Sam want to be with her, want to follow her, without even asking why.
Sam thought back to the very first time he’d met her, in the Hudson Valley, when she was living alone in that house. He had been surprised to realize he was on her property—and even more surprised that an older woman would be interested in him. It was the first time he’d ever been smitten, and the first time he’d ever fallen in love.
As they walked for hours, far from the crowds, Samantha leading him through obscure parts of the city, memories of their relationship came flooding back. Sam recalled their drive together that day in the Hudson Valley, their going to that trailer park, discovering that man who pretended to be his father was just an impostor, a creep. Sam remembered when he saw Samantha kill him—the first time he’d ever seen a vampire kill anyone. He remembered being transfixed by her.
He remembered their going to Boston, to the King’s church, their losing the sword to Kyle. He remembered being captured, imprisoned, in New York. And most of all, he remembered that fateful night when she turned him. When she became his maker. At that moment the relationship between them changed from mere love to something endless, timeless.
Sam had thought that he’d put her out of his mind long ago—but truthfully, deep down, he knew that he had never quite forgotten. Memories of her had always lurked somewhere, deep in his consciousness. He felt himself drawn to her at times, like a magnet, like a servant wanting to return to its master. And now, with her by his side, he felt in some ways like he had found his way back home.
But he also remembered their parting. He remembered how she had urged him to kill his own sister, when he had fallen so completely under her spell, and had almost done it. Then he remembered breaking free from her, and never wanting to see her again. There remained a part of him that could still never forgive her for what she had done.
But now, here, in this different time and place, he was surprised to find himself happy to be in her presence. After all, he had changed: he was not the same person he used to be. Everything in the past that she had done, all of her violence, and ambition, and rage, and trickery—everything that had once bothered him so much—now, he liked. He admired it. The very same qualities he once despised, now, he looked up to. Now, he found himself wanting to be with her.
Yet as they walked in silence, Sam couldn’t help wondering if all these memories of Samantha had flooded back to him naturally—or if Samantha had played one of her mind tricks, and had implanted all those feelings into his brain. Was she still manipulating him, even now?
But the funny thing was, Sam didn’t care. He wanted to be manipulated. He wanted to be with her. She was so overflowing with vengeance and darkness that he saw himself in her—and he no longer cared about whatever dark place she would lead him.
Samantha reached over and took his hand and squeezed it hard. She looked over at him, and as he looked into her pale blue eyes, he could feel their connection grow even stronger. Before, roaming the streets of Jerusalem alone, he’d felt no sense of direction, of purpose. Now, with her by his side, he felt he was being led in the direction he was meant to go.
They continued walking down a narrow side street, up a steep hill, and as they went, Sam looked up and saw a huge structure waiting before them: an ancient, pagan Temple. Shaped in an octagon, it was surrounded by Roman columns and covered by a shiny, circular dome. There were eight columns and each took the shape of a different pagan God. Gargoyles stuck out from all corners, and even from here, as they walked straight up towards it, into the blood-red sun, Sam could feel the evil energy coming off this place.
Sam could hardly believe they were back in a time and place where people still actively worshipped pagan gods. The old Sam would have recoiled from this place; but the new Sam looked forward to it. He felt that, behind those walls, were those like him. He couldn’t wait to meet them.
“You are about to meet our leader,” Samantha said to him, in a cold, raspy voice. “I�
�ve been sent to bring you back home. With us. Where you belong. This will be a great place of welcome and honor for you. The place where you can fulfill your destiny. You’re one of us now, Sam. Your time for searching is over.”
“I know,” he replied, and was surprised to realize how gravelly his own voice had become.
They reached the top of the hill, walked across the wide marble plaza, and up a long flight of marble steps leading to the temple entrance. Standing guard under the portico were a dozen huge vampires, dressed in all black. They wore elaborate velvet cloaks, despite the heat, with a broad red sash crossing over them. They hissed back in greeting, and Sam could see their long fangs protruding. He looked down and saw their hands were irregular: each had only two fingers and a thumb, long and pointy, with nails that stretched for inches and were sharpened to a point. Their skin was stark white, and covered in blisters. These were no normal vampires, he realized. He had reached their capitol: the capitol of darkness.
They reached over, grabbed the large knockers, and yanked open the enormous arched brass doors for them. They opened with a creak, and Samantha walked right in, not even hesitating. Sam followed. As he did, he felt a wind behind them and heard the door slam, just inches behind, locking them in.
Sam found himself in an octagonal room, framed by columns, filled with statues of pagan gods. It was a vast and open space that reminded him of the Pantheon in Rome, except on a smaller scale. Milling about were hundreds of vampires, dressed in black, some of them flying about the room, hovering in the air, but most on the ground, squirming. Among them were female humans, naked, sprawled across the floor. The vampires, Sam could see, were busy feeding on them.
The room was filled with the screams and moans of humans, suffering, trying to get away. But there was nowhere for them to go. It was a bloodbath: hundreds of vampires feeding on hundreds of innocent humans. The entire floor was alive, squirming with victims and victimizers.
