by Morgan Rice
On the far side of the room, all along the walls, more humans were chained to the walls, some of them crucified on crosses, others bound to columns. More vampires stood over them, beside them, behind them, whipping them, beating them with straps, and torturing them in all kinds of ways. Their cries punctuated the air, rising even over the cries of the vampires on the ground. Sadistic smiles lit up the faces of all the vampires, busy torturing the humans for sport. While in the past Sam would have recoiled from such a sight, now he enjoyed it. He understood it. Even sympathized. These vampires needed an outlet for their boundless rage and lust, needed something on which to unleash it.
In the center of the room, on a throne atop a raised dais built of solid gold, sat a single vampire, watching over it all, his back to them. Around him stood a dozen minions, awaiting his smallest nod.
Sam and Samantha took several steps in, and as they did, the seated vampire spun in his chair and turned to them.
Sam recognized this vampire. He had seen him once before, centuries ago, in New York City. Beneath City Hall. It was their grand leader. The ancient one, who had lived for thousands of years. Rexius.
A shriveled-up old man, his face covered in endless age lines, nearly bald, with white hair and drooping eyes, Rexius sat hunched in his throne, looking down on all of it with satisfaction. Sam could see he was living vicariously through all of it.
Rexius fixed his ancient, pale-blue eyes on Sam, and Sam could feel the evil emanating off of them, aiming right for him. Rexius reached up with his huge, golden staff, banged it several times, and slowly, all the motion in the room stopped. The room gradually quieted, as much as it could amidst the screams and moans.
Sam felt Samantha take his hand, and they walked right through the room, through the crowd of bodies that parted ways, and right up to the dais. They looked up at Rexius, who gazed down at them. He was ancient, inscrutable, and Sam couldn’t tell if he was looking at them with rebuke or approval—or both.
The room quieted, as hundreds of eyes turned to watch the encounter.
“So…” Rexius began slowly, in his deep, gravelly voice, “…the chicken comes home to roost.”
He breathed deeply.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for centuries. I should kill you now, just for making me wait so long.”
Sam was not intimidated; instead, he felt a fresh dose of rage rise up within him. He could tear this man apart. How dare he—or any man—talk to him that way.
“And I should kill you for speaking to me this way,” Sam responded, snarling, beginning to walk forward.
But he felt Samantha’s reassuring hand stop him, hold his shoulder, and he hesitated.
Rexius’ eyes opened wide, as an astonished gasp spread throughout the room. It was apparent that no one spoke to Rexius this way.
During the tense silence, Sam braced himself for an attack.
But suddenly, Rexius threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Rexius said. “Good. Very good. I like your hatred. It rejuvenates me.”
Rexius surveyed Sam, nodding.
“Yes, yes,” he said slowly. “You are truly one of us now, aren’t you? Yes, very good. You will serve us well. You will serve our cause very well indeed.”
He sighed.
“You have arrived not a moment too late,” Rexius continued, his voice booming, echoing off the walls. “Now is a time of great urgency. Other forces are close to the shield. We must stop them. You are the final key to attaining the shield.”
Sam stared back, racking his brain, trying to remember. The shield. He vaguely remembered…there was something about this father…. But it all seemed so hazy now, so far away. And with Kyle’s spirit overwhelming him, and with thoughts of Samantha racing through his head, it was hard for him to think clearly.
“We stand at the precipice of history,” Rexius said. “Now is our moment. If we find the shield before they do, we can dominate all humankind, all vampire kind, forever. There will be nothing but wars and bloodshed and chaos and destruction for all time. It is the moment we have all been dreaming for. For thousands of lifetimes. We are as close as we have ever been. And with you here, there is nothing left to stop us.”
He breathed.
“But, unfortunately, your sister is searching, too. And she is very close. So is her husband. Your sister is the one I most fear, though. She is here, back in time. And she’s aligned herself with powerful people. Even as we speak, she is searching. And she is close. Too close. We must find it before she does!” Rexius suddenly screeched out, slamming his staff against the floor, the veins popping out of his face.
The entire room went silent.
Sam tried to concentrate, to remember all the details. His sister. His father. The shield. Somewhere, deep inside, he thought he detected remnants of feelings. Brotherly love. A desire to protect her.
But these thoughts were confused, muddled by other, new, feelings. Rexius’ words hung in his ears, Kyle’s spirit coursed in his veins, and Samantha squeezed his hand—and he found himself unable to focus, unable to think of anything but destruction.
“There is one other, too,” Rexius continued slowly. “Just as grave a threat to us is this rogue, this rebel named Jesus. He walks about as we speak, preaching his idiotic sermons. We must kill him before he inflicts any more harm. He is the one your sister seeks. And if we don’t reach him in time, they will join forces and find the shield. We cannot let that happen.”
Rexius turned and nodded, and suddenly there stepped forward a single vampire, the only one of them dressed in white. He had long black hair, a long black beard, and large black eyes. They were wide, and glowing with intensity as he stared right at Sam.
“Judas here will infiltrate Jesus’ circle, and will help us bring him down. And then, we will catch your sister.”
Rexius turned to Sam.
“But without you, we can’t find her. Without you, we can’t finish her off.”
Rexius stood from his throne, staring down at Sam.
“Samson of the Blacktide Coven, are you prepared to help us in our cause? Are you prepared to help us find the shield, to help us kill Jesus, and to help us kill your sister?”
Sam stood there, feeling his body shaking, rising with thoughts of violence and destruction. He tried to think clearly, but all he could see in front of him were flames, rising higher and higher. It was a vision he could not shake, as much as he wanted to.
“I will kill anything and anyone in my way,” Sam replied. He stared at Rexius. “I might even kill you, if I choose.”
Rexius stared down at him, and slowly, his surprised look morphed into a smile.
“Exactly the words I longed to hear.”
CHAPTER TEN
As Caitlin and Caleb flew over the Israeli countryside, the sun beginning to set, the sky blending in shades of pink and the temperature finally cooling, Caitlin ran over in her head the inscription on the wall. Caleb had explained it to her, but still, she couldn’t quite process its significance.
It had read: Where the graves rise, the olive tree has many branches.
She’d had no idea what that meant. Caleb explained that he thought it was a reference, a clue that they needed to go to the ancient Mount of Olives, the legendary mountain that sat on the outskirts of Jerusalem. It was a mystical place, he said, part cemetery and part olive grove, and had been one of the most important places of vampire power for millennia. It was rumored, he said, to be home to the most powerful vampire coven of all.
They hadn’t stopped flying since, racing towards the Mount, towards Jerusalem. The entire time, Caitlin couldn’t stop wondering if she would find her Dad there. Or the Shield. Or, she dared to hope, Scarlet. She couldn’t get there fast enough.
The Israeli countryside below her was breathtaking. As they headed south, getting ever closer to Jerusalem, the terrain constantly changed, from desert, to mountains, to hills, to rolling green valleys. They passed ri
vers, small, rural towns, endless farms, and groves of palm trees. The country seemed barely populated, looking like one huge rural stretch of farmland, with just the occasional house, and small village, here and there.
As they rounded a bend, the sky now alight with shades of orange, Caleb suddenly pointed.
“There!” he said. “See that peak in the distance? That’s it.”
Caitlin squinted, and in the distance, she could barely make it out. It looked like every other mountain peak, except that she could see, even from here, it was completely covered in small olive trees, their silver branches glistening in the last light of sun.
“The Mount of Olives is famous not only because it towers over Jerusalem,” Caleb said, as they flew closer, “but also because it is the place where Jesus gave his sermons. In the future, centuries from now, it will be home to one of the most important churches in all Christianity. It has also, for thousands of years, been home to the most famous cemetery in the world. Everyone wants to be buried there, because the Bible holds that in the End of Days, when the Messiah comes, this is the place he will appear first. And those buried here will be the first to resurrect.”
“But I still don’t understand: why does our clue lead us here?” Caitlin asked. “How is this related to our search?”
Caleb shook his head.
“I have no idea,” he answered.
They dove down, circling the Mount. Up close, it was even more beautiful. Caitlin could see the thousands of small olives filling the branches, the beautiful slopes rising up and down, the small, twisted trees looking ancient. And over the edge of the mountain, on the horizon, she could just begin to see the ancient city of Jerusalem, nestled in the valley like a jewel shining in the sunset. She could feel its energy even from here. It was breathtaking.
Caleb dove down for the mountaintop, and Caitlin followed. They landed high up, on a plateau, in the midst of the olive trees.
They stood there, getting their bearings, taking in the incredible vista, the sweeping sunset in every direction. It was incredible. Caitlin felt as if she were atop the world.
But as beautiful as it was, Caitlin still had no idea what they were doing there. She didn’t know what to look for, and she didn’t see any sign of her Dad, or of Scarlet—or anyone.
She did, in the distance, see a row of small, marble headstones, a graveyard on one of the slopes. She ambled over, drawn to it, Caleb by her side. She walked amidst the stones, examining them. They looked as if they’d been there for thousands of years.
She saw a few stones which seemed bigger than the others and she knelt beside one, reached down and brushed off the dirt, feeling an energy coming off of it. As she did, a name appeared.
Caitlin stood, as if she had been struck by a lightning bolt. She could not believe it. It was a name that she knew.
Caitlin Paine.
She stood there, shocked, wondering what it meant. Caleb seemed equally surprised, and he knelt down beside the other and brushed that one off, too.
Caitlin was even more surprised: it was engraved with Caleb’s name.
“What does it mean?” Caitlin asked.
“I don’t know,” Caleb answered, grimly.
The two of them stood there, frozen, almost afraid to check the third stone. Finally, Caitlin knelt down and brushed it off.
She could not believe it.
Aiden.
She turned to Caleb.
“Can it be? Our Aiden?”
As Caitlin saw his name, memories came flooding back. She recalled the last time she saw him, in Scotland, standing before the castle, informing her of all the tragedy that had befell their coven. Telling her she was their last hope, that she had to fulfill the mission. She thought of all the times she had seen him, all the places, going back to Pollepel, and she was overwhelmed with emotion.
“Yes, it is me,” came a voice.
Caitlin wheeled, and was shocked to see standing there, barely a few feet away, the man himself.
Aiden.
He wore a long white robe and hood, with his flowing gray hair and beard, and stared back at Caitlin with his large blue eyes, as if he had just seen her yesterday.
Slowly, he broke into a smile.
“I thought you would get here sooner.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Scarlet felt herself being pushed and prodded down the dark stone corridor of the prison, as they descended lower and lower into the earth. Her hands were clasped tightly behind her back with silver shackles, while Ruth was being led beside her, a muzzle over her mouth. Scarlet was terrified as they went, hearing the distant shouts of prisoners, getting ever closer. They sounded like vicious people, and she felt as if she were being led into the depths of hell, right towards an insane asylum.
As she was shoved again, hard in the back, Scarlet caught a glimpse of her warder: he was a huge man, with a big fat belly, unshaven, with missing teeth. She could smell his awful breath even from here.
“Keep moving, you little brat!” he said.
He then wound up and kicked Ruth hard in her back, sending her flying forward, too, and banging her head into a stone wall. Ruth yelped. There was nothing she could do, though, with the muzzle securely over her face.
Their warder laughed. Scarlet felt her rage well up, but there was nothing she could do: she tried again to twist her arms, her wrists, her hands. But she couldn’t break free. They were securely bound behind her, and the silver made her powerless.
Scarlet thought back to what had happened earlier, to her rampage, her first feeding, her fighting all the soldiers…. She regretted hurting anyone. She really hadn’t wanted to. But the need for feeding, for blood, had consumed her so completely, she hadn’t been in her right mind. No one had ever taught her how to feed. What to do. She had to fend for herself, and she did the best she could.
But she did not regret hurting those mean soldiers, and she was still furious they’d caught her in a silver net. She didn’t feel that she deserved to be thrown into this dungeon. She felt more alone than ever. She could only imagine what horrors awaited her down below, as she was led deeper into the darkness, the corridors lit only by flickering torches.
“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” came the guttural voice behind her. “They told me to take you to the lowest chamber, to the silver room. Lock you up behind silver bars. But I don’t see how you need it. You’re just a flimsy little girl, aren’t you? No harm to anyone, are you?”
Scarlet felt his fat, sweaty palm suddenly grab the back of her neck, and then run up the back of her head, under her hair. She could hear him licking his lips, swallowing.
“Before I bring you down, I think I might teach you a thing or two. Break you in. Have my way with you, if you know what I mean?” he said with a laugh.
Scarlet felt the hair rise on her arms; she despised the sound of his voice. Beside her, Ruth snarled.
But she was helpless. She yanked again and again, but couldn’t break free.
Suddenly, the man grabbed her and threw her into a side chamber. Scarlet sensed that he was defying orders, not doing what he’d been directed to. That he was going to take advantage of her, for his own means. She looked up and saw the lustful look on his face, as he stared down, licking his lips. She realized that this would be bad.
He suddenly grabbed her by the shirt and tore open the buttons.
Scarlet squirmed, turning her back on him. She could feel her body shaking, and was more afraid than ever.
“Don’t you touch me!” she screamed back. But she knew it was useless.
The man smacked her hard in the back of her head, and she cowered from the pain.
She then felt him undo the silver clasps binding her wrists, unlocking them.
“You don’t need these after all, do you?” he asked. “No. Taking them off will make my time with you more fun.”
Scarlet felt the clasps slip off her wrists, then slink down to the ground. They landed on the stone with a clink.
S
he could not believe her luck. As the silver fell off of her, she felt a new power rise within her: it was as if a huge chain had been lifted from her. She could not understand the effect that silver had, but now, she felt completely rejuvenated. She felt all her power rushing back, infusing her from head to toe.
The man reached around and grabbed her from behind. He was strong, and his beefy hands clamped down on her. He reached up and began to squeeze her throat.
And that was his last mistake.
Now Scarlet had strength to fight back. She grabbed his huge wrist, spun it around, and easily held it there, in mid-air.
The man looked down, eyes wide in shock, uncomprehending.
Scarlet held his wrist for several seconds, enjoying the moment, feeling so much stronger than he. Now the tables had turned. His hand shook as he tried to break free. But he could not. His astonishment deepened.
Scarlet slowly turned back his wrist, turning it nearly upside down, until the man finally dropped to his knees before her, crying out in pain. She kept turning it back, more and more slowly, relishing the moment.
Soon, the huge man was shaking, trembling.
“You little witch!” he screamed. “I’m going to kill you!”
Snap.
The man screamed out in pain as Scarlet broke his wrist.
Now, she wanted vengeance. Not just for her, but for any girl this man may have victimized. And, of course, for Ruth. No one treats Ruth that way.
Scarlet wound up and kicked him hard in the face, snapping back his neck, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor, not moving.
Scarlet ran over to Ruth and tore off her muzzle. Ruth snarled, and without missing a beat, leapt onto the man, sinking her teeth into his throat.
The man squirmed on the ground, in agony, then scurried to his hands and knees and crawled into the corner, covering his head with his hands, trying to get away. But Ruth kept biting him, leaving bite marks all over him, as the man cowered in the corner.
Suddenly, Scarlet felt a silver net cover her again from behind. She couldn’t believe it.
