by Morgan Rice
Caitlin had been so lost in her thoughts she’d hadn’t noticed Caleb lagging behind. She turned back to face her husband.
“What is it?” she asked.
He shook his head, but there was a grave expression on his face.
“Something’s wrong,” he said.
Caitlin felt her heart rate increase. It wasn’t like Caleb to sense things; that seemed to be a trait that she had exclusively to herself. Seeing him like this made her nervous.
“What’s wrong?” she asked with trepidation.
Caleb seemed on edge. He kept looking over his shoulder as though expecting something to appear from the shadows. He tugged at the neckline of his shirt, seemingly uncomfortable with the hot Florida air.
“Caleb, you’re scaring me,” Caitlin said. “Please tell me what’s wrong?”
“Just go on inside,” Caleb said hurriedly.
“What about you?” Caitlin asked.
“I’ll keep an eye on things.”
Caleb’s eyes darted from left to right. He was wound up so tightly it seemed as though he could explode any second.
“Come inside,” Caitlin said, calmly, softly, trying to coax Caleb out of his strange episode.
Caleb flinched, as though he had heard the rumble of thunder. But there was no storm to be seen or heard, and the one Caitlin had seen on the horizon from the windshield of the plane had been left behind hours ago.
“If I’m in the house, how will I protect you?” Caleb said.
Caitlin frowned.
“Protect me from what?” she asked.
She felt as though she were talking to a child, a stranger. She had never seen Caleb behave like this.
It was then that she saw something in the sky approaching them. Her heart leapt into her throat. It was the Immortalist army. They had found them. They had followed them across the east coast, trailed them for hours to this place. She’d been right when she thought she saw shapes following them. She should never have doubted herself.
“Caleb, quick, they’re here!” Caitlin screamed.
Caleb immediately broke from his strange trance. He raced forward and grabbed hold of his wife’s hands. Together, they bolted up the steps and began pounding on the door.
The second Caitlin’s grandmother answered it, they flew inside. Caleb immediately began double locking it, and wedged a chair against the door knob.
“Do you have a gun?” he said to the frail old woman.
“A ‘hello’ would be nice,” she replied.
“There’s no time, Grandma,” Caitlin replied. “Give Caleb a gun if you have one.”
The old woman seemed bemused. She shuffled off in her nightdress then reappeared with a hunting rifle. Caleb took it from her and positioned himself at the living room window.
“What’s going on?” Caitlin’s grandmother asked.
Caitlin took the woman’s frail hands in hers and began leading her up the stairs.
“I need to see the box, Grandma,” she said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” came her grandmother’s reply.
“Yes you do,” Caitlin said with a note of warning in her voice. “The time for secrets is over. Scarlet is a vampire, Grandma, and I know you know what that means.”
The woman twisted her lips as though she were considering challenging Caitlin. In the end, she decided otherwise.
“It’s dangerous,” she said simply.
“I know,” Caitlin replied. “But it might be the only way I can help Scarlet.”
The two women had reached the second floor now. Caitlin tugged down the cord for the attic stairs to descend. She gestured for her grandmother to climb up first but the old woman shook her head.
“You’ll know what to do when you get there,” she said, gently, patting Caitlin on the arm.
“There’s an army coming,” Caitlin told her grandmother. “You need to come up here with me.”
The old woman just shook her head.
“My place is here,” she said. “This is your adventure to be had.”
Caitlin squeezed her grandmother’s hand, feeling as though it may the last time she saw her alive, then turned and climbed the steps.
The attic was dusty and piled with boxes, old furniture and bags of discarded clothing. Mice had nibbled holes through the cardboard and left their droppings in a trail across the floor. Caitlin crinkled her nose in disgust as she tiptoed over to the place where she leather box should be.
It didn’t take her long to find it, and the moment she saw it, she felt a strong sensation inside of her, telling her that coming here had been the right thing to do. But she was also filled with apprehension. Whatever happened next would be difficult, life-altering, even.
As she reached a hand out for the box she heard the first crack of the rifle. Through the small window in the attic she saw the Immortalist army just on the precipice of the lawn, approaching slowly. Though Caleb was an excellent shot, the Immortalists could move with such lightning speed, none of his shots reached them.
Caitlin turned and grabbed the box. Its strange patterned flower design seemed so familiar. She had looked at this box many times in her youth but had never gotten the chance to open it.
From downstairs came the sound of glass smashing. Caitlin swallowed hard and pulled open the lid.
Everything happened at once. A light burst from the box with such force Caitlin was thrown backwards. At the same time, footsteps pounded in through the house, ascended the staircase. People were shouting, Caleb was shouting, her grandmother was crying out.
Caitlin had to fight her urge to run to them and help them. She pulled herself to standing and threw herself toward the light.
At the same moment, the Immortalists burst into the attic. Bathed in the yellow glow from the box, Caitlin felt as though she were looking at them through a filter. It was as though she were on the other side of a waterfall. They raced toward her but as their hands outstretched, trying to grab her, nothing happened, they could not get her.
The attic backdrop began to fade away. The last image Caitlin saw was of Caleb wrestling his way up the stairs and engaging in hand-to-hand combat with an Immortalist. Even Caitlin’s scream didn’t sound out.
Then, all at once, everything went black. Everything was silent.
What have I done? Caitlin thought desperately.
There was nothing to see, nothing to hear. Caitlin had no idea what had happened.
Then a small white light appeared before Caitlin’s eyes. The light flickered, and Caitlin thought it resembled an old black-and-white movie reel, shaking as the images moved before her. There was no sound, just a flickering image of a cemetery and a mob of angry villagers.
“I know this,” Caitlin said aloud. “I’ve seen this before.”
She watched on, entranced, as the image bled away and was replaced by the ancient cloisters of Assisi, in the Umbrian countryside. Then it changed again, and Caitlin found herself looking at a bird’s-eye view of a grand ball.
“Venice,” she said.
The strange image changed again, this time showing her eighteenth-century Paris from the air, before swooping into a medieval castle near the ocean, and in through a window, pausing only on a face that made Caitlin’s heart race. Caleb.
And there they were, in Versailles, feasting and partying, attending concerts, falling more deeply in love. Then the Paris flickering before Caitlin’s eyes transformed into London.
“It was 1599,” Caitlin said, feeling the memories being pulled from deep inside her mind.
The image roved from amazing medieval architecture, to breathtaking countryside and castles. It hovered over a Shakespeare play being performed at the Globe theatre, before coming to rest on another face.
“Scarlet!” Caitlin cried out, her heart aching.
This was the moment they had found their daughter. Right before Caleb proposed.
Caitlin’s emotions roiled inside of her. She couldn’t understand what was happening
or what she was seeing. Somehow she knew that the images were real, that she was looking back at events that had truly happened, that she had really experienced. But it didn’t make sense. How could she have forgotten all of this? All these adventures? All the danger and beauty?
The next image was of the Isle of Skye, a remote island off the western coast of Scotland.
“We married here,” Caitlin said, as tears pricked at her eyes.
The memories she thought she had, of her ordinary wedding to her ordinary husband, were suddenly replaced with the ones being shown before her. How had she ever forgotten such an amazing moment, when she and Caleb had exchanged vows in an elaborate vampire wedding? The memories that had replaced them seemed dull in comparison, and Caitlin could hardly believe she’d let herself be tricked into believing them.
Then a final image appeared. Ancient Israel, a place of holy sites and synagogues, labyrinthian streets and mazes of alleyways, secret pagan temples, and the Holy Temple of Solomon in its capital of Jerusalem. Caitlin watched on as the city of Nazareth appeared before her, then Capernaum, and the Mount of Olives. She knew every image intimately, leaving no doubt in her mind that she had seen them with her very eyes.
The light faded out, returning Caitlin to absolute blackness. Caitlin was so stunned by what she had just witnessed, she could hardly breathe.
“It was real,” she said aloud. “It was all real. Everything in my vampire journals really happened.”
Yet where did that leave her now?
Finally able to take in her surroundings, Caitlin first became aware of the intense heat, then the smell of sand and decay in the air. She could hear the distant sound of dripping, coming from what seemed like a long, long way away, echoing as though from the walls of a cave. Caitlin realized then that she was deep underground.
She stepped forward and heard the distinctive sound of sand scraping against her shoe.
Up ahead there seemed to be light coming from somewhere—a room, or a crack in a doorway. As Caitlin approached, she noted the flickering, the tell-tale sign that it was a flame. A candle, or torch, perhaps.
She rounded a corner and the light grew stronger here, sending shards of light up the walls.
Caitlin gasped as it dawned on her where she was, and where the leather box had taken her.
It can’t be, she thought, not daring to let herself believe it.
But it was true. As she peered through the gloom, she realized she was standing on the edge of cliff face, staring down into a city carved into stone.
She was beneath the Sphinx in Egypt.
And staring down at the lost vampire city.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Vivian lurked in the shadows outside of Blake’s house, concealing herself behind a tree. From this angle, she could see that inside the house there was a single light on, in an upstairs bedroom. She decided to try her luck and, with a quick glance around her to make sure no one was looking, flew up to the window.
She landed on the sloped porch roof with a soft thud and peered in through the glass. There was Blake. The sight of him made a sensation like electricity buzz through her veins. She was so close to owning him, to beating Scarlet. Her heart fluttered with anticipation.
Blake was facing away, seated on his bed with his shoulders hunched. Vivian deduced from his posture that he was unhappy. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her brain, she felt that old human emotion of sympathy. But it was nowhere near as strong as the power of her vampire desire, her need to consume him.
She tapped on the window with one of her perfectly manicured fingernails.
Blake flinched and looked around, surprised. When he saw Vivian crouched on his porch roof, his eyebrows drew together.
He stood from the bed and paced over to the window, pulling it open.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, glancing at either side of her as though trying to work out how she’d climbed onto his roof.
“You weren’t at school today,” she replied. “I was worried about you.”
“Worried, huh?” Blake said, clearly not believing it.
“Are you going to, like, let me in?” Vivian said seductively. “Or do I have to stay out here all night?”
Blake sighed with irritation.
“Fine, come in,” he said. “But be quiet. My parents will kill me if they find out I have a girl in my room.”
Vivian stretched one of her lean legs through the window, reveling in the way Blake’s eyes skimmed over them. Then she ducked the rest of her body through the window and stood there in Blake’s room.
“So?” he said in a grumpy tone. “What do you want?”
Vivian tried to play it cool and sympathetic, but that human emotion seemed so far from her now it was almost impossible to recreate.
“You didn’t hear?” she said. “There was a shooting at the school.”
Blake’s face paled.
“This better not be a trick, Vivian, because if it is, you’re totally sick.”
Vivian widened her eyes, trying to portray her innocence.
“I swear on my life,” she said. “You can check the Internet. It will be all over the news.”
Blake did just that, and when he saw the news reports of the shooting at the high school he slumped back in his chair, stunned.
“I guess my grandma chose a good day to keel over and die,” he said.
Vivian reached an arm around his shoulder.
“Is that why you weren’t in school today?” she said. “Because your grandma died?”
Blake’s gaze tipped to his lap. He nodded.
Vivian knew she was so supposed to feel something—empathy at his loss—but all she really felt was opportunity. Blake was vulnerable right now, which made him ripe for the taking. And with his head bowed like that, his long, pale neck was on display, practically inviting her to taste him.
“Blake,” Vivian began, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but a lot of people died today. The football team. The cheerleaders.”
Now it was Blake’s turn to be the empathetic one. He swiveled in his chair to face her, then threw his arms around her and pulled her into him.
“Oh God, are you okay?” he said into her hair.
She nestled into him, feeling his broad, strong chest, and the pulse of his heart beating against her cheek. With her heightened vampire senses, Blake smelled even more amazing than he had when she was human. She fought the compulsion to breath in his scent.
“I’m in shock, I guess,” Vivian said, trying her best to feign upset.
“Do you know what happened?” Blake asked, moving back and taking both her hands in his. “I mean the news reports aren’t saying much, just that the police had cordoned off the school because of an incident involving firearms.”
Vivian twirled some hair through her fingers and tried to make her face look innocent.
“Someone said there was an escaped convict,” she said. “And that these two guys were after him in retribution, or something, and that a load of kids got caught in the crossfire.”
She was playing with the truth now, patching together bits of information she knew and embellishing it in ways that would garner the most sympathy from Blake. She even managed to squeeze out a tear, though her ability to induce theatrical crying was far less than when she’d been human.
“Jojo, Malcolm…” she said, and then she succumbed to her fake tears.
Blake wrapped her up tightly in his embrace and pressed a kiss on the crown of her head.
“I’m so sorry, Vivian,” he said. “I wish I’d been there to protect you. You must be in shock, you’re freezing cold. Here, let me get a blanket.”
As Blake turned away from her, Vivian licked her lips. Her fangs had descended, the vampire in her ready to devour Blake and make him her own. But this game was too fun to cut short.
He returned and wrapped her up, sitting her on the bed. He wrapped his arm around her and she snuggled into his side.
“We were good t
ogether, weren’t we?” Vivian said.
Blake was silent. Their brief romance had been intense but ultimately destructive. Human Vivian had enjoyed causing pain in much the same way vampire Vivian did, though before it had been psychological rather than physical.
“I guess,” he said.
“I mean, we had chemistry,” Vivian added, prodding him. “Not like with you and Scarlet.”
She felt Blake straighten beside her, his arm around her no longer comforting but stiff and formal. She sat up and glared at him.
“Don’t tell me you still have feelings for her?” she snapped.
Blake raised his eyebrows.
“Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?” he said incredulously. “After everything that’s happened today?”
Vivian couldn’t hold back her jealousy.
“I can’t believe it!” she snapped. “I can’t believe after everything you’d still rather be with that freak than me!”
Blake’s expression darkened.
“Scarlet’s not a freak, Vivian. I messed around with her, is all. But there’s something special about her. Something I can’t put my finger on.”
Vivian turned her face away from him, disgusted by his words.
“Gross,” she said. “You’re making me want to throw up.”
Blake clearly grew angry.
“What do you want from me, Vivian?” he demanded. “You want me to love you? Is that it? Well, can you just accept that I don’t and I won’t? Ever. I don’t feel that way about you.”
His words cut Vivian to the core. Without looking at him, she responded in a small, pained voice.
“But you do feel that way about Scarlet?”
Blake threw his arms up in exasperation.
“I don’t know!” he cried. Then his voice softened. “I’m sorry, okay? I just don’t feel towards you the way you feel towards me.”
Vivian finally faced him. She was fuming, her eyes narrowed to slits filled with malice.
