by Morgan Rice
It hurt Scarlet, and made her want to try one more time to talk sense to her former friend. Maybe now she’d be ready to listen. She hated leaving things like this.
Scarlet hurried over to her and grabbed her arm as she was walked away.
“Maria, wait!”
Maria turned, and stared back coldly.
“What do you want?” she spat. “Where’s your boyfriend? Did he dump you already?”
Scarlet was taken aback by her nastiness. She hardly knew how to respond.
“You don’t have to be mean,” Scarlet said. “Like I said, I didn’t do anything.”
Maris stared back, seething, and Scarlet could see she had not forgiven her.
“And like I said, we’re over,” Maria said.
Maria turned and stormed off into the crowd. Not far away were Jasmin and Becca; they stared back at Scarlet as if she were their enemy now, too. As Maria reached them, the whole group turned their backs as one, and disappeared into the crowd.
Just as Scarlet was feeling worse than ever, she felt a tapping on her shoulder.
Her heart swelled, as she hoped and prayed it was Sage, here to rescue her from all this.
But she was crushed to see it wasn’t him. It was Blake. He stood there, smiling nervously back at her. His eyes looked bloodshot, and she could smell vodka on his breath.
“I saw you standing here alone,” he said. “Does that mean you don’t have a date?”
Scarlet hardly knew how to respond. She really did not want to get into it with him now. She was over him.
“I…um…yes…I do.”
Blake raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then she saw a small smile at the corner of his lips, as if he didn’t believe her.
“Well, where is he?” he asked.
She scanned the crowd, searching again for Sage, willing him to appear.
But again, she saw no sign of him. Her heart fell. She couldn’t understand it. What could possibly have happened? She felt even worse than ever, as if the universe were rubbing it in.
“I don’t know,” she finally answered, truthfully.
“Doesn’t sound like a good date to me,” Blake said. “I don’t have a date either,” he added. “Vivian actually asked me. Can you believe it? That was bold.”
“What did you say?” Scarlet asked.
“I said no,” he said, a serious look in his eyes. “Because I wanted to go with you. And I was hoping maybe you’d show.”
He said it with such sincerity, that for a moment, Scarlet felt herself looking into his eyes, remembering why she liked him in the first place.
She quickly looked away.
“Look, Scarlet, I know I’ve been a jerk,” he said. “I’m really sorry. I was thinking about everything you said. About not standing up for you, in front of Vivian. And you’re right. I should have. I’m sorry. It was stupid. Anyway, the thing is, I know how I feel now. I guess I was just confused, ya know? But anyway, I really want to be with you. I really want you to be my girlfriend. You don’t have to give me an answer now. But just think about it, okay? I promise, I’ll change.”
Scarlet stood there, not knowing what to say. He seemed so sincere, his words at least took the edge off of her anger and upset towards him.
“Thank you for saying all that,” she said. “I appreciate it.”
“I’m going to get a drink,” he said. “I’ll come back in a little bit. If your friend still isn’t here, maybe we can dance?”
She doubted very much she’d be standing here when he got back. If Sage didn’t show, she was leaving. But she appreciated it anyway.
Blake disappeared back into the crowd, and she sighed and turned the other way, deciding to get away from Blake and patrol the other side of the field. Maybe Sage was waiting in the far corners, lurking in the shadows.
As she made it halfway, suddenly she heard a voice.
“Well, if it isn’t miss congeniality.”
Scarlet’s heart sank. She stopped and slowly turned, and there, behind her, stood Vivian, flanked by all of her friends. They stared down at her with mean smiles, and she could tell by their glossy eyes that they were all drunk. She could also see immediately how mad Vivian was at being here without a date. Clearly, that must have embarrassed her, and she was looking to take it on someone. She had finally found her target.
“So you think you can just throw beer on me at a party and get away with it?” Vivian asked.
“I never threw beer on you,” Scarlet responded.
“No, but your little friend did,” she answered. “On your behalf.”
“I can’t control what my friends do.”
“But you wanted her to, didn’t you? And she did it for you.”
Scarlet was in no mood for this. She really didn’t want a confrontation. Not now. Not here.
She turned and began to walk away.
Suddenly, she felt a hand digging into her shoulder, nails digging into her skin. She was yanked around as Vivian spun her around.
“Don’t you ever turn your back on me!” Vivian snapped.
Vivian reached back to smack Scarlet hard across the face, and as she did, something suddenly overtook Scarlet. It was like her senses went into overdrive, by themselves. She saw Vivian’s hand coming at her in slow-motion, and everything slowed down around her. She reached out, her reflexes a thousand times faster than she ever thought possible, and easily caught Vivian’s wrist.
Scarlet stood there, holding it. She squeezed and squeezed, and felt superhuman strength rush through her.
Vivian dropped to her knees, crying out in pain.
“Let go of me!” she screamed.
Suddenly, one of Vivian’s friends charged Scarlet, and as she did, Scarlet leaned back and kicked her in the solo plexus. The kick was so powerful, it sent her flying back like a torpedo, into all her other friends, sending them all crashing to the ground.
That caused a big stir in the crowd, and several people turned and looked their way, causing a commotion. Scarlet stood there, rage coursing through her, as she stared down at Vivian.
Vivian looked up at her, wide-eyed, eyes filled with fear, shaking.
As Scarlet stared down at her, something else overwhelmed her. She felt blood rushing up through her face, felt it beginning to transform, felt her two incisor teeth lengthening. She felt a tingling on her lips.
She snarled down at Vivian, and it was an unnerving, animal-like noise that startled even her.
Vivian’s eyes opened twice as wide.
“What are you?” Vivian asked.
Scarlet was overcome by an insatiable desire to feed. Every pore in her body screamed out for blood—for Vivian’s blood. Her body was positively quaking. She was dying to kneel down and sink her teeth into Vivian’s throat. She saw herself drinking and drinking, filling up on her blood. It was a craving so strong, she didn’t know if she could stop it.
“Scarlet!” came a harsh voice from behind.
There was something in that voice, something just strong enough, to make Scarlet turn.
There stood Lore. He stood out in the crowd, wearing his tight leather jacket, towering over everyone.
Scarlet turned back and backhanded Vivian, smacking her so hard, the sound rippled through the crowd.
Vivian collapsed, face first, in the grass, and the crowd gasped as she did.
Scarlet turned and walked over to Lore.
“Where is Sage?” she snapped, her voice still deep and dark from the transformation.
Lore smiled, slowly shaking his head.
“He’s not coming,” he said. “He told me to bring you a message. Sorry. He changed his mind.”
Scarlet felt a knife plunged into her heart at the words. She had never felt so betrayed. She felt completely crushed.
“He also asked me to tell you to give me the necklace,” Lore said, reaching out a hand.
Scarlet stared down, and suddenly realized Lore was lying. Sage would never tell him to ask for the necklace. Or would
he?
“Go to hell,” Scarlet snarled.
Slowly, Lore’s smile dropped, as his face contorted with rage. Before her eyes, she watched him transform, into a huge, raven-like creature. His wings spread wider and wider as he stepped forward to wrap them around Scarlet.
“I can kill you,” he snarled. “And I will kill you.”
“Then kill me,” she snarled back. “You’re not the only one who is immortal.”
Lore leapt into motion, bringing his wings down as if to smother her.
But suddenly, Lore’s wings stopped in mid-air, just inches away from her. He looked down at her ring, and his eyes opened wide in astonishment.
“He gave you the ring,” he hissed, trembling, frozen.
Scarlet leaned back and kicked Lore hard in the chest, so hard, she sent him flying, hundreds of feet, across the entire field, into its darkest corners.
She’d had enough. She suddenly felt certain Sage would never come, and felt her heart breaking into a million little pieces. She knew that she couldn’t stay in this crowd any longer: another minute here, and she would start feeding on everyone in sight.
So instead, with a final snarl and roar of anguish, Scarlet burst out of there, sprinting away from the field, from the school, from the dance—far, far away from everything, and deep into the darkest depths of the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY TREE
Caitlin burst through the front door of her house, and right into Caleb’s waiting arms. He hugged her tight, and it felt so good to be back in his grip. Ruth stood by her side, whining and barking, leaping up on her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry for not believing you.”
Caitlin hugged him back, not wanting to let him go either, especially after all the darkness they’d been through. Finally, she felt vindicated. Finally, he believed her. She felt his love for her coursing through, and as she did, she felt rejuvenated, restored, no longer so alone in the world. Finally, she felt as if she had a partner to help her deal with all this, to help save their daughter.
All was right in the world again. Here was Caleb, back to his old self, at her side, trusting her, believing in her. Finally, he realized she wasn’t crazy. Finally, he realized she’d been right all along—realized that their daughter was, in fact, turning into a vampire.
It had all happened so quickly, ever since Caitlin had landed back on American soil. She had called Caleb the second her plane touched down, and they’d been talking on the phone ever since, all during her drive back from the airport. She had eagerly filled him in, and was relieved and surprised that he was not only eager to hear it all this time, but that he actually believed her.
He had surprised her with his own tale of what had happened between he and Scarlet, of how she had snarled and thrown him across the room. He realized that no human could have done that, and finally realized that she was not the Scarlet they both knew. Now, he wanted Caitlin’s help. Now, he wanted to hear everything.
Caitlin, in turn, had filled him in on all the details of her search, on her journal, her meeting with Aiden, her research in her library, and her discovery in the Paris bookstore. She told him about the missing page. The ritual. She told him how urgent it was that they find Scarlet and perform it, before it was too late.
But Caitlin’s heart sank as Caleb told her Scarlet had left the previous night and he hadn’t been able to find her since. He’d been trying her cell for hours, and had called all her friends again, and had been unable to get through to anyone. He’d also called the cops. He said he had a wide net out looking for her, but nothing yet. He was more panic-stricken than he’d ever been.
Caitlin’s mind swarmed with the possibilities, and she felt a greater urgency than ever to find her.
She pulled back and looked at him.
“Have you heard anything at all? Anything?” she asked.
He shook his head, disappointedly.
“All I have is a text from one of her friends. She said she thought she saw her at the school dance. And that she saw her leave. Alone. That was about an hour ago.”
“Where would she have gone?” Caitlin asked.
“I have no idea.” He looked at her. “That ritual. Do you really think it’s authentic?” he asked.
Caitlin reached into her bag and pulled out the folder. She extracted the delicate halves of the paper, lining them up on the table before them.
Caleb looked down and examined them, and his eyes opened wide in surprise.
“It looks ancient,” he said. “What language is that?”
“Latin,” she said. “But it won’t do us any good if we don’t find her—soon.”
Caitlin’s cell suddenly lit up, and her heart skipped a beat, praying it was Scarlet.
But then she looked down and was crestfallen to see it was just Polly.
“Polly, what’s up?” she asked curtly. “Have you heard anything?”
“Listen,” Polly said excitedly, “I was able to get through on text to a friend of hers, who texted a friend of hers, who answered back and said she knew how to find Scarlet.”
“How?” Caitlin asked excitedly, as Caleb crowded in.
“Apparently, Scarlet has an app called Loopt. A lot of these kids have it these days. If you’re logged in, it lets you track your friends via GPS. And her friend’s logged in and says she saw Scarlet’s logged in, too. She might have logged in manually or she might have not turned off her settings to be logged in by default.”
“Wait a second,” Caitlin said, trying to understand as Polly spoke so fast. “What does this mean?”
“I’m saying we can track her phone. We don’t know if she has her phone or if someone stole it, of course, but at least we can get to the phone. At least until the battery dies or it powers off. We have to hurry.”
Caitlin’s heart skipped a beat in anticipation.
“Where is her phone right now?” Caitlin asked. She prayed it wasn’t someplace dangerous.
“The app shows her on Route 99. About 3 miles south of town. At a roadside bar. Pete’s.”
Caitlin’s was panic stricken. Scarlet? At Pete’s? What on earth would she be doing there? That place was a gross little roadside bar in a bad part of town, in a trailer park about a mile down the road from the local jail. It was a haven for freshly-released convicts, looking for their first drink out. It was a place where the worse misfits gathered, a place you didn’t even slow for when you zoomed by it on the highway. Scarlet’s being there could only mean danger. Real danger.
“Pick us up on the way,” Polly said. “We’ll track her.”
“We’re on our way,” Caitlin said.
Caleb was already in motion, heading for the door, and within moments he had the car started and Caitlin jumped in. He peeled out and they took off down the quiet side streets, blowing stop signs, doing 80 miles an hour. They would stop at nothing until they found her.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Kyle stepped through the open gates of the prison and took his first step to the outside world, as the gates slammed close behind him. They slammed them extra hard, Kyle realized, as if wanting to rattle him, to take away his joy. It was the final insult of this merciless institution, of these sadistic guards, who had done everything to break him over the last five years.
But he wasn’t going to let anything bother him now. Now, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was on the other side of these gates, on the other side of the barbed-wire tower. Now, for the first time, he didn’t have to answer to these cretins. He was a free man. Free. He could hardly believe it.
Kyle grinned from ear to ear, breathing in the crisp October air, relishing what it felt like to be outside. It was amazing not to have to hear his fellow convicts screaming and hollering reverberating all around him, all the time. To not have to fear for his life. And most of all, he thought, as he turned slowly and glared at the guards behind him, not have to answer to anyone. Least of all these pigs.
Kyle grinned wide as h
e slowly raised his middle finger right at the guard standing a few feet from him, close to the gate.
In the past, this guard would’ve taken his baton and beaten Kyle down, thrown him in isolation. But now, there wasn’t a thing the guard could do. Now Kyle was a free man, an upstanding citizen, just like anybody else.
Well, maybe not so upstanding. But then again, Kyle never had been. From the time he was young, he had taken a pleasure in torturing small animals, in bullying his classmates, in beating anyone younger than him. It had all stemmed, the shrinks told him, from his abusive father, who had beaten Kyle so badly and for so long that one day, when Kyle finally grew big and strong enough, he beat this dad back. That was the day his dad left—and he had never seen him again.
But by then, the damage had been done. Kyle had been 16, already huge for a boy his size, six foot five with shoulders as broad as a tree trunk, and hardened enough to beat his six foot father to a pulp. After that moment, Kyle had never looked back. The 16 years of taking a beating had infused in him an insatiable rage. He had to let it out on the world.
Everywhere he’d looked, he’d seen a target. Highly paranoid and over-sensitive, he imagined people were staring back at him, insulting him, ready to abuse him in the same way his father had. And he lashed out. He beat others up before they could get anywhere near him, whether they deserved it or not. He left quite a trail, and by the time he reached 19, he’d already been in and out of dozens of juvenile detention centers.
Now, at 35, Kyle was a hardened convict. He’d spent more of his life behind bars than outside them, and true to form, he was already dreaming of his next crime. The next store he could rob. The next cop he could beat down. The next girl he could attack. The next bar fight he could get into. His need for violence was insatiable—and the last five years had only hardened it.
The way Kyle saw it, he was only 35, and he still had at least another 30 good years ahead of him of causing hell. When he reached 65, he figured, if he wasn’t dead, he’d retire, or find a way to go out with a bang. Too bad there was no pension plan for criminals, he thought.
