by Morgan Rice
She looked up at him, his brown eyes looking down at her. He had saved her. Again.
“We’ve got to move,” he said, grabbing her arm and leading her, sloshing, through the waist-high water. “That manhole won’t hold very long.”
As if on cue, the manhole above them was suddenly torn out.
They ran. They turned down tunnel after tunnel, and heard the sound of water sloshing behind them.
He made a sharp turn and the water level dropped down to their ankles. They picked up real speed.
They entered yet another tunnel, and found themselves in the midst of major New York City infrastructure. There were massive steam pipes here, letting off huge clouds of steam. The heat was unbearable.
He took her down yet another tunnel, and suddenly picked her up and placed her on his back, wrapping her arms around his chest, and ascended a ladder, taking three rungs at a time. They were rising, and as he reached the top, he punched a manhole and sent it flying out before them.
They were back above ground, on New York City streets. Where, she had no idea.
“Hold on tight,” he said, and she tightened her grip around his chest, clasping her hands into each other. He ran, and ran, and it turned into a sprint, at a speed beyond which she had never experienced. She had a memory of riding on the back of a motorcycle once, years ago, and the feeling of the wind whipping through her hair at 60 miles an hour. It felt like that. But faster.
They must have been doing 80 miles an hour, then 100, then 120… It just kept going. The buildings, people, cars—it all became a blur. And before she knew it, they were off the ground.
They were in the air, flying. He opened his huge, black wings, flapping slowly beside her. They were up above the cars, above the people. She looked down and saw that they flew over 14th Street. Then, a few seconds later, 34th. A few more seconds, and they were above Central Park. It took her breath away.
He checked back over their shoulders, and so did she. She could barely see, with the wind whipping in her eyes, but she could see enough to know that no one, no creature, was following them.
He slowed a bit, and then dipped, lowering their height. Now they flew just above the tree line. It was beautiful. She had never seen Central Park this way, its pathways lit up, the treetops right below her. She felt like she could reach out and touch them. She had a feeling that it would never look as beautiful as it did right now.
She clasped her hands tighter around his chest, feeling his warmth. She felt safe. As surreal as all of this was, things felt back to normal in his arms. She wanted to fly like this forever. As she closed her eyes and felt the cool breeze caress her face, she prayed that this night would never end.
Chapter Eleven
Caitlin felt them slow, and then begin to descend. She opened her eyes. She didn’t recognize any of the buildings below them. It appeared that they were way uptown. Possibly, the Bronx somewhere.
As they descended, they flew over a small park, and in the distance, she thought she saw a castle. As they got closer, she realized that it definitely was a castle. What was a castle doing here, in New York City?
She wracked her brain, and realized that she had seen this castle before. On a postcard somewhere…Yes. It was a museum of some sort. As they ascended a small hill, flying over its ramparts, flying over its small, medieval walls, she suddenly remembered what it was. The Cloisters. The small museum. It had been brought over from Europe, piece by piece. It was hundreds of years old. Why was he taking her here?
They descended smoothly over the outer wall and onto a large, stone terrace, overlooking the Hudson river. They landed in darkness, but his feet touched down gracefully on the stone, and he gently let her off.
She stood there, facing him. She looked at him closely, hoping that he was still real, hoping that he wouldn’t fly away. And hoping that he was as gorgeous as he was the first time she saw him.
He was. If anything, even more so. He stared down at her with his large, brown eyes, and at that moment she felt herself get lost.
There are so many questions she wanted to ask, she didn’t even know where to begin. Who was he? How was he able to fly? Was he a vampire? Why had he risked his life for her? Why take her here? And most importantly, was everything she had seen just a wild hallucination? Or did vampires really exist, right here in New York City? And was she one of them?
She opened her mouth to speak, but all she managed was: “Why are we here?”
She knew it was a stupid question the moment she asked it, and hated herself for not asking something more important. But standing there in the cold, March night, face a bit numb, it was the best she could do.
He just stared back at her. His stare seemed to pierce her soul, as if he were seeing right through her. It looked as if he were debating how much to tell her.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he opened his mouth to speak.
“Caleb!” shouted a voice, and they both turned.
A group of men – vampires? – dressed all in black, marched right for them. Caleb turned and faced them. Caleb. She liked that.
“We have no clearance for your arrival,” the man in the middle said, deadly serious.
“It is unannounced,” Caleb answered flatly.
“Then we will have to take you into custody,” he said, nodding to his men, who slowly circled behind Caleb and her. “The rules.”
Caleb nodded, unfazed. The man in the middle looked directly at Caitlin. She could see the disapproval in his eyes.
“You know we can’t let her in,” the man said to Caleb.
“But you will,” Caleb answered flatly. He stared back at the man, equally determined. It was a meeting of the wills.
The man stood there, and she could see he was unsure what to do. A long, tense silence followed.
“Very well,” he said, turning his back abruptly and leading the way. “It’s your funeral.”
Caleb followed, and Caitlin walked beside him, unsure what else to do.
The man opened a huge, medieval door, grabbing it by its round, brass ring. He then stepped aside, motioning for Caleb to enter. Two more men, in black, stood inside the doorway, standing at attention.
Caleb took Caitlin’s hand and led her through. As she passed through the huge stone archway, she felt as if she were entering another century.
“Guess we don’t have to pay admission,” Caitlin said to Caleb, smiling.
He looked over at her, blinking. It took him a second to realize it was a joke. Finally, he smiled.
He had a beautiful smile.
It made her think of Jonah. She felt confused. It was unlike her to feel strong feelings for any boy—much less for two of them in the same day. She still felt for Jonah. But Caleb was different. Jonah was a boy. Caleb, although he looked young, was a man. Or was he…something else? There was something about him she could not explain, something that made her unable to look away. Something that made her not want to leave his side. She liked Jonah. But she needed Caleb. Being around him was all-encompassing.
Caleb’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He was clearly disturbed.
“I’m afraid there will be a much higher price for admission,” he said, “if this meeting does not go as I would hope.”
He led her through another stone archway, and into a small, medieval courtyard. Perfectly symmetrical, surrounded on four sides by columns and arches, this courtyard, lit by the moon, was very beautiful. She could not fathom how they were still in New York City. They could have been in a European countryside.
They walked across the courtyard and down a long stone hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing. They were trailed by several more guards. Vampires? She wondered. If so, why were they so civil? Why didn’t they attack Caleb, or her?
They walked down another stone corridor and through another medieval door. And then they suddenly stopped.
Standing there was another man, dressed in black, who looked startlingly similar to Caleb. He wore
a large red cloak over his shoulders, and was flanked by several attendants. He seemed to hold a position of authority.
“Caleb,” he said softly. He sounded shocked to see him.
Caleb stood there calmly, staring back.
“Samuel,” Caleb answered, flatly.
The man stood there, staring, shaking his head just a little bit.
“Not even a hug for your long lost brother?” Caleb asked.
“You know this is very serious,” Samuel answered. “You have violated many laws by coming here tonight. Especially by bringing her.”
The man did not even bother looking over at Caitlin. She felt insulted.
“But I had no choice,” Caleb said. “The day has arrived. War is here.”
A hushed murmur erupted among the vampires standing behind Samuel, and among the growing group of vampires forming behind them. She turned, and saw that more than a dozen of them now encircled them. She was starting to feel claustrophobic. They were vastly outnumbered, and there was no way out. She had no idea what Caleb had done, but whatever it was, she hoped that he could talk his way out of it.
Samuel raised his hands, and the murmur died down.
“What’s more,” Caleb continued, “this woman here,” he said, nodding towards Caitlin, “she is The One.”
Woman. Caitlin had never been called that before. She liked it. But she didn’t understand. The One? He had put a funny emphasis on the phrase, as if he were talking about the Messiah or something. She wondered if they were all crazy.
Another murmur arose, and all heads turned to stare at her.
“I need to see the Council,” Caleb said, “And I must bring her with me.”
Samuel shook his head.
“You know that I would not stop you. I can only advise. And I advise you to leave right now, return to your post and await the Council’s summons.”
Caleb stared back. “I’m afraid that is not possible,” he said.
“You’ve always done as you wish,” Samuel said.
Samuel stepped aside, and motioned with his hand that he was free to pass.
“Your wife will not be pleased,” Samuel said.
Wife? Caitlin thought, and felt a cold chill run up her spine. Why did she suddenly feel so insanely jealous? How had her feelings for Caleb developed that quickly? What right did she have to feel so possessive of him?
She felt her cheeks turn red. She did care. It made no sense at all, but she completely cared. Why didn’t he tell me–
“Don’t call her that,” Caleb answered, his cheeks also burning red. “You know that –”
“Know that what!?” came a woman’s shriek.
They all turned to see a woman marching towards them from down the hallway. She, too, was dressed in all black, with long, flowing red hair that trailed past her shoulders, and large, shiny green eyes. She was tall, ageless, and strikingly beautiful.
Caitlin felt humbled in her presence, like she had just shrunk. This was a woman. Or was it…vampire? Whatever she was, she was a creature that Caitlin could never compete with. She felt deflated, prepared to concede Caleb to whoever she was.
“Know that what!?” the woman repeated, staring harshly at Caleb as she walked up to him, just a few feet away. She glanced over at Caitlin, and her mouth curled into a snarl. Caitlin had never seen anyone look at her with so much hatred before.
“Sera,” Caleb said softly, “we have not been married for 700 years.”
“In your eyes, maybe,” she snapped back.
She started to pace, circling both Caitlin and Caleb. She looked her up and down as if she were an insect.
“How dare you bring her here,” she spat. “Really. You know far better.”
“She is The One,” Caleb said flatly.
Unlike the others, this woman did not seem surprised. Instead, she just let out a short, mocking laugh.
“That’s ridiculous,” she answered. “You’ve brought war on us,” she continued, “and all for a human. A simple infatuation,” she said, her anger rising. With each sentence, the crowd behind her seemed to get bolstered, to grow with a concurring anger. It was becoming an angry mob.
“In fact,” Sera continued, “we have the right to tear her apart.”
The crowd behind her began to murmur in approval.
Anger flashed across Caleb’s face.
“Then you would have to go through me,” Caleb answered, staring back with equal determination.
Caitlin felt a warmth run through her. He was laying his life on the line for her. Again. Maybe he did care for her.
Samuel stepped forward, between them, and held out his hands. The crowd quieted.
“Caleb has requested an audience with the Council,” he said. “We owe him at least that. Let him state his case. Let the Council decide.”
“Why should we?” Sera snapped.
“Because that is what I said,” Samuel answered, a steely determination in his voice. “And I give orders up here, Sera, not you.” Samuel stared long and hard at her. Finally, she deferred.
Samuel stepped aside, and gestured towards the stone staircase.
Caleb reached out and took Caitlin’s hand, and led her forward. They stepped down the wide stone steps, and descended into the darkness.
Behind her, Caitlin heard a sharp laughter cut through the night.
“Good riddance.”
Chapter Twelve
Their footsteps echoed on the wide, stone staircase as they descended. It was dimly lit. Caitlin reached over and slipped her hand into Caleb’s arm. She hoped that he would let it sit there. He did. In fact, he tightened his arm around hers. Once again, everything felt OK. She felt that she could descend into the depths of darkness, as long as they were together.
So many thoughts raced through her mind. What was this Council? Why had he insisted on taking her? And why did she feel so insistent on being at his side? She could have easily objected up there, told him that he did that she didn’t want to go, that she’d rather wait upstairs. But she didn’t want to wait upstairs. She wanted to be with him. She couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else.
None of it made any sense. At every turn, instead of getting answers, all she got were new questions. Who were all those people upstairs? Were they really vampires? What were they doing here? In the Cloisters?
They turned the corner, into a large room, and she was struck by its beauty. It was incredible, like descending into a real medieval castle. Soaring ceilings capped rooms carved out of medieval stone. Off to her right there lay several sarcophagi, raised above the floor. Intricate, medieval figures were carved on their lids. Some of them were open. Was that where they slept?
She tried to think back to all the vampire lore she had ever heard. Sleeping in coffins. Awake at night. Superhuman strength and speed. Pain in the sunlight. It all seemed to add up. She herself felt some pain in the sun. But it wasn’t unbearable. And she was impervious to the holy water. What’s more, this place, the Cloisters, was filled with crosses: there were enormous crosses everywhere. Yet it didn’t seem to affect these vampires. In fact, this seemed to be their home.
She wanted to ask Caleb about all of this, and more, but didn’t know how to begin. She settled on the last one.
“The crosses,” she said, nodding as they walked under another one. “Don’t they bother you?”
He looked at her, not understanding. He looked like he’d been lost in thought.
“Don’t crosses hurt vampires?” she asked.
Recognition crossed his face.
“Not all of us,” he answered. “Our race is very fragmented. Much like the human race. There are many races within our race, and many territories—or covens—within each race. It is quite complex. They don’t affect good vampires.”
“Good?” she asked.
“Just like your human race, there are forces for good and forces of evil. We are not all the same.”
He left it at that. As usual, the answers only raised more questions. But
she held her tongue. She didn’t want to pry. Not now.
Despite the high ceilings, the doorways were small. The arched, wooden doors were open, and they walked right through, ducking as they went. As they enter the new room, the height opened up again, and it was another magnificent room. She looked up and could see stained glass everywhere. To her right was some sort of pulpit, and before it, dozens of tiny, wooden chairs. It was stark, and beautiful. It truly looked like some sort of medieval cloister.
She saw no sign of life, and heard no movement. She heard absolutely nothing. She wondered where they all were.
They entered another room, the floor sloping gently downward, and she gasped. This small room was filled with treasures. It was a working museum, and they were all encased carefully behind glass. Right there before her, under sharp, halogen lights, were what must have been hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of ancient, priceless treasures. Gold crosses. Large, silver goblets. Medieval manuscripts….
She followed Caleb as he walked through the room and stopped before a long, vertical, glass case. Inside was a magnificent ivory staff, several feet long. He stared at it through the glass.
He was quiet for several seconds.
“What is it?” she finally asked.
He kept staring, quietly. Finally, he said, “An old friend.”
That was it. He didn’t offer any more. She wondered what sort of history he had with the object, and what sort of power it held. She read the plaque: early 1300s.
“It is known as a crozier. A bishop’s staff. It is both a rod and a staff. A rod for punishment and a staff for leading the faithful. The symbol of our church. It has the power to bless, or to curse. It is what we guard. It is what keeps us safe.”
Their church? What they guard?
Before she could ask more questions, he took her hand and led her through yet another doorway.
They reached a velvet rope. He reached out, unclasped it, and pulled it back for her to enter. He then followed right behind her, re-clasped it, and led her to a small, circular wooden staircase. It led down, seemingly right into the floor itself. She looked at it, puzzled.
