by Морган Райс
Caleb and Caitlin turned and looked at each other at the same time. It was amazing. Unlike anything she had ever seen.
“Wild horses,” he said. “And white. An excellent sign. Let’s catch them!” he said, and took off at a sprint.
Caitlin at first thought he was crazy: how could they possibly catch up with a horse? But then she remembered her newfound speed, and she ran.
Caitlin felt her legs running for her. Before she knew it, she was racing faster than she had ever thought possible. She caught up to Caleb, and the two of them sped up, and within seconds, they were running alongside the horses. Rose ran right behind them.
Caleb smiled wide. “Let’s ride!” he screamed.
He jumped onto the back of one of them, and Caitlin followed suit, running as fast as she could, and leaping in the air onto the back of the other.
She couldn’t believe it, but she was now riding on the back of this horse, beside Caleb. He was laughing, his hair blowing wildly in the wind. The two of them raced down the beach, side-by-side, racing further and further into the sunset. She couldn’t believe that she was able to do this, to hang on. It all felt too surreal.
The horses took them down the beach, for miles. As they went, they got a bird’s-eye view of the cliffs, the rocks, the sand. Caitlin was surprised to see just how huge this beach was. It seemed to stretch forever.
And then suddenly, without warning, the horses came to an abrupt stop.
No matter how much prodding Caleb and Caitlin did, they refused to move.
Caitlin and Caleb exchanged glances, puzzled.
“I guess they want to let us off here!” Caleb yelled, laughing.
Caitlin looked down and saw that the horses were standing in the ocean, in knee-high water.
Caleb smiled wide. “Guess we’ll have to get a little wet!”
He jumped down, landing in the knee-high water.
Caitlin took off her shoes, holding them in one hand, and followed.
The water was freezing on her bare feet, but it only came up to her shins as the wave receded.
And it actually felt refreshing on her bare feet, as did the soft sand.
She looked up and saw the horses galloping away, down the empty beach, towards the sun.
Rose ran along the sand, testing the waves, then running back to the sand again, yelping.
Caleb came over, grabbed Caitlin, and playfully picked her up as a wave came in, keeping her dry. He was so strong, the wave crashed into his legs, and it didn’t even budge him. He was like a rock. He held her close, hugging her, keeping her dry, laughing and smiling, as he whirled her around.
She felt her heart swell.
As he gently lowered her, holding her tight, she looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers.
Their eyes locked. Slowly, his smile faded. His expression turned more serious. Turned to something else.
She saw his eyes change color, from brown to a sea-green. He stared down at her, right back into her eyes, and they both felt the same thing at the same moment.
Her heart pounded, as he leaned in and kissed her.
It was a kiss of one thousand suns. Her body filled with a warmth and tingling unlike anything she had ever experienced. She kissed him back, more forcefully, and soon he was holding her, picking her up out of the water, and walking her towards the shore. He brought her to the dry sand, and they lay down together, on the empty beach, with seemingly the entire world to themselves. Their kisses became more passionate, and she reached up and ran her hand through his hair.
She had been imagining this moment from the first time she met him.
She had never loved anyone as much as this.
TWENTY THREE
As Sam stood there, facing his father, his heart sank. He couldn’t believe it. While he’d been disappointed by the trailer park, by the mobile home, by the unkempt surroundings, nothing had prepared him for his disappointment upon seeing his Dad. All of his dreams came crashing down at once.
His dad was a short, thin, frail man, maybe in his 50s, balding badly, with long stringy hair that draped down over one side of his head. He hadn’t shaved in days, and it looked like he’d slept in his clothes. His skin was covered in warts, and scarred by bad acne. He had small, beady black eyes, which darted about in his head. He stared back at Sam, looking not unlike a rat. In fact, his entire aura exuded sleaze. And he reeked. He probably hadn’t bathed in days.
He looked nothing like Sam. And he looked nothing like the Dad that Sam had imagined he’d come from.
Sam couldn’t fathom how he possibly had come from such a human being. He felt worse about himself than he ever had.
Maybe he had the wrong address. He prayed that was the case.
Please, God, let it not be him.
“Sam?” the man suddenly asked.
With that word, that confirmation that he was indeed at the right address, Sam’s heart completely sank. It was him.
Sam tried to find his words. “Um, like, are you…”
“Your dad?” he said, trying to smile, revealing rows of small, orange teeth. “That’s right.”
The man looked from Sam over to Samantha, looking her up and down. He licked his lips.
“I thought you were coming alone?” he asked Sam, looking at Samantha as he said it.
“I…” Sam began, “well, I, um…”
“Who’s this?” he asked, still staring at her.
“This is Samantha,” Sam said, finally. “She’s my…” Sam trailed off, not quite knowing what to call her.
“Girlfriend,” Samantha filled in for him, graciously.
Sam was grateful that she had. And he loved the sound of that term, especially coming from her.
“All right, well…” the man said, trailing off. He turned his back and walked inside.
Sam and Samantha looked at each other, both caught off guard by his odd welcome. Neither of them knew what to make of it. Was that an invitation to come inside?
Sam stepped tentatively inside, Samantha close behind.
Before she closed the door, she looked both ways carefully, and then closed the door firmly and locked it.
Samantha surveyed the small, darkened mobile home. The blinds were all drawn, and the room was lit only by a small lamp in the corner. It was a nice sunny day, but you’d never know it in here. It was a gloomy home, and packed with clutter. The instant she’d met this man, Samantha had sensed that he was not one of them, not a vampire. She would have known. This told her that Sam’s father was not the vampire—that his mother was. That they had been searching for the wrong line of his lineage. They were wasting their time with this man—unless he could lead them to Sam’s real mom.
She could see the obvious disappointment on Sam’s face, and she actually felt sorry for him. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d actually felt sorry for a human, and she chided herself. This kid was really throwing her off guard.
“So, well…” the man began, obviously socially awkward. He paced around his place, barely looking at them. “What are you drinking?” he finally asked. “Want a beer?”
Sam paused. “Um, like…whatever is fine,” he said.
The man went to his tiny kitchen, and returned shortly with two tall cans of warm Schlitz. He set them down on the coffee table. Neither Sam nor Samantha touched them.
She could see Sam standing there, fidgeting, and that he didn’t know what to say. And that his Dad didn’t, either.
An awkward silence fell over the room. Something was very odd. His dad didn’t seem that happy to see them. Either that, or he was just very socially awkward.
Samantha looked around, surveying what she could see of the place. There was clutter everywhere, and it was completely unkempt. Empty soda cans littered the floor, alongside stacks of newspapers and magazines. There was a small desk in the far corner, and she could see his laptop was open.
Samantha sensed something, and she used her vampire vision to zoom in, across the room,
onto the details of the screen. She could see that he was logged on to Facebook. And under a different account name.
“So, like, did you tell anyone you were coming to visit?” his Dad finally asked.
Sam stared back at him, puzzled. “Uh, like—”
“Like did you tell your mom you’re coming to see me?”
“No,” Sam answered. “I haven’t talked to her in a while. This was all, like, spur of the moment. I just thought, like, it would be cool to meet.”
The man nodded. He seemed to relax a bit.
“Well good, yeah,” the man said. He reached into his pocket and took a crumpled packet of cigarettes and lit one. He dragged on it, filling the small room with smoke. “So, like, what are you guys into?”
Sam and Samantha exchanged a glance, not sure what he meant.
“Um, like…what do you mean?” Sam asked.
Samantha turned back to the laptop, and zoomed in again on the Facebook page. Something about it was bothering her. She looked closely, at the entire screen, and could see that there were several tabs open up at once. All on Facebook. And all under different user names.
His Dad must have seen her looking, because at that moment, he suddenly walked over and shut his laptop. He turned back to them.
“I mean,” he said, “you guys, like…are you having sex with each other?” he asked.
Samantha saw him suddenly reach over and grab something off the table.
She looked over and saw the confusion on Sam’s face, and then saw the anger starting to cloud over it.
At that moment, she realized. This was not his Dad at all. It was an imposter. An internet predator. A pedophile. Luring people in on Facebook. Fishing for different kids. Waiting for someone to come along like Sam, someone desperate, just eager enough to be willing to believe this might be his Dad.
The man was quick. Before Samantha could react, he had grabbed a large kitchen knife, darted across the room, and grabbed Sam in a chokehold from behind. He held the huge knife tightly against Sam’s throat, pushing into it hard enough to almost draw blood.
Sam’s eyes watered over in shock and pain.
“Make a move, and he’s dead,” the man said to Samantha, in a fierce voice.
This was an interesting situation for Samantha. Given that this man was not Sam’s father, she had no more business here, and was just wasting her time. She could just walk out and let Sam die. It wouldn’t make a difference. This was the only lead he’d had, and now Sam was useless to her.
But there was something that made her hesitate. A spark of something she was starting to feel for the kid. She couldn’t believe it, but a part of her was actually starting to care about him. And if there was anything she hated more than humans, it was human creeps like this guy. No, she couldn’t just walk out.
“Get down on your knees and take off your shirt,” the man ordered Samantha in a dark, steely voice, as he held the knife to Sam’s throat.
Sam tried to squirm, but the man held even more tightly, starting to draw a bit of blood.
Samantha could kill the man at any time. But the problem was, he held the knife so tightly, she didn’t want to see him kill Sam. She couldn’t make any rash moves.
Samantha dropped to her knees, raised her hands, and slowly removed her shirt, revealing her bra.
She looked up and saw the creep’s eyes light up, his disgusting grin, ear to ear. He reached out and pointed his knife at her.
“Your bra,” he ordered.
Sam must have seen his chance, because at that moment, he moved with admirable speed for a human. He reached up and grabbed the creep’s wrist, struggling with all he had.
But the creep was strong. Years of preying on kids had probably built a wiry strength into his frame, had probably prepared him for things like this. As Sam struggled, the creep broke free and sliced Sam’s cheek, drawing blood.
Sam screamed out in pain, raising his hands to his cheek. Blood was everywhere.
The creep then pulled the knife back and Samantha could see that he was preparing to plunge it into Sam’s chest.
Samantha broke into action. She suddenly leapt across the room, catching the knife in midair and yanking the creep’s arm back with enough force to tear it from its socket.
The creep screeched and dropped the knife.
Samantha, not done, reached over, and with her superhuman strength, grabbed his neck and twisted it in one swift motion, breaking it and killing him.
The man slumped, lifeless, to the floor.
Samantha, still coursing with rage, looked over and saw that Sam stood there, eyes wide open, in shock, staring at her. He was so surprised, he looked oblivious to the pain he was in. She was sure he had never witnessed anything like that in his life. And probably never would again.
He had tried, he had really tried, to save her. Even with the knife on his throat. No one had made a gesture for her like that in centuries.
Maybe she would keep him alive, after all.
TWENTY FOUR
When Caitlin and Caleb woke, it was night. They lay on the beach together, on the sand, on the warm night, and under the light of an enormous full moon.
They still had the beach to themselves, and the sound of the crashing waves was all around them. They both lay there, awake, undressed, in each other’s arms, using their coats as a makeshift blanket. Rose lay beside them.
They were both changed people.
They stared into each other’s eyes. They rolled over and kissed each other again, slowly.
Their relationship had changed forever. She had changed forever. And nothing made her happier.
They were no longer two random people, friends, kept together by the same mission. They were now lovers. A couple. Together.
Caitlin only hoped that it would last forever.
There were so many questions she was burning to ask. Like, what now? He had crossed a line, forbidden for his race. What if they found him? Would they kill him? Had he risked it all for her?
Was she really worth it?
And now that he had, would he leave her? Was there any way for them to stay together, to make it last?
What could their future possibly look like?
She was overcome with emotion, overcome by knowing what he had sacrificed for her.
“I’m afraid,” she finally said, softly.
“Of what?” he asked.
“Of us,” she said. “Of dying. You will live forever. But I…” She struggled to think how to phrase it. “…I won’t,” she said. “I want to be with you. I want to be like you. I want to be immortal,” she said.
His expression turned somber. He slowly reached over, dressed himself, and stood.
He stared off at the ocean.
She dressed, too, grateful for the warmth of her coat and patting it to make sure her journal and the scroll were still safe inside. She stood beside him.
“I want to be with you, too,” he said. “But trust me, you do not want to be immortal. It is a curse. It is much better to die. To start again, clean, fresh, in another lifetime, another place, another time, another body. To not have to remember. To let the life cycle take its course. Our kind…we are unnatural.”
He turned and looked at her.
“There is nothing more I would love than to have you by my side. But being with me forever is not worth the pain of immortality.”
“Please,” she said, taking his hand. “It’s what I want. Turn me,” she said, starting into his eyes. “Turn me so that I can be a true vampire. So that I can be with you forever.”
He stared back at her, and his eyes welled up.
“As much as I love you, that I could never do,” he said. “You would be stuck in limbo forever. You would never be able to procreate. I could never inflict that on you. Even for selfish reasons. And if I were to turn you without permission, my punishment would be severe.”
Her heart fell. Maybe it was not meant to be, after all.
Caleb took her hand silently
.
“If we are going to spend the night here, we should find some shelter, build a fire,” he said.
He led her as they walked along the cliffs, in silence.
“I thought I saw something earlier, when we were riding,” he said. “A cave,” he added. “There,” he said, pointing.
There was indeed a small cave, set back into the cliff. It was not that deep or wide, but it was enough to provide shelter.
The cave’s floor was comprised of the same fine sand as the beach, and it was lit up by the full moon. There was already a large pile of burnt wood sitting in its center. Clearly, others had used this spot before. It was probably a popular spot for bonfires, maybe even for lovers to spend the night.
Caleb reached down and rubbed his hands with lightning speed, as he had done once before, and within seconds, the firewood was lit and burning. Soon, a roaring fire illuminated the cave. Rose came close and lay down beside it.
Caitlin got close, standing beside Caleb and wrapping one arm around his waist, feeling the warmth of the fire.
They both sat down and looked up at the cave, at the ceiling, at the graffiti on its walls. It was shaped in an arch, and the light reflected off it in a million strange ways.
“Where do we go from here?” Caitlin asked.
She was asking about the sword. But she was also asking about them.
“I don’t know,” he said. “We seem to have come to a dead-end.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe my dream…maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe we followed the trail in the wrong direction. Maybe we need to go back to the Vincent House. Maybe there’s something we overlooked, some clue that would point –”
Caleb suddenly put a hand on her arm, stopping her. He was looking up at the walls, scrutinizing them.
She looked up and saw it, too.
He got up, and she followed.
There, in the far corner of the cave, high up, was an indent in the wall, almost in the shape of a cross. It looked surreal, unnatural. They had only seen it because the full moon, and because the fire had burned so strongly. Otherwise, no one could have ever come across this. It was small. And if it hadn’t have been for his keen eye, it would have been easily missed.
