by Morgan Rice
“A vampire wedding is not frivolous. It is a sacred event. It is the merging of two vampire souls.
It brings more power to each of you, and more power to our entire coven. And it will only deepen your growth, your skills. I am proud of you. You have grown greatly. But if you are to evolve to the next level, you need this. Each union brings its own power. Both for the couple, and for the individual.”
Caitlin felt relieved, excited—but also nervous.
“But I don’t know how to plan this kind of wedding. I would barely even know how to plan a human wedding.”
Aiden smiled. “You have many friends who will help you. And I will preside over the ceremony.” He smiled. “I am a priest, after all.”
Caitlin smiled wide, liking the thought of that.
“So, what do I do now?” Caitlin asked, excited, nervous, not knowing where to begin.
He smiled.
“Go to Caleb. And say yes. Let love take care of the rest.” CHAPTER EIGHT
Kyle trekked through the bogs of southern Scotland, fuming with hatred. With every step he took, he raged at the thought of Caitlin, running free, eluding him, in time after time, place after place. He dwelled on ways he could capture and kill her, exact revenge.
He had already exhausted nearly every method he could think, and she always seemed to slip through his grasp. He did manage to exact a small, petty revenge in poisoning her family. He smiled inwardly at the thought of that.
But it wasn’t enough. This had gone on already way too long, and the last time they’d met, he had to admit it, she had overpowered him. He was shocked at her strength, her fighting skills. She had actually outfought him. It was beyond anything he could have anticipated.
A part of him had feared this, which was why he had gone to such lengths to poison her, to avoid a head-on confrontation. But that, too, had backfired. He’d poisoned Caleb by accident, and while he felt certain that his poison had killed Caleb, he hadn’t had a chance to confirm it, as he’d had to flee in the night.
This was the last time and place, Kyle vowed to himself, that this would happen, that he would pursue her. Either he would kill her for sure this time, or he would die trying. There was no retreat, no surrender. No more times or places. This would be his last and final stand. Here, in Scotland.
And for this final stand, he had a grand strategy, the grandest of them all. The vampire poison had seemed a good idea at the time, but in retrospect, it was just too risky, left too much room for chance. His new idea, though, could not possibly fail.
In coming up with this new scheme, Kyle had thought back to all the times and places he had cornered in Caitlin, and tried to recall the time he had come closest to killing her. He concluded that it was back in New York, when he’d captured her brother, Sam, had him under his control, and used him to shapeshift and trick Caitlin. That had nearly worked.
Shapeshifting, Kyle realized, was the key. With this type of trickery, he could dupe Caitlin, gain her confidence, and then kill her for good.
But the problem was, Kyle did not possess this skill. He did, though, knew one person, in this time and place, who did.
His old protégé.
Rynd.
Centuries before, Kyle had trained a fleet of the most vicious, sadistic vampires who’d ever roamed the face of the earth. Rynd had been one of his shining stars. He’d become too vicious even for Kyle to handle, and Kyle eventually had to expel him.
Last Kyle heard, Rynd was living in this time and place, hiding out in the remote Southern corner of Scotland. Kyle would find him now. After all, Kyle had taught him everything he knew, and he figured Rynd owed him one. It was the least he could do for his old mentor. All Kyle needed from him was for him to summon his old shapeshifting trick, just once.
Kyle, ankle deep in mud, smiled at the thought of it. Yes, Rynd was exactly what he needed to dupe Caitlin, to finish her off for good. This time, it was a plan that could not fail.
Kyle looked up, taking in the scene. It was cold, and windy, and the dampness in the air seeped into his bones. It was twilight, his favorite time of day, and there was a heavy fog creeping over the ancient wood. It was just his kind of day. If there was anything Kyle loved more than twilight, it was fog. Kyle felt positively at home.
Suddenly, his senses were on high alert. A creepy feeling raised the hair on his skin, and something told him that Rynd was close.
As Kyle walked into the fog, he heard a slight creaking, and looked up and spotted something moving. As the fog parted, Kyle could make out a barren forest of dead trees, and as he looked closer, he saw objects hanging from the branches.
As he stepped forward and examined them, he realized they were bodies—humans—dead, hanging upside down by their feet, tied by rope to the branches. They swung slowly in the wind, and the sound of rope creaking on wood permeated the air. From the look of these corpses, it seemed they had been killed long ago; their skin was blue, there were telltale holes in their necks, and Kyle realized they had been fed upon, drained of blood.
Rynd’s work.
As the fog continued to part, Kyle spotted hundreds—no thousands—of bodies, all hanging. It was obvious that they’d all been kept alive for some time, tortured slowly for days. It was sadistic, malicious stuff.
Kyle admired it. It was something he himself would have done in his heyday.
Kyle knew that Rynd had to be very, very close.
Suddenly, out of the mist, there appeared a solitary figure, slowly approaching. Kyle squinted into the fog, trying to make out who it was.
And when he realized, his heart stopped.
It couldn’t be.
Standing there, before him, was his mother. His real mother, his human mother, before he was ever turned. It was the one person he loved most in the world, the one person who could recall what a kind person he had been before he’d been turned—and the one person who reminded him of his own humanity.
Kyle felt as if he’d been struck through the heart. Pangs of guilt and remorse tore him apart.
At the sight of her, he dropped to his knees, and wept.
“Mother!” Kyle yelled, weeping like a child.
She came closer to him, arms outstretched, a compassionate smile on her face.
Kyle could not comprehend what she was doing in this time and place. Had she come to ask him to repent?
“Come to me, my child,” she said, beckoning him.
Kyle rose to his feet, and took a step forward to her.
The second he did, he regretted it.
Suddenly, he felt his whole world turn upside down, as he went rocketing upwards into the air.
This was followed by a loud creaking noise, and as Kyle swung side to side, staring down at the ground, he realized he’d stepped into a trap.
The silver rope had tightened around his feet, had propelled him high into the air, twenty feet off the ground, dangling upside down. Kyle reached up to tear it off, but realized it was vampire-resistant material, one he could not tamper with.
He hung there, swinging upside down, infuriated. He was infuriated at being caught, and infuriated by his own stupidity. More than anything, he was infuriated that he had been tricked.
An evil laugh sounded in the distance.
Kyle recognized that laugh anywhere, as a chill ran up his spine. Rynd.
“So, the master comes home to roost,” Rynd growled, in his deep, gravelly voice.
Into Kyle’s line of vision, upside down, came an imposing vampire, flanked by dozens of other vampires. He was bigger and meaner and uglier than Kyle had ever remembered. He must have been a foot taller than Kyle, with huge, black empty eyes, gleaming fangs, and a square, pockmarked face.
He wore his thick black hair straight back on his head, braided tightly.
“You bastard,” Kyle spat. “You shapeshifted into my mother.”
“Oldest trick in the book,” Rynd spat. “Who doesn’t like his mother? Even a creature like you was bound to fall for it.”
“
You’ll pay for that,” Kyle snarled, embarrassed.
Rynd laughed.
“You stupid old bastard. Clearly, the only one who will pay now is you. Did you come to say your goodbyes for good, before I kill you?”
“I’ve come to order you to do me a favor,” Kyle said.
Rynd laughed uproariously.
“Order me? You?”
He laughed again.
“I? Do you a favor?” he continued “The only favor I will do you is to put you far beneath the earth.”
This was not going as Kyle had hoped. He knew it was time to try a different track.
“I have something that can help you,” Kyle said.
“Nothing of yours can help me,” Rynd snapped, and his eyes suddenly glowered in fury. “I’m beyond being helped by you or anyone or anything. I’m much stronger than you now.”
“Set me down, and we can talk,” Kyle said.
“It’s too late for that,” Rynd said. “If I set you down, it will be only to lie with the worms.” Kyle’s heart stopped, as he heard the sickening sound of a silver sword being extracted from its scabbard. He watched as Rynd took several steps forward and raised it high. He began to swing, aiming for Kyle’s throat, and Kyle could see from the look in his eyes, that it was a look meant to kill.
And Kyle suddenly realized that these moments might just be his last.
CHAPTER NINE
The day broke brisk and cold, and Caitlin woke up excited. Aiden had told her that the wedding preparations would begin immediately, on this day. She had woken Caleb when she’d returned and told him she’d be thrilled to marry him right away, and he’d been ecstatic. She’d slept the whole night in his arms, eager for dawn to break so that the preparations could begin.
Aiden had told her that the traditional vampire wedding was preceded by a day of tournaments, of jousting and sparring to test each other’s skills. She was so curious to learn more about all the vampire rituals surrounding a wedding, and excited to begin the first step towards actually getting married. It still felt surreal to her.
As Caitlin walked out the castle, dressed in her sparring gear, she held Caleb’s hand as they crossed the expansive castle grounds in the cold October morning, Scarlet and Ruth right behind them. In the distance, Caitlin could see the entire coven was already out and waiting—dozens of Aiden’s vampires, mixed with dozens of McCleod’s human warriors. Standing among them were also Sam and Polly, beaming as they watched them approach. There must have been a hundred warriors in total, forming a large rectangle on the tournament field, all dressed in full battle gear, standing quietly, waiting.
Clearly, Caitlin and Caleb were the guests of honor today. Two warriors sounded a trumpet at their arrival, and the crowd parted ways as they walked through, and were prompted into the center of the open field. As Caitlin and Caleb stood there, Aiden slowly stepped forward and faced them.
The crowd remained silent in the early morning, the only noise the slight rustling of the wind, and the flapping of banners.
“No vampire wedding may begin without a full day of tournaments. It is an ancient ritual. The tournaments are our way of keeping in mind that a vampire union is a union based on blood.
Husband and wife are also a warrior team. Which is why we begin our day with you two fighting together. You will fight as a team, back to back. Against you will be pitted our best warriors.
Together, you must protect each other, and fight your way through.” Aiden stepped back out of the circle, and slowly nodded to his men.
Caitlin stood in the center of the circle, back to back with Caleb, and felt a nervous rush as they were each suddenly thrown weapons. She caught hers in midair: wooden swords. She was relieved that they wouldn’t be using live, deadly weapons; she wasn’t worried about her own fighting skills, or Caleb’s, but she was worried about hurting someone else.
There was little time to think. Within moments, they were charged by a dozen vampire and human warriors, coming at them from every direction. They, too, wielded wooden weapons—
spears, swords, shields, lances, and other weapons she couldn’t recognize at first. She felt Caleb’s back flush up against hers, felt his muscles tense up, and felt reassured to have him at her side.
Within moments, the first attackers were in her face, swinging, slashing.
Caitlin’s instincts took over. Her vampire speed and reflexes, all her years of training with Aiden, took. She found herself parrying and slashing back, kicking and dodging and rolling. As three vampires charged and brought down their swords at the same time in a well-coordinated attack, she spun and slashed all three swords away as she came back around, and kicked one hard with a spinning roundhouse kick, knocking him hard into the other warriors—who all landed on top of each other.
Caitlin looked up to see another warrior—this one a human—charging her with a large, wooden battle ax. He brought it down with two hands, aiming straight for her head, and she could tell that if he’d hit, the blow would really hurt. She was surprised at these human warriors’ speed; if she hadn’t been looking, he would have caught her.
But Caitlin’s reflexes again kicked in, and she dodged out of the way at the last second, the wood whistling by her ear. As the warrior rushed past her, she leaned back and kicked him hard in the ribs, sending him to the ground.
Caitlin turned just in time to see a long wooden chain and mace being swung right for her chest.
She jumped back, and it missed by a hair, as it grazed the tip of her clothing. She imagined what that mace would have done to her—even though it was wood. The warrior swung again, and this time, she could see he was aiming for Caleb.
Caleb, his back to her, had his hands full, slashing and parrying with two vampires and one human warrior. He didn’t see the mace being swung right for him. The mace was coming down hard, and it was about to strike a hard blow on his shoulder.
Caitlin reached her sword high in the air and intercepting it before it reached Caleb. The chain, instead, wrapped several times around her sword, entangled in it. She then yanked it hard, and as she did, the warrior was pulled close to her; she then leaned back and sidekicked him hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.
Caitlin turned and leapt into the air, somersaulting over Caleb, and landing a double front kick on the chest of his opponent. She then reached down and grabbed his sword, swung around, and cracked one of Caleb’s other opponents hard behind his knees, buckling him to the floor. Caleb followed up by kicking him in the chest, and sending him to the ground. The third warrior swung around and was about to crack Caitlin hard in the back with his wooden sword. She had made a stupid mistake—she had been too preoccupied with Caleb’s other two warriors, and now she braced herself for a blow.
But at the last second, she heard the sound of wood on wood, and spun to see that Caleb had blocked the blow for her, then reached over and kicked him, knocking him to the ground.
Caitlin looked at Caleb with gratitude, and he exchanged the same grateful look. She could really feel that they were in this together.
Dozens more warriors prepared to charge, but suddenly there was the blow of a loud whistle, and everyone stopped.
Aiden stepped forward.
“Well done,” he said, as Caitlin and Caleb stood there, out of breath. “Now, we switch to jousting.”
The warriors immediately repositioned themselves, as servants brought out horses from the castle grounds. These horses were beautifully bedecked, covered in jewels, and the kings’ men, wearing chainmail, handed out several shining lances.
Caitlin found herself led to a horse, which she mounted, then found herself handed a huge lance.
On the far side of the field, facing her, a vampire warrior mounted a horse and scowled back at her. She recognized him immediately. Cain.
Another whistle sounded, and Caitlin’s horse charged forward at a gallop. The warriors all cheered, as the two galloped right for each other. Caitlin could feel the wind in her hair, out of breath
at the speed of the horse, doing her best to wield the heavy lance. She saw the expression in Cain’s face, bearing down on her, and tried instead to focus not on his eyes, but on his chest. On where to place the lance. He was taller than her, and had the advantage. But she decided not to rely on her senses.
Caitlin closed her eyes, and tuned in. She sensed the spirit of the horse, felt its minute movements, its breathing; she sensed her opponent’s horse, her opponent’s weaknesses. She felt every muscle in the horse as they ran, felt the indents in the terrain, the cool feel of her lance’s hilt.
When she opened her eyes again, she was but feet away—and she let her arm guide the lance to its proper place.
It was a direct hit. She hit Cain on his rib cage, a split-second before he reached her. Cain fell off his horse, tumbling to the ground hard, and the crowd cheered.
Caitlin jousted again and again, for what felt like hours, against vampire warriors, against human warriors….Time and again, she was victorious.
Simultaneously, several more jousting lanes were opened and more horses were brought out, so that Caleb was jousting other opponents beside her, and others were jousting beside him. It became a jovial atmosphere, as dozens of horses were charging each other at any given time, the air filled with the sound of clanging. The royal musicians came out and played on their trumpets and lutes, adding a festive, medieval flare to the festival. Eventually vats of wine were also rolled out, along with vats of blood, and people drank freely throughout the day.
As Caitlin took a break at one point, she noticed that her brother Sam was up on a horse, jousting opponents. He knocked one off easily, looking graceful as he did. She marveled at how far he had come.
She noticed that Polly was jousting, too. After defeating one opponent, she came around, and found herself pared off with Sam.
Caitlin could see the look of anxiety in Sam’s eyes: it was clear he did not want to fight her.
