Fated (Book #11 in the Vampire Journals)

by Morgan Rice

  The police started laughing, and the grating sound cut right through Kyle’s head. The cruiser sped down the highway, its lights on, and Kyle became more aware of his surroundings, started to realize where he was. He was on the same Route Nine, heading back toward prison, the place he’d spent the last fifteen years of his life. He was piecing together the night: that bar…that girl…he was about to have his way with her when…something had happened. The little bitch had bit him.

  Realization rushed through him like a wave. She had bit him.

  Kyle tried to reach up and feel his neck—the two marks there were throbbing—but he was stopped; he realized his hands were cuffed behind his back.

  Kyle moved his arms, and to his amazement, he broke the cuffs with no effort. He held up his wrists in wonder, looking at them, shocked by his own strength. Had the cuffs malfunctioned? He looked at them dangling before him, and wondered: How could he have done that?

  Kyle reached up and felt the two lumps on his neck, and they burned, as if the bite had entered his veins. He sat there, looking at the dangling cuffs, and he wondered: Did vampires exist? Was it possible?

  Kyle grinned wide. It was time to find out.

  Kyle took the dangling cuffs and tapped them against the cage before him.

  The two cops turned and looked back, and this time they weren’t laughing; now, their faces bore looks of shock. Kyle’s hands were free, his cuffs broken, and he dangled them there, grinning, as he continued to tap on the cage.

  “Holy shit,” one officer said to the other. “Didn’t you cuff him, Bill?”

  “I did. I’m sure of it. I cuffed him tighter than hell.”

  “Not tight enough,” Kyle growled.

  One cop reached for his gun, and the other went to slam on the brakes.

  But not fast enough. With incredible speed, Kyle reached out, tore the metal grate off as if it were a toothpick, and dove into the front seat.

  Kyle lunged onto the cop in the passenger seat, smacked the gun from his hands, and reached back and elbowed him so hard, he snapped the cop’s neck.

  The other cop swerved, and the car reeled across the highway as Kyle reached over, grabbed him by the back of the head, and head-butted him. A crack filled the air as the cop’s blood gushed all over Kyle. With the car careening, Kyle reached out to grab the wheel—but it was too late.

  The police cruiser swerved onto the other side of the highway, and horns filled the air as it smashed into an oncoming car.

  Kyle went flying through the windshield, head-first, and he landed on the highway, rolling and rolling, as the car flipped and rolled onto its side, too. A car coming toward Kyle screeched its brakes, but not in time—and Kyle felt his chest being crushed as the car ran him over.

  The car screeched to a halt as Kyle lay there, breathing hard, and a woman in her thirties got out, screaming, crying, as she ran to Kyle, who lay on his back.

  “Oh my God, are you okay?” she said in a rush. “I tried to stop in time. Oh my God. I’ve killed a man! Oh my God!”

  The woman was hysterical, kneeling over him, weeping.

  Suddenly, Kyle opened his eyes, sat up, and looked at the woman.

  Her crying stopped as she stared back at him in shock, eyes wide in the headlights.

  Kyle grinned, leaned in, and sank his beautiful ecstatic fangs, growing and growing, into her throat.

  It was the greatest feeling of his life.

  The woman screamed as he drank her blood, gorging himself until she fell limp in his arms.

  Kyle rose to his feet, satisfied, and turned and surveyed the empty highway.

  He straightened his collar, smoothed his shirt, and took the first step. There was a lot of payback coming this town’s way—and it would all start with Scarlet.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sage flew through the air, into the breaking dawn, the first rays of sun lighting up a tear on his cheek that he quickly brushed away. He was exhausted, bleary-eyed from flying all night, searching for Scarlet. He was sure he’d spotted her many times during the night, only to swoop down on some strange girl, shocked to see him land, and take off again. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever find her.

  Scarlet was nowhere to be found, and Sage could not understand it. Their connection was so strong, he was sure that he would be able to sense her, that she would lead him to her. He couldn’t understand what had happened. Had she died?

  Sage’s only guess was that perhaps she was in such an emotional state, all her senses were blocked, and he was unable to pick up on her location; or maybe she had fallen into a deep sleep, as vampires were known to do after the first time they fed on a human. That could be deadly for some, he knew, and his heart pained at the thought of her out there, who knew where, all alone. Would she ever wake up?

  Sage flew low, flying so fast he was undetected, passing by all the familiar places he had gone with her—their school, her house, everywhere he could think of—using his laser-like vision to comb the trees and the streets for her.

  As the sun rose higher and hour after hour passed, Sage finally knew there was no use searching anymore. He would have to wait until she surfaced, or until he could detect her again.

  Sage was exhausted in a way he had never been before. He could feel his life force beginning to ebb away. He knew he only had days to go now until he himself died, and as he felt another pain in his chest and arms and shoulders, he felt that he was dying inside. He knew he would soon leave this earth—and he had made peace with that. He only wanted to spend his final days with Scarlet.

  With nowhere left to search, Sage circled and flew over to his family’s sweeping estate on the Hudson, looking at it down below. He circled again and again, like an eagle, wondering: should he see them one last time? He didn’t know what would be the point. They all hated him now for not bringing Scarlet to them; and he had to admit, he hated them, too. The last time he left, his sister had been dying in his arms, and Lore had been on his way to try to kill Scarlet. He did not want to face them again.

  And yet he had nowhere else to go.

  As he flew, Sage heard a banging, and he looked down and saw several of his cousins holding up boards to the windows and hammering. One by one, they were boarding up their ancestral mansion, and Sage spotted several dozen of his cousins taking off in flight. He was intrigued. Clearly, something was happening.

  Sage had to find out. A part of him wanted to know where they were going, what would become of his family—and a bigger part of him wanted to know if they had any idea where Scarlet was. Maybe one of them had seen or heard something. Maybe Lore had captured her. He had to know; it was the only lead he had.

  Sage dove down for his family’s estate, landing in the back marble courtyard, before the grand steps leading up to the rear entranceway comprised of tall, antique French doors.

  As he approached them, they suddenly opened, and he saw his mother and father step forward, facing him with a stern, disapproving look.

  “What are you doing back here?” his mother asked, as if he were an unwelcome intruder.

  “You’ve killed us once,” his father said. “Our people could have survived if it weren’t for you. Have you come to kill us again?”

  Sage frowned; he was so sick of his parents’ disapproval.

  “Where are you all going?” Sage demanded.

  “Where do you think?” his father retorted. “They’ve convened the Grand Council for the first time in one thousand years.”

  Sage looked back, shocked.

  “Boldt Castle?” he asked. “You are going to the Thousand Islands?”

  His parents scowled back.

  “What do you care?” his mother said.

  Sage couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Grand Council hadn’t convened since what felt like the beginning of time, and for all of their kind to gather together in one place, it could not be good.

  “But why?” he asked. “Why convene, if we’re all going to die anyway?”

&nb
sp; His father stepped forward and smiled as he raised a finger and jabbed it in Sage’s chest.

  “We’re not like you,” he growled. “We’re not going down without a fight. Ours will be the greatest army ever known, the first time we’ve all assembled in one place. Mankind will pay. We will take our vengeance.”

  “Vengeance for what?” Sage asked. “Mankind has done nothing to you. Why would you hurt innocent people?”

  His father smiled back.

  “Stupid to the end,” he said. “Why wouldn’t we? What have we left to lose? What are they going to do, kill us?”

  His father laughed, and his mother joined him, as the two of them linked arms and walked past him, bumping his shoulders roughly, preparing to take off in flight.

  Sage yelled after them: “I remember a time when you were noble,” he said. “But now, you are nothing. You are less than nothing. Is this what desperation does to you?”

  They turned and grimaced.

  “Your problem, Sage, is that while you are one of us, you have never understood our kind. Destruction is all we’ve ever wanted. It is only you, only you who has been different.”

  “You are the child we never understood,” his mother said. “And you’ve never failed to disappoint us.”

  Sage felt a pain course through him, felt too weak to respond.

  As they turned to leave, Sage, gasping, mustered the strength to yell: “Scarlet! Where is she? Tell me!”

  His mother turned and smiled wide.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about her,” his mother said. “Lore will find her, and rescue us all. Or he will die trying. And when we live on, don’t you dare think there will be a place for you.”

  Sage reddened.

  “I hate you!” he yelled. “I hate you both!”

  His parents merely turned, smiling, stepped up onto the marble railing, and took off into the sky.

  Sage stood there and watched them go, disappearing into the sky, as the remainder of his cousins joined them. He stood there, all alone, before his boarded-up ancestral home, with nothing here left for him. His family hated him—and he hated them back.

  Lore. Sage felt a fresh burst of determination as he thought of him. He could not let him find Scarlet. Despite all the pain inside him, he knew he had to muster the strength one last time. He had to find Scarlet.

  Or die trying.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Caitlin sat in the passenger seat of their pickup, exhausted, heartbroken, as Caleb drove relentlessly on Route 9, driving up and down as he had been for hours, scouring the streets. Dawn was breaking, and Caitlin looked up through the windshield at the unusual sky. She marveled that it was daybreak already. They had been driving all night, the two of them in front and Sam and Polly in the back seat, keeping their eyes peeled to the side of the road, looking everywhere for Scarlet. Once, they had screeched to a stop, Caitlin thinking she’d seen her—only to realize it was a scarecrow.

  Caitlin closed her eyes for a moment, her eyelids feeling so heavy, swollen, and she saw the flashing of cars as she did, headlights passing, an endless flow of traffic as she had seen all night long. She felt like crying.

  Caitlin felt so hollow inside, like such a bad mother for not having been there enough for Scarlet—for not having believed in her, for not understanding her, for not being there in her time of need. Somehow, Caitlin felt responsible for all this. And she felt like dying at the thought that she might not ever see her daughter again.

  Caitlin started to cry, and she opened her eyes and quickly wiped her tears away. Caleb reached over and grabbed her hand, but she shook it away. Caitlin turned to look out the window, wanting privacy, wanting to be alone—wanting to die. Without her little girl in her life, she realized she had nothing left.

  Caitlin felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Sam leaning forward.

  “We’ve been driving all night,” he said. “There’s no sign of her anywhere. We’ve covered every inch of Route 9. The cops are out there, too, with far more cars than us. We’re all exhausted, and we’ve no idea where she could be. She might even be home, waiting for us.”

  “I agree,” Polly said. “I say we head home. We need some rest.”

  Suddenly there came a loud honking, and Caitlin looked up to see a truck coming right at them, as they were on the wrong side of the road.

  “CALEB!” Caitlin screamed.

  Caleb suddenly swerved out of the way at the last second, back onto his side of the road, missing the honking truck by a foot.

  Caitlin stared at him, her heart pounding, and an exhausted Caleb stared back, his eyes bloodshot.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I must’ve dozed off.”

  “This isn’t doing anyone any good,” Polly said. “We need rest. We need to go home. We’re all exhausted.”

  Caitlin considered, and finally, after a long moment, she nodded.

  “All right. Take us home.”

  *

  Caitlin sat on her couch as the sun rose, leafing through a photo book with pictures of Scarlet. She was flooded with all the memories rushing back to her, of Scarlet at all different ages. Caitlin rubbed her thumb along them, wishing more than anything in the world that she could have Scarlet here with her now. She would give anything, even her own heart and soul.

  Caitlin held up the torn page from the book which she’d taken from the library, the ancient ritual, the one that would save Scarlet if only Caitlin had returned in time, the one that would have cured her from becoming a vampire. Caitlin tore the ancient page into small pieces and threw them to the floor. They landed near Ruth, her large husky, who whined and curled up at Caitlin’s side.

  That page, that ritual, which had once meant so much to Caitlin, was useless now. Scarlet had already fed, and no ritual could save her now.

  Caleb and Sam and Polly, also in the room, were each lost in their own world, each slumped in a couch or chair, either sleeping or half asleep. They lay there in the heavy silence, all of them waiting for Scarlet to walk in the door—and all suspecting she never would.

  Suddenly, the phone rang. Caitlin jumped up and snatched it, her hand shaking. She dropped the receiver several times, finally picking it up and holding it to her ear.

  “Hello, hello, hello?” she said. “Scarlet, is that you? Scarlet!?”

  “Ma’am, it’s Officer Stinton,” came a male voice.

  Caitlin’s heart dropped to realize it wasn’t Scarlet.

  “I’m just calling to let you know we have no sign of your daughter yet.”

  Caitlin’s hopes were dashed. She gripped the phone, squeezing it, desperate.

  “You’re not trying hard enough,” she seethed.

  “Ma’am, we’re doing all we can—”

  Caitlin didn’t wait for the rest of his response. She slammed the receiver down, then grabbed the phone, a large landline from the ’80s, ripped the cord out of the wall, picked it up over her head, and smashed it down to the ground.

  Caleb, Sam, and Polly all jumped up, startled from sleep, and looked at her as though she were mad.

  Caitlin looked down at the phone and she realized, maybe she was.

  Caitlin stormed from the room, opened the door to their large front porch, and went out alone and sat on a rocking chair. It was cold in the dawn, and she didn’t care. She felt numb to the world.

  She folded her arms across her chest tight, and she rocked and rocked in the cool November air. She looked out at the empty street that was spreading with the light of a new day, not a soul in sight, not a car moving, all the houses still dark. Everything still. A perfectly quiet suburban street, not a leaf out of place, everything clean and how it was supposed to be. Perfectly normal.

  But nothing, Caitlin knew, was normal. She suddenly hated this place which she had loved for years. She hated the quiet; she hated the stillness; she hated the order. What she wouldn’t give for chaos, for the stillness to be shattered, for sound, for mot
ion, for her daughter to appear.

  Scarlet, she prayed, as she closed her eyes, crying, come back to me, baby. Please come back to me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Scarlet Paine felt herself floating through the air, the fluttering of a million small wings in her ear as she felt herself being raised up, higher and higher. She looked out to see she was being hoisted by a flock of bats, a million bats, surrounding her, clinging to the back of her shirt, carrying her through the air.

  Scarlet was carried up through the clouds, through the most beautiful breaking dawn she’d ever seen, the clouds scattering and breaking up, the whole burnt-orange sky on fire. She did not understand what was happening, but somehow, she was unafraid. She sensed they were taking her somewhere, and as they screeched and fluttered all around her, as they hoisted her into the sky, she felt as if she were one of them.

  Before Scarlet could process what was happening, the bats set her down, gently, before the biggest castle she’d ever seen. It had ancient stone walls, and she stood before an immense arched door. The bats flew off, disappearing, their fluttering fading.

  Scarlet stood facing the door, and slowly, it opened. An amber light spilled out, and Scarlet felt drawn to enter.

  Scarlet crossed the threshold of the door, passed through the light, and entered the largest chamber she had ever seen. Inside, lined up at perfect attention, facing her, stood an army of vampires, dressed in all black. She hovered above them, looking down upon them as if she were their leader.

  As one, they all raised their palms and slapped them against their chests.

  “You have given birth to a nation,” they boomed, their voice as one, echoing off the walls. “You have given birth to a nation!”

  The vampires let out a great shout, and as they did, Scarlet took it all in, feeling as if, finally, she had found her people.

  Scarlet’s eyes flew open as she woke to the sound of breaking glass. She found herself lying face-down on the cement, her cheeks pushed up against it, cold and wet and damp. She saw ants crawling toward her, and placed her palms on the rough cement, sat up, and brushed them away.