by Morgan Rice
Indeed, as Caitlin flipped through the pages, one after the next, she felt something happening, felt her mind tingling and buzzing, as she began to see patterns in the words and phrases. She did not understand the language, but she began to get a bird’s-eye feeling of the visuals, the appearance of the letters in the lines. She began to see things. At first it was just a letter, here and there. Then it became a pattern of letters. On one page, she saw a word spelled out in the shape of a diagonal, the letters slanting down to the left and to the right and back again. On the next, she saw a word spelled out in a circle. On the next page, in a long rectangle.
Caitlin did not understand how the patterns were coming to her, but they were. Her heart pounding madly, she began to decode it all.
It began to dawn on her that this was not meant to be an entire book. It was meant to be one word per page, meant to spell out but a few sentences. A key. A code. A message, for the initiated. Meant only for the one who knew how to look.
Caitlin checked off the words as she turned page after page, and she remembered them, and in her mind, sentences began to form:
The last vampire will arise after 2,000 years have passed. She will rise across the ocean and will be named for the color of blood. To enter the city, one needs a key. And the key can only be found here.
Caitlin’s hands shook as she turned the final page of the book, and saw on it nothing but a large diagram, a picture. It was a circle, and inside was what looked like petals of a flower, alternating scarlet and blue. In its center was another circle, with a crude drawing of a face. It was one of the most unusual drawings Caitlin had ever seen, looking like something out a surrealist painting.
As Caitlin looked closely she recognized the symbol—and as she did, aghast, her breath caught in her throat, her hands shaking.
What shocked her was not how unusual the symbol was—but how familiar. She had seen it before, this drawing, many times. It adorned a small leather box belonging to her grandmother. A box that still sat in her grandmother’s attic, in her old house in Florida. That symbol had been a persistent mystery of Caitlin’s childhood, especially after her grandmother had chastised her one day and told her never to touch the box again.
As Caitlin, hands trembling, looked at the last page, she made out a word spelled backwards, written in fine print, in cursive, surrounding the circle. She looked over every sixth word, then every fifth then fourth, then third, and another pattern began to emerge. She went around the circle, again and again, and her heart stopped as she gasped and dropped the book.
There was no mistaking it. The circle spelled out a word. A single word. Her last name:
Paine.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Scarlet stood at the edge of the Hudson River as the sun began to set, standing inside the old, abandoned ruin of the gazebo, their destined meeting place, a place they had both been to before. In this lonely, desolate area hidden by trees, on the edge of the shores, was a private place that only Scarlet and Sage knew about, a place they could mistake for no other. She had been looking forward to meeting him here with such excitement, looking forward to their next time together more than she could say.
Yet now Scarlet cried as she stood there, looking out at the river, watching the sun set, hardly able to comprehend that she was standing here alone. Sage had promised he would meet her here by four o’clock. Now it was after five.
Sage’s ominous last words rang in her head: If I’m not there by four, you can be sure that I’m dead. I would never leave you. I would never abandon you.
Scarlet wept and wept. She had been standing there for an over an hour. Obviously Sage had not made it back from wherever he had gone. Where had he gone? she wondered, burning with frustration, with a desire to know. Why couldn’t he have just told her? Why had he even had to leave? Scarlet would have wanted to be there with them, in his final dying moments. She would have wanted to do anything she could to save him. Why did he feel he had to go off and die alone?
Scarlet, still weeping, stepped out of the gazebo, looking out as the crimson sun began to spread over the river. It felt like death falling all around her, like the last day on earth, the last day she would want to live. With Sage gone, she didn’t want to live, either. The earth held nothing left.
Scarlet slowly stopped crying, took a deep breath, and wiped her tears, feeling a sense of resolve come over her. She knew what she had to do. It was time to say her goodbyes. She would go home, see her parents one last time, and then join Sage, wherever he was.
*
Scarlet hurried up the front steps to her house, noticing there were no cars in the driveway, and wondered where her parents could be. On the one hand, she had to admit that it felt good to be home, in a familiar place, a place that was hers; yet on the other hand, she knew this was no longer her home. She had changed so much since leaving here, she now felt as if she were walking up the steps to another world. Another place. Another lifetime.
As Scarlet reached the door, she was surprised to find it already ajar. She pushed it open further, walked inside, and was shocked at the sight before her.
Her entire house was trashed, curtains on the floor, curtain rods hanging half off the wall, couches torn apart, furniture upended—it looked like a tornado had spun through. Her parents’ precious mahogany dining table was on its side, all the china in the cabinets was smashed, glass littered the floor everywhere. It was like walking through a place that had been bombed. There was not a single thing left intact.
Scarlet looked around in terror, trying to fathom what could have happened.… Who could have done such a thing? And why?
As Scarlet stood there in shock, she spotted a small piece of paper hanging from the chandelier in the dining room, the one thing left untouched. It was a note written on a piece of parchment, in letters that looked like they were written in blood.
Scarlet stepped forward, glass crunching beneath her boots, and pulled down the note with shaking hands. She held it close, and read:
I have Sage. He is captive in our ancestral home, on Boldt Castle in the Thousand Islands. If you want to save him, come. If you want to let him die a slow painful death, if you want us to torture him until his very last breath, then stay where you are. How much do you really love him?
Scarlet, aghast, let the note drop from her hands, as she wondered who could have penned it. Her mind focused on one person: Lore. His jealous, hateful cousin. He was the only one who could have done this.
It was a trap, she knew. His kind wanted her up there. They wanted her dead, so that they could live. They were using Sage to get to her.
Scarlet breathed deep, overwhelmed; she couldn’t stand the idea of Sage held captive, being tortured. She couldn’t stand the idea of his dying. She felt that if he was dead she had nothing left to live for anyway, and if going there would save him, then so be it. Even if she were the prey going to slaughter, walking into a trap, then so be it. It was worth it for her, to save Sage.
Determined, Scarlet spun on her heel and began to march out—when she suddenly looked up to see a group of people standing inside her doorway, looking at her in surprise and wonder. She recognized the man in the middle; it was the priest from the church down the block. But the others, dressed in all black, she did not recognize.
Scarlet stared, confused.
“Father, what are you doing in my house?” she asked, aware that they were blocking her exit, and impatient to leave.
“My daughter,” he said, “what have you done to your parents’ home?”
They all looked about, horrified, and Scarlet looked too, realizing they thought she did this.
“I didn’t,” she said.
His eyes were filled with compassion, but not the eyes of those who joined him. They were older priests, and they looked at her darkly, with no warmth in their gaze.
They all gazed at her skeptically.
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” one of them said. “I’m sure the wind just swept through here
and happened to destroy their home while you were here.”
“What business is it of yours?” Scarlet snapped. “Who are you all? What are you doing in my house? I didn’t invite you in.”
“No, my lady,” one said, “a vampire never invites anyone in.”
Scarlet stared back in the tense silence, wondering how much they knew.
“We have come to help you,” another said. “To cure you.”
The three priests she didn’t know stepped forward. Each took a shiny silver crucifix from inside their waistband, held it up toward her, and began to chant in Latin:
Deje Lo que está dentro de ti que seas libre
Scarlet felt her insides turning, felt a prickly heat rising on her skin, felt a great rage overcoming her. She lunged forward, letting out a guttural scream, hardly even aware of what she was doing, and in one quick motion, she grabbed each of the strange men and threw them like rag dolls across the room. They each smashed into a wall before collapsing on the floor, lying there unconscious.
The house was still again. The only one who remained standing there, trembling, facing her, was the priest she knew. He had not chanted at her, so she had left him untouched.
“Tell your friends to stay away from me,” she said, her voice dark, primal. “Next time I shall not be so kind.”
With that, Scarlet turned, took two steps out of her house, and leapt into the air, flying, soaring high, knowing the priest was watching from below but not caring. She had a man to save. A man she loved.
And she would go to the depths of hell to do it.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Caleb drove faster as he pulled into the gates of Scarlet’s high school and spotted commotion up ahead. He rode in his pickup, Sam by his side, determined to come here on the off chance that Kyle had come here looking for Scarlet.
But Caleb had never expected to see the sight before him. There was chaos in the parking lot, kids screaming, running and racing down the steps, and as Caleb gained speed, his heart pounding, he realized something here was very, very wrong. It looked like a FEMA disaster scene.
The front doors of the high school were torn off their hinges, broken glass was everywhere, and kids screamed as they fled from the school, pouring down the steps out to the parking lot, clearly running for safety. Caleb had a sinking premonition as he watched the whole scene that it all had something to do with Scarlet. And something to do with Kyle.
“Get ready,” Caleb said, tensing up. “He’s here.”
Sam reached into the glove, took out two pistols, locked and loaded them, and placed one in Caleb’s lap.
“I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s take out this piece of trash.”
Kyle was not going to get away this time. Caleb was determined.
Caleb screeched to a stop before the steps, and he had barely killed the ignition before he and Sam jumped out of the car, each with a gun in their belt, and began to run up the steps.
Caleb looked up and suddenly stopped short, as did Sam, as she saw, right before him, the very man he was seeking. Kyle came walking casually out of the building, a huge grin on his face, as if nothing were wrong.
Kyle locked eyes with Caleb, then his eyes lowered to Caleb’s gun. Caleb expected to see fear, or at least hesitation; but the strangest thing happened. Instead of expressing hesitation, or fear, or shock, like any normal person, Kyle just smiled wider, carefree, and continued to saunter right toward them.
Caleb, heart pounding, raised his gun.
“Don’t move,” he said. “Come any closer, I’ll shoot.”
Sam, too, raised his gun.
Kyle grinned wide and stopped, looking at them both as if he were amused.
“Where’s my daughter?” Caleb seethed.
“Isn’t that funny,” Kyle said. “Seems like we have something in common. I want her, too. Maybe when I find her, I’ll tell you where she is. Then again, maybe I won’t.”
Kyle broke into harsh laughter, and as he did, Caleb spotted sharp fangs glistening on the sides of his mouth, and his breath caught. It was real. He was a vampire. His daughter had made this man a vampire. Caleb felt numb.
Kyle lowered his head and began walking quickly toward them.
“Then again,” Kyle said, “maybe I’ll just kill you first. And kill your daughter later.”
“Don’t move!” Caleb yelled.
Kyle ignored him, getting closer, feet away, and Caleb knew it was now or never.
Caleb aimed his gun at Kyle and fired five times. As he did, the gun shook and vibrated in his hand, booming in his ears.
Caleb heard the shouts and screams of students all around them, as he then heard Sam unleashing five shots of his own.
Kyle took shot after shot, his body convulsing with each blast, the two of them filling him with at least ten rounds. It was enough ammunition to kill an elephant, and Caleb watched in satisfaction as Kyle finally fell backwards onto the steps, one hand still holding the metal railing, and lay there, covered in blood, unmoving.
Caleb lowered his smoking gun, looked at Sam, who did the same, and slowly they put the guns in their belt, kids screaming and fleeing all around them. Caleb walked forward to examine Kyle’s dead body. He had never killed a man, not like this, not up close and not in any context outside of war, and his body was trembling from the event. Part of him, despite everything, felt bad. Here he was, having killed another human being. Or was he even human?
Then again, this man had hurt his daughter, Caleb reminded himself. He had killed cops. He would have hurt others. He had no choice.
Caleb began to hear the sound of distant sirens, and soon police cars began to screech into the lot. Caleb stood over Kyle’s body and saw a pool of blood streaming from him, looking as vengeful in death as he had in life. Caleb felt a great sense of relief.
Suddenly, Kyle’s eyes opened wide.
Caleb stood there, frozen in shock, not comprehending what he was seeing.
Kyle jumped to his feet in one quick motion, and stood there, facing them, looking down at them. Caleb was too stunned to react.
Kyle grabbed each of them with each hand, and hoisted each high above his head as if they were nothing. He stared up at them.
“Next time,” Kyle seethed, grinning, “buy a bigger gun.”
Kyle pulled them back, swung them around, and threw them both, and Caleb felt himself flying through the air, going a good twenty feet before landing on the concrete, rolling again and again, bruised and scratched up. He rolled hard, and finally stopped when he banged into a tree.
Caleb lay there, his head pounding, ears ringing, feeling every bone in his body aching, with a vague sense that Sam was on the ground next to him. Caleb looked up and saw Kyle bearing down on them, marching down the steps, a devilish gleam in his eye.
“Now you’re going to die the hard way,” Kyle said.
Suddenly, a dozen police cars, sirens blaring, screeched up on the pavement, blocking the way between Kyle and Caleb and Sam, cutting Kyle off. Dozens of officers jumped out of the cars and raised their guns at Kyle.
“FREEZE!” they shouted.
Kyle ignored them, and they fired on him, again and again and again. It sounded like a warzone. Caleb watched Kyle take more lead than any creature possibly could. At times he stumbled back. But he never fell.
“Let’s go,” Caleb yelled out to Sam, lying a few feet away.
They scrambled to their feet and took off. Caleb wasn’t about to wait around to see what happened. He knew that creature was surrounded by enough cops to kill an army.
And he knew the cops didn’t stand a chance.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Sage felt a burning pain in his arms and legs as he struggled against the Askelon shackles, to no use. He hung there, on the huge Askelon cross, his arms bound on either side of them, his legs tied below, and looked out and saw thousands of his kind, more of his people than he’d ever seen gathered in one place, all swarming around the grand hall in Boldt Castle. It w
as an immense hall, hundreds of feet high, shaped in an arch, and they swarmed about in agitated chaos, some of them buzzing through the air, others pacing the ground, while Sage hung there, in the center, an object of display and scorn.
Sage felt so weak; he had been dragged from his recharging station before he’d had a chance to recover, and he felt himself dying. He knew his time had come. His only regret was that he wanted more time with Scarlet, or at least a chance to say goodbye. He thought of her showing up at their meeting place, and his not being there, and it broke his heart. He could only imagine how hurt she had been. She must have thought he had abandoned her; or worse, that he was already dead.
Sage leaned back and looked up and he saw the ceiling of the hall, tapered, and hundreds of feet high, he saw the hole through it, through which he saw the night sky, the stars, the crescent moon. It let in cool air through the place, and cooled down the frenetic swarming and buzzing of all his people. Sage saw the moon and knew his people still had a few days before the moon finished waning.
Sage looked back down and saw the angry faces of his people staring up at him as if he were the greatest villain. But he no longer cared. He cared not for himself, cared not for the burning pain in his arms and shoulders and legs. He knew they would torture him greatly, and he didn’t care about that, either. He cared only for Scarlet. He prayed that she was safe, far away from here. That none of his people would ever find her.