“I’ve been texting you off the hook.”
“Sorry, my phone broke,” she said.
He shrugged.
“Anyway here you are. You coming with us tonight? To Bannerman’s?”
Scarlet looked at the others, unsure, and they all nodded vigorously back at her.
“You have to come,” Maria said, stepping forward, linking arms with her.
“Of course she’s coming,” Maria volunteered to Blake. “She wouldn’t miss it.”
“Awesome,” Blake said. “We’ll ride out on the same boat.”
Scarlet went with the others to the couch and sat down, staring, thinking, and did not take the drink they offered to her. All the others drank as they turned up the music, laughing and having fun with each other, and in their joy, not one of them noticed that Scarlet was sitting there, despondent, wanting to be anywhere but here, not knowing what to do, and wishing the world would end.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Caitlin walked quickly with Caleb up the endless steps on the Columbia University campus, their footsteps echoing as they hurried across the imposing building that held Aiden’s office. It felt surreal for Caitlin to be back here, this place she had spent so many years of her life, and her heart was pounding as she headed for the building, fearing what Aiden might say. Caitlin took assurance in having Caleb at her side, both of them desperate to see Aiden again and also dreading it. The last time she had been here he had advised her to kill her own daughter. She had vowed to never return.
But now she found herself in a desperate situation, and she realized now, ironically, that Aiden was the only person left she could turn to. She only prayed that the outcome would be different this time, that he would have something to tell her that could help Scarlet. There was no one else who had more scholarship on the subject than he, and if there was anyone in the world who would know how to guide her, it would be him.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Caleb asked. “How can some old professor help us get our daughter back?”
They walked quickly, Caitlin out of breath as she spoke.
“Not just a professor,” she said, “he’s a genius and a scholar. He holds the entire university library in his head. If anyone knows where to look, it will be Aiden.”
“But look for what? How will that help us find Scarlet?”
Caitlin shook her head.
“You don’t understand. It’s not just Scarlet we’re looking for; it’s the motivation behind where she might be. We need to know what’s driving her. What’s overcome her. Unless we have that understanding, we can’t know where to look. And most of all, we need a cure. Aiden could shed light on all of this.”
Caleb shook his head.
“I think we are wasting time here. I don’t have your mind for all this scholarly stuff. I never have. But I respect you. If you think this is the way, so be it.”
“We have to try,” she said. “Please don’t be so skeptical. You were skeptical once, and you were wrong. Remember?”
He looked at her, and he nodded, and finally, she could see that he was humbled.
“I’m ready to listen,” he conceded. “After what I’ve seen, I’m ready to hear anything.”
They reached the top of the stairs, and as Caitlin looked up, she was surprised to see Aiden standing outside the door of the building, eagerly awaiting them. His face was lined with concern, and he rushed forward and greeted her, placing a reassuring hand around her shoulder and guiding them in.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he said, his voice gravely concerned, and she could see the compassion on his face. She realized she was wrong about him; he had never intended anything but the best for her, and had said what he had said out of concern.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Caitlin said.
“Have you been followed?” he asked.
Caitlin’s heart pounded as she considered the notion for the first time; she turned and looked behind her, as did Caleb, and she shook her head.
“Come with me,” he said quickly. “I don’t want anyone to hear our conversation.”
Aiden looked all about nervously, then turned and opened the door, and they followed him up several flights of stairs, down a hall, and finally to his office.
They crowded into the tiny room, and Caitlin and Caleb sat side-by-side in the two small student chairs, as Aiden shut the door firmly behind them and took a seat opposite them. Aiden leaned forward on his desk, elbows on it, hands beneath his chin, one of his eyes twitching nervously.
Caitlin could see the toll that all this had taken on him, too, and she could see that he was a good man, and had never really wanted any harm to come to Scarlet.
“I’m sorry it has come to this,” he said. “I am sure you know I only wanted the best for all of you. I said what I said because I also didn’t want any harm to befall humanity. This is an unfortunate turn of events. Most unfortunate.”
Caitlin fidgeted in her chair, and before she could speak, Caleb leaned forward, anxious, and said: “Can you tell us where our daughter is?”
Aiden leaned back, sighed, and shook his head sadly.
“I’m afraid I cannot,” he said. “But I might be able to help you in other ways. Perhaps I can help you get to the bottom of what is motivating her. And what you can expect.”
“What do you mean, what to expect?” Caleb demanded.
Aiden leaned back in his chair, which creaked as he did.
“Vampirism existed for thousands of years,” he explained. “Your daughter was the last one. Now that she has fed on someone else, I’m afraid the plague is no longer contained. We don’t know how many others she’s infected, or how many others her victim has, too. It is too late for containment. Now we must find the solution.”
“A solution?” Caitlin asked tentatively. “Is there one?”
Aiden closed his eyes, looking pained.
“That is a question that has plagued scholars, historians, victims, the afflicted, the church, and even witch-hunters for thousands of years. Does a solution to vampirism exist? One would think yes. After all, your daughter was the last remaining vampire on earth. But you see, the problem is that the cure—if it exists—has been hidden. No one knows by whom, or when, or why. This is not knowledge that is freely shared, as you can imagine, but I will tell you that scholars and historians and others have searched for centuries. There have been many promising leads, even rumors of discovery. But no one has ever produced concrete proof. In many ways, we are knights in the search for the Holy Grail, for the Lost Ark. There are so many theories, it’s hard to know whom to believe. I myself have never seen evidence.”
“Can you tell me: is there hope?” Caitlin asked, desperate.
Aiden examined her, his eyes filled with intelligence.
“If you ask me,” he said carefully, “I would say yes. Others would not agree.”
“That’s great news,” Caitlin said.
“Not necessarily,” Aiden said. “I think there is a Holy Grail, too—yet that doesn’t mean I think I can find it. Or that anyone else can. There are so many centuries of scholarship to wade through, so many false leads to track down. I don’t know if it’s ever been done thoroughly and painstakingly enough. I don’t know if it could ever be achieved in our lifetime.”
“I can achieve it,” Caitlin said, determined. “Just tell me where to look. You know me: I can scan a thousand books a day if I have to. It’s my daughter’s life on the line here. You yourself said—”
Aiden held up a hand.
“I’ve never met anyone with your scholarly mind, Caitlin,” Aiden said, “but even with your incredible speed and comprehension, it is a tall order. You must understand, you would be searching for two different things: both a cure for vampirism—for Scarlet—and a weapon to kill them—for the people she’s turned. You will need both. The legends have it that you can only ‘cure’ vampires that are pure and innocent of heart, like your daughter. The ones with darker spirits will need to be killed.
/> “This is precisely why I believe your daughter was the last of the vampires. I believe all the other vampires were killed. The last vampire, the pure one, of good heart, could not be killed the same way. I believe the relic was found to kill vampires—but not the relic to cure them.”
He sighed and leaned back.
“But you’ve got me off on a tangent and this is all inconsequential now,” he said. “They’re both long-lost, wherever they are.”
Caitlin focused only on the possibility, and she felt a fresh wave of determination; she would hear of nothing else.
“You spoke of leads,” Caitlin said. “Can you give them to me?”
Aiden summed her up and shook his head.
“That’s you,” he said. “Once you get something into your head, you will never take no for an answer.”
He sighed.
“I can give you a library full of them,” he added. “But you are just one person. You will not be able to comb through it all. The chances of your wading through it on time—”
“Aiden, please,” Caitlin insisted, pleading. “I have to try. It is my daughter out there. I have to bring her back to me. I will try anything—however far-fetched.”
Aiden thought for a long time in silence. Finally, he nodded.
“All right,” he conceded. “I believe you embark on a futile task, but very well. As you wish. Your first order of business must be to visit the most complete library on the topic: the collection at the Yale library.”
Aiden lifted a heavy fountain pen and a notepad off the mess of books on his desk, and he hunched over and began scribbling furiously as he spoke.
“You’ll need to reference all these titles,” he said, scribbling. “They are virtual encyclopedias of reliable occult scholarship. You’ll find a dozen of the best theories within them. Whether you’ll get anywhere, that is a different matter.”
“Thank you,” Caitlin said meaningfully, taking the piece of paper.
Aiden looked back and forth, from Caitlin to Caleb.
“Before you go, there is something I still don’t understand about your story,” Aiden said. “You said you entered this bar and found Scarlet?”
“No,” Caleb said. “She was in the back room of the bar. First, we had an altercation.”
“An altercation?” he asked, his voice rising with alarm.
“Yes, with the locals,” Caleb said. “Actually, it wasn’t going well. But a boy showed up, and he helped.”
Aiden leaned forward, intrigued. “A boy, you say?”
“Yes,” Caleb said.
“It was not normal,” Caitlin added, remembering. “It was like he had super strength. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.”
Aiden studied her, clearly concerned.
“Why was this boy there?” he asked, and Caitlin could detect the alarm in his voice.
“He said he was looking for Scarlet.”
Aiden leaned back and thought for a long time, brows furrowed.
“Why do you ask?” Caitlin finally asked, becoming concerned herself by his expression.
“I think there may be another force at play here,” Aiden finally said.
“What do you mean?” Caitlin asked.
Aiden sighed.
“There is a prophecy that, when the last vampire on earth surfaces, the Immortalists would die.”
“Immortalists?” Caleb asked.
Aiden nodded.
“An ancient race of legend, a race destined to live precisely two thousand years old. Not quite immortal—a misnomer, if you will. But they have the ability to be immortal, to extend their lifetimes forever. They need the last vampire to continue living….”
He paused.
“It could be that Scarlet found herself in the middle of an Immortalist war. If the legend holds true, it could be that she is their last hope for survival. That could explain the boy.”
“This all sounds way too far out for me,” Caleb said, leaning back, crossing his arms. “Aren’t you a scholar? Do you really believe in all this stuff?”
Caitlin shook her head, overwhelmed.
“No,” she said to Aiden. “The boy was definitely there to help us.”
“To help you find her,” Aiden corrected.
“It sounds too surreal,” Caitlin replied.
“And yet you’re the one that came to me with the story,” Aiden replied. “Do not doubt what your instincts tell you.”
“So what now?” Caleb asked. “I don’t care about all this stuff, honestly—I just want my daughter back.”
“But you must care about all of this, Mr. Payne,” Aiden said. “You will need it in order to get her back. Combing the streets will not yield her. Without unraveling all of this, you will never find her, and you will certainly never save her.”
He turned to Caitlin.
“Go to Yale,” he said. “Search for leads for the cure and the weapon. I myself will look into this boy, and do more research on the Immortalists. I feel they may be an integral part of your puzzle.”
“What should I do?” Caleb said.
Aiden turned to him.
“Your daughter’s first victim is out there somewhere, now surely turned,” he said. “Soon enough, he will turn others. You must find this man and stop him before Caitlin can find the answer.”
He leaned in close.
“Do you hear me?” Aiden repeated, emphatic. “Right now, he is the gravest threat to mankind as we know it. Above all, you must stop him.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kyle strutted down Route 9, feeling reborn, stronger than ever, as he relived in his mind’s eye again and again his killing of those police officers. Nothing gave him more joy. He would kill more if he could.
Kyle made a fist, flexed his muscles, and he couldn’t understand where his newfound strength came from. He felt blood pumping through his veins at an insane rate, as if he had received ten blood infusions. As he bounced along the road, he felt like a boy of eighteen, invincible, ready to take on the world. He couldn’t believe how much energy he had to his step; he felt like he was ready to party all night long.
Kyle knew he should be afraid, knew that he was a cop-killer now, and that soon the whole county would be out looking for him. He figured he probably shouldn’t be walking conspicuously down Route 9, as if he didn’t have a fear in the world.
But for some reason, he was unafraid. More than that, he felt emboldened, invincible even. He had shed all fear, and he had the craziest feeling that no matter what happened, he couldn’t get killed. He felt the greatest confidence of his life—and he wanted to test it.
The night road was black, the early signs of dawn just beginning to break on the horizon, the sky still a twilight gray, and Kyle was determined to test his limits. Instead of walking along the shoulder, he moved to the middle of the road. He walked slowly, casually, right down the center, knowing that cars couldn’t see him in time—knowing that they would hit him.
He wanted them to hit him. He wanted to see if he really was invincible.
Within moments lights flooded the horizon, and a van came speeding down Route 9. Kyle heard the tires on the pavement, followed by a horn blaring, and the screech of the tires. Kyle stood his ground and faced them, grinning, knowing it was too late for them to stop.
The occupants saw him, their horrified faces up against the windshield as they smashed into him.
The impact smashed their fender, then their windshield, and it caused the van to stop short—as if they’d hit a wall. The driver and the passenger, a middle-aged couple, flew through the windshield, landing on the pavement, a bloody mess, unmoving. The van sat there, smoking, its horn blaring permanently.
Kyle stood there checking himself and realized, amazed, that he was unhurt. A few bruises on his arms, that was all—and as he looked down at them, they healed before his eyes.
Kyle smiled wide.
Nothing can stop me now, he thought. If only I’d had this kind of power in prison. He daydreamed of al
l the corrections officers he would have killed, all the fellow inmates he would have freed. The killing spree that would have followed.
Kyle turned and saw the middle-aged couple lying on the ground, dead, and he felt satisfied.
They shouldn’t have been out driving this early anyway, he thought. Served them right.
Kyle turned and began marching back to where he’d been going: Pete’s. He was thirsty, and he wanted a beer—and a lot more than that.
*
Kyle set off at a jog for Pete’s, and he was amazed to realize that he made it in just a few strides, crossing hundreds of yards in seconds. He blinked and found himself at the bar’s door. He wondered what was happening to him. Was he imagining all this? Was this some kind of amazing dream?
Kyle stepped up to the door and saw that it was still off its hinges, crooked from the night’s festivities. He felt this was the place to go; he needed to find out more about that girl that bit him—Scarlet—and this was the only place he knew that she had been. Someone here must know something about her.
Kyle kicked open the door and stepped in, looking around. The light felt unusually bright to him, and for some reason, it stung his eyes.
“Sorry, pal, bar’s closed,” came a voice.
Kyle looked up and saw the bartender, looking haggard, wiping down the bar. A small TV was on in one corner, and he saw the place was empty of patrons.
“Hey, didn’t you hear what I said? We’re closed,” the bartender said, more firmly, as Kyle walked in.
Kyle ignored him, walking across the place, right for the bar. The place stunk like it had just been mopped with ammonia.
“I told you the place is closed,” the bartender snapped, his voice darker.
As Kyle reached the bar, the bartender looked at him closely, and he stopped talking, his face frozen in surprise.
“Hey, wait a minute, aren’t you the guy from tonight?” the bartender said, confused. “Wait a second. I thought—holy shit—wait, didn’t they take you away?”
Now the bartender examined him, unsure, and as Kyle watched him, he could see confusion morphing to fear on his face.