Scarlet was enraged, and tried harmer to squirm away. But the man’s grip was too strong. She was powerless.
“It’s going to be great fun to torture you,” he said. His voice was so deep, it sounded as if it came from the bowels of the earth. As he carried her, deeper and deeper into the darkest corner of the cell, Scarlet thought: this is what hell feels like.
They finally reached the darkest corner, and the creep set her down. He reached down, ran one hand down her back, down her arms—and then stopped at the clasps on her wrists.
“These won’t do, will they?” he said. “That takes away half the fun.”
He reached out and, with his brute strength, snapped the silver clasps in half, then yanked them off her wrists.
“I want you free when I have my way with you,” he said.
That was his last mistake.
Scarlet suddenly felt overcome by a new energy, sweeping over her. She felt overwhelmed by a strength and a rage so primal, beyond anything she’d ever known, that she hardly knew what to do. As the creep reached for her, this time, she reached up and kicked him hard in the solar plexus. It was a perfect hit.
The creep went flying back with such force that he flew through the air like a missile, all the way across the cell, thirty feet, smashing against the metal bars. It was such a loud noise, it shook the entire cell.
Every prisoner stopped and stared, with looks of disbelief.
Scarlet didn’t hesitate: she sprinted across the room, pouncing. Just as the creep was beginning to rise, she kicked him hard in the face. It knocked him back down to the ground, flat on his back.
But this man was strong. The kick would have rendered any other man unconscious, but he began to get up again.
Now, Scarlet was pissed. She reached down, grabbed him by the shirt, and to the disbelieving stares of all the other prisoners, hoisted him over her head. She spun him around three times, and then hurled him right into the crowd.
As he hit the crowd, he took dozens of prisoners down with him, falling like dominoes. The remaining prisoners stood and stared, looking at Scarlet with fear, as if a demon from hell had just landed inside their cell.
Outside the bars, the guards realized their mistake and rushed to open the bars.
“I told you to put her behind the silver!” one guard yelled to the other.
Scarlet was enraged—and this time, nothing would quench it.
She charged the remaining prisoners. One by one, she punched and elbowed and kicked each one, spreading a wave of destruction throughout the cell. Within seconds, dozens of bodies lay on the floor. They scrambled, on their hands and knees, to get away from her, running over each other. But she wasn’t finished: she grabbed them by the back of their shirts and threw them into the walls, into the bars. She was a one-person wrecking machine.
She stripped Ruth’s muzzle off, and Ruth lunged into the crowd without missing a beat. She sank her fangs into the throats of several of them, and Scarlet, overwhelmed with the need to feed, followed suit: she went from body to body, sinking her fangs into their throats and drinking with all she had. She felt their blood infusing her, and she felt alive again.
But suddenly, before she could react, Scarlet felt herself covered by a silver net, once again. Her power deflated completely, and she looked up and saw standing over her several more guards. She chided herself: again, it had been stupid of her. She looked over, and saw Ruth muzzled again, too.
This time, the guards kept their distance—and instead of just a few guards, there were dozens of them. They all held out silver lances before them, staying far away. One guard approached her warily, clasped silver chains to her wrists, twice as thick. Then they all closed in, lifted her, and carried her out the cell.
Scarlet was carried roughly by the large group of guards, and this time, they descended down several flights of never-ending steps. They went deeper than she could have possibly imagined, deep into the into the bowels of the dungeon.
Finally, they reached the end. There was a small room, dimly lit, with only a single cell. She could feel its thick, silver bars, the energy radiating it off of them even from here. Moments later, there was a clanking of keys, and the cell was open. She felt herself hoisted, then thrown in.
She flew through the air and hit her head against the wall, and collapsed on the floor. This time she was alone, only with Ruth, who was thrown in after her, the silver cell door slammed behind them.
This time, behind the silver, clasped in silver chains, she was utterly helpless. She knew that this time, there was nothing left to do but await her fate.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sam march with Samantha, Rexius, and Judas down the cobblestone entranceway to Pontius Pilate’s palace. They were followed by a dozen members of Rexius’ coven, and they marched like a small army, dressed in all black, right down the center of the stone plaza. It was dark out, late into the night, and the walkway was lit by flaming torches on either side of them. They came to a big arched gate, in front of which stood a dozen Roman soldiers.
To Sam’s surprise, several of these soldiers had the temerity to step forward and form a wall to block their approach.
But the vampires kept marching, never even pausing, and as they did, Rexius merely smiled and held up a single hand before his face. Sam watched as the soldiers suddenly collapsed, slumping to the ground.
Sam marched with the others right over their bodies, and he could feel their soft corpses beneath his feet. They continued marching, across the big circular stone plaza, past the Roman fountains, past the perfectly trimmed cypress trees. They passed huge columns, rows of open arches, and Sam saw the worried faces of the Roman aristocracy looking down and watching. Their footsteps echoed as they walked right through the main entrance, and into the palace.
As they entered, a dozen more Roman soldiers approached. Another confrontation was about to ensue—until suddenly, Pontius Pilate, the Roman Prefect, appeared. He stepped up, front and center, to meet Rexius.
“Relax your guard!” Pontius commanded his men.
It was a wise move. His soldiers gave way, hurrying off to the side, leaving Pontius alone to face off with Rexius.
Pontius stood there, wearing a royal Roman toga with gold trim and a red sash, and with a look of grave concern etched across his face. Rexius stopped a few feet away from him, as did Sam, Samantha, Judas and the others. The tension was so thick, one could cut it with a knife.
“What is the meaning of this?” Pontius demanded to Rexius. “I was never informed you were coming.”
Rexius smiled back, more of a snarl. He took his time.
“I will only inform you if it serves me,” he answered slowly, in his gravelly voice. “You are my servant. I will call upon you anytime I wish.”
Pontius’ face flushed red, as his brow furrowed.
“You cannot talk to me this way! I am governor of this district. I tolerate you with mutual respect. If you don’t show me that respect, I will have my soldiers send you out. We have silver weapons, you know.”
Rexius laughed.
“But I have weapons far greater than yours.”
Pontius, fed up, turned and gestured to his soldiers as he stepped out of the way. Suddenly, a dozen archers stepped forward, pulling back their bows and aiming them at Rexius and his men.
A big mistake.
Sam burst into action, along with the rest of Rexius’ men, and within the flash of an eye, before the archers could release their arrows, they all pounced on them, sinking their fangs into their throats and pinning them to the floor. In moments the marble floors were running red, streaming blood, every soldier down.
Pontius stood there, staring down at his soldiers, looking terrified. His face was ashen, his eyes open in fear. His body began to tremble, and he swallowed hard.
Rexius’ men regained their feet, standing beside him again, and Rexius smiled back.
“Are there any others you would like me to kill?” Rexius asked. “Or are you r
eady now to do my bidding?”
“What would…what do…what would…you like?” Pontius stammered, his voice shaking with fear.
“Master,” Rexius corrected. “What would you like, my master.”
Pontius swallowed hard.
“What would…what would you like…my master,” Pontus said.
Rexius stepped forward, lay his old, wrinkled hand on Pontius’ shoulder, and squeezed.
Pontius face creased in pain as he dropped to one knee, groaning.
“You are going to do me a great favor,” Rexius said. “There is one who I despise. That rabble-rouser, Jesus. He stands in the way of my final plan. You are going to fix that. My soldier Judas is going to infiltrate his men, and when the time is right, he will betray him. And then you will put him on trial, for all to see, and have him crucified. Do you understand?”
“I can’t do that!” Pontius said through clenched teeth, squirming in pain. “His following is too great!”
Rexius squeezed harder, and Pontius groaned out.
“Do you understand?” Rexius asked again.
Finally, Pontius groaned, lowering his head.
“Yes,” he said, finally. “As you wish.”
“Good. After his last supper, you will have him arrested, in the garden of Gethsemane. Then you will have him crucified. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Pontius groaned.
“Yes, what?” Rexius pressed, squeezing harder.
“Yes…my master.”
Rexius released his grip, and Pontius sighed in relief.
“There is one other matter,” Rexius continued.
Pontius looked up, sweating, fear in his eyes.
“There was a young girl. The daughter of the one we are searching for. My friend here,” Rexius said, gesturing to Sam, “tells me that he can sense where she is. That she is with you. Underground. In one of your dungeons. Behind silver bars. Is that true?”
Pontius looked at Sam in fear, then slowly nodded.
“My men did capture a young girl, yes. She was causing trouble in the marketplace this morning. They took her to the royal dungeons. She is behind silver. They are still not certain of the origin of her powers. She has caused us great trouble. Is she one of yours?”
Rexius ignored him, turning to Sam and smiling recognition.
“You have served us well,” he said to Sam.
Rexius turned back to Pontius.
“You will bring us to her,” Rexius said. “Now.”
“She’s a danger to the state,” Pontus pleaded. “I can’t release her.”
Rexius raised one hand and merely held it before Pontius’ face. This time, his face crumpled in pain. Pontius reached up and grabbed his ears, holding his head, as if from some unbearable pain. He began to shriek.
“MAKE IT STOP!” he screamed.
“You will bring us to her,” Rexius repeated calmly.
“OKAY! OKAY!” Pontius screamed.
Slowly, Rexius lowered his hand.
Pontius relaxed his grip on his ears, and slowly, his face returned to normal, though still breathing hard.
Rexius nodded, and several of his men hurried forward, grabbed Pontius, and shoved him out front, to lead the way.
Pontius stumbled down the hall, out into the night, across the courtyard, and out the palace gates. Several Roman soldiers began to come to his aid, but Pontius gestured to them to stay put. Clearly, he did not want to see more of his men die.
Rexius and his men followed Pontius across several adjoining palace courtyards, then finally to a large building, over which were etched the words: “Royal Dungeons.”
The guards lowered their weapons at the sight of Pontius, and as he approached, they all scurried to open the doors for him, bowing low. They walked right through the gates.
They marched down corridor after corridor, down staircase after staircase, descending lower, deeper into the bowels of the dungeon. The stairway became so narrow that they had to walk single file, and finally, they reached the darkest and lowest level, lit only by a single, barely flaming torch.
The crowd stopped before the silver bars. Pontius nodded to a guard, and he ran up and with a single key, unlocked the cell and opened the cell.
Slowly, a single face emerged from the blackness. It was a child’s face.
Sam looked down and recognized it instantly. It was his sister’s daughter.
It was Scarlet.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Caitlin ran. She cut through a path in a never-ending field of wheat, the stalks reaching up to her chest, and ran towards an enormous sun, sitting as a ball on the horizon. The sun was just beginning to rise, the pre-dawn light blanketing the sky, and in the distance, she could see the silhouette of her father. He stood there with his hands outstretched, by his side, as if waiting to embrace her. In each of his fingers dangled the four keys, glistening in the sun.
Caitlin ran with all she had, trying to get closer, but the more she ran, the further away he seemed to get.
The next thing she knew, she was in a desert. She was running up a rocky hill, dirt and dust in her face, the sun beating down on her head. She looked up, and saw she was racing towards a huge crucifix, mounted at the top. On the cross was Jesus, crucified, looking down at her.
Caitlin ran towards him, wanting more than anything to help him, to bring him down off the cross. But no matter how hard she ran, she kept slipping on the rocks, sliding back down the hill.
She felt a strong wind, and looked over her shoulder, and suddenly saw a huge sandstorm heading her way. She turned her head and covered her eyes with her forearm, just in time. Moments later she was enveloped by the tornado of sand, the sand whipping her face and skin and arms, scraping her, the noise pounding in her ears. She could barely breathe. It was like a million hornets descending on her.
Suddenly, the world went quiet. Caitlin blinked, and found herself atop a lone, grassy hill. Opposite her stood Aiden. He stood there, so still, so calm, gazing out at the horizon, his long staff in his hand, his beard blown in the wind. He turned and stared right at her, his blue eyes glistening.
“It is me, Caitlin,” he said. “I am your father.” He took three steps towards her, grabbed her shoulders, and looked her right in the eyes. “Don’t you realize? I am your father.”
Caitlin woke with a start.
She sat there, breathing hard, and looked all about the room, in the pre-dawn darkness.
Caleb lay in bed beside her, still sleeping. As she caught her breath, she turned and looked about the room, wondering if she was really awake. She was.
Caitlin looked across the room, and through the window, she could just begin to see the first light of sky breaking. She sat there, breathing hard, trying to collect her thoughts. It had all seemed so real, so vivid. Was it a message? Was Aiden really her father? Had he been tricking her all this time? Was he waiting to reveal that he was her father? Would he reveal it today, this morning, during their final training?
In many ways, it felt right to Caitlin that Aiden was her father. Still, somehow, she wasn’t quite sure. A part of her still felt he was more like a mentor. She didn’t know what to think.
Caitlin could barely contain her excitement for the day that lay ahead. This just might be the biggest day of her life, she realized.
She jumped up and quickly dressed. This was her day. This was the day she would complete her training. This was the day she would meet her Dad. The day she would complete her mission. She felt thrilled, and nervous, at the same time.
Fully dressed, Caitlin crept across the room, not wanting to wake Caleb; but just as she reached the door and turned the handle, he sat up.
“Caitlin?” he asked softly in the darkness.
She stopped and turned.
“I have to leave now,” she said, not wanting to be late.
“I know,” Caleb said. “I just want to tell you that I love you.”
Caleb blew her a kiss, and she blew him one back and hurried out the do
or, closing it behind her. She wanted to stay, to talk to Caleb—about everything. But there wasn’t time for that now. She felt bad that the two of them hadn’t had more time together to just sit down and talk since they’d been back here. But everything had been such a blur, non-stop traveling, searching. She promised herself that when she returned, she’d devote more time to their relationship. And she hoped that as soon as she finished her mission, then she and Caleb would have all the uninterrupted time in the world to be together.
Caitlin burst out of the villa and found herself running, then sprinting, to the top of the Mount of Olives. Dawn was breaking, she had to meet Aden at mountaintop, and she couldn’t be late. She considered flying, but she thought it best if she warmed up her muscles first, on foot. She ran past ancient headstones, past rows and rows of trees, their silver branches glistening in the early morning light. It looked as if the entire mountain was alive, shimmering. It felt surreal, as if she were ascending to the very peak of heaven.
Caitlin soon reached the top, and as she did, she saw two things that took her breath away: one was the dawn, breaking over the horizon, filling the entire universe, lighting the valleys below in every direction, the mountain peaks on the horizon, and even the sprawling city of Jerusalem in the distance. It was magical.
The other was Aiden. He stood there waiting on the small plateau, his back to her, wearing his long white robe and holding a long, golden staff.
Aiden stood there, with his back to her, gazing out at the horizon. He didn’t turn, yet she was sure he sensed her presence.
She stood there, waiting, for several minutes, listening only to the sound of the wind in the early morning light. She knew it was best to wait until he was ready.
“Are you ready to complete your training?” he finally asked, still gazing out at the horizon, his back to her.
Caitlin swallowed, nervous, not sure how to respond.
“Yes,” she finally said.
“Are you sure?” came a voice from behind her.
Caitlin wheeled and was shocked to see, standing just a few feet behind her, was Aiden, staring at her with his intense blue eyes, lit up by the early morning sun.