Found (Book #8 in the Vampire Journals) (11 page)

This is my journal entry. My final time and place. I miss everyone so much. Sam, my brother. Polly, my best friend. Yes, I have to admit, even Blake a little bit. Actually, any familiar face. If Cain were here, I’d probably miss him, too.

I miss other times, other places. When everyone was together, and happy. In this place, everything is so serious, so urgent, so somber. There is so much at stake. There are no celebrations. No lavish courts, castles. No balls, no dances. Instead, we go from holy place to holy place. And next, it seems, will be Jerusalem. I never thought in a million years I’d ever visit it.

But this is also such an exciting time. I can feel Dad, so close now, and the feeling is keeping me going. The four keys are burning a hole in my pocket, and tomorrow morning, I will complete my training with Aiden. It’s so crazy to think about: my final training session. Then what?

I’m so happy that Caleb is back here with me. We are together, finally. But I also fear for our future. I have a sense that we’ll be parting. That I’ll have to meet my Dad alone. I hope not.

I desperately miss Scarlet, and it’s killing me that she’s not here with me. I’m told I have to find Dad first. So I’ll do everything I can to do that.

But then what? Will that bring back everyone I love? Somehow, I don’t think so. I can’t help feeling that everyone, and everything, I’ve loved will be lost to me forever.

And after all these times, and all these places, and all these clues and keys, I still don’t know who my Dad is. I was sure it was Aiden. But, I learned today that I was wrong. Now, I have no idea who it can be. More than anything, I just want to see him. To know for sure. Who I come from. Who he is. Why it was all such a secret. What the shield is.

I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I would give anything for this to be over. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

As Caitlin wrote her final sentence, filling the final page, she slowly closed the journal. It was finished. She could not believe it.

She held it there, in her hands, feeling the weight of it. A tear ran down her cheek as she pondered all the times and places she had written in it, all the hard times she had gone through. Somehow, she had survived. And this was her testament. Her vampire journal.

Caitlin closed her eyes and rested her head on it, and she didn’t know why, but she began to cry. Her cries softly filled the air, blended with the cry of a night bird’s song, and slowly, she lulled herself to sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As the convicts crowded in around Scarlet, one of them stepped forward, the largest of the bunch. He towered over the others, and he looked to Scarlet liked he was seven feet tall. He was bald, missing one eye, and was bulging with muscles. He was clearly the leader in here.

He stood in front of the others, then turned and faced them.

“She’s mine,” he announced. “She’s my plaything. Mine to torture as I wish. Do any of you have a problem with that?”

The dozens of faces stopped, and Scarlet could see the fear in their faces. Clearly, no one was willing to challenge him. Clearly, this creep was king of the hill in here. The others slowly slinked away, disappointed but resigned.

The creep turned and reached down and grabbed Scarlet with one hand by the back of her shirt. He picked her up high in the air with a single hand, and inspected her as if she were an insect. He was so powerful, he held her as if he were carrying a fly.

Scarlet wiggled and squirmed, struggling to break free as she was hoisted in the air and as he walked with her, bringing her to a dark, dark corner. She heard Ruth snarl down below, then watched the creep lean over, and kick her hard. Ruth went flying across the room, yelping, and hit a wall.

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 ready 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.