Obsessed (Book #12 in the Vampire Journals) (11 page)

Lore nodded,
then turned back to the prone figure of his swollen, beaten cousin.

“We’ll wait for
her return,” he said.

But Lyra didn’t
look certain.

“What is it?”
Lore questioned her. “What do you know?”

Lyra paced away
from him, twisting her hands as she walked.

“The legends say
they can bend time,” she says. “That a second for them is a thousand years for
us. Or that a thousand years for us can be a second for them. There’s no way of
knowing how long the girl will be gone.”

“Then we’ll get
her,” Lore said, immediately taking a step toward the tower.

Lyra held a hand
out to stop him.

“No,” she said.
“It doesn’t work that way. Once they have been called, they are protected. No
one else can enter while they are in session.”

Lore felt his
hopes fall.

“Time will
bounce back into shape once their council is over,” Lyra continued. “But whilst
we’re caught up in the magic, there is no way of knowing.”

“Then what do we
do?” he said. “We cannot stand here for a thousand years!”

Lyra looked at
him, a perturbed expression on her face. It was one that told him she was all
out of ideas. It was one that told him that he must make the next decision,
that the ball was back in his court. He needed to be the leader once again, and
she the follower.

“We’ll take
him,” Lore said. “And leave a message for Scarlet. If time bounces back, like
you said, then when she finds the note it will be back at this time and place.
The Immortalists will still have time to be saved.”

Lyra nodded
though she didn’t look too certain.

“If the texts
are accurate, I believe that is true,” she said. “When Scarlet returns to this
moment, it will be as though no time has passed for her at all. Our timeline,
too, will continue at its normal trajectory once we are out of the clutches of
the magic.”

Lore set his jaw
firm, resolved, at last, in his actions.

“Then we will
leave a message for the girl,” he said.

He knelt down on
one knee and scratched an image into the mud with a stick. When he was done, he
stood back up and wiped the dirt from his pants.

“Where is that?”
Lyra asked.

“Our estate on
the Hudson River. Scarlet will recognize it immediately.”

“And you’re
certain she’ll come?”

Lore tipped his
eyes to meet Lyra and knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Scarlet would
come for her missing love. She would follow him to the ends of the Earth. He
knew, because that was how he felt toward Lyra. For the first time in his two
thousand years of life, Lore was in love.

He reached down
and picked Sage up in his arms. For the first time, his anger at Sage’s
betrayal dissipated slightly. Now he felt sorry for his cousin. He had fallen
for the wrong girl, at the wrong time. He would have to sacrifice his love for
the good of his race. Perhaps one day he would learn to forgive Lore for what
he had to do, though Lore had a suspicion, now that he had felt the power of
love, that Sage would never get over the loss of Scarlet. Lore was certain that
even two thousand more years of life would do nothing to diminish the grief
Sage would feel once his precious love was destroyed. But Lore had no choice.
It was that, or let his race, and the woman he now loved, die.

“Cousin,” he
whispered to the unconscious Sage, “your sacrifice will not go unrewarded.”

And with that,
he took to the sky, Lyra following behind them.

It was time for
the final reckoning.

The biplane landed
roughly in a field near Caitlin’s grandmother’s house, Caitlin spending the
whole two-hour flight gazing anxiously out the window. At one point, she
thought she had seen shapes on the horizon—Immortalists chasing them—but these
had just turned out to be the silhouettes of birds on the horizon. There had
also been a fierce storm raging in the distance behind them, and a strange
glowing light that had made Caitlin’s stomach twist and turn. She had ignored
all her worries and tried to focus on what was to come.

As the wheels of
the plane touched down and it taxied to a halt, Caleb looked over at his wife.

“What are you
thinking?” he said.

“Nothing,”
Caitlin said distantly. “I’m just thinking.”

“About Scarlet?”

Caitlin nodded
and chewed her lip.

“I feel terrible
for having left her behind,” she said.

Caleb reached
out and stroked his wife’s hand.

“I know,” he
replied. “I do too. But if you think you can save her, can cure her, then we
will be helping her in the long run.” He looked up at the dark, clear sky and
twinkling lights. “Whatever danger she is in now, it will all be over once
she’s cured.”

Caitlin wanted
to nod, to feel comforted by his words, but she just couldn’t bring herself to
hope.

“Come on,” Caleb
said. “Let’s get inside.”

They climbed
from the biplane and crossed the barren field toward Caitlin’s grandmother’s
house. As they went, Caitlin thought of the small leather box that had led her
to come here, the one that sat in her grandmother’s attic. She remembered the
symbol on top of it, the circle inside a flower of alternating scarlet and blue
petals, and the surreal drawing of a face at its center. The very same picture
had turned up in the Voynich manuscript when she’d been searching for a cure
for Scarlet. The sight of it had made her gasp. The fact that Caitlin’s
grandmother had never let her touch the box suggested to Caitlin that it was of
great importance. And now here she was, ready to find just how important the
box, and the symbol, really was.

Caitlin had been
so lost in her thoughts she’d hadn’t noticed Caleb lagging behind. She turned
back to face her husband.

“What is it?”
she asked.

He shook his
head, but there was a grave expression on his face.

“Something’s
wrong,” he said.

Caitlin felt her
heart rate increase. It wasn’t like Caleb to sense things; that seemed to be a
trait that she had exclusively to herself. Seeing him like this made her
nervous.

“What’s wrong?”
she asked with trepidation.

Caleb seemed on
edge. He kept looking over his shoulder as though expecting something to appear
from the shadows. He tugged at the neckline of his shirt, seemingly
uncomfortable with the hot Florida air.

“Caleb, you’re
scaring me,” Caitlin said. “Please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Just go on
inside,” Caleb said hurriedly.

“What about
you?” Caitlin asked.

“I’ll keep an
eye on things.”

Caleb’s eyes
darted from left to right. He was wound up so tightly it seemed as though he
could explode any second.

“Come inside,”
Caitlin said, calmly, softly, trying to coax Caleb out of his strange episode.

Caleb flinched,
as though he had heard the rumble of thunder. But there was no storm to be seen
or heard, and the one Caitlin had seen on the horizon from the windshield of
the plane had been left behind hours ago.

“If I’m in the
house, how will I protect you?” Caleb said.

Caitlin frowned.

“Protect me from
what?” she asked.

She felt as
though she were talking to a child, a stranger. She had never seen Caleb behave
like this.

It was then that
she saw something in the sky approaching them. Her heart leapt into her throat.
It was the Immortalist army. They had found them. They had followed them across
the east coast, trailed them for hours to this place. She’d been right when she
thought she saw shapes following them. She should never have doubted herself.

“Caleb, quick,
they’re here!” Caitlin screamed.

Caleb
immediately broke from his strange trance. He raced forward and grabbed hold of
his wife’s hands. Together, they bolted up the steps and began pounding on the
door.

The second
Caitlin’s grandmother answered it, they flew inside. Caleb immediately began
double locking it, and wedged a chair against the door knob.

“Do you have a
gun?” he said to the frail old woman.

“A ‘hello’ would
be nice,” she replied.

“There’s no
time, Grandma,” Caitlin replied. “Give Caleb a gun if you have one.”

The old woman
seemed bemused. She shuffled off in her nightdress then reappeared with a
hunting rifle. Caleb took it from her and positioned himself at the living room
window.

“What’s going
on?” Caitlin’s grandmother asked.

Caitlin took the
woman’s frail hands in hers and began leading her up the stairs.

“I need to see
the box, Grandma,” she said.

“I don’t know
what you’re talking about,” came her grandmother’s reply.

“Yes you do,”
Caitlin said with a note of warning in her voice. “The time for secrets is
over. Scarlet is a vampire, Grandma, and I know you know what that means.”

The woman
twisted her lips as though she were considering challenging Caitlin. In the
end, she decided otherwise.

“It’s
dangerous,” she said simply.

“I know,”
Caitlin replied. “But it might be the only way I can help Scarlet.”

The two women
had reached the second floor now. Caitlin tugged down the cord for the attic
stairs to descend. She gestured for her grandmother to climb up first but the
old woman shook her head.

“You’ll know
what to do when you get there,” she said, gently, patting Caitlin on the arm.

“There’s an army
coming,” Caitlin told her grandmother. “You need to come up here with me.”

The old woman
just shook her head.

“My place is
here,” she said. “This is your adventure to be had.”

Caitlin squeezed
her grandmother’s hand, feeling as though it may the last time she saw her
alive, then turned and climbed the steps.

The attic was
dusty and piled with boxes, old furniture and bags of discarded clothing. Mice
had nibbled holes through the cardboard and left their droppings in a trail
across the floor. Caitlin crinkled her nose in disgust as she tiptoed over to
the place where she leather box should be.

It didn’t take
her long to find it, and the moment she saw it, she felt a strong sensation
inside of her, telling her that coming here had been the right thing to do. But
she was also filled with apprehension. Whatever happened next would be
difficult, life-altering, even.

As she reached a
hand out for the box she heard the first crack of the rifle. Through the small
window in the attic she saw the Immortalist army just on the precipice of the
lawn, approaching slowly. Though Caleb was an excellent shot, the Immortalists
could move with such lightning speed, none of his shots reached them.

Caitlin turned
and grabbed the box. Its strange patterned flower design seemed so familiar.
She had looked at this box many times in her youth but had never gotten the
chance to open it.

From downstairs
came the sound of glass smashing. Caitlin swallowed hard and pulled open the
lid.

Everything happened
at once. A light burst from the box with such force Caitlin was thrown
backwards. At the same time, footsteps pounded in through the house, ascended
the staircase. People were shouting, Caleb was shouting, her grandmother was
crying out.

Caitlin had to
fight her urge to run to them and help them. She pulled herself to standing and
threw herself toward the light.

At the same
moment, the Immortalists burst into the attic. Bathed in the yellow glow from
the box, Caitlin felt as though she were looking at them through a filter. It
was as though she were on the other side of a waterfall. They raced toward her
but as their hands outstretched, trying to grab her, nothing happened, they
could not get her.

The attic
backdrop began to fade away. The last image Caitlin saw was of Caleb wrestling
his way up the stairs and engaging in hand-to-hand combat with an Immortalist.
Even Caitlin’s scream didn’t sound out.

Then, all at
once, everything went black. Everything was silent.

What have I
done?
Caitlin
thought desperately.

There was
nothing to see, nothing to hear. Caitlin had no idea what had happened.

Then a small
white light appeared before Caitlin’s eyes. The light flickered, and Caitlin
thought it resembled an old black-and-white movie reel, shaking as the images
moved before her. There was no sound, just a flickering image of a cemetery and
a mob of angry villagers.

“I know this,”
Caitlin said aloud. “I’ve seen this before.”

She watched on,
entranced, as the image bled away and was replaced by the ancient cloisters of
Assisi, in the Umbrian countryside. Then it changed again, and Caitlin found
herself looking at a bird’s-eye view of a grand ball.

“Venice,” she
said.

The strange
image changed again, this time showing her eighteenth-century Paris from the
air, before swooping into a medieval castle near the ocean, and in through a
window, pausing only on a face that made Caitlin’s heart race. Caleb.

And there they
were, in Versailles, feasting and partying, attending concerts, falling more
deeply in love. Then the Paris flickering before Caitlin’s eyes transformed
into London.

“It was 1599,”
Caitlin said, feeling the memories being pulled from deep inside her mind.

The image roved
from amazing medieval architecture, to breathtaking countryside and castles. It
hovered over a Shakespeare play being performed at the Globe theatre, before
coming to rest on another face.

“Scarlet!”
Caitlin cried out, her heart aching.

This was the
moment they had found their daughter. Right before Caleb proposed.

Caitlin’s
emotions roiled inside of her. She couldn’t understand what was happening or
what she was seeing. Somehow she knew that the images were real, that she was
looking back at events that had truly happened, that she had really
experienced. But it didn’t make sense. How could she have forgotten all of
this? All these adventures? All the danger and beauty?

The next image
was of the Isle of Skye, a remote island off the western coast of Scotland.

“We married
here,” Caitlin said, as tears pricked at her eyes.

The memories she
thought she had, of her ordinary wedding to her ordinary husband, were suddenly
replaced with the ones being shown before her. How had she ever forgotten such
an amazing moment, when she and Caleb had exchanged vows in an elaborate
vampire wedding? The memories that had replaced them seemed dull in comparison,
and Caitlin could hardly believe she’d let herself be tricked into believing
them.

Then a final
image appeared. Ancient Israel, a place of holy sites and synagogues,
labyrinthian streets and mazes of alleyways, secret pagan temples, and the Holy
Temple of Solomon in its capital of Jerusalem. Caitlin watched on as the city
of Nazareth appeared before her, then Capernaum, and the Mount of Olives. She
knew every image intimately, leaving no doubt in her mind that she had seen
them with her very eyes.

The light faded
out, returning Caitlin to absolute blackness. Caitlin was so stunned by what
she had just witnessed, she could hardly breathe.

“It was real,”
she said aloud. “It was all real. Everything in my vampire journals really
happened.”

Yet where did
that leave her now?

Finally able to
take in her surroundings, Caitlin first became aware of the intense heat, then
the smell of sand and decay in the air. She could hear the distant sound of
dripping, coming from what seemed like a long, long way away, echoing as though
from the walls of a cave. Caitlin realized then that she was deep underground.

She stepped
forward and heard the distinctive sound of sand scraping against her shoe.

Up ahead there
seemed to be light coming from somewhere—a room, or a crack in a doorway. As
Caitlin approached, she noted the flickering, the tell-tale sign that it was a
flame. A candle, or torch, perhaps.

She rounded a
corner and the light grew stronger here, sending shards of light up the walls.

Caitlin gasped
as it dawned on her where she was, and where the leather box had taken her.

It can’t be,
she thought, not
daring to let herself believe it.

But it was true.
As she peered through the gloom, she realized she was standing on the edge of
cliff face, staring down into a city carved into stone.