Suddenly, the church bells rang out, striking six o’clock. After the traditional bells, there followed a song, ringing out in chimes. It was the most beautiful thing Scarlet had ever heard, and she felt grateful to her mom.
“Thanks for bringing me,” she said to her mom.
Her mom squeezed her hand as her face broke into a smile, and Scarlet felt guilty she had been so stubborn.
A side door opened at the far end of the church, and in came Father McMullen, wearing a welcoming smile.
“And you must be Scarlet,” he said in a cheery voice, as he strutted towards them. He extended his hand way out in front of him, before he even reached them. Scarlet shook his hand, and he shook hers back, encasing it with both of his hands heartily.
“I’ve heard so many lovely things about you. Thank you for coming.”
“Thanks for having me,” she said, not knowing how to reply.
As he held her hands in his, he stared into her eyes, and as she looked up into his light blue eyes, she couldn’t help but feel as if he were dissecting her. As if he sensed something that surprised him.
He quickly withdrew his two hands. As he did, his expression changed to one of hesitation – maybe even fear.
He cleared his throat.
“Please, come this way,” he said as he turned and led them down the aisle.
They followed him down the long aisle, passing the pews, and as they did, Scarlet noticed him looking side to side, his expression increasingly worried. She turned to see what he was looking at, and noticed the rows of tall, burning candles: as they passed, one at a time, each candle burned out.
By the time they reached the end of the aisle, all the candles along the walls had been extinguished – and as they approached the altar, the dozens of small votive candles all suddenly blew out, too.
The Father stopped cold in his tracks. He stood there, his back to them, as if afraid to turn around.
Scarlet stared at the candles, not understanding what was happening. Had it been a draft? She hadn’t felt one.
The Father slowly turned and looked at her. From his fearful expression, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she were to blame.
She saw small beads of sweat form on his forehead, as his eyes travel down to her throat.
“That’s a beautiful necklace,” he said.
Scarlet detected a shakiness in his voice that wasn’t there a moment before. Clearly, he was freaked out. He was freaked out by her, she realized. That scared her, and she started to tremble.
“May I ask where you got it?” he asked.
“I gave it to her,” her mom chimed in. “For her sixteenth birthday. Just a few days ago.”
He turned and looked at her.
“Where did you get it?” he asked, with intensity.
“It’s been in my family for generations,” she responded. “My grandmother gave it to me. And her grandmother gave it to her.”
“May I look at it?” he asked, turning to Scarlet.
Scarlet nodded, not knowing what to say.
He reached out and gently lifted the cross with two fingers, staring at it in the light. As he did, his eyes widened in fear.
“The cross of the Resurrection,” he whispered to himself, in terror.
“You know it?” her mom asked.
He let it go, pulling back his hand as if he’d touched a snake.
“Of course,” he said. “It is said to trace back all the way to the times of Christ. It is one of the most famous crosses of Christianity. It was rumored to have been lost centuries ago. It is a holy relic. I can’t understand how you have it. Something like this, it belongs in the Vatican. In a museum. On display.”
Scarlet reached up and fingered the necklace, feeling a whole new appreciation for it. And a fear of it. Why was he so scared by it?
“That cross,” he continued, “is rumored to have been used to protect the first vampires.”
“Vampires?” Scarlet asked, heart pounding.
“What do you mean protect them?” her mom asked.
“In the early days of Christianity, the vampires were rumored to be the chosen ones. The good ones. When barbarians waged war against the holy people, it was the vampires, the super race, that was called to protect mankind. Back then, you see, it was a great blessing to be a vampire. It was somewhat like being a priest today. They were the chosen kind, and blessed with immortality.
“But somewhere along the way, it changed. One too many vampires were turned. An evil strain occurred among them. Over time, the evil strain became dominant, and wiped out the good ones. Only a handful of good ones remained throughout the centuries. And this cross was there symbol. They were the Knights Templar of vampires, their most elite sect.”
He suddenly turned to Caitlin.
“Your grandmother… who was she exactly?” he asked.
“Um… well…” she began, flustered.
Suddenly the sun shifted, its huge red ball aligning directly in the path of the stained-glass window, in the center of the far wall. It lit her up, sending a single beam of sunlight right to Scarlet. Light flooded her.
Scarlet suddenly felt a horrific pain, right in her forehead. It was so bad, she had to clutch her head. Her eyes burned, too, as if they were on fire. She keeled over. It felt like it was tearing her up inside, and she couldn’t stand it for another second.
She shrieked as she dropped to her knees, clutching her head.
“Make it stop! Make it stop!” she screamed.
“Scarlet what’s wrong?” her mom cried out, dropping to her side, putting an arm around her.
The priest took a step back, eyes widening in fear.
“Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio, contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium,” he began to chant, raising a hand in the sign of the cross. He reached into his cloak, grabbed a small decanter of holy water, and sprinkled it on Scarlet.
As the water hit her skin, in the sunlight, it felt like acid. She shrieked.
But this time, it was no normal shriek. It was the guttural roar of animal, several octaves lower. It was a horrific noise, one that sent the hairs standing on the back of the human’s necks. She shrieked and shrieked, standing, throwing back her arms, sending her mom flying, crashing into the wooden pews.
The shriek grew so loud that the entire room began to shake; as it did, all the stained-glass, on every wall, shattered, exploding in every direction.
Father McMullen turned and fled, sprinting for all he had.
Scarlet threw back her head and roared. The roar rose higher and higher, louder than the sound of the bells, louder than the sound of the exploding glass, as fragments of every color showered down all around her.
Chapter Eight
Scarlet opened her eyes to see her mom looking down on her. She blinked several times, as she slowly came into focus. Her mom looked down in concern. On her other side her dad stood over her, too, also looking down with concern.
Scarlet looked around and realized she was lying in her bed, in her bedroom. She glanced out the window, and saw it was night, and looked over, and saw her clock blinked 9 PM. She wondered how she got here. She tried to piece it all together, but it was hazy. It freaked her out that her parents were in here. What were they doing here, in her bedroom, looking at her like that?
“Scarlet, are you okay honey?” her mom asked with concern.
Scarlet checked in with her body and realized she felt totally fine. She just couldn’t figure out how she got here.
Scarlet sat up in bed.
“What happened?”
“Do you remember?” her mom asked. “The church?”
Church. Scarlet thought back, and started to remember. She recalled going to church with her mom, talking to that priest. She remembered the candles blowing out… remembered him talking about her necklace… and then…