As Scarlet stood there in shock, she spotted a small piece of paper hanging from the chandelier in the dining room, the one thing left untouched. It was a note written on a piece of parchment, in letters that looked like they were written in blood.
Scarlet stepped forward, glass crunching beneath her boots, and pulled down the note with shaking hands. She held it close, and read:
I have Sage. He is captive in our ancestral home, on Boldt Castle in the Thousand Islands. If you want to save him, come. If you want to let him die a slow painful death, if you want us to torture him until his very last breath, then stay where you are. How much do you really love him?
Scarlet, aghast, let the note drop from her hands, as she wondered who could have penned it. Her mind focused on one person: Lore. His jealous, hateful cousin. He was the only one who could have done this.
It was a trap, she knew. His kind wanted her up there. They wanted her dead, so that they could live. They were using Sage to get to her.
Scarlet breathed deep, overwhelmed; she couldn’t stand the idea of Sage held captive, being tortured. She couldn’t stand the idea of his dying. She felt that if he was dead she had nothing left to live for anyway, and if going there would save him, then so be it. Even if she were the prey going to slaughter, walking into a trap, then so be it. It was worth it for her, to save Sage.
Determined, Scarlet spun on her heel and began to march out – when she suddenly looked up to see a group of people standing inside her doorway, looking at her in surprise and wonder. She recognized the man in the middle; it was the priest from the church down the block. But the others, dressed in all black, she did not recognize.
Scarlet stared, confused.
“Father, what are you doing in my house?” she asked, aware that they were blocking her exit, and impatient to leave.
“My daughter,” he said, “what have you done to your parents’ home?”
They all looked about, horrified, and Scarlet looked too, realizing they thought she did this.
“I didn’t,” she said.
His eyes were filled with compassion, but not the eyes of those who joined him. They were older priests, and they looked at her darkly, with no warmth in their gaze.
They all gazed at her skeptically.
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” one of them said. “I’m sure the wind just swept through here and happened to destroy their home while you were here.”
“What business is it of yours?” Scarlet snapped. “Who are you all? What are you doing in my house? I didn’t invite you in.”
“No, my lady,” one said, “a vampire never invites anyone in.”
Scarlet stared back in the tense silence, wondering how much they knew.
“We have come to help you,” another said. “To cure you.”
The three priests she didn’t know stepped forward. Each took a shiny silver crucifix from inside their waistband, held it up toward her, and began to chant in Latin:
Deje Lo que está dentro de ti que seas libre
Scarlet felt her insides turning, felt a prickly heat rising on her skin, felt a great rage overcoming her. She lunged forward, letting out a guttural scream, hardly even aware of what she was doing, and in one quick motion, she grabbed each of the strange men and threw them like rag dolls across the room. They each smashed into a wall before collapsing on the floor, lying there unconscious.
The house was still again. The only one who remained standing there, trembling, facing her, was the priest she knew. He had not chanted at her, so she had left him untouched.
“Tell your friends to stay away from me,” she said, her voice dark, primal. “Next time I shall not be so kind.”
With that, Scarlet turned, took two steps out of her house, and leapt into the air, flying, soaring high, knowing the priest was watching from below but not caring. She had a man to save. A man she loved.
And she would go to the depths of hell to do it.
Chapter Twenty Four
Caleb drove faster as he pulled into the gates of Scarlet’s high school and spotted commotion up ahead. He rode in his pickup, Sam by his side, determined to come here on the off chance that Kyle had come here looking for Scarlet.
But Caleb had never expected to see the sight before him. There was chaos in the parking lot, kids screaming, running and racing down the steps, and as Caleb gained speed, his heart pounding, he realized something here was very, very wrong. It looked like a FEMA disaster scene.
The front doors of the high school were torn off their hinges, broken glass was everywhere, and kids screamed as they fled from the school, pouring down the steps out to the parking lot, clearly running for safety. Caleb had a sinking premonition as he watched the whole scene that it all had something to do with Scarlet. And something to do with Kyle.
“Get ready,” Caleb said, tensing up. “He’s here.”
Sam reached into the glove, took out two pistols, locked and loaded them, and placed one in Caleb’s lap.
“I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s take out this piece of trash.”
Kyle was not going to get away this time. Caleb was determined.
Caleb screeched to a stop before the steps, and he had barely killed the ignition before he and Sam jumped out of the car, each with a gun in their belt, and began to run up the steps.
Caleb looked up and suddenly stopped short, as did Sam, as she saw, right before him, the very man he was seeking. Kyle came walking casually out of the building, a huge grin on his face, as if nothing were wrong.
Kyle locked eyes with Caleb, then his eyes lowered to Caleb’s gun. Caleb expected to see fear, or at least hesitation; but the strangest thing happened. Instead of expressing hesitation, or fear, or shock, like any normal person, Kyle just smiled wider, carefree, and continued to saunter right toward them.
Caleb, heart pounding, raised his gun.
“Don’t move,” he said. “Come any closer, I’ll shoot.”
Sam, too, raised his gun.
Kyle grinned wide and stopped, looking at them both as if he were amused.
“Where’s my daughter?” Caleb seethed.
“Isn’t that funny,” Kyle said. “Seems like we have something in common. I want her, too. Maybe when I find her, I’ll tell you where she is. Then again, maybe I won’t.”
Kyle broke into harsh laughter, and as he did, Caleb spotted sharp fangs glistening on the sides of his mouth, and his breath caught. It was real. He was a vampire. His daughter had made this man a vampire. Caleb felt numb.
Kyle lowered his head and began walking quickly toward them.
“Then again,” Kyle said, “maybe I’ll just kill you first. And kill your daughter later.”
“Don’t move!” Caleb yelled.
Kyle ignored him, getting closer, feet away, and Caleb knew it was now or never.
Caleb aimed his gun at Kyle and fired five times. As he did, the gun shook and vibrated in his hand, booming in his ears.
Caleb heard the shouts and screams of students all around them, as he then heard Sam unleashing five shots of his own.
Kyle took shot after shot, his body convulsing with each blast, the two of them filling him with at least ten rounds. It was enough ammunition to kill an elephant, and Caleb watched in satisfaction as Kyle finally fell backwards onto the steps, one hand still holding the metal railing, and lay there, covered in blood, unmoving.
Caleb lowered his smoking gun, looked at Sam, who did the same, and slowly they put the guns in their belt, kids screaming and fleeing all around them. Caleb walked forward to examine Kyle’s dead body. He had never killed a man, not like this, not up close and not in any context outside of war, and his body was trembling from the event. Part of him, despite everything, felt bad. Here he was, having killed another human being. Or was he even human?
Then again, this man had hurt his daughter, Caleb reminded himself. He had killed cops. He would have hurt others. He had no choice.