Loved (19 page)

But they looked around carefully, and did not see any place, any clue that would point them elsewhere.

“Well, this must be the ‘meeting house.’ And if you’re right, if it’s about the journey, then the question is: where’s the fourth place?”

He held up the scroll again.

They leave common ground,

Enter a ring of blood,

Meet at the house,

And find the ones they loved

Beside the fourth tip of the cross.

“We’ve left ‘common ground,’” he said, “we’ve entered ‘the ring,’ and we’ve ‘met at the house.’ Now we have to ‘find the ones they loved, beside the fourth tip of the cross.’ So, if you’re right, if it’s about the journey, that means we have one last destination.”

They both stood there, thinking.

“I think that ‘find the ones they loved’ is a reference to finding your father,” he said. “I think there’s just one stop left. But where? What is the ‘fourth tip of the cross?’ Another church?”

Caitlin thought. She racked her brain again and again. She studied the scroll, then reached over and studied the map. She, too, felt that they were so close. She agreed that there was only one stop left. But it wasn’t immediately coming to her. She looked at all of the other churches on the freedom trail, and none of them felt right to her.

Then it suddenly hit her. She took a step back, and looked again at the map. She traced her finger along it, along everywhere they had already traveled. And her eyes lit up with excitement.

“A pen,” she said breathlessly. “Quick. I need a pen.”

Caleb ran down the aisle, found a pen in one of the pews, and hurried back.

She began drawing a line on the map of the freedom trail.

“It’s a pattern,” she said. “We’ve been walking a pattern. We started in the Common,” she said, circling it. “Next, we entered the ring of blood,” she said, connecting it with a line, and circling it. “Then, we went to the meeting house,” she connected that with a line, and circled it.

She held it up, showing him.

“Look at where we’ve walked. Look at the pattern.”

He squinted, unsure.

“It’s not finished yet, that’s why you don’t see it. We’ve only walked three points. But a fourth point would complete it.”

She drew a straight line to complete the pattern.

His jaw dropped as he recognized it.

“A cross,” he said quietly. “We were meant to walk in the shape of a cross.”

“Yes,” she said excitedly. “And if we follow the line, if we complete the cross symmetrically, it only leads to one place.”

They both followed the line she drew.

Right there, at that exact spot, at the fourth tip of the cross, lay the King’s Chapel burying ground.

“The ones they loved,” Caleb said. “The burying ground.”

“He’s buried there,” she said.

“And so, I bet, is the sword.”

*

Samantha raced the BMW on the outskirts of Boston, Sam in the passenger seat beside her, heading along the highway towards Salem. She was increasingly annoyed at the growing difficulty in finding his dad. She’d been sure, when she’d seen those Facebook messages, when Sam had told her with such excitement that he’d been in touch with him, that this would be easy. She would just take him to his dad’s house, and from there it would be a direct path to the sword.

But things had gotten complicated. She hadn’t expected to encounter that creep, and most of all, hadn’t expected to develop any feelings for Sam. It was complicating things. Making her less sharp. Her original plan had been so simple: find his dad, kill them both, and return with the sword. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to kill Sam at all. Especially as she looked over at him, and saw that fresh scar on his cheek, the reminder of how he’d tried to save her.

More than anything, she was mad at herself for that, mad at her lack of discipline. She hated feelings. They always got in the way.

After she’d seen his watch, after he’d given her the lead to Salem, she could have easily cut him loose. But for some weird reason, she wanted him around. She didn’t quite understand why. She’d told him she needed his help, for something important to her, and that they’d need to go to Salem. Was he game? He’d broke into a big smile. This was clearly a kid who didn’t care about going back to school.

Besides, she could still use him to find his dad. That had been a lucky break with the watch. But Salem was a big place. And that inscription could mean anything. Having him around might actually come in handy.

Suddenly, she sensed something, and slammed on the brakes. Their car screeched to a stop in the middle of the highway.

“Whoa,” Sam said, slamming his palms on the dash. “What’s the deal?”

Several cars screeched to a stop behind them, leaning on their horns.

But Samantha didn’t care. She had felt something in the air. A vibration.

She sat there and raised her chin. Sensing.

Yes. There it was again. So close. The signal was unmistakable. There was important vampire activity. Right here in Boston. The vibration of it coursed through her veins. It was so close. She felt an urgency. Maybe, even, something to do with the sword itself.

She suddenly peeled out of traffic, made a sharp U-turn. All the traffic on both sides of the highway screeched to a halt, as she sped down the opposite side of Storrow Drive.

Sam was thrown against the side of the door, as he tried to get his bearings.

“What’s the rush?” he asked, surprised, and a bit scared.

Samantha drove another few hundred yards, then made a sharp left, screeching and cutting off four lanes of traffic.

“Change of plans,” she said.

*

Kyle jumped off the yacht before it even docked, and landed nimbly on the Boston cobblestone. The Russian soon landed beside him.

He had thought of killing the Russian on the boat ride over, many times, but while it would make him temporarily happy, it wouldn’t get him what he needed. So he decided to give him one last chance, to see if he could, this time, point him in the right direction.

If the Russian was clueless in Boston, then he would kill him for sure. And then just find another way. Kyle looked over at him impatiently.

At least the boy still had that big wound on his cheek. Kyle was sure it would leave a nice, big scar. The thought of it made him happy.

Luckily for the Russian, his eyes lit up, and he pointed.

“She is definitely here, my master,” he said, excitedly. “I sense her. Strongly. Only blocks away.”

Kyle broke into a grin. This time, it seemed real. Yes, he believed him. Blocks away. He loved the sound of that.

Kyle approached a shiny, new Towncar, its driver standing beside the open door.

As they approached, the Russian opened the passenger door and got in.

“Hey!” yelled the driver.

But before he could react, Kyle, with one strong punch, had knocked him back several feet in the air. Without even slowing, Kyle got into the driver’s side, and with the car already running, peeled out.

Kyle raced through the Boston traffic, veering for the fun of it and slamming hard into a car as he went. Horns began to blare all around him. He smiled widely. It made him feel just a little bit better.

Within moments, he knew, that sword would be his.

And then he would kill them all.

TWENTY NINE

As Caitlin and Caleb left the Meeting House, turning onto School Street, the King’s Chapel Burying Ground came into view. It was only two short blocks away, and a direct, straight walk.

The fourth tip of the cross
, Caitlin thought.
It all makes perfect sense
.

As they walked, she marveled at the fact that they had walked, this entire time, in the shape of a cross, as if they had been led by some invisible hand.

Caitlin felt her heart beating faster. She was nervous to finally meet her father, if he was alive. And nervous to see his grave, if he should be dead. She wasn’t sure how she would react either way. But she was also excited, relieved to at last know exactly who he was, where she came from. She was excited to know what her lineage was, and what her destiny would be.

She was also nervous that this would mean the end between her and Caleb. What if they really found the sword? What would he do then? Would he go and wage his war? Save his coven? And where would that leave her?

The two of them held hands as they walked towards the graveyard, only 30 yards away. She felt his grip tighten. Maybe he was sharing the same thoughts. Whatever they found in the next few minutes could change both of their lives forever. Caitlin felt Rose retreating within her jacket.

The sun was setting as they entered the small burying ground. The King’s Chapel Burying Ground was relatively obscure, the smaller and more forgotten of the two historic Boston burying grounds. It wasn’t even all that big, a mere 100 feet wide and just a few hundred feet deep. It was scattered with small, humble tombstones, hundreds of years old.

A narrow cobblestone trail wound its way through, and Caitlin set Rose down beside them, and the three of them walked it together. Caitlin and Caleb scanned each and every stone. Caitlin’s heart was pounding, as she read each inscription. Could this one be her father? That one?

They began in the back, at the very last row, and went stone to stone, searching for a clue, for anything. She found herself attracted to the larger stones, the bigger monuments. She had hoped her father would be someone important, whenever he lived, hoped one of the grand monuments would be reserved for him.

But none were. In fact, his name was not to be found anywhere.

As they finished their search, back to where they began at the entrance, Caitlin looked over, and realized that there was one last row of graves. It was the row closest to the street, closest to the entrance. They walked it slowly, stone to stone.

And there, at the very end, it was.

A tombstone: “Elizabeth Paine. Died 1692.”

It was the same Elizabeth Paine of Salem. The same woman of Hawthorne’s
Scarlet Letter
. The same woman who, Caleb had told her, had mated with a vampire. The same woman who bore Caitlin’s last name. This was where she was buried.

Was this who they’d been looking for all this time? Had Caitlin been looking, not for her father, but for her
mother
?

Or was it Elizabeth’s husband that was the vampire?

Caleb came close, and kneeled beside the grave with Caitlin. Rose came and sat down beside him, also staring at it, as he examined the stone carefully.

“This is it,” he said, in awe. “This is where we’re supposed to go. It’s her resting place. Your ancestor.”

“So,” Caitlin didn’t know how to begin, “is it my
mom
we’ve been looking for all this time?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb said. “It could be that
she
was the vampire. Or it could be the one she wed.”

“But,” Caitlin began, still confused, “does this mean that they’re dead? Or are they still alive?”

Caleb shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

He took out the scroll again: “
And find the ones they loved beside the fourth tip of the cross
.” He looked around the graveyard. “This must be the place. These are the ‘ones they loved.’ This must be the fourth tip of the cross. There is nowhere else it could be,” he said, scanning the yard. “Yet I see nothing that hints at where the sword is hidden. Do you?”

Caitlin look around the small yard again, as the sun lit it a blood red. She sighed. No. There were no clues whatsoever.

And then something occurred to her.

“Read it again,” she said. “Slowly.”

“‘And find the ones they loved,’” he read, slowly, “‘beside the fourth tip of the cross.’”

“
Beside
,” she said, her eyes lighting up.

“What?” he asked.

“It says
beside
the fourth tip of the cross. Not
at
the fourth tip of the cross.
Beside
it,” she said.

They both suddenly, at the same time, turned and looked at the large, stone building beside them.

The King’s Chapel.

*

As they entered the empty church, Caleb quickly shut the massive door behind them. It slammed with a bang, reverberating. The church was closed and the door had been locked, but he had broken it with his sheer strength. Now they had the place to themselves.

As they walked into the beautiful, small chapel, the sunset light poured in through its stained-glass windows, Caitlin felt immediately at peace. It was a cozy and elegant place, its pews segmented into family boxes and all lined with red velvet. Perfectly preserved. She felt as if she’d stepped into another century.

Caleb walked up beside her, and the two of them slowly looked around. A stillness hung in the air.

“It’s here,” he said. “I can feel it,” he said.

And for the first time, Caitlin could feel it, too.

She noticed that she was beginning to sense things more strongly, and she could sense the sword’s presence here. It electrified her. She didn’t know what excited her more: that the sword was here, or that she could sense it on her own.

Caitlin set Rose down beside her and walked slowly down the carpeted aisle, trying to use her heightened senses to feel where it could be. Her eyes locked on the pulpit.

At the far end of the chapel, a beautiful, small circular staircase ascended and ended in a pulpit. It looked like a place where ministers had preached for hundreds of years. For some reason, she felt drawn to it.

“I feel it, too,” Caleb said.

She turned and looked at him.

“Go,” he said. “Ascend. It is
your
sword. It is
your
lineage.”

She continued down the aisle, and slowly ascended the circular staircase. Rose walked with her, and sat at the base of the steps. She looked up at Caitlin and watched her. She whined softly.

Caitlin reached the top, a small box, just large enough for a preacher to stand in, and surveyed its woodwork, wondering where it could be. There was no obvious sign of anything, only a wooden railing, as high as her chest, built in a semicircular shape. She felt the smooth wood, aged with centuries of use, and saw no compartment, no drawers, nothing obvious.

Then she saw it.

There was the slightest impression in the wood, something painted over. The shape of a tiny cross. About the size of the cross she wore.

She scratched away at the impression, and years of paint came off. There, indeed, was a keyhole.

She removed her necklace and inserted it. It was a perfect fit.

She turned it, and there was a gentle click.

She pulled, and nothing happened. She pulled harder, and she could hear the cracking paint. The hinges had been completely painted over. She reached up and pulled harder, and scraped away at the paint. She got her fingers in enough to grab a hold of the door, and yanked hard. She could begin to see the outline of a tall, thin, narrow compartment. She yanked again.

And it opened.

Old air, stuck for centuries, came out at her, along with a cloud of dust.

And as the dust settled, her eyes opened wide.

There it was.

The sword.

It was stunning. Covered in gold and jewels from the hilt to the tip, she could already feel its power. She was almost afraid to touch it.

She reached in, and reverentially took hold of it.

She gently put one hand on the hilt, and the other on the scabbard. She pulled it out slowly, and stood, holding it up for Caleb to see.

She could see his jaw drop.

She held on the scabbard and extracted the sword, and with a soft, beautiful clang, the blade was revealed. It was made of a metal she did not recognize, and it shined unlike anything she had ever seen.

The energy coming off of it was overwhelming. It felt like electricity, and was running through her hand and up her arm.

With this sword, she felt she could do anything.

*

Samantha screeched the BMW to a halt right front of the King’s Chapel. Abandoning the car in the middle of the road, she jumped out. Sam, following her, jumped out the other side.

Horns blared.

“Hey lady, you can’t park there!” yelled a cop, approaching her.

Samantha reached up and brought her fist down on his nose, smashing it and causing him to drop to his knees, unconscious. Before he could hit the ground, she reached out and grabbed the gun from his holster.

Sam stood there, gaping, in shock.

“Holy shit—” he began to say.

But before he could finish, she grabbed him in a chokehold and picked him up off the ground.

Before he knew what was happening, she had him in the air, carrying him up the steps and through the door of the King’s Chapel.

“Samantha!” he tried to yell. “What are you—”

Dragging Sam, she kicked open the church door with one foot and raced inside.

“DON’T MOVE!” Samantha shrieked.

Samantha stood there, in the aisle of the King’s Chapel, holding Sam hostage with her left arm, and pointing the gun at his temple with her right.

Samantha looked up and saw that girl—Caitlin—standing at the top of the pulpit, holding the sword. Her sword. The sword she needed.

Off to the side, she saw that other vampire. That traitor to her coven. Caleb.

And in front of her, in the aisle, was a small, growling wolf pup.

“Drop the sword,” Samantha yelled, “or I’ll kill your brother!”

Sam squirmed in her grasp, but his strength was no match for hers.

“Please,” Sam said, “don’t do this. Why are you doing this?” he whimpered.

Samantha could see that Caitlin looked confused. Unsure what to do. She kept looking over to Caleb, as if wanting his advice on what to do next.

“Don’t give her the sword,” Caleb said firmly.

“If you don’t, I will kill him!” Samantha screamed. “I swear it!”

“Sam?” Caitlin cried out.