Морган Райс - Loved

It was meant for her . For Caitlin, and Caitlin alone. The thought of it overwhelmed her. Made her feel, for the first time in her life, wanted. Loved. Important. That she had a connection to something greater than herself, something hundreds of years old. That she was the center of this entire puzzle. She could hardly contain her emotions.

Then, suddenly, it happened. A horrible pain gripped her stomach. It knocked the wind out of her, and she keeled over, gasping for breath.

“Are you all right?” Caleb asked, as she felt his hand on her shoulder.

The feeding pangs. They were back. They hurt so badly this time, she could barely breathe.

Another pang suddenly struck, and this one hurt so much, she stood up with a jolt. She heard herself growl, a horrible, unearthly sound, and she saw herself running across the room, trying to get the pain out of her body. She ran right into a big exhibit, knocking it over, and heard it shatter.

But she couldn’t control herself. She was spinning, out of control, and she was going to destroy everything in this room.

Caleb appeared beside her, grabbing her firmly.

“Caitlin,” he said firmly, “Caitlin, listen to me!”

He grabbed her by the shoulders with all his might, but he was barely able to contain her.

“You are going to be all right. It’s just the feeding pangs. Do you hear me? It’s going to be all right. You just need to feed. We need to get you out of here,” he enunciated slowly. “Now!”

Caitlin looked up, and in her haze, barely saw him. On one level, she heard him, but on the other, it hurt too badly. It was overwhelming her. A desire to feed. To destroy. To get her fill. Now.

Caleb must’ve seen whatever it was overcoming her, because, before she could react, he quickly and firmly took her arm, and let her down the staircase, and out the house.

It was nearly dark as they hurried out the front door of Hawthorne’s house and down the walkway. They were moving so fast, they didn’t even look up, and didn’t even realize that they were walking right into a huge trap.

“Freeze!” yelled a voice.

Standing before them, guns drawn, stood several Salem policemen.

“Hands in the air! Slowly!”

Caitlin was still in a haze. The pangs struck her sharply, and she couldn’t resist the waves of rage, of violence, that were overcoming her. It was hard to focus, to hear exactly what they were saying.

She saw the police, but she had no fear of them. On the contrary, she wanted to pounce.

Through her haze, she felt Caleb’s strong grip, clasping her shoulders, and it was the only thing that kept her in check.

“I said, hands in the air!” screamed a cop, as the two other officers came in closer.

“Calm, Caitlin, calm,” Caleb whispered, as he slowly, still clutching the scroll, raised his arms high in the air, and prodded her to follow. “They can’t harm us.”

Caitlin, though, felt anything but calm. She saw the police, saw them pointing a gun at Caleb, and felt a red hot rage. A pang struck again, and she could no longer control herself as she zoomed in on a policemen, on his throat, the blood coursing through it. She needed it.

Caitlin pounced. She leapt right for the center policemen, and before he could react, she was on him, clutching him, her head back, teeth protracted, sinking right for his neck.

And then: a gunshot.

The clock struck midnight as Kyle descended down the marble staircase, flanked by two dozen of his minions. It had been a long night, and it had done gone far better than he had ever dreamed.

Still, he dreaded greeting his master, Rexius, their coven leader. They had been together for thousands of years, and he knew that Rexius was not a man who suffered fools lightly. He had zero tolerance for mistakes, and Kyle had felt nervous ever since he’d let that girl, Caitlin, escape his grasp. Rexius always punished even the smallest transgression, and Kyle had been bracing himself, wondering when his punishment would come. He knew that Rexius was just biding his time, that he would never forget.

Still, Kyle’s work had gone so spectacularly tonight, in every corner of the city, that Kyle couldn’t imagine how his master could remain upset with him. It should more than make up for such a small mistake. After all, they were in the midst of a historic moment in time, and Kyle was the general of this war. How could his master possibly punish him now?

Indeed, the more Kyle thought about it, the more he looked forward to this meeting. He looked forward to reporting the strength of the plague, how fast it was spreading, how well he and his men had distributed it. He looked forward to Rexius’ approval, to his shared excitement that the war they had been waiting for for thousands of years was finally here.

As Kyle continued deep underground, deep under City Hall, down another marble corridor, and through a huge set of medieval doors, he felt intoxicated. He had been waiting for this day for years.

He loved the feeling of the huge entourage behind him, of the war that was about to come. He hadn’t felt this giddy since he’d witnessed the beheadings of the French Revolution.

As Kyle entered his master’s chamber and walked through the set of double doors, several senior vampires stepped up behind him and blocked his entourage from following. They closed the door with a bang, leaving Kyle alone in the room. Kyle wasn’t thrilled about this. But then again, when dealing with Rexius, you never had a choice. And you never knew what he would do next.

It was a huge, cavernous room, and as Kyle looked about, he was surprised to see hundreds of vampires lined up silently along the wall. Their numbers had already grown dramatically, and there were many vampires Kyle didn’t recognize.

These vampires stood silently, at attention, along the sides of the room, practically out of sight.

Only the leader dominated the room. Rexius. He sat in the center, as always, on his huge marble throne, and stared down at Kyle. That was the way the leader always wanted it.

Kyle step forward and bowed his head.

“My master,” Kyle said.

A heavy silence blanketed the room.

Kyle looked up.

“You will be pleased to know, my master, that our work has gone beautifully. The plague has spread through every corner of the city. Within days, the humans will all be at their knees.”

Several seconds of uncomfortable silence followed, as Kyle could feel his master glaring down at him. Those icy blue eyes—they always made his skin crawl.

Kyle finally looked down, bowing his head again. He couldn’t stand looking up anymore.

“You have done well, Kyle,” the leader said slowly, in a dark, deliberate, gravelly voice. “Other covens are already reporting in. Our numbers grow stronger as we speak.”

“The war is going to be magnificent, master,” Kyle said. “I am honored to lead it for you.”

Several more seconds of silence followed.

“Indeed,” Rexius finally said, “this war will be magnificent. Within days, New York will be ours, and within weeks, the human race will be enslaved.”

Rexius broke into a smile, licking his lips ever so slightly. Kyle dreaded when he did that. A smile from Rexius only meant one thing: bad news.

“I am sorry to report,” Rexius continued, “that you won’t be here to share it with us.”

Kyle felt a pain his chest, and looked up in fear. He didn’t know what to say. Where would he be? Was he assigning him elsewhere?

“Not here?” Kyle asked, dumfounded. He could hear his own voice cracking, and felt ashamed.

“My master, I am afraid I do not understand. I have already executed everything perfectly.”

“I know you have. That is the only reason you are still breathing right now,” he said.