Морган Райс - Loved

“So is this how you spend your days now, Roger?” Caleb asked, smiling. “Looking after an old church?”

Roger smiled. “It beats getting you out of trouble,” he said. Then he sighed, a long, tired sigh.

“I’m tired, Caleb. I’ve been around a lot longer than you are, and I’ve just about had enough. I like this place. It’s quiet. I don’t bother anyone, and no one bothers me. I’m tired of all these god damn wars all the time. Covens, politics….I like being on my own. I like this place.

“And more importantly, I get to look after it. Honestly, after all these years, I didn’t think anyone would come along. I was starting to believe that there was no such thing as The One. But I guess I was wrong.” Roger looked at Caitlin. “And now you’ve put me out of a job.”

Roger turned to Caleb. “Before I bring you, there’s one thing I want to ask of you,” he said, looking at Caleb.

Caitlin wonder what it could be, what the price would be for admission to such a valuable object, something that this man had guarded his entire life.

Caleb looked back. “Anything, old friend,” he said.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard you play,” Roger said.

He turned and gestured towards an old, grand piano sitting in the corner of the room.

“The Pathétique. Second movement. Just like in Vienna.”

Caleb surveyed the piano. He hesitated.

“It’s been a long time, Roger.”

Roger smiled wide. “I’m sure you still got it.”

Caitlin suddenly realized that there was so much about Caleb she didn’t know—so much she would probably never know. She felt so young in comparison. She realized that Caleb and Roger had experienced more over the centuries than she and Caleb probably ever would. It saddened her.

She so badly wanted to be immortal—a full, true vampire, just like him, by his side forever.

She watched as Caleb walked slowly across the empty church, the floorboards creaking beneath his black leather boots. He took three steps up onto the wooden platform and walked across it, all the way to the corner. He pulled the cover off the Steinway piano, and sat.

He lifted the lid, and stared.

He closed his eyes, and sat there. Caitlin wondered what he was thinking, what sort of memories it was evoking for him. And then, after several moments of silence, she wondered if he’d change his mind, if he wouldn’t play after all.

He finally reached up with his hands, and began to play.

And it was beautiful.

The notes echoed throughout the huge, empty church, reverberating off the walls, filling the empty space. It seemed to bounce off of everything.

Caitlin had never heard music like this. Nothing even remotely like this. It made her want to capture the moment. And it made her want to cry.

At that moment, she felt profoundly sad, as it struck her, again, that there was so much about Caleb that she would probably never know. She would just have to accept that she knew as much as she did, and learn to be happy to be with him for the short time that she was.

It also saddened her, as it made her think of Jonah. She hadn’t thought of him in so long. When she was with Caleb, she felt no need to think of him. But he was still there, somewhere deep in her consciousness, even from just the short time they’d spent together, and a part of her still felt badly for ending it so abruptly. Whatever they’d had together, it felt unresolved. A part of her felt that someday they would see each other again. She didn’t know how, but she just knew that they would.

Not that she even wanted to. Especially at this moment. She felt wholeheartedly devoted to Caleb, and she hoped that would never change.

The music filled her soul as she stood there for what felt like forever, listening. Neither she nor Roger moved. They both stood there, frozen in silence, as Caleb played perfectly.

Finally, it was over. The final note hung in the air for several seconds, and Caitlin looked over and saw Roger slowly open his eyes.

Caleb got up slowly, walked across the stage, down the steps, and back towards them. He stopped a few feet in front of Roger, and looked at him.

Roger took a deep breath, reached up, and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Exactly as I remembered,” Roger said.

He took a deep breath, turned his back, and walked quickly down the hall.

“Follow me,” he said

They followed Roger across the creaking wood floors and up an old, winding wood staircase. They reached the mezzanine level, and Caitlin look down, and was taken aback by the beauty of the church from this perspective.

They followed Roger down a hall, through a hidden door, and up yet another circular wooden staircase. They continued to follow as they winded higher and higher. Caitlin had the feeling that no one had been up this high in years.

The staircase ended in a small cupola, all the way at the very top of the church, barely big enough to hold the three of them.

Roger reached over to a part of the wall, and gently pulled at a hidden latch. A secret compartment opened, and he extracted a small, jeweled chest.

He held it gingerly in his hands, looking at it sentimentally.

“I never opened it myself,” he said. “I’ve never even seen it open. And I never thought I would. Until I saw your key.”

He looked directly at Caitlin. It was hot and airless in the small room, and she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Dizzy. Everything felt so surreal. And it never seemed to end.

“I knew your father well,” he said.

Caitlin’s jaw dropped. She was practically speechless. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, she barely knew where to begin.

“What was he like?” was all she could think of.

“Fine man. A great man. I loved him. He was bigger than all of us, bigger than the race. He’d be proud of you for getting this far,” he said, as he held out the chest with both hands.

Caitlin reached out and inserted the silver key, heart pounding, praying it would fit. It did.

It slid in with a precious click. She turned it gently to the right, and the lid opened.

All three of them leaned over, anxious to see what was inside.

They were shocked by what they found.

“Hey buddy, move out!” came the gruff voice.

Kyle felt himself being kicked, then nudged with a baton.

He opened his eyes.

He was lying on a cold, hard surface, but had no idea where. Sunlight was creeping over the horizon, and it burned his eyes and skin.

“Hey buddy, did you hear me? I said move it!” the cop yelled.

Kyle opened his eyes fully now, and realized he’d been lying on marble. On the cold, marble steps of City Hall. He was outside, at daybreak, lying sprawled out, like a bum. He looked up and saw two uniformed policeman standing over him, poking and prodding him with their batons, smiling at each other.

Kyle tried to remember what happened, how he’d got here. He remembered reporting to Rexius.

Then being grabbed, being tied down. Then, the acid. He reached up and felt one side of his face, and it felt normal. Then he reached up and felt the other—and the pain came flooding back. He could feel the contours, the horrible scars, the disfiguration. They had branded him with Ioric acid.

A punishment reserved for traitors. He, Kyle, the man who had been loyal to his coven for thousands of years. For one small mistake. It was unthinkable.

Kyle felt the pain welling up on the side of his face, and rage began to well within him.

“Want to bring him in?” one cop asked the other.

“Nah. Too much paperwork. Let’s spare ourselves the aggravation and take care of it ourselves.”

One of the cops raised his baton, preparing to bring it down hard.