Морган Райс - Loved

“Hold him up,” he said to the other.

One cop roughly grabbed Kyle by the arm and yanked him to his feet. As he did, the other side of Kyle’s face was revealed, and the cops could see the horrible scarring and disfiguration. They both recoiled at the site.

“Holy shit,” one cop said. “What the hell is that?”

Rage flooded Kyle, and before the cops could react, he snapped to it, grabbing each, with a single hand, by the chest, and raising each high above his head. They were big men, but Kyle was bigger—much bigger—and much, much stronger. He raised each higher and higher, and before they could react, he pulled them back and then brought them together, smashing into each other.

They both collapsed to the steps, and Kyle stepped up and stomped on their heads, killing each of them.

Kyle’s rage continued to well. His own people. They had cast him out like a nobody, like a nothing. After all he had done for them. After he had unleashed the war. All for a small mistake. For that stupid girl. Caitlin. He would make her pay.

But first, he would make his own people pay. No one treated him like that. No one. They might have exiled him, but he didn’t have to accept it. After all, there were still vampires loyal to him. He could be the leader of the coven himself.

As he stood there, quaking with rage, it struck him. A plan. A way to get his revenge. A way to take back control. A way to become supreme leader himself.

He thought of the sword. If he had it, if he could find it before they did, he would have the power. Not them. Then he could come back and destroy them. At least those who had betrayed him. Those who’d been loyal, he’d take in as soldiers.

Yes, there would be bloodshed unlike any they had ever seen. And when he finished taking back control, he’d turn to the humans and finish the war himself. The plague would have done its damage by then, and he, Kyle would be in charge. With that sword, he could rule New York. Then all the councils, and all the covens across the world, would have to answer to him.

Yes, he liked the plan. But if he wanted that sword, he’d have to find that girl. Caitlin. And to find her, he would need help. That Russian boy. The singer. The one she turned. The one who still had her scent in his veins.

Yes. A plan was coming to him.

Kyle turned and ran up the steps of City Hall, tearing off the iron locks with one hand as he kicked in the door. The early morning lobby was empty, and he sprinted across the corridor. He reached the far end, pulled back a hidden latch, and a wall opened up. He hurried down the stone staircase, and into the blackness.

Kyle ran full speed, knowing that he could find himself up against an army, but also knowing that they would never expect him to attack by himself. He also knew that they were preoccupied with the war, and that if he hurried, he might be able to get in just long enough to get what he needed. Especially at daybreak, when many of them were settling in for sleep.

Kyle reached the lower levels and ran with all his speed down the hall, until he found the huge door he was looking for. There was only one guard standing outside it, as he suspected—a young and weaker vampire, only hundreds of years old. Before he could react, Kyle had already struck him cleanly across the jaw, knocking him out cold.

Kyle put his shoulder to the door and knocked it in. He crossed the room, and there he was.

That Russian boy. Chained to the wall, hands outstretched, mouth gagged, eyes open wide with fear and terror. They’d had him in there for days, and by now, this boy had been utterly broken. Kyle ran across the room, not wasting time, and tore off his hand and foot chains. The boy reached up and pulled off the duct tape from his mouth and began shouting.

“Who are you? Why am I here? Where are you taking me? Why did—”

Kyle reached up and backhanded him with enough strength to knock him out. Then he slung him over his shoulder and carried him out the room, chains dragging.

He sprinted with him through the empty corridor and up the staircase, and before he knew it, he was out the door, through City Hall, and into the daylight. He ran for all he was worth, and was pleased to realize that no one was following him.

He relaxed a bit, as he ran. He had what he needed. This boy, with Caitlin’s blood still in his veins, could lead him right to her. And where she was, the sword would follow.

He smiled. It was only a matter of time. Soon he would have the sword.

Caitlin and Caleb flew over miles of dark woods as they crossed Martha’s Vineyard, heading into the late afternoon sun. She marveled at how big the island was. She had imagined it to be a small place, but as she looked down, she realized that it was massive. The Aquinnah cliffs, where they were heading, were on the far corner of the island, all the way on the other side. Even flying at Caleb’s speed, it would take a while.

Caleb didn’t like to fly if other people were around, as he never wanted to draw undue attention to him or to the race. But the island was so deserted this time of year, that he had no qualms about flying them from one side to the other, especially over a patch of woods.

Caitlin’s mind spun as she thought of the whaling church, and of the latest clue they’d found. It was not at all what she’d expected. She had guessed it might be another key. Instead, they’d found a scroll—a brittle, yellowing parchment, and torn in half, right down the middle. It had been obvious, from first glance, that the other half of it was missing, and that without it, the first half would be useless. Half of a riddle. Given its condition, it was amazing it had survived, and she was sure it would not be preserved if it hadn’t been stored inside a narrow, metal, airproof container—one which she now felt bulging snugly in her pocket.

The three of them had scrutinized the cryptic message on the half of the scroll, knowing even as they did that it would be useless. There were words and phrases which were torn down the middle.

Fragments. Pieces of a riddle. It read:

The

h F

o

F ur

u Ho

H rseme

m n…

The

h y le

l ave

v …

Ent

n er a

r

in

i g

n …

Meet

t at

a …

And

n

d fin

i d

d the

h …

Be

B sid

i e

d t

he

h f

our

u th…

They had guessed again and again, trying to complete the sentences. But try as they did, they could not decipher it without the other half.

They had all felt deflated, and Roger had seemed apologetic. There were no hints, no leads whatsoever as to where the other half of the scroll might be.

So Caitlin and Caleb had decided to go to the only other lead they had: the Aquinnah Cliffs. Her dream.

Caitlin struggled to remember the dream, and it already felt distant, hazy, as if she’d dreamt it months ago. She started to worry if she’d even dreamt it at all. She didn’t want to let Caleb down, or lead him any deeper on this wild goose chase.

As they turned the bend, the woods below them opened up, and the landscape changed to beautiful, tall grass, swaying in the wind. It was lit up by the late afternoon sun, and glowed a soft red. It was beautiful. Below, she saw a farm, random sheep and cows spread out on the primitive landscape.

Soon Caitlin could smell the salt air, and as they rounded another bend, the landscape shifted to dune grass, then to sand.

Then, the cliffs came into view.

They were breathtaking. Hundreds of feet high, their sand glowed with a mystical red color.

Especially in the late afternoon sun, it looked as if these huge cliffs were alive, on fire.