Морган Райс - Turned

They all turned to see a woman marching towards them from down the hallway. She, too, was dressed in all black, with long, flowing red hair that trailed past her shoulders, and large, shiny green eyes. She was tall, ageless, and strikingly beautiful.

Caitlin felt humbled in her presence, like she had just shrunk. This was a woman. Or was it…vampire? Whatever she was, she was a creature that Caitlin could never compete with. She felt deflated, prepared to concede Caleb to whoever she was.

“Know that what !?” the woman repeated, staring harshly at Caleb as she walked up to him, just a few feet away. She glanced over at Caitlin, and her mouth curled into a snarl. Caitlin had never seen anyone look at her with so much hatred before.

“Sera,” Caleb said softly, “we have not been married for 700 years.”

“In your eyes, maybe,” she snapped back.

She started to pace, circling both Caitlin and Caleb. She looked her up and down as if she were an insect.

“How dare you bring her here,” she spat. “Really. You know far better.”

“She is The One ,” Caleb said flatly.

Unlike the others, this woman did not seem surprised. Instead, she just let out a short, mocking laugh.

“That’s ridiculous,” she answered. “You’ve brought war on us,” she continued, “and all for a human. A simple infatuation,” she said, her anger rising. With each sentence, the crowd behind her seemed to get bolstered, to grow with a concurring anger. It was becoming an angry mob.

“In fact,” Sera continued, “we have the right to tear her apart.”

The crowd behind her began to murmur in approval.

Anger flashed across Caleb’s face.

“Then you would have to go through me,” Caleb answered, staring back with equal determination.

Caitlin felt a warmth run through her. He was laying his life on the line for her. Again. Maybe he did care for her.

Samuel stepped forward, between them, and held out his hands. The crowd quieted.

“Caleb has requested an audience with the Council,” he said. “We owe him at least that. Let him state his case. Let the Council decide.”

“Why should we?” Sera snapped.

“Because that is what I said,” Samuel answered, a steely determination in his voice. “And I give orders up here, Sera, not you.” Samuel stared long and hard at her. Finally, she deferred.

Samuel stepped aside, and gestured towards the stone staircase.

Caleb reached out and took Caitlin’s hand, and led her forward. They stepped down the wide stone steps, and descended into the darkness.

Behind her, Caitlin heard a sharp laughter cut through the night.

“Good riddance.”

Their footsteps echoed on the wide, stone staircase as they descended. It was dimly lit. Caitlin reached over and slipped her hand into Caleb’s arm. She hoped that he would let it sit there. He did. In fact, he tightened his arm around hers. Once again, everything felt OK. She felt that she could descend into the depths of darkness, as long as they were together.

So many thoughts raced through her mind. What was this Council? Why had he insisted on taking her? And why did she feel so insistent on being at his side? She could have easily objected up there, told him that he did that she didn’t want to go, that she’d rather wait upstairs. But she didn’t want to wait upstairs. She wanted to be with him. She couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else.

None of it made any sense. At every turn, instead of getting answers, all she got were new questions. Who were all those people upstairs? Were they really vampires? What were they doing here? In the Cloisters?

They turned the corner, into a large room, and she was struck by its beauty. It was incredible, like descending into a real medieval castle. Soaring ceilings capped rooms carved out of medieval stone. Off to her right there lay several sarcophagi, raised above the floor. Intricate, medieval figures were carved on their lids. Some of them were open. Was that where they slept?

She tried to think back to all the vampire lore she had ever heard. Sleeping in coffins. Awake at night. Superhuman strength and speed. Pain in the sunlight. It all seemed to add up. She herself felt some pain in the sun. But it wasn’t unbearable. And she was impervious to the holy water. What’s more, this place, the Cloisters, was filled with crosses: there were enormous crosses everywhere. Yet it didn’t seem to affect these vampires. In fact, this seemed to be their home.

She wanted to ask Caleb about all of this, and more, but didn’t know how to begin. She settled on the last one.

“The crosses,” she said, nodding as they walked under another one. “Don’t they bother you?”

He looked at her, not understanding. He looked like he’d been lost in thought.

“Don’t crosses hurt vampires?” she asked.

Recognition crossed his face.

“Not all of us,” he answered. “Our race is very fragmented. Much like the human race. There are many races within our race, and many territories—or covens—within each race. It is quite complex. They don’t affect good vampires.”

“Good?” she asked.

“Just like your human race, there are forces for good and forces of evil. We are not all the same.”

He left it at that. As usual, the answers only raised more questions. But she held her tongue. She didn’t want to pry. Not now.

Despite the high ceilings, the doorways were small. The arched, wooden doors were open, and they walked right through, ducking as they went. As they enter the new room, the height opened up again, and it was another magnificent room. She looked up and could see stained glass everywhere. To her right was some sort of pulpit, and before it, dozens of tiny, wooden chairs. It was stark, and beautiful. It truly looked like some sort of medieval cloister.

She saw no sign of life, and heard no movement. She heard absolutely nothing. She wondered where they all were.

They entered another room, the floor sloping gently downward, and she gasped. This small room was filled with treasures. It was a working museum, and they were all encased carefully behind glass. Right there before her, under sharp, halogen lights, were what must have been hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of ancient, priceless treasures. Gold crosses. Large, silver goblets. Medieval manuscripts….

She followed Caleb as he walked through the room and stopped before a long, vertical, glass case. Inside was a magnificent ivory staff, several feet long. He stared at it through the glass.

He was quiet for several seconds.

“What is it?” she finally asked.

He kept staring, quietly. Finally, he said, “An old friend.”

That was it. He didn’t offer any more. She wondered what sort of history he had with the object, and what sort of power it held. She read the plaque: early 1300s.

“It is known as a crozier. A bishop’s staff. It is both a rod and a staff. A rod for punishment and a staff for leading the faithful. The symbol of our church. It has the power to bless, or to curse. It is what we guard. It is what keeps us safe.”

Their church? What they guard?

Before she could ask more questions, he took her hand and led her through yet another doorway.

They reached a velvet rope. He reached out, unclasped it, and pulled it back for her to enter. He then followed right behind her, re-clasped it, and led her to a small, circular wooden staircase. It led down, seemingly right into the floor itself. She looked at it, puzzled.

Caleb knelt and undid a secret latch in the floor. A floor trap opened up, and she could see that the staircase continued downward, into the depths.