Morgan Rice: Loved

“And the ‘common ground’ reference…that must be Boston Common, where we are right now. It would also make sense. In the 1600s, where we’re standing, they hung the witches. It is a very important spot, especially for the vampire race.

“The scroll…it says they ‘leave common ground.’ But that means we begin here. I’m not sure why. And the rest of it…‘a ring of blood’… ‘meet at the house,’ ‘the fourth tip of the cross’…I just don’t know where we go from here.”

Caitlin looked around again. The view from up here was commanding. There was still some snow left, despite the warming weather, and several kids were sledding down the other side of it, screaming in delight, their parents joining them. As Caitlin looked out, she saw a very beautiful and idyllic park. It was hard for her to imagine witches being hung here.

She surveyed the hilltop, but all she saw was a large tree. There was no clue whatsoever.

“Why ‘four Horsemen’?” she asked. “What’s that about?”

“It’s a reference to the Apocalypse. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, spreading out to the four corners of the earth. I think what it’s saying is that, if we don’t find the sword, it will bring the Apocalypse.”

“Or maybe,” she said, “we’ll bring the apocalypse if we do find it.”

Caleb turned and looked at her, deep in thought. “Perhaps,” he said softly.

He looked around. “But why here ?” he asked again. “Why this spot?

Caitlin thought, and something occurred to her.

“Maybe it’s not about this place,” she said. “Maybe it’s about leaving this place. About the journey,” she added.

He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“The scroll talks about traveling, about leaving one place and going to another. Maybe it just wants us to go to these places, to travel the road. But not necessarily find things along the way. Maybe it’s about the journey .”

Caleb furrowed his brows.

“It’s like those people who walk those mazes, those Labyrinths,” she said. “It’s the walking – that’s the reason they go. Not the destination. By walking in certain directions, in certain patterns, it’s supposed to, like, change you in some way.”

Caleb looked at her with appreciation. He seemed to like her idea.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll buy that. But even so. Where would we walk? Where would we go next?”

“Well,” she said, examining it again, “it says they leave ‘common ground,’ and enter ‘a ring of blood.’ So our next stop would be the ring of blood.”

“Which is?” he asked.

She stood next to him, and stared at the map. There were 18 sites on the historic freedom trail. Two and a half miles’ worth. She felt overwhelmed just looking at it. She had no idea where to go next. She looked at all of them, and none seemed to be in the shape of a circle, or a ring. And there was certainly no reference to a ring of blood.

She read the captions on the map, and still couldn’t find anything.

Then, she saw it.

There, at the bottom of the map, was a footnote. Beneath the caption for the Old State House. It read: “At the base of the building, on the street, stands the spot commemorating where the Boston massacre occurred.”

“Here,” she said excitedly, pointing. “The Boston Massacre. There’s nothing about a ring, but that certainly qualifies for blood.”

She looked at him. “What do you think?” she asked.

Caleb studied the map. Finally, he looked at her.

“Let’s do it.”

As Caitlin and Caleb left the park, turning down Court Street and heading into the heart of the historic district of Boston, the old Statehouse came into view. It was a large, brick building, perfectly preserved from the 1700s, with multiple historic windows and topped by a large, white cupola. It was stunning in its simplicity and beauty.

As they reached its base, they walked around the structure, looking for the site of the Boston massacre. Finally, as they turned the corner, they saw it.

They both stopped in their tracks.

It was a ring. A perfect circle.

The spot marking the Boston massacre was small, hardly bigger than a manhole cover. They came close and examined it.

It held no special markings. It was just a humble circle, made up of small tile, embedded in the ground at the base of the Old State House.

“It makes sense,” Caleb said. “We are definitely on the right trail.”

“Why?”

“That balcony, above it,” he said, gesturing. “That’s where the Declaration of Independence was first read.”

Caitlin looked up at the small balcony on the building.

“So?” she asked.

Caleb breathed deeply, preparing to explain.

“The founding of this nation was really the founding of a vampire nation. Freedom and justice for all. Liberty from religious persecution. A small group of people conquering a huge and mighty nation. Do you really think a small group of humans could have achieved this?

“It was us. Our kind. That is what the textbooks won’t tell you. The founding of America is the founding of our nation.

“But the darker vampire races, like the Blacktide Coven, have tried to hijack our work ever since. That’s why there have always been two warring factions. Good and evil. Liberty and persecution. Wherever there is one, there is the other.

“Your father, whoever he was, I’m convinced was one of our founders. The most powerful vampires were. And it is they who held the most powerful weapons, and stored them for future generations.”

“Stored them?” Caitlin asked, trying to process it all.

“The sword we’re searching for – the Turkish sword – is designed to protect, not attack. In the right hands. In the wrong hands, it can be a horrible weapon. That’s why it was hidden so carefully. Only the right people are meant to find it. And if anyone was in a position to hide it, it would have been your Dad.”

It was too much for her to process at once. It was hard for her to take it all in, to believe that all this was true. But it did seem to be adding up. And it did feel like they were nearing the end of the trail.

“I don’t see any clues here,” Caitlin said, looking around.

“Neither do I,” he said. “So, if your theory is right, and it’s about the journey, that would mean that, for whatever reason, we were meant to just see this, and then continue on the trail.”

Caleb took the scroll and studied it again, holding it with her.

“‘Meet at the house’,” he read slowly. He stood there, thinking. “What house?” he asked aloud.

Caitlin took out the freedom trail map once again.

“There are a lot of houses on this trail: the Paul Revere house, John Coburn’s house, the John J. Smith house…It could be any of them. Or it could even be a house that’s not even on the trail,” she added.

“I feel like they put us on this trail for a reason,” Caleb said. “Whatever it is, I feel it must be on the trail.”

They both studied the map again, reading all the captions. Suddenly, Caitlin stopped. Something occurred to her.

“What if it isn’t a house at all?” she asked.

Caleb looked at her.

“For some reason, the reference to an actual house feels too obvious to me. All of the other clues are much more subtle. What if it’s not literal? What if it’s figurative?”

She ran her finger along the trail.

“For instance, what if it’s actually a church? Look,” she said, pointing. “The Meeting House Church. It’s just around the corner.”

Caleb looked at her, and his eyes open wide in approval.