Morgan Rice: Loved

At the far end of the chapel, a beautiful, small circular staircase ascended and ended in a pulpit. It looked like a place where ministers had preached for hundreds of years. For some reason, she felt drawn to it.

“I feel it, too,” Caleb said.

She turned and looked at him.

“Go,” he said. “Ascend. It is your sword. It is your lineage.”

She continued down the aisle, and slowly ascended the circular staircase. Rose walked with her, and sat at the base of the steps. She looked up at Caitlin and watched her. She whined softly.

Caitlin reached the top, a small box, just large enough for a preacher to stand in, and surveyed its woodwork, wondering where it could be. There was no obvious sign of anything, only a wooden railing, as high as her chest, built in a semicircular shape. She felt the smooth wood, aged with centuries of use, and saw no compartment, no drawers, nothing obvious.

Then she saw it.

There was the slightest impression in the wood, something painted over. The shape of a tiny cross. About the size of the cross she wore.

She scratched away at the impression, and years of paint came off. There, indeed, was a keyhole.

She removed her necklace and inserted it. It was a perfect fit.

She turned it, and there was a gentle click.

She pulled, and nothing happened. She pulled harder, and she could hear the cracking paint. The hinges had been completely painted over. She reached up and pulled harder, and scraped away at the paint. She got her fingers in enough to grab a hold of the door, and yanked hard. She could begin to see the outline of a tall, thin, narrow compartment. She yanked again.

And it opened.

Old air, stuck for centuries, came out at her, along with a cloud of dust.

And as the dust settled, her eyes opened wide.

There it was.

The sword.

It was stunning. Covered in gold and jewels from the hilt to the tip, she could already feel its power. She was almost afraid to touch it.

She reached in, and reverentially took hold of it.

She gently put one hand on the hilt, and the other on the scabbard. She pulled it out slowly, and stood, holding it up for Caleb to see.

She could see his jaw drop.

She held on the scabbard and extracted the sword, and with a soft, beautiful clang, the blade was revealed. It was made of a metal she did not recognize, and it shined unlike anything she had ever seen.

The energy coming off of it was overwhelming. It felt like electricity, and was running through her hand and up her arm.

With this sword, she felt she could do anything.

Samantha screeched the BMW to a halt right front of the King’s Chapel. Abandoning the car in the middle of the road, she jumped out. Sam, following her, jumped out the other side.

Horns blared.

“Hey lady, you can’t park there!” yelled a cop, approaching her.

Samantha reached up and brought her fist down on his nose, smashing it and causing him to drop to his knees, unconscious. Before he could hit the ground, she reached out and grabbed the gun from his holster.

Sam stood there, gaping, in shock.

“Holy shit – ” he began to say.

But before he could finish, she grabbed him in a chokehold and picked him up off the ground.

Before he knew what was happening, she had him in the air, carrying him up the steps and through the door of the King’s Chapel.

“Samantha!” he tried to yell. “What are you – ”

Dragging Sam, she kicked open the church door with one foot and raced inside.

“DON’T MOVE!” Samantha shrieked.

Samantha stood there, in the aisle of the King’s Chapel, holding Sam hostage with her left arm, and pointing the gun at his temple with her right.

Samantha looked up and saw that girl – Caitlin – standing at the top of the pulpit, holding the sword. Her sword. The sword she needed.

Off to the side, she saw that other vampire. That traitor to her coven. Caleb.

And in front of her, in the aisle, was a small, growling wolf pup.

“Drop the sword,” Samantha yelled, “or I’ll kill your brother!”

Sam squirmed in her grasp, but his strength was no match for hers.

“Please,” Sam said, “don’t do this. Why are you doing this?” he whimpered.

Samantha could see that Caitlin looked confused. Unsure what to do. She kept looking over to Caleb, as if wanting his advice on what to do next.

“Don’t give her the sword,” Caleb said firmly.

“If you don’t, I will kill him!” Samantha screamed. “I swear it!”

“Sam?” Caitlin cried out.

“I’m so sorry, Caity,” Sam whimpered. “Please. Give her the sword. Don’t let her kill me.”

A tense silence blanketed them, as Caitlin clearly debated.

Rose began to snarl, heading slowly towards Samantha.

“Okay,” Caitlin finally yelled out. “If I give you the sword, you’ll let him go?”

“Yes. Throw it down,” Samantha ordered. “On the floor. Slowly.”

Caitlin hesitated another moment.

Then, suddenly, she threw the sword.

It landed with a clang on the floor, in the center of the aisle. Equidistant between her, Caleb, and Samantha.

At that moment, Rose ran and lunged for Samantha.

And Samantha aimed and fired at Rose.

There was suddenly a crash at the door, and in a blur of speed, Kyle and Sergei stormed in.

In the already chaotic room, this unexpected twist threw everyone off guard.

Kyle took advantage of the confusion.

Before anyone could react, he raced down the aisle, and in one blow, he managed to knock both Sam and Samantha unconscious. Her gun went skidding to the floor.

Caleb didn’t lose a beat. He raced right for the sword, which was still sitting on the floor.

But Kyle spotted it, too, and was dashing right behind him.

Before Caleb could reach it, Kyle jumped on top of him, smashing him in the back with his elbow, and knocking him to the floor.

Kyle landed on top of him, and the two of them, equally matched in strength, began to wrestle, only feet away from the sword.

Sergei took advantage of the confusion. He raced down the aisle, heading for the sword himself.

Caitlin had initially been too shocked by all the chaos, but now she jumped into action. She had to save Caleb. Kyle was on top of him, gaining the upper ground, and raising his thumbs to his eyes to gouge them out.

She jumped off the pulpit, flying through the air and landing 15 feet below, on the church floor. She raced towards Kyle, and with one blow kicked him hard in the ribs, sending him, just in time, flying off of Caleb.

And then, suddenly, without warning, Caitlin was in a world of pain.

She shrieked, as she felt cold metal piercing her back, her skin, her intestines, coming out through her stomach, then leaving just as quickly.

As she sank to her knees, she could feel the blood racing up through her throat, her mouth, her teeth, dripping down her chin.

In her shock, her agony, she looked down, and realized she’d been stabbed from behind. Through the back. By the sword.

“NO!” sobbed Caleb, as he turned to her, rushing to her side.

Caleb was so distracted, he did not see Sergei, standing over them, holding the bloody sword, pleased at his work, grinning an evil grin.

“You killed me before my time,” he snarled down at Caitlin. “Now I have returned the favor.”

Sergei suddenly raced off, darting down the aisle of the church.

Kyle scurried to his feet and raced after him, and out the front door.

As they ran past her, Samantha regained consciousness, and in one quick motion, she grabbed a hold of the unconscious Sam, hoisted him over her shoulder, and bounded off after them.