Loved (13 page)

They walked around to the back of the house, and found another door. Caleb tried the key. It didn’t fit there, either.

“Maybe it’s not to a door,” Caitlin said. “Maybe it’s a key to something else. Something
inside
the house.”

“Well, I guess we have no choice,” he said, then, after looking furtively around, reached up and broke the handle. So much for preservation.

They quickly entered the house and shut the door behind them.

The house was dim, lit only by the exterior light filtering through the small windows. The ceilings were low, and Caleb had to nearly crouch as he walked. It was all wood: wood ceilings, wooden posts, wooden beams, and wide plank, wooded floors. The center of the room was made up of a huge, brick fireplace. The house was perfectly preserved, and it was like walking into 1672.

They walked around, the floorboards creaking, examining every nook and crevice. They also pored over all the furniture. But Caitlin couldn’t find anything in which the key could fit. In fact, she couldn’t find any hiding places at all.

They each circled the house, and met in the middle.

“Anything?” Caleb asked.

She shook her head. “You?”

He shook his, too.

Suddenly there was a noise, and they both spun around.

The front door to the house opened, and a large, black man, 50s, stood in the doorway. He took several steps in.

He stopped before Caleb and stared.

Caleb stared back.

“Caleb?” the man finally asked.

Caleb’s expression softened.

“Roger?” Caleb asked.

The man broke into a smile, as did Caleb, and they both embraced in a huge hug. They held it for several seconds.

Who is this?
Caitlin thought.

Roger began to laugh—a deep, warm, generous laugh. He held Caleb by the shoulders and looked at him. Caleb was a big man, but even so, Roger towered over him.

“Son of a bitch,” Roger said. “I haven’t seen you in what…a hundred and fifty years?”

“More like 200,” Caleb said.

They both stared at each other, surprised. Whoever he was, this had clearly been an important man in Caleb’s life.

Caleb turned, and held his hand out to Caitlin. “Excuse my manners,” he said. “Roger, may I introduce Caitlin Paine.”

Roger did a half bow. “A pleasure to meet you, Caitlin.”

Caitlin smiled back. “A pleasure to meet you, too. How do you guys know each other?”

“Oh,” Roger said, smiling, “let’s just say we go way back.”

“Roger is one of my oldest friends,” Caleb said. “He’s saved my life once or twice.”

“More times than that,” Rogers said, laughing.

Rose peeked her head out of Caitlin’s jacket, and Roger’s eyes lit up. “Well, hello little fella,” he said, coming over and petting her.

Rose licked his huge palm.

“How did you know we were here?” Caleb asked.

“Caleb, please,” Roger said, as if the answer were obvious. “This is an island. Your scent has nowhere to go. It’s visible from miles away.”

“So you knew the second I got off the boat,” Caleb said, smiling. “And you waited to see where I’d go.”

“Of course,” Roger said. “Wouldn’t you? But I would have guessed it would be here.” Caleb looked carefully over the room. “Why?”

“There’s only one reason one of us comes to the Vincent House. The sword, right? Isn’t that what you’re after?”

Caitlin and Caleb looked at each other.

“We might be,” Caleb said warily.

Roger smiled.

“You know, the thing about that sword,” he said, “is that only the person
meant
to find it will. As in, The
One
. I know you’re not The One. And as for your friend, with all due respect…well, I don’t mean to make any assumptions, but unless she—”

Caitlin reached into her pocket and held out the small, silver key.

Roger stared at if for several second, speechless.

His jaw dropped.

“My god,” he said, in a whisper.

He looked at Caleb, as if for confirmation, and Caleb nodded back.

He exhaled.

“Well,” he said, humbled, in an entirely different tone, “this does change everything.”

He looked Caitlin over. He shook his head.

“I never would have guessed,” he said.

“So then…you know where it is?” Caleb asked.

Roger nodded. “Not here,” he said.

Caitlin and Caleb exchanged a glance.

“That key,” he said, “was accurate at one time. But not anymore. It’s a decoy. The Vincent House is no longer the place you’ll find it in. Now it’s just the place you need to go.”

Caitlin was thoroughly confused.

“But—” she began.

“The Vincent House was moved,” Roger clarified. “Don’t you know its history?”

Caitlin shook her head.

“Caleb. I’m disappointed in you—you’re slipping,” Roger chided. “It used to be in a different location. But 200 years ago, we moved it, to where it is now. The Council got worried about safekeeping. So they moved the object out of the house, and put it in a safer, more stable place. And they assigned someone to guard it. As in, me.”

Caleb studied his friend.

“I’ve been waiting for someone to arrive with that key for almost 200 years,” he said. He shook his head again. “I never dreamt it would be you.”

“Will you show us?” Caleb asked.

The man looked long and hard at Caleb, then at Caitlin.

He finally held out his huge palm, towards Caitlin.

“May I see that?” he asked.

Caitlin look to Caleb. He nodded.

She reached out and placed the small, silver key into his huge palm.

Roger stared at it. He held it up to the light. He turned it over read the inscription on the back. He finally shook his head.

“God damn,” he said. “I was sure it would be bigger.”

NINETEEN

Samantha, in the passenger seat, looked over and was impressed by how Sam handled the car. Not bad for someone his age. She was surprised by how well he handled the stick, and she forgave him his initial grinding of gears. He was actually pretty good once he got past third. She liked his aggression, especially when the speedometer hit 120. He had spirit, she had to give him that.

She leaned back, relaxing and enjoying the ride. It was a lot slower than flying, but not bad for human travel. She thought of the man who’d owned this car, that real estate broker—her morning meal—and smiled. His blood still ran through her veins, and it felt good. She was sated.

She didn’t need to let the kid drive, but she figured his days were numbered anyway, so why not let him enjoy them, go out with a bang? It would only be a matter of hours now until she’d meet his father, and find out where that sword was. After that, she could dispose of them both.

But something gnawed at her. She was actually starting to like this kid. And that bothered her more than anything else. She couldn’t remember liking a human in hundreds of years. Much less a stupid teenager. But, she had to admit, there was something about him. Some kind of kindred spirit, something she recognized. Even at his young age, she could tell he had been kicked around. He had a quality of recklessness, of not caring about the world, of knowing his days were numbered, of being ready to go out in style. And she liked that. It reminded her of an affair she’d had once with a young prince in Bulgaria, in the 1300s…

Maybe she didn’t need to kill him right away. Maybe she could keep him alive a bit longer. Take him along for the ride. Maybe, even, keep him alive after she found the sword. She could enslave him. He could be a plaything, to do with as she wished. Maybe even…

She stopped her line of thought, mad at herself. Was she getting soft?

She had to focus on the task ahead. His father. They would be there shortly, within the hour. If he was one of hers, was of the vampire race, she might be in for a fight, as he would sense her presence immediately. She had to be on guard as they pulled up.

She would do whatever it took, fight to the death if need be. This vampire was the key to the sword, the key to her coven’s victory. She would go to heaven or hell to make sure they got it.

*

As Sam drove, getting closer, letting the car’s navigation system direct him to his Dad’s address, he was confused. He had pictured his father living in a upscale town, off of a cool road, on a huge property in an awesome house.

But as the GPS announced that they were close, within a mile or so, Sam felt like something must be wrong. They were driving through a dump of a town—not even a town, really, but just a stretch of dumpy country road, with small, ranch trailers spread out here and there.

When the GPS announced that this was their last turn, Sam couldn’t believe his eyes. They drove under a huge sign that read: “Homestead Trailer Park.”

This was where his dad lived. In a trailer park.

As he slowly drove down the dirt road, past the spread out trailers, each one looking worse than the next, Sam began to feel a pit in his stomach, the familiar feeling of his dreams about to get crushed. He had been so stupid to get his hopes up. What an idiot he’d been.

The further he got, the more spread out the trailers were, and as he reached the end of a dead end, he saw the number on a light-blue, vinyl trailer, and realized he’d found it. The tiny mobile home was dilapidated. The screen door was crooked on its hinges, the small stairs were cracked, and the lawn was overgrown with knee-high weeds. The home was set back, and hidden from the others by a large clump of bushes. It was private. But not the kind of privacy Sam had imagined.

Sam felt embarrassed. He was so embarrassed to have brought Samantha to this place, and to be introducing her to his Dad. He wished he could just take off, or just curl up and die.

He parked, and killed the engine, and they both sat there. They kind of looked at each other. Sam checked the navigation system for the tenth time to make sure it was the right address. It was.

“Are we getting out?” Samantha finally asked.

Sam didn’t really know what to do. What kind of man could live in such a place? What kind of Dad did he come from?

He wanted to just turn the engine, step on the gas, and keep going. But he couldn’t.

Sam swallowed hard, opened the door and got out, and Samantha followed.

The two of them approached the house. They took two steps up, the rotted wood stairs sinking, and he pulled back the creaking screen door.

Sam took a deep breath, reached up, and knocked.

There came a bang, and then a rustling inside. Seconds later, the door opened.

And there, across from him, stood his father.