As Caitlin and Caleb left the Meeting House, turning onto School Street, the King's Chapel Burying Ground came into view. It was only two short blocks away, and a direct, straight walk.
The fourth tip of the cross, Caitlin thought. It all makes perfect sense.
As they walked, she marveled at the fact that they had walked, this entire time, in the shape of a cross, as if they had been led by some invisible hand.
Caitlin felt her heart beating faster. She was nervous to finally meet her father, if he was alive. And nervous to see his grave, if he should be dead. She wasn't sure how she would react either way. But she was also excited, relieved to at last know exactly who he was, where she came from. She was excited to know what her lineage was, and what her destiny would be.
She was also nervous that this would mean the end between her and Caleb. What if they really found the sword? What would he do then? Would he go and wage his war? Save his coven? And where would that leave her?
The two of them held hands as they walked towards the graveyard, only 30 yards away. She felt his grip tighten. Maybe he was sharing the same thoughts. Whatever they found in the next few minutes could change both of their lives forever. Caitlin felt Rose retreating within her jacket.
The sun was setting as they entered the small burying ground. The King's Chapel Burying Ground was relatively obscure, the smaller and more forgotten of the two historic Boston burying grounds. It wasn't even all that big, a mere 100 feet wide and just a few hundred feet deep. It was scattered with small, humble tombstones, hundreds of years old.
A narrow cobblestone trail wound its way through, and Caitlin set Rose down beside them, and the three of them walked it together. Caitlin and Caleb scanned each and every stone. Caitlin's heart was pounding, as she read each inscription. Could this one be her father? That one?
They began in the back, at the very last row, and went stone to stone, searching for a clue, for anything. She found herself attracted to the larger stones, the bigger monuments. She had hoped her father would be someone important, whenever he lived, hoped one of the grand monuments would be reserved for him.
But none were. In fact, his name was not to be found anywhere.
As they finished their search, back to where they began at the entrance, Caitlin looked over, and realized that there was one last row of graves. It was the row closest to the street, closest to the entrance. They walked it slowly, stone to stone.
And there, at the very end, it was.
A tombstone: "Elizabeth Paine. Died 1692."
It was the same Elizabeth Paine of Salem. The same woman of Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter. The same woman who, Caleb had told her, had mated with a vampire. The same woman who bore Caitlin's last name. This was where she was buried.
Was this who they'd been looking for all this time? Had Caitlin been looking, not for her father, but for her mother?
Or was it Elizabeth's husband that was the vampire?
Caleb came close, and kneeled beside the grave with Caitlin. Rose came and sat down beside him, also staring at it, as he examined the stone carefully.
"This is it," he said, in awe. "This is where we're supposed to go. It's her resting place. Your ancestor."
"So," Caitlin didn't know how to begin, "is it my mom we've been looking for all this time?"
"I don't know," Caleb said. "It could be that she was the vampire. Or it could be the one she wed."
"But," Caitlin began, still confused, "does this mean that they're dead? Or are they still alive?"
Caleb shook his head slowly. "I don't know," he finally said.
He took out the scroll again: "And find the ones they loved beside the fourth tip of the cross." He looked around the graveyard. "This must be the place. These are the 'ones they loved.' This must be the fourth tip of the cross. There is nowhere else it could be," he said, scanning the yard. "Yet I see nothing that hints at where the sword is hidden. Do you?"
Caitlin look around the small yard again, as the sun lit it a blood red. She sighed. No. There were no clues whatsoever.
And then something occurred to her.
"Read it again," she said. "Slowly."
"'And find the ones they loved,'" he read, slowly, "'beside the fourth tip of the cross.'"
"Beside," she said, her eyes lighting up.
"What?" he asked.
"It says beside the fourth tip of the cross. Not at the fourth tip of the cross. Beside it," she said.
They both suddenly, at the same time, turned and looked at the large, stone building beside them.
The King's Chapel.
As they entered the empty church, Caleb quickly shut the massive door behind them. It slammed with a bang, reverberating. The church was closed and the door had been locked, but he had broken it with his sheer strength. Now they had the place to themselves.
As they walked into the beautiful, small chapel, the sunset light poured in through its stained-glass windows, Caitlin felt immediately at peace. It was a cozy and elegant place, its pews segmented into family boxes and all lined with red velvet. Perfectly preserved. She felt as if she'd stepped into another century.
Caleb walked up beside her, and the two of them slowly looked around. A stillness hung in the air.
"It's here," he said. "I can feel it," he said.
And for the first time, Caitlin could feel it, too.
She noticed that she was beginning to sense things more strongly, and she could sense the sword's presence here. It electrified her. She didn't know what excited her more: that the sword was here, or that she could sense it on her own.
Caitlin set Rose down beside her and walked slowly down the carpeted aisle, trying to use her heightened senses to feel where it could be. Her eyes locked on the pulpit.
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.
The church was now empty, save for Caitlin and Caleb. And Rose, lying off to the side, whimpering, bleeding.
"Caitlin!" Caleb cried, as he held her shoulders. He leaned over her, caressing her face, and could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks.
He had been too shocked by seeing her hurt to even think of the sword. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the others had left the building, were getting away, that they had the sword. The sword he had spent his whole life sworn to protect.
But now, seeing her lying there, bleeding, dying, it was all he cared about. Caitlin.
As she lay on her back on the church floor, Caitlin felt the world get so cold. She felt tremendous pain gnawing away at her back and stomach, felt the blood leaving her body quickly, and, dimly, felt Caleb's hands on her face, holding her head.
She looked up and saw the church ceiling. And Caleb. She saw his beautiful face, looking down.
She knew she was dying. But despite everything, despite all the pain, she didn't feel much sadness for herself. Instead, she felt sadness at the idea of not being with him.
"Caitlin," Caleb said, sobbing. "Please. Don't go. Don't leave me!"
He cried as he rocked her.
Caitlin looked up into his large eyes, now a shade of black, and tried to focus on them.
Don't go.
But she couldn't.
"Caitlin," he said, between tears. "I want you to know. I see it. I know who we were together. In our past lives. Now I can see it all," he said.
Caitlin tried to speak, tried to find the words, but her vocal cords were closing up. Her throat was so dry, and the blood was garbling everything. She tried, but it came out in barely a whisper.
"What?" Caleb asked, leaning over close. "Say it again."
He leaned all the way over, putting his ear to her mouth.
"Turn...me," she said.
He stared at her in horror, not sure if he'd heard correctly.
With her last ounce of strength, Caitlin reached up and grabbed his shirt, pulled him as close to her as she could.
"Turn me!" she commanded.
It was the very last bit of strength she had.
As her eyes closed on her, she felt the world slipping out from under her.
And the last thing she saw was Caleb, getting closer, closer, his two front teeth protruding, longer, and longer, as he leaned.
And then she felt the exquisite pain in her neck, as his two teeth punctured her skin.
And then her world was blackness.