There, in the far corner of the cave, high up, was an indent in the wall, almost in the shape of a cross. It looked surreal, unnatural. They had only seen it because of the full moon, and because the fire had burned so strongly. Otherwise, no one could have ever come across this. It was small. And if it hadn’t had been for his keen eye, it would have been easily missed.I reached up, and scraped away stone and dirt. As I did, the shape became clearer. It was indeed a tiny indent. In the shape of a key.I reached into my pocket, and extracted the key the small key to the Vincent house. I held it up and looked at Caleb. He nodded back.I slipped it inside, and it fit perfectly.We looked at each other, dumbfounded.I turned the key, and it clicked. A small compartment opened in the wall of the rock.I reached in and extracted it. It was a scroll. Torn in half.We both looked at each other, speechless. It was the second half of the scroll.I reached into my pocket and took out my
{KYLE’S POV}Kyle paced the deck of the small yacht, anxious as they sped in the early morning towards Martha’s Vineyard. He could not stand still. He hated boats, and he hated water. Worse, he hated crossing water, like most of his kind. Perhaps even more than most.That Russian boy had insisted that Caitlin was in this direction. So he’d went with him, up the coast, along a highway. But then their search had ended in a harbor. The Russian had pointed out to the ocean. He had insisted that stupid girl, the source of all his trouble, was on the island.Kyle had gotten into such a rage, he hadn’t been able to control himself. Not only had this girl made him chase her up the entire East Coast, not only had she made him miss the war, but now she was forcing him to board a boat, to cross water. He had marched up to the first docked yacht he had seen, leapt on board, and had killed the entire crew on the spot. He’d thrown them all overboard, had hijacked their boat, and he and the Russ
As I stood on the ferry, holding the railing, the water moving quickly below, Rose tucked into my jacket and Caleb beside me, I looked out at the horizon. I couldn’t see land, but I knew it would be coming soon.A part of me wished I would never see land. As long as we were out at sea, surrounded by blue, things would remain the same. Caleb and I would still be together. But when I spotted the first sign of land, I knew that life would begin, inexorably, to change. Once we reached land, we would be drawn, like a magnet, right into the heart of Boston, onto the Freedom Trail. I just knew that this would be the final stop in our search. I could feel it. And that terrified me.Apparently Caleb was nervous, too. I looked over and saw him clutching the railing, looking out, and I could see the worry etched in his face. I was beginning to recognize his facial expressions, and I knew that this was not one he wore often. I could see that it was not from his fear of water. It was something e
{KYLE’S POV}As their yacht pulled up into the dock in Edgartown, Kyle could wait no longer. He leapt from the deck, flying twenty feet, and landed nimbly on the pier, leaving the Russian to tie up the boat.On dry land, he felt better already.The Russian was quick to follow, killing the engine, anchoring the yacht, and hurrying to catch up.“Hey, you can’t dock your boat there!” yelled a middle-aged, potbellied man with bright red cheeks, storming up to them. “That dock is private! It’s reserved for—”Before the man could finish, Kyle grabbed him with one hand by the throat, and squeezed with such force, that he lifted the heavy man off the ground by several feet, dangling him in the air.The man’s eyes bulged from his head, as his face turned bright red. Kyle grimaced, and then in one motion, threw him off the side of the dock.The man landed with a splash, far off in the water.Kyle hoped he killed him. He should have squeezed longer.“Where is she?” Kyle demanded throug
{SAM’S POV}Sam was still reeling.That scene inside the mobile home had been so intense, he still couldn’t process it. That creep. The knife. The struggle. His cheek. And then Samantha. Killing him like that. It was unbelievable. Who was she?As he sat in the roadside diner, across from her in a booth, he looked her over. He was more attracted to her than ever—but also wary now. Cautious. She looked totally relaxed, sipping on her vanilla milkshake, and he couldn’t understand. Was this the same chick? Here she was, this totally cool and hot, awesome chick, who he loved hanging out with—and yet she had also been that crazy, psycho girl that totally killed that creep without even blinking an eye. Had she really killed him?It had all gone down so quickly, and the place was so dark, he couldn’t even really tell what had happened, exactly. But he remembered the noise, that sickening crack when she twisted his neck. And he remembered seeing the guy hit the ground, totally limp. The d
Caleb and I stood in Boston Common, at the top of a small hill, looking out, surveying the park. He held a map of the Freedom Trail which he’d just bought in a store, and he ran his finger along it again and again. I stood beside him, holding out both halves of the ancient scroll.“Read it again,” he said.I squinted to make out the words. I read:The Four Horsemen travel a trail to freedom.They leave common ground,Enter a ring of blood,Meet at the house,And find the ones they lovedBeside the fourth tip of the cross.“A trail to freedom,” Caleb repeated aloud, concentrating. “It must be a reference to the freedom trail. It would make perfect sense. Its right in the middle, right between Salem and Martha’s Vineyard. We’re in the center.“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.
As Caleb and I 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 we reached its base, we walked around the structure, looking for the site of the Boston massacre. Finally, as we turned the corner, we saw it.We both stopped in our tracks.It was a ring. A perfect circle.The spot marking the Boston massacre was small, hardly bigger than a manhole cover. We 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.”I l
We walked quickly down Washington Street, and within moments we stood outside the Meeting House Church. It was another perfectly restored, historic church.We entered, and were stopped by an attendant.“I’m afraid we just closed,” she said. “This is a working museum. It’s five o’clock,” she said. “But feel free to come back tomorrow.”Caleb turned to me, and I could feel what he was thinking. He wanted me to test out my mind power on this woman.I stared at her, locking eyes, and sent a mental suggestion. She would let them in. She would make an exception for them.The woman suddenly stared back at me. She blinked.Suddenly, she said, “You know what? You two seem like such a nice couple. I’ll make an exception for you. But don’t tell anyone,” she said with a wink.I turned to Caleb and smiled, and the two of us walked inside.The church was beautiful. It was another huge, open space, with massive windows in every direction, and filled with wooden pews, all empty. We had the pla