Obsessed

Caitlin frowned.

“What do you mean? How can it not be a chant? I don’t understand.”

“I mean that the chant isn’t the cure,” Aidan replied, fumbling over his words in his excitement. “The chant is a clue to the cure!”

Caitlin could feel her heart thumping with anticipation.

“So what’s the clue then?” she asked.

“Caitlin! Think about it. It’s a riddle. Directions. It’s telling you to go somewhere.”

Caitlin felt the blood drain from her face as she ran through the words in her mind.

“I am the sea, the sky and sand,” she repeated under her breath. Then, suddenly, it came to her. “No. You don’t mean – ”

“Yes,” Aidan replied. “S. P. H. I. N. X.”___

“The vampire city,” Caitlin whispered under her breath.

Of course. Before Scarlet had disappeared into harm’s way, Caitlin had been trying to find the cure, to find a way to turn her daughter back from a vampire into a human. She thought the words on the page needed to be read to Scarlet to cure her, that what she had found was the cure. But no. What she had found were instructions that would lead her to the cure. Caitlin had let her innate anguish as a mother override the sensible, logical scholar she needed to be right now, the one who would work out that the riddle was not a cure – but a map.

“Thank you, Aidan,” she said hurriedly.

Her phone went dead.

Caitlin looked up at Caleb’s expectant face.

“Well?” he said.

“I know where we’re going,” Caitlin replied, feeling a twinge of hope for the first time in a long time.

Caleb raised an eyebrow and looked over at his wife.

“Where?” he said.

Caitlin smiled.

“We’re going to Egypt.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lore stood on a mound of rubble amongst the ruins of Boldt Castle. The blades from the lowering helicopter made wind whip his torn clothes and ruffle his hair. He glanced around, surveying the damage the plane had caused. Hatred filled him to the brim.

He cried, shaking his fist at the gaping hole in the side of the ancient castle. Then he took a deep breath. There was no time to waste. His people would be dead, eradicated, by the end of the night. Their only hope was to find the girl who had stolen his cousin’s heart. And that meant killing anyone who stood in their way.

But the Immortalists were panicking, startled by the presence of the helicopter. They began zooming around the great hall, some streaming out of the castle altogether, running off to their inevitable deaths.

“What are you thinking, son?” a voice beside Lore said, breaking him from his reverie.

He looked down to see his mother gazing up at him. Though Immortalists experienced parent-child relationships differently from humans, Lore still respected the woman who had fed him, clothed him, and seen him safely through infancy. The thought of her death at the end of the night made his heart clench even more than the thought of his own.

“I’m thinking of Sage,” Lore replied. “We used him as bait before and the girl came.”

His mother frowned.

“You think there’s still hope?” she asked, quietly.

Lore could see that weariness had crept into her eyes. She was ready to die. Or at least, ready to stop fighting.

But Lore wasn’t. And neither were hundreds of the Immortalists still clinging to life in Boldt Castle.

“I’m not going to give up,” Lore told her fiercely. “We cannot let our people die just because my cousin has fallen in love with a vampire. He’s going to die anyway. What’s the point?”

Lore’s mother shook her head. “You don’t understand love.”

“No,” Lore replied. “But perhaps if I lived two thousand years more I would.”

His mother smiled and squeezed his arm.

“I want that for you, son,” she said kindly, “But I can’t help but feel that fate is against us.” She tipped her head up to the sky and the bright full moon shining in through the collapsed ceiling. “The stars are aligned. The wheels of fate are in motion.” She looked back at him. “Tonight is the night the Immortalists die.”

Lore balled his hands into fists.

“No it’s not,” he said through his teeth. “I will lead an army if I have to. I will bring chaos to the earth. I will destroy the whole human race before I let my people die.”

As he spoke, the Immortalists around him began to look over, roused by his speech and passion. He turned his back on his mother and directed his words to them.

“Who will stand with me?” Lore cried, shaking his fists. “Who will fight for their right to live?”

The small crowd began to mumble their agreement, and the noise attracted still more toward Lore. They streamed past the smoldering airplane fuselage to get a better look. Soon, Lore’s words were met not with mumbled assent but with cheering and clapping.

“Who amongst you has heard enough of fate and prophecies and stars?” he said. “I am not prepared to let our proud people die today!”

The crowds roared their agreement.

Lore noticed that Octal had joined the crowd and was standing at the edges. Lore beckoned to his leader, to the man he respected above all others. But Octal shook his head, as if communicating silently that Lore should be the one to lead the Immortalists.

Lore couldn’t help but frown. Could he really lead an army?

But he didn’t have time to ponder it, because the helicopter was touching down.

“Kill them!” Lore screamed. “Kill the humans!”

The Immortalist crowd followed his command immediately. They rushed at the helicopter. Lore heard the sound of desperate shouting as the police began drawing their weapons. But it was futile. There was no way the police could stand up to the Immortalists.

As they fought, Lore noticed several police officers were escaping from the castle.

“Block the exit!” Lore ordered his troops.