Turned

Chapter Thirteen

Caitlin and Caleb stood together on the large, open terrace outside the Cloisters, looking out at the night. Far-off, she could see the Hudson River, peeking out between the bare trees of March. In the distance, she could even see the tiny lights of cars heading over the bridge. The night was completely silent.

“I need you to answer some questions for me, Caleb,” she said softly, after several seconds of silence.

“I know,” Caleb answered.

“What am I doing here? Who do you think I am?” Caitlin asked. It took her a few seconds more to summon the courage to ask the final question, “And why did you save me?”

Caleb stared off into the horizon for several seconds. She could not tell what he was thinking, or if he would even answer.

Finally, he turned to her. He stared right into her eyes, and the power of his stare was overwhelming. She couldn’t look away if she tried.

“I am a vampire,” he said, flatly. “Of the White Coven. I have lived for over 3,000 years, and I have been with this coven for 800 of them.”

“Why am I here?”

“Vampire covens and races are always at war. They are very territorial. Unfortunately, you stumbled right into the middle of it.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “How?”

He looked at her, confused. “Don’t you remember?”

She stared back, blankly.

“Your kill. It ignited all of this.”

“Kill?”

He slowly shook his head. “So, you don’t remember. Typical. First kills are always that way.” He looked her in the eye. “You killed someone last night. A human. You fed on him. In Carnegie Hall.”

Caitlin felt her world spinning. She could hardly believe she was capable of harming anyone, yet somehow, deep down, she felt it was true. She was afraid to ask who it was. Could it have been Jonah?

As if reading her mind, Caleb added, “The vocalist.”

Caitlin could hardly take it all in. It felt too surreal. She felt like she had just been branded with a black mark that she could never undo. She felt awful. And out of control.

“Why did I do it?” she asked.

“You needed to feed,” he answered. “Why you did it there, and then, that is what no one knows. That is what started this war. You were in another coven’s territory. A very powerful coven.”

“So, was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

He sighed, “I don’t know. There may be more to it than that.”

She looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe you were meant to be there. Maybe it was your destiny.”

She thought. She thought hard, afraid to ask the next question. Finally, she summoned her courage. “So does that mean… I am a vampire?”

He turned away. After several seconds, he finally said, “I don’t know.”

He turned and looked at her.

“You are not a true vampire. But you are not a true human, either. You are somewhere in between.”

“A half-breed?” she asked.

“That’s what they would call it. I am not so sure.”

“What is it, exactly?”

“It is a vampire who is born into it. It is against our law, our doctrine, for a vampire to breed with a human. Sometimes, though, a rogue vampire will do so. If the human should give birth, the result will be a half-breed. Not quite human, not quite vampire. It is very much looked down upon in our race. The penalty for interbreeding with a human is death. No exceptions. And the child is considered an outcast.”

“But I thought you said that your Messiah will be a half breed? How can they look down on a half-breed it if will be their savior?”

“Such is the paradox of our religion,” he answered.

“Tell me more,” she prodded. “How exactly is a half-breed different?”

“True vampires feed from the moment they are turned. Half breeds usually don’t begin to feed until they come of age.”

She was afraid to ask the next question.

“When is that?”

“18.”

Caitlin thought hard. It was starting to make sense. She had just turned 18. And her cravings had just begun.

“Half-breeds are also mortal,” Caleb continued. “They can die, like regular humans. We, on the other hand, cannot.

“In order to be a true vampire, one would have to be turned by a true vampire, one who fed with the intent. Vampires are not allowed to turn just anyone – it would inflate our race too greatly. They must receive permission in advance from the Master Council.”

Caitlin furrowed her brow, trying to take it all in.

“You have some of our qualities, but not all. And since you are not a full breed, unfortunately, the vampire race will not accept you. Every vampire belongs to a coven. It is too dangerous not to. Normally, I could petition to accept you in our ranks. But given that you are mixed… they would never allow it. No coven will.”

Caitlin thought hard. If there was anything worse than finding out that she was something other than human, it was finding out that she wasn’t truly something. Finding out that she couldn’t belong anywhere. She was neither here nor there, stuck between two worlds.

“So then what was all this talk about the Messiah? About me being… The One?”

“Our doctrine, our ancient law, tells us that one day a messenger, a Messiah, will arrive, and lead us to the lost sword. It tells us that on that day, war will begin, a final, all-out war between the vampire races, a war which will even drag in the human race. It is our version of the Apocalypse. The only thing that can stop it, that can save us all, is this missing sword. And the only person that can lead us to that is the Messiah.

“When I witnessed what happened to you tonight, I felt certain that it was you. I have never seen any other vampire immune to such holy water.”

She looked up at him.

“And now?” she asked.

He looked off into the horizon.

“I am not so sure.”

Caitlin stared at him. She felt a desperation welling up.

“So,” she asked, afraid for the answer, “is that the only reason you saved me? Because you thought I would lead you to some missing sword?”

Caleb stared back, and she could see the confusion in his face.

“What other reason would there be?” he answered.

She felt the wind sucked out of her, as if she had been hit by a bat. All the love that she had felt for him, the connection she thought they had, went rushing out in a single breath. She felt like crying. She wanted to turn and run, but didn’t know where to go. She felt ashamed.

“Well,” she said, fighting back tears, “at least your wife will be happy to know that you were just doing your job. That you don’t have any feelings for anyone else. Or for anything but some stupid sword.”

She turned and walked away. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had to get away from him. Her feelings were just too overwhelming. She didn’t know how to make sense of them.

She had only gone a few feet when she felt a hand on her arm. He turned her back around. He stood there, looking down into her eyes.

“She’s not my wife,” he said softly. “We were married once, yes, but that was 700 years ago. It only lasted a year. In the vampire race, unfortunately, they don’t forget things easily. There are no annulments.”

Caitlin tossed his hand off of her, “Well, whatever she is, she’ll be happy to have you back.”

Caitlin kept walking, right for the steps.

Again he stopped her, this time getting around her and standing directly in her path.

“I don’t know how I’ve offended you,” he said, “but whatever I did, I am sorry.”

It’s what you didn’t do, Caitlin wanted to say. It’s that you didn’t care, that you don’t really love me. That I was just an object, a means to an end. Just like every guy I’ve ever known. I had thought that this time, maybe, it was different.

But she didn’t say that, instead, she just lowered her head, and did her best to suppress a tear. She couldn’t, though. She felt the hot tears streaming down her cheeks. There was a hand on her chin, and he raised it, forcing her to look up at him.

“I am sorry,” he said finally, sounding sincere. “You were right. It was not the only reason I saved you.” He took a deep breath. “I do feel something for you.”

Caitlin felt her heart swell.

“But you must understand, it is forbidden. The laws are very strict on this. A vampire can never, ever, be with a human, or a half breed, or anyone who is not a true vampire. The punishment would be death. There is no way around it.”

Caleb looked down.

“So, you see,” he finally continued, “if I were to feel something for you, if I were to act for some motive other than for the general good, then it would mean my death.”

“So, then, what’s to become of me?” she asked. She looked around, “Clearly, I’m not welcome here. Where am I supposed to go?”

Caleb looked down, shaking his head.

“I can’t go home,” she added. “I have no home left. The cops are looking for me. So are these evil vampires. What am I supposed to do? Go out there on my own? I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

“I wish I had the answer. I tried. I really did. But there is nothing more I can do. One cannot defy the Council. It would mean both of our deaths. I am sentenced to 50 years confinement. I cannot leave these grounds. If I did, I would be banished from my clan forever. You must understand.”

Caitlin turned to go, but again he spun her around.

“You must understand! You are merely human. Your life will end in 80 years. But for me, it’s thousands. Your suffering is short. Mine is endless. I cannot be banished for eternity. My coven is all that I have. I love you. I feel something for you. Something even I don’t understand. Something I’ve never felt with anyone in 3,000 years. But I cannot risk leaving these walls.”

“So,” she said, “I’ll ask you again. What’s to come of me?”

He just looked down.

“I see,” she answered. “I’m not your problem anymore.”

Caleb opened his mouth to speak, but this time she was gone. Really gone.

She made her way quickly across the terrace, and down the stone staircase. This time she was really gone, heading into the Bronx in the dark, New York City night. She had never felt more alone.

Chapter Fourteen

Kyle walked straight down the stone corridor, flanked by a small entourage of vampires. They headed quickly down the hall, their footsteps echoing, one of his aides holding a torch out in front.

They were heading deep into the corridor of command, a subterranean chamber which no vampire ever entered unless given permission. Kyle had never been down this deep before. But on this day, he was summoned by the supreme leader himself. It must have been serious. In 4,000 years, Kyle had never been summoned. But he had heard of others who had. They had gone down there, and had not come back up.

Kyle swallowed hard, and walked faster. He had always believed that it was best to greet bad news quickly, and get it over with.

They came to a large, open door, guarded by several vampires, who stared coldly back. Finally, they stepped aside and opened the door. But after Kyle passed, they held out their staffs, preventing his entourage from following. Kyle felt the door slam behind.

Kyle saw dozens of vampires lined up, at attention, along the wall, standing quietly on either side of the room. Front and center in the room, seated in a massive, metal chair was Rexus, his supreme leader.

Kyle took several steps forward and bowed his head, waiting to be addressed.

Rexus stared back with his cold, hard, icy blue eyes.

“Tell me everything you know about this human, or half-breed, or whatever she is,” he began. “And about this spy. How did he infiltrate our ranks?”

Kyle took a deep breath, and began.

“We don’t know much about the girl,” he said. “We have no idea why the holy water did not affect her. But we do know that she was the one who attacked the singer. We have him in custody now, and as soon as he recovers, we expect him to lead us to her. He was turned by her. He has her scent in his blood.”

“What coven does she belong to?” Rexus asked.

Kyle shuffled in the darkness, choosing his words carefully.

“We think she is just a rogue vampire.”

“Think!? Do you know anything?”

Kyle, rebuked, felt his cheeks redden.

“So you brought her into our midst without knowing a thing about her,” Rexus said. “You endangered our entire coven.”

“I brought her in to interrogate her. I had no idea she would be immune—”

“And what of the spy?” Rexus asked, cutting him off.

Kyle swallowed.

“Caleb. We brought him in 200 years ago. He had proved his loyalty many times. We never had any reason to suspect him.”

“Who had recruited him?” Rexus asked.

Kyle paused. He swallowed hard.

“I did.”

“So,” Rexus said. “Once again, you allowed a threat into our ranks.”

Rexus glared back. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And filled with condemnation.

“I am sorry, master,” Kyle said, bowing his head. “But in my defense, no one here, not one vampire, ever suspected Caleb. On many occasions —”

Rexus raised his hand.

Kyle stopped.

“You have forced me to initiate the war. I will now have to re-direct all of our resources. Our master plan will have to be put on hold.”

“I am sorry, master. I will do whatever I can to find them, and to make them pay.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Kyle swallowed hard, bracing himself for what might come next. If it was death, he was prepared.

“I am no longer the one you need to answer to. I myself have been summoned. By the Supreme Council.”

Kyle’s eyes open wide. He had heard rumors all his life of the Supreme Council, the governing body of vampires who even the supreme leader had to answer to. And now he knew that it was real, and that they were summoning him. He swallowed hard.

“They are very unhappy with what went on here today. They want answers. You will explain the mistake you made, why she escaped, why a spy infiltrated our ranks, and our plans for purging other spies. You will then accept their judgment in sentence.”

Kyle slowly nodded, terrified for what would come. None of it sounded good.

“We meet at the next new moon. That gives you time. In the meantime, I suggest you find this half-breed. If you can, it may just save your life.”

“I promise, my master, I will summon every one of our vampires. And I will lead the charge myself. We will find her. And I will make her pay.”

Chapter Fifteen

Jonah sat in the police station, very afraid. One on side of him sat his Dad, looking more nervous than Jonah had ever seen him, and on the other, his newly-hired lawyer. Across from them, in the small, bright, interrogation, sat five police detectives. Behind them stood five more, all pacing and agitated.

It was the biggest news story of the day. Not only had an internationally-acclaimed vocalist been murdered, right during his debut performance, right in Carnegie Hall – not only had he been murdered in a suspicious way, but things had managed to get even worse. When the police followed up on the only lead they had, when they had visited her apartment, four policemen were killed. To say that things had escalated was to put it mildly.

Now, not only were they after the “Beethoven Butcher” (or “Carnegie Hall Killer,” as some papers were calling her) but they were also after a cop killer. A four-cop killer. Every cop in the city was on the case, and no one would rest until it was solved.

And the only lead they had was sitting across the table from them. Jonah. Her guest for the evening.

Jonah sat wide-eyed, feeling the drops of sweat forming again on his forehead. This was his seventh hour in the room. During the first three hours he had continuously wiped the sweat from his hairline. Now he just let the sweat trickle down the side of his face. He slumped in his chair, defeated.

He just didn’t know what else to add. Cop after cop had entered the room, all asking the same questions. All variations on a theme. He had no answers. He couldn’t understand why they kept asking him the same thing, over and over. How long have you known her? Why did you bring her to this event? Why did she leave at intermission? Why didn’t you follow her?

How had it all come to his? She had showed up looking so beautiful. She was so sweet. He loved being with her, and talking to her. He was sure it was going to be a dream date.

Then she had started acting strangely. Shortly after the music began, he had felt a restlessness building in her. She had seemed… sick wasn’t the word. She had seemed… antsy. More than that: she had seemed like she was going to burst out of her skin. Like she had to get somewhere, and get somewhere fast.

At first he had thought it was just because she wasn’t liking the concert. He had wondered if taking her there was a bad idea. Then he’d wondered if maybe she just didn’t like him. But then it seemed to grow more intense, and he could almost feel the heat radiating out of her skin. He had then started to wonder if maybe she had some kind of sickness, maybe food poisoning.

When she actually burst out of the place, he’d wondered if she was running to the bathroom. He was puzzled, but he waited patiently by the doors, assuming she would come back after intermission. But after fifteen minutes, after the final bell rang, he had gone back to his seat alone, confused.

After another 15 minutes had gone by, the lights in the entire room had been raised. A man had come on stage and made an announcement that the concert would not continue. That refunds would be issued. He did not say why. The entire crowd had gasped, annoyed, but mostly puzzled. Jonah had been attending concerts his entire life, and had never seen one stopped at intermission. Had the vocalist taken sick?

“Jonah?” The detective snapped.

Jonah looked up at her, startled.

The detective stared back down, angrily. Grace was her name. She was the toughest cop he had ever met. And she was relentless.

“Did you not hear what I just asked you?”

Jonas shook his head.

“I want you to tell me again everything that you know about her,” she said. “Tell me again how you met.”

“I’ve answered that question a million times already,” Jonah answered, frustrated.

“I want to hear it again.”

“I met her in class. She was new. I gave her my seat.”

“Then what?”

“We got to talking a little bit, saw each other in the cafeteria. I asked her out. She said yes.”

“That was it?” The detective asked. “There are absolutely no other details, not one other thing to add?”

Jonah debated with himself over how much to tell them. Of course, there was more. There was his getting beat up by those bullies. There was her journal, lying mysteriously beside him. His suspicion that she had been there. That she had helped him. That she had even beat up those guys somehow. How, he had no idea.

But what was he supposed to tell these cops? That he had gotten himself beat up? That he thinks he remembered seeing her there? That he thinks he remembered seeing her beat up four guys twice her size? None of it made any sense, not even to him. It certainly wouldn’t make sense to them. They would just think he was lying, making stuff up. They were out for her. And he wasn’t going to help.

Despite everything, he felt protective of her. He couldn’t really understand what had happened. A part of him didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. Had she really killed that vocalist? Why? Were there really two holes in his neck, like the newspapers said? Had she bit him? Was she some kind of…

“Jonah,” Grace snapped. “I said, is there anything else?”

The detective stared down at him.

“No,” he said, finally. He hoped she couldn’t tell he was lying.

A new detective stepped forward. He leaned over, stared right into Jonah’s eyes. “Did anything she say that night indicate that she was mentally unstable?”

Jonah furrowed his brows.

“You mean, crazy? Why would I think that? She was great company. I really like her. She’s smart, and nice. I like talking to her.”

“Exactly what did you talk about?” It was that female detective again.

“Beethoven,” Jonah answered.

The detectives looked at each other. By the confused, unpleasant expression on their faces, one would have imagined he had said “pornography.”

“Beethoven?” one of the detectives, a beefy guy in his 50s, asked, in a mocking voice.

Jonah was exhausted, and felt like mocking him back.

“He’s a composer,” Jonah said.

“I know who Beethoven is, you little punk,” the detective snapped.

Another detective, a beefy man in his 60s with large, red cheeks, took three steps forward, put his meaty palms on the table, and leaned in close enough so that Jonas could smell his bad coffee breath. “Look pal, this isn’t a game. Four cops are dead because of your little girlfriend,” he said. “Now we know that you know where she’s hiding,” he said. “You better start opening up and —”

Jonah’s lawyer held up his hand. “That is conjecture, detective. You cannot accuse my client of—”

“I don’t give a damn about your client!” the detective screamed back.

A tense silence fell over the room.

Suddenly, the door opened, and in walked another detective, wearing latex gloves. He carried Jonah’s phone in one hand, and placed it on the table next to him. Jonah was happy to see it back.

“Anything?” one of the cops asked.

The cop with the gloves took them off and threw them in the wastebasket. He shook his head.

“Nothing. The kid’s phone is clean. He got a few texts from her before the show, but that was it. We tried her number. Dead. We’re pulling all her phone records now. Anyway, he’s telling the truth. Before yesterday, she’d never called or texted him once.”

“I told you,” Jonah snapped back at the cops.

“Detectives, are we through here?” Jonah’s lawyer asked.

The detectives turned and looked at each other.

“My client has committed no crime, and done nothing wrong. He has cooperated entirely with this investigation, answering all of your questions. He has no intention of leaving the state, or even the city. He is available for questioning any time. I ask now that he be excused. He is a student, and he does have school in the morning.” The lawyer looked down at his watch. “It is almost 1 AM, gentlemen.”

At just that moment, a loud bell rang in the room, accompanied by a strong vibration. All eyes in the room suddenly turned to Jonah’s phone, sitting there on the metal table. It vibrated again, and lit up. Before Jonah could reach for it, he saw who it was from. As did everyone else in the room.

It was from Caitlin.

She wanted to know where he was.