CHAPTER NINE

As the sun set, Sam walked with Samantha in a desolate part of the streets of Jerusalem, far from anyone. They had been walking for hours, Samantha silently leading him, and he had followed without a word. There was something about her—there had always been something about her—that made Sam want to be with her, want to follow her, without even asking why.

Sam thought back to the very first time he’d met her, in the Hudson Valley, when she was living alone in that house. It was the first time he’d ever been smitten, and the first time he’d fallen in love.

As they walked for hours, Samantha leading him through obscure parts of the city, memories of their relationship came flooding back. Sam recalled their drive together that day in the Hudson Valley, their going to that trailer park, discovering that man who pretended to be his father was just an impostor, a creep. Sam remembered when he saw Samantha kill him—the first time he’d ever seen a vampire kill anyone. He remembered being transfixed by her.

He remembered their going to Boston, to the King’s church, their losing the sword to Kyle. He remembered being captured, imprisoned, in New York. And most of all, he remembered that fateful night when she turned him. When she became his maker. At that moment the relationship between them changed from mere love to something endless, timeless.

Sam had thought that he’d put her out of his mind long ago—but truthfully, deep down, he knew that he had never quite forgotten. Memories of her had always lurked somewhere, deep in his consciousness. He felt himself drawn to her at times, like a magnet, like a servant wanting to return to its master. And now, with her by his side, he felt in some ways like he had found his way back home.

But he also remembered their parting. He remembered how she had urged him to kill his own sister, when he had fallen so completely under her spell, and had almost done it. Then he remembered breaking free from her, and never wanting to see her again. There remained a part of him that could still never forgive her for what she had done.

But now, here, in this different time and place, he was surprised to find himself happy to be in her presence. After all, he had changed: he was not the same person he used to be. Everything in the past that she had done, all of her violence, and ambition, and rage, and trickery—everything that had once bothered him so much—now, he liked. He admired it. The very same qualities he once despised, now, he looked up to. Now, he found himself wanting to be with her.

Yet as they walked in silence, Sam couldn’t help wondering if all these memories of Samantha had flooded back to him naturally—or if Samantha had played one of her mind tricks, and had implanted all those feelings into his brain. Was she still manipulating him, even now?

But the funny thing was, Sam didn’t care. He wanted to be with her. She was so overflowing with vengeance and darkness that he saw himself in her, and no longer cared about whatever dark place she would lead him.

Samantha reached over and took his hand and squeezed it hard. She looked over at him, and as he looked into her pale blue eyes, he could feel their connection grow even stronger. Before, roaming the streets of Jerusalem alone, he’d felt no sense of purpose. Now, with her by his side, he felt he was being led in the direction he was meant to go.

They continued down a narrow side street, up a steep hill, and as they went, Sam looked up and saw a huge structure awaiting them: an ancient, pagan Temple. Shaped in an octagon, it was surrounded by Roman columns and covered by a shiny, circular dome. There were eight columns and each took the shape of a different pagan God. Gargoyles stuck out from all corners, and even from here, as they walked towards it, into the blood-red sun, Sam could feel the evil energy coming off this place.

Sam could hardly believe they were back in a time and place where people still actively worshipped pagan gods. The old Sam would have recoiled from this place; but the new Sam looked forward to it. He felt that, behind those walls, were those like him. He couldn’t wait to meet them.

“You are about to meet our leader,” Samantha said to him, in a cold, raspy voice. “I’ve been sent to bring you back home. With us. Where you belong. This will be a great place of welcome and honor for you. The place where you can fulfill your destiny. You’re one of us now, Sam. Your time for searching is over.”

“I know,” he replied, and was surprised to realize how gravelly his own voice had become.

They reached the top of the hill, walked across the wide marble plaza and up a long flight of marble steps leading to the temple entrance. Standing guard under the portico were a dozen huge vampires, dressed in all black. They wore elaborate velvet cloaks, despite the heat, with a broad red sash crossing over them. They hissed back in greeting, and Sam could see their long fangs protruding. He looked down and saw their hands were irregular: each had only two fingers and a thumb, long and pointy, with nails that stretched for inches and were sharpened to a point. Their skin was stark white, and covered in blisters. These were no normal vampires, he realized. He had reached their capitol: the capitol of darkness.

They reached over, grabbed the large knocker and yanked open the enormous arched brass doors for them. They opened with a creak, and Samantha walked right in, not even hesitating. Sam followed. As he did, he felt a wind behind them and heard the door slam, just inches behind, locking them in.

Sam found himself in an octagonal room, framed by columns, filled with statues of pagan gods. It was a vast and open space that reminded him of the Pantheon in Rome, except on a smaller scale. Milling about were hundreds of vampires, dressed in black, some of them flying about the room, hovering in the air, but most on the ground, squirming. Among them were female humans, naked, sprawled across the floor. The vampires, Sam could see, were busy feeding on them.

The room was filled with the screams and moans of humans, suffering, trying to get away. But there was nowhere for them to go. It was a bloodbath: hundreds of vampires feeding on hundreds of innocent humans. The entire floor was alive, squirming with victims and victimizers.

On the far side of the room, all along the walls, more humans were chained to the walls, some of them crucified on crosses, others bound to columns. More vampires stood over them, behind them, whipping them, beating them with straps, and torturing them in all kinds of ways. Their cries punctuated the air, rising even over the cries of the vampires on the ground. Sadistic smiles lit up the faces of all the vampires, busy torturing the humans for sport. While in the past Sam would have recoiled from such a sight, now he enjoyed it. He understood it. Even sympathized. These vampires needed an outlet for their boundless rage and lust.

In the center of the room, on a throne, atop a raised dais built of solid gold, sat a single vampire, watching over it all, his back to them. Around him stood a dozen minions, awaiting his smallest nod.

Sam and Samantha took several steps in, and as they did, the seated vampire spun in his chair and turned to them.

Sam recognized this vampire. He had seen him once before, centuries ago, in New York City. Beneath City Hall. It was their grand leader. The ancient one, who had lived for thousands of years. Rexius.

A shriveled-up old man, his face covered in endless age lines, nearly bald, with white hair and drooping eyes, Rexius sat hunched in his throne, looking down on all of it with satisfaction. Sam could see he was living vicariously through all of it.

Rexius fixed his ancient, pale-blue eyes on Sam, and Sam could feel the evil emanating off of them, aiming right for him. Rexius reached up with his huge, golden staff, banged it several times, and slowly, all the motion in the room stopped. The room quieted, as much as it could amidst the screams and moans.

Samantha took his hand, and they walked through the room, through the crowd of bodies that parted ways, and right up to the dais. They looked up at Rexius, who gazed down at them. He was ancient, inscrutable, and Sam couldn’t tell if he was looking at them with rebuke or approval—or both.

The room quieted, as hundreds of eyes turned to watch the encounter.

“So…” Rexius began slowly, in his deep, gravelly voice, “…the chicken comes home to roost.”

He breathed deeply.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for centuries. I should kill you now, just for making me wait so long.”

Sam was not intimidated; instead, he felt a fresh dose of rage rise up within him. He could tear this man apart. How dare he—or any man—talk to him that way.

“And I should kill you for speaking to me this way,” Sam responded, snarling, beginning to walk forward.

But he felt Samantha’s reassuring hand stop him, hold his shoulder, and he hesitated.

Rexius’ eyes opened wide, as an astonished gasp spread throughout the room. It was apparent that no one spoke to Rexius this way.

During the tense silence, Sam braced himself for an attack.

But suddenly, Rexius threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Rexius said. “Good. Very good. I like your hatred. It rejuvenates me.”

Rexius surveyed Sam, nodding.

“Yes, yes,” he said slowly. “You are truly one of us now, aren’t you? Yes, very good. You will serve us well. You will serve our cause very well indeed.”

He sighed.

“You have arrived not a moment too late,” Rexius continued, his voice booming, echoing off the walls. “Now is a time of great urgency. Other forces are close to the shield. We must stop them. You are the final key to attaining the shield.”

Sam stared back, racking his brain, trying to remember. The shield. He vaguely remembered…something about this father…. But it all seemed so hazy now, so far away. And with Kyle’s spirit overwhelming him, and with thoughts of Samantha racing through his head, it was hard for him to think clearly.

“We stand at the precipice of history,” Rexius said. “Now is our moment. If we find the shield before they do, we can dominate all humankind, all vampire kind, forever. There will be nothing but wars and bloodshed and chaos and destruction for all time. It is the moment we have all been dreaming of. For thousands of lifetimes. We are as close as we have ever been. And with you here, there is nothing left to stop us.”

He breathed.

“But, unfortunately, your sister is searching, too. And she is very close. So is her husband. Your sister is the one I most fear, though. She’s aligned herself with powerful people. Even as we speak, she is searching. And she is close. Too close. We must find it before she does!” Rexius suddenly screeched out, slamming his staff against the floor, the veins popping out of his face.

The entire room went silent.

Sam tried to concentrate, to remember all the details. His sister. His father. The shield. Somewhere, deep inside, he thought he detected remnants of feelings. Brotherly love. A desire to protect her.

But these thoughts were confused, muddled by other, new, feelings. Rexius’ words hung in his ears, Kyle’s spirit coursed in his veins, and Samantha squeezed his hand—and he found himself unable to focus, unable to think of anything but destruction.

“There is one other, too,” Rexius continued slowly. “Just as grave a threat to us is this rogue, this rebel named Jesus. He walks about as we speak, preaching his idiotic sermons. We must kill him before he inflicts any more harm. He is the one your sister seeks. And if we don’t reach him in time, they will join forces and find the shield. We cannot let that happen.”

Rexius turned and nodded, and suddenly there stepped forward a single vampire, the only one of them dressed in white. He had black hair, a long black beard, and large black eyes. They were wide, and glowing with intensity as he stared right at Sam.

“Judas here will infiltrate Jesus’ circle, and will help us bring him down. And then, we will catch your sister.”

Rexius turned to Sam.

“But without you, we can’t find her. Without you, we can’t finish her off.”

Rexius stood from his throne, staring down at Sam.

“Samson of the Blacktide Coven, are you prepared to help us in our cause? Are you prepared to help us find the shield, to help us kill Jesus, and to help us kill your sister?”

Sam stood there, feeling his body shaking, rising with thoughts of violence and destruction. He tried to think clearly, but all he could see in front of him were flames, rising higher and higher. It was a vision he could not shake, as much as he wanted to.

“I will kill anything and anyone in my way,” Sam replied. He stared at Rexius. “I might even kill you.”

Rexius stared down at him, and slowly, his surprised look morphed into a smile.

“Exactly the words I longed to hear.”