“It’s funny you should ask,” Sam said, “because I actually have been trying. I’ve always wanted to know. But I never found anything. Until last week.”Her eyes opened wide in surprise. Sam was surprised by how excited she looked. He couldn’t really understand it. Why would she care?“Really?” she asked. “Where is he?”“Well, I don’t know exactly, but we’ve been talking on Facebook. He says he wants to see me.”“So? Why don’t you see him?”“I want to. It just has all gone down so fast. I guess I just need to make a plan.”“What are you waiting for?” she asked, smiling.Sam thought. She was right. What was he waiting for?“Why don’t you write him back? Make a plan to see him? You know, if you don’t set a plan, things never happen. If it were me, I’d message him right now,” she said.Sam looked into her eyes, and as he did, he felt his thoughts shifting. Everything she said made so much sense. It was weird: he almost felt like every time she said something, the thought became his
As I flew with Caleb, arms wrapped around him, loving the feel of his body, I thought of how lucky I was. Just the day before, I’d been worried that Caleb would say goodbye. And now, for once, her luck had changed.Thank God for that necklace, I thought.It was late afternoon by the time we arrived in Salem. He set us down inconspicuously in an empty field on the outskirts of town, so no one would notice.They walked a few blocks, and arrived right on the Main Street of Salem.I was surprised. I had expected something more. I’d heard about Salem my whole life, from textbooks mostly, always in connection with the witches. But to see it as a real, living place, as an everyday town, I found quite strange. I had imagined it as a perfectly preserved, historic place in my head, almost like a stage set. To see normal, modern, everyday people living their lives, driving, hurrying to and fro, caught me off guard.Salem looked almost like any small, New England, suburban town. There were a
I was taken aback as we walked in the small graveyard, my mind still reeling. I had never been in a place this old before. When we had entered, a large sign had read “The Burying Point, 1637.” I marveled at the fact that people had been coming here for almost 400 years.More than that, I marveled that there were a few tourists wandering the cemetery right now. I had assumed we would have been the only ones here. But after all, this was Salem. And this cemetery was an attraction. People seemed to come here and treat it as a museum. In fact, I noticed that there was an actual museum adjacent to the burial plots. It didn’t feel right to me. I felt that this place should have been more sacred.The cemetery was small and intimate, the size of someone’s backyard. A cobblestone path twisted and turned its way throughout the place, and as I strolled, I marveled at how old the tombstones were, at their strange fonts, worn away with age. It was English, but it was so old, and so quaint, it alm
I searched everywhere.But there was no “Paine” here.It was another dead-end.“There’s nothing here,” I finally said.Caleb surveyed the graveyard one more time, and seemed clearly disappointed.“I know,” he said.I was afraid our search was really over this time. I couldn’t let it end here.“The rose and the thorn, the rose and the thorn,” I said, again and again, whispering it to myself, willing myself to find the answer.But nothing came.Caleb began to wander the path again, and I began to wander, too, thinking as I went.I soon came to another large plaque, nailed to a tree. At first I read just to distract myself, but as I continued reading, I suddenly became excited.“Caleb!” I yelled. “Hurry!”He hurried over.“Listen to this: ‘Not all of the witches who were persecuted are buried in this graveyard. In fact, only a small portion of them are. There were over 130 other witches on the ‘accused’ list. Some escaped, and some are buried elsewhere. For the complete list,
I held Caleb’s hand.We had the museum to ourselves as we walked down its narrow, dimly-lit hallways. Pictures, plaques, and paraphernalia lined the walls, all of witches, judges, and hangings. It was a solemn place.As we continued, we came to a large display. I began to read, and was so taken by it, I decided to read it aloud to Caleb.“Listen to this,” I said. “‘In Salem, in 1692, a large group of teenage girls suddenly fell ill. Most of them lapsed into a fit of hysteria, and screamed out that they had been attacked by witches. Many of these girls went so far as to name the witches who were afflicting them.“Because their illnesses were so mysterious, and because many of these girls died suddenly and there was no other explanation for it, the townspeople fell into a frenzy. They hunted down the people accused of witchcraft.“It is worth noting that, to this day, no one has ever been able to determine the nature of the illness that struck these girls, or why they were all struc
The sun was still setting as Caleb and I approached Hawthorne’s house. The simple, red house was set back about 50 feet from the sidewalk, and with its walkway and bushes looked like any other small, suburban house. With its dark red paint and shutters, it had an antique simplicity about it. It was modest.Still, one could tell it was different. It exuded history.We both stood there, looking at it, and a silence fell over us.“I thought it would be bigger,” I said.Caleb stood there, furrowing his brows.“What’s wrong?”“I remember this house,” Caleb said. “I’m not sure from when. But I seem to remember it being somewhere else.”I looked at him, at his perfectly sculpted features, and marveled at how much he remembered. I wondered what it was like to remember so much. Hundreds of years—thousands. He was carrying around things, experiences, that I could never even dream of. I wondered if it was a blessing or a curse, and I wondered if I would even want that for myself.I took
We continued through the house, examining various objects, searching for something, anything. But as we finished searching the first floor, we came up empty.We both stopped before a narrow, wooden staircase. It was blocked by a velvet rope, on which hung a sign: “Private: upstairs for staff only.”Caleb gave me a look.“We’ve come this far,” he said.He reached over and unclasped the rope.Excited, I went first, my footsteps echoing on the hard, wooden staircase. The house creaked and groaned as we went, as if protesting its new visitors.The second floor of the house had even lower ceilings, barely high enough for Caleb to stand in. It was now almost dark, and there was just enough light to see by. We stood in a beautiful and cozy room, with wide plank wooden floorboards, six over six windowpanes, and tastefully decorated with period furniture. At its center was a brick fireplace with black stain around its edges, clearly worn from years of use.Greeting them at the top of the
I took the necklace off quickly, and together, my hand on his, we inserted it gently into the indent. I was ecstatic to see that it fit perfectly. It entered with a soft click, and as we gently turned it to the right, a narrow, vertical compartment opened.Heart pounding, I reached inside and gently extracted a frail scroll, yellowing, brittle. It was tied with an ancient piece of string, all but crumbling.I handed it to Caleb, and the two of us unrolled the scroll together.It was a map. Handwritten, hundreds of years old.At the top of the map, in a handwritten scrawl, it read: Elizabeth’s cottage.He looked up at me.“Her cottage,” he said, breathlessly. “It’s a map to where she lived.”I stared at it, in awe.“Whoever stored it here wanted you to be the one to find it. Your necklace was the key. And it’s never been opened until now. He wanted you to find this map, to find her cottage. Wherever it is, there will be something in it for you.”It was meant for me. For me, and
“NO!” sobbed Caleb, as he turned to me, rushing to my side.Caleb was so distracted, he did not see Sergei, standing over us, holding the bloody sword, pleased at his work, grinning an evil grin.“You killed me before my time,” he snarled down at me. “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 me and Caleb. And Rose, lying off to the side, whimpering, bleeding.“Caitlin!” Caleb cried, as he held my shoulders. He leaned over me, caressing my face, and I could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks.He had been too shocked by seeing me hurt to even think of the sword. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the others had left the bu
{SAMANTHA’S POV}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, ho
As we entered the empty church, Caleb quickly shut the massive door behind us. 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 we had the place to ourselves.As we walked into the beautiful, small chapel, the sunset light poured in through its stained-glass windows, and I 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. I felt as if I’d stepped into another century. Caleb walked up beside me, and the two of us 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, I could feel it, too.I noticed that I was beginning to sense things more strongly, and I could sense the sword’s presence here. It electrified me. I didn’t know what excited me more: that the sword was here, or that I could sense it on my own.I set Rose down be
As Caleb and I 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, I thought. It all makes perfect sense.As we walked, I marveled at the fact that we had walked, this entire time, in the shape of a cross, as if they had been led by some invisible hand.I felt my heart beating faster. I was nervous to finally meet my father, if he was alive. And nervous to see his grave, if he should be dead. I wasn’t sure how I would react either way. But I was also excited, relieved to at last know exactly who he was, where I came from. I was excited to know what my lineage was, and what my destiny would be.I was also nervous that this would mean the end between me and Caleb. What if we really found the sword? What would he do then? Would he go and wage his war? Save his coven? And where would that leave me?The two of us held hands as they walked toward
{SAMANTHA’S POV}Samantha raced the BMW on the outskirts of Boston, Sam in the passenger seat beside her, heading along the highway towards Salem. She was increasingly annoyed at the growing difficulty in finding his dad. She’d been sure, when she’d seen those Facebook messages, when Sam had told her with such excitement that he’d been in touch with him, that this would be easy. She would just take him to his dad’s house, and from there it would be a direct path to the sword.But things had gotten complicated. She hadn’t expected to encounter that creep, and most of all, hadn’t expected to develop any feelings for Sam. It was complicating things. Making her less sharp. Her original plan had been so simple: find his dad, kill them both, and return with the sword. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to kill Sam at all. Especially as she looked over at him, and saw that fresh scar on his cheek, the reminder of how he’d tried to save her.More than anything, she was mad at herself for that
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
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
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.
{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