Desired. Morgan Rice
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glad she had got the best of him, but the incident shook her. It worried her that she was still having flashbacks of Rome. She also hadn’t felt her supernatural strength. She still felt as frail as a human. The thought of that, more than anything else, scared her. She was truly on her own now.
Caitlin looked all around, starting to feel frantic with worry about where to go, about what to do next. Her legs burned from the walking, and she began to feel a sense of despair.
That was when she saw it. She looked up, and saw before her a huge hill. On top of that, sat a large, medieval abbey. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt drawn to it. The hill was daunting, but she didn’t see what other choice she had.
Caitlin hiked up the entire hill, more tired than she’d just about ever been, and wishing she could fly.
She finally reached the front doors of the abbey, and looked up at the massive, oak doors. This place looked ancient. She marveled at the fact that, though it was 1789, this church had already been around for what looked like thousands of years.
She didn’t know why, but she felt drawn here. Seeing nowhere else to go, she got her courage up, and knocked softly.
There was no response.
Caitlin tried the knob and was surprised to find it open. She let herself in.
The ancient door creaked open slowly, and it took a moment for Caitlin’s eyes to adjust to the cavernous, dark church. As she surveyed it, she was impressed by the scope and solemnity of the place. It was still late at night, and this simple, austere, church, made entirely of stone, adorned in stained-glass windows, was lit by large candles, everywhere, burning low. At its far end sat a simple altar, around which were placed dozens more candles.
Otherwise, it seemed empty.
Caitlin wondered for a moment what she was doing here. Was there a special reason? Or had her mind just been playing tricks on her?
A side door suddenly opened, and Caitlin spun.
Walking towards her, Caitlin was surprised to see, was a nun – short, frail, dressed in flowing white robes, with a white hood. She walked slowly, and walked right up to Caitlin.
She pulled back her hood, looked up at her and smiled. She had large, shining blue eyes, and seemed too young to be a nun. As she smiled wide, Caitlin could feel the warmth coming off of her. She also sensed that she was one of hers: a vampire.
“Sister Paine,” the nun said softly. “It is an honor to have you.”
Chapter Two
Her world felt surreal as the nun led Caitlin through the abbey, down a long corridor. It was a beautiful place, and it was clear that it was actively lived in, with nuns in white robes walking about, getting ready, it seemed, for the morning services. One of them swung a decanter as she went, spreading delicate incense, while others were chanting soft morning prayers.
After several minutes of walking in silence, Caitlin began to wonder where the nun was leading her. Finally, they stopped before a single door. The nun opened it, revealing a small, humble room, with a view overlooking Paris. It reminded Caitlin of the room she’d stayed in in that cloister in Siena.
“On the bed, you’ll find a change of clothing,” the nun said. “There is a well in which to bathe, in our courtyard,” she said. She pointed, “and that is for you.”
Caitlin followed her finger and saw a small, stone pedestal in the corner of the room, on which sat a silver goblet, filled with a white liquid. The nun smiled back.
“You have everything you need here for a fresh night’s sleep. After that, the choice is yours to make.”
“Choice?” Caitlin asked.
“I am told that you have one key already. You will need to find the other three. The choice, though, of whether to fulfill your mission and continue on your journey is always yours.”
“This is for you.”
She reached out and handed Caitlin a cylindrical, silver case, covered in jewels.
“It is a letter from your father. Just for you. We have been guarding it for centuries. It has never been opened.”
Caitlin took it in awe, feeling its weight in her hand.
“I do hope that you will continue with your mission,” she said softly. “We need you, Caitlin.”
The nun suddenly turned to go.
“Wait!” Caitlin yelled out.
She stopped.
“I’m in Paris, correct? In 1789?”
The woman smiled back. “That is correct.”
“But why? Why am I here? Why now? Why this place?”
“I’m afraid that is for you to find out. I am but a simple servant.”
“But why was I drawn to this church?”
“You are in the Abbey of Saint Peter. In Montmartre,” the woman said. “It has been here for thousands of years. It is a very sacred place.”
“Why?” Caitlin pressed.
“This was the place in which everyone met to take their vows for the founding of the Society of Jesus. It is in this place that Christianity was born.”
Caitlin stared back, speechless, and the nun finally smiled and said, “Welcome.”
And with that, she bowed slightly, and walked away, closing the door gently behind her.
Caitlin turned and surveyed the room. She was grateful for the hospitality, for the change of clothes, for the chance to bathe, for the comfortable bed that she saw lying in the corner. She didn’t think she could take one more step. In fact, she was so tired, she felt like she could sleep forever.
Holding the bejeweled case, she walked to the corner of the room, and set it down. The scroll could wait. But her hunger couldn’t.
She lifted the overflowing goblet and examined it. She could already sense what it contained: white blood.
She put it to her lips and drank. It was sweeter than red blood and went down more easily – and it ran through her veins faster. Within moments, she felt reborn, and stronger than she’d ever had. She could have drank forever.
Caitlin finally set down the empty goblet, and took the silver case with her to bed. She lay down, and realized how sore her legs were. It felt so good to just lay there.
She leaned back and rested her head against the small, simple pillow, and closed her eyes, just for a second. She was resolved to open them in just a moment, and read her father’s letter.
But the moment her eyes closed, an incredible exhaustion overcame her. She couldn’t open them again if she tried. Within seconds, she was fast asleep.
Caitlin stood on the floor of the Roman Colosseum, dressed in full battle gear, holding a sword. She was ready to challenge whoever attacked her – indeed, felt the urge to fight. But as she spun around, in every direction, she saw that the stadium was empty. She looked up at the rows of seats, and saw that the entire place was vacant.
Caitlin blinked, and when she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the Colosseum, but rather in the Vatican, in the Sistine Chapel. She still held her sword, but now was dressed in robes.
She looked about the room and saw hundreds of vampires, lined up neatly, dressed in white robes, with glowing blue eyes. They stood patiently along the wall, silent, at perfect attention.
Caitlin dropped her sword in the empty chamber, and it landed with a clink. She walked slowly towards the head priest, reached out, and took from him a huge silver goblet, filled with white blood. She drank, and the liquid overflowed and poured down her cheeks.
Suddenly, Caitlin found herself alone in the desert. She was walking barefoot on the baked dirt, the sun beating down her, and she held a gigantic key in her hand. But the key was so big – unnaturally big – and the weight of