Destined (Book #4 in the Vampire Journals)

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Caitlin walked with the priest down the aisle of the church, as he finished barring the front door and sealing off all the other entrances. The sun had set, and he lit torches as he went, gradually lighting its vast rooms.

Caitlin looked up and noticed all of the huge crosses, and wondered why she felt so at peace here. Weren’t vampires supposed to be afraid of churches? Of crosses? She remembered the White Coven’s home in the New York Cloisters, and the crosses that had lined the walls. Caleb had told her that certain vampire races embraced churches. He had launched into a long monologue about the history of the vampire race and its relationship with Christianity, but she hadn’t listened closely at the time, too enamored of him. Now, she wished she’d had.

The vampire priest led Caitlin through a side door, and Caitlin found herself descending a flight of stone steps. They walked down an arched, medieval passageway, and he continued to light torches as he went.

“I don’t think they’ll be back,” he said, locking another entrance as he went. “They’ll comb the countryside for you, and when they don’t find you, go back to their homes. That’s what they always do.”

Caitlin felt safe here, and she was so grateful for this man’s help. She wondered why he had helped her, why he had put his life on the line for her.

“Because I’m of your kind,” he said, turning and looking right at her, his piercing blue eyes boring through her.

Caitlin always forgot how easily vampires could read each other’s minds. But for a moment, she had forgotten that he was one of hers.

“Not all of us fear churches,” he said, answering her thoughts again. “You know that our race is splintered. Our kind—the benevolent kind—need churches. We thrive in them.”

As they turned down another corridor, down another small flight of steps, Caitlin wondered where he was leading them. So many questions raced through her mind, she didn’t know what to ask him first.

“Where am I?” she asked, and realized, as she did, that it was the first thing she’d said to him since they’d met. All her questions came pouring out in a rush. “What country am I in? What year is it?”

He smiled as they walked, the age lines bunching up in his face. He was a short, frail man, with white hair, clean-shaven, and a grandfatherly face. He wore the elaborate garments of a priest, and even for a vampire, he looked very old. She wondered how many centuries he’d been on this earth. She felt kindness and warmth radiate from him, and felt very at peace around him.

“So many questions,” he finally said, with a smile. “I understand. It is a lot for you. Well, to begin with, you are in Umbria. In the small town of Assisi.”

She wracked her brain, trying to figure out where that was.

“Italy?” she asked.

“In the future, yes, this region will be a part of a country called Italy,” he said, “but not now. We are still independent. Remember,” he smiled, “you are no longer in the 21st century—as you may have guessed from the dress and behavior of those villagers.”

“What year is it?” Caitlin asked quietly, almost afraid to know the answer. Her heart beat faster.

“You are in the 18th century,” he answered. “To be more precise: the year 1790.”

1790. Assisi. Umbria. Italy.

The thought of it overwhelmed her. It all felt surreal, as if she were in a dream. She could hardly believe this was really happening, that she was really, actually, here, in this time and place. That time travel really worked.

She also felt a bit relieved: of all the times and places she could have landed, Italy in 1790 didn’t sound too foreboding. It wasn’t like landing in prehistoric times.

“Why were those people trying to kill me? And who are you?”

“Despite all of our advances, this is still a somewhat primitive and superstitious time,” he said. “Even in this age of luxury and decadence, alas, there are still scores of commoners who live very much in fear of us.

“You see, the small mountain village of Assisi has always been a stronghold for our kind. It is frequented by vampires, and always has been. Our kind of vampire only feed on their livestock. Still, over time, the villagers begin to take notice.

“Sometimes they’ll spot one of us. And when they do, the situation becomes intolerable. So every now and again, we let them bury us. We let them go through their silly little human rituals, let them feel as if they’ve gotten rid of us. And when they’re not looking, we simply rise again and return back to our lives.

“But sometimes, a vampire rises back too soon, or is seen rising back, and then there comes the mob. It will blow over. These things always do. It brings unwanted attention to our kind, but only temporarily.”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said, feeling badly.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “This was your first time travel. You couldn’t control it. It takes some getting used to. Even the best of us can’t control re-surfacing very well. It’s always hard to say exactly when or where we’ll end up. You did fine,” he said, gently placing a hand on her wrist.

They walked down another corridor, this one with low, vaulted ceilings.

“Besides, you didn’t do all that bad,” he added. “After all, you knew enough to come here.”

Caitlin remembered spotting the church as she’d sprinted through the field.

“But it just seemed like the logical place to go,” she answered. “It was the first building I saw, and it seemed like a fortress.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “There is no such thing as coincidence in the vampire world,” he said. “Everything is destined. A building that seems secure to you might seem frail to someone else. No, you chose this spot for a reason. A very specific reason. And you were led to me.”

“But you’re a priest.”

He shook his head slightly. “You’re still very young, and you still have a lot to learn. We have our own religion, our own creed. It is not very different from that of the church. One can be a vampire and still involved in religious life. Especially our type of vampire,” he said. “I even help the humans in their daily spiritual life. After all, I have the benefit and wisdom of thousands of years on this planet—unlike human priests. Luckily, the humans don’t know I am not of their kind. For all they know, I am the town priest, and always have been.”

Caitlin’s mind spun, as she tried to reconcile it all. The image of a vampire priest seemed so paradoxical to her. The notion of a vampire religion, of its working within the church…it all seemed so strange.

As fascinating as all of this was, what she really wanted to know was not about vampires, or churches, or religion. She wanted to know about Caleb. Had he survived the trip? Was he alive? Where was he?

And she wanted desperately to know about their child. Was she still pregnant? Had the baby survived?

She thought these questions very strongly, and hoped the priest would pick them up, and answer her back.

But he didn’t.

She knew he’d heard her thoughts, and was choosing not to respond. He was forcing her to ask these questions aloud. And, as he probably knew, they were questions she was afraid to ask.

“And what of Caleb?” she finally asked, her voice shaking. She was too nervous to ask about her child.

She looked over at him and saw his smile fade, as the slightest wince crossed his face.

Her heart dropped.

Please, she thought. Please don’t tell me bad news.

“Some things you’re going to have to find out for yourself,” he said slowly. “Some things I am not meant to tell you. It is a journey you must take. You and you alone.”

“But is he here?” she asked hopefully. “Did he make it?”

The priest, walking alongside her, tightened his lips. He let her questions hang in the air, unanswered, for what felt like forever.

Finally, they stopped before another flight of steps, and he turned and looked at her. “I wish I could tell you more,” he said. “I really do.”

He turned, raised his torch, and led the way down another small flight of steps.

They entered a long, vaulted corridor, all the ceilings here gilded and intricately designed. They were entirely covered with frescoes, brightly designed, and in between them were arches, lined with gold. The ceiling shone.

So did the floor. It was a beautiful, pink marble, and looked freshly cleaned. This subterranean level of the church was gorgeous, looked like an ancient treasure chamber.

“Wow,” Caitlin heard herself say out loud. “What is this place?”

“It is a place of miracles. You are in the church of Saint Francis of Assisi. This is also his resting place. It is a very holy place in our religion. People—humans and vampires alike—pilgrimage here, from thousands of miles away, just to be in this spot. Francis was the saint of animals, and he was also the saint of all living creatures outside of the human race—including our kind. It is said that miracles happen here. We are protected here by his energy.

“You did not land here by accident,” he continued. “This place is a portal for you. It is a launching pad for you to begin your journey, your pilgrimage.”

He turned and faced her.

“What you still fail to see,” he said, “is that you are on a journey. And some pilgrimages take years, and many, many miles.”

Caitlin thought. It was all overwhelming to her. She did not want to be on a journey. She wanted to be back home, with Caleb, safe and secure, in the 21st century, this whole nightmare behind her. She was tired of traveling, of always being on the run, of always searching. She just wanted a normal life again, the life of a teenage girl.

But she stopped herself from that way of thinking. It wasn’t helpful, she knew. Things had changed—permanently—and they would never be the same again. She reminded herself that change was the new normal. She was no longer the same old, average, human Caitlin. She was older now. Wiser. And whether she liked it or not, she was on a special mission. She just had to accept it.

“But what is my pilgrimage?” Caitlin asked. “What is my destination? Where is it exactly that I’m going?”

He led her to the end of the final corridor, and they stopped before a large, elaborate tomb.

Caitlin could feel the energy coming off of the tomb, and she knew right away that this was the tomb of Saint Francis. She felt recharged just standing near it, felt herself growing stronger, coming back into her own. She wondered again if she had come back as a human or as a vampire. She missed her powers dearly.

“Yes, you are still a vampire,” he said. “Do not worry. It is just taking time for you to come back to your own.”

She was embarrassed that she forgot, again, to guard her thoughts, but she felt comforted by his words.

“You are a very special person, Caitlin,” he said. “You are very much needed to our race. Without you, I would even go so far as to say, our entire race, and the entire human race, will be on the brink of extinction. We need you. We need your help.”

“But what am I supposed to?” she asked.

“We need you to find the Shield,” he said. “And in order to find the Shield, you will need to find your father. He, and only he, holds it. And in order to find him, you will need to find your coven. Your true coven.”

“But I have no idea where to begin,” she said. “I don’t even know why I’m in this place and time. Why Italy? Why 1790?”

“The answers to these questions you are going to have to find out for yourself. But I assure you you have very special reasons for being back in this lifetime. Special people to see, actions to fulfill. And that this place and time will lead you to the Shield.”

Caitlin thought.

“But I have no idea where my father is. I have no idea where to begin.”

He turned to her and smiled. “But you do,” he answered. “That is your problem. You don’t trust your intuition. You need to learn to search deep within yourself. Try it now. Close your eyes, breathe deeply.”

Caitlin did as he said.

“Ask yourself: where do I need to go next?”

Caitlin did so, wracking her brain. Nothing happened.

“Listen to the sound of your breathing. Let your mind still.”

As Caitlin did so, as she really focused and relaxed, images began to flash in her mind. She finally opened her eyes and looked at him.

“I see two places,” she said. “Florence, and Venice.”

“Yes,” he said. “Very good.”

“But I’m confused. Where do I go?”

“There are no wrong choices in a journey. Each path just brings us to a different place. The choice is yours. You have a very strong destiny, but you also have free will. You can choose at any step. Now, for example, you are faced with a pivotal choice. In Florence, you will fulfill your obligations, come closer to the Shield. It is what is needed of you. But in Venice, you will fulfill matters of the heart. You will have to choose between your mission and your heart.”

Caitlin’s heart soared.

Matters of the heart. Did that mean that Caleb was in Venice?

She felt her heart drawn to Venice. Yet, intellectually, she knew that Florence was where she should be in order to do what was expected of her.

She felt torn already.

“You are a grown woman now,” he said. “The choice is yours to make. But if you follow your heart, there will be heartbreak,” he warned. “The road of the heart is never easy. And never expected.”

“I feel so confused,” she said.

“We do our best work in dreams,” he said. “There is a cloisters next door, and you can sleep here for the night, rest, and decide in the morning. By then, you’ll be fully recovered.”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand.

He turned to go, and as he did, her heart pounded. There was one more question she needed to ask him, the most important one of all. But a part of her was too scared to ask it. She was trembling. She opened her mouth to speak, but it turned dry.

He was walking down the corridor, about to turn away, when finally, she mustered the courage.

“Wait!” she yelled. Then softer, “Please, I have one more question.”

He stopped in his tracks, but kept his back to her. Oddly enough, he did not turn back around, as if he sensed what she was about to ask.

“My baby,” she said, in a soft, trembling voice. “Is he…she…did it make it? The trip? Am I still pregnant?”

He slowly turned, faced her. Then he lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, so soft that she wasn’t sure if she heard it. “You’ve come back in time. Children can only move forward. Your child lives, but not in this time. Only in the future.”

“But…” she began, trembling, “I thought vampires can only travel back in time, not forwards.”

“True,” he said. “I am afraid that your child lives in a time and place without you.” He lowered his eyes again. “I am so sorry,” he added.

With those final words, he turned and left.

And Caitlin felt as if a dagger had been plunged into her heart.