“The cross of the Resurrection,” he whispered to himself, in terror.
“You know it?” her mom asked.
He let it go, pulling back his hand as if he’d touched a snake.
“Of course,” he said. “It is said to trace back all the way to the times of Christ. It is one of the most famous crosses of Christianity. It was rumored to have been lost centuries ago. It is a holy relic. I can’t understand how you have it. Something like this, it belongs in the Vatican. In a museum. On display.”
Scarlet reached up and fingered the necklace, feeling a whole new appreciation for it. And a fear of it. Why was he so scared by it?
“That cross,” he continued, “is rumored to have been used to protect the first vampires.”
“Vampires?” Scarlet asked, heart pounding.
“What do you mean protect them?” her mom asked.
“In the early days of Christianity, the vampires were rumored to be the chosen ones. The good ones. When barbarians waged war against the holy people, it was the vampires, the super race, that was called to protect mankind. Back then, you see, it was a great blessing to be a vampire. It was somewhat like being a priest today. They were the chosen kind, and blessed with immortality.
“But somewhere along the way, it changed. One too many vampires were turned. An evil strain occurred among them. Over time, the evil strain became dominant, and wiped out the good ones. Only a handful of good ones remained throughout the centuries. And this cross was there symbol. They were the Knights Templar of vampires, their most elite sect.”
He suddenly turned to Caitlin.
“Your grandmother…who was she exactly?” he asked.
“Um…well…” she began, flustered.
Suddenly the sun shifted, its huge red ball aligning directly in the path of the stained-glass window, in the center of the far wall. It lit her up, sending a single beam of sunlight right to Scarlet. Light flooded her.
Scarlet suddenly felt a horrific pain, right in her forehead. It was so bad, she had to clutch her head. Her eyes burned, too, as if they were on fire. She keeled over. It felt like it was tearing her up inside, and she couldn’t stand it for another second.
She shrieked as she dropped to her knees, clutching her head.
“Make it stop! Make it stop!” she screamed.
“Scarlet what’s wrong?” her mom cried out, dropping to her side, putting an arm around her.
The priest took a step back, eyes widening in fear.
“Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio, contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium,” he began to chant, raising a hand in the sign of the cross. He reached into his cloak, grabbed a small decanter of holy water, and sprinkled it on Scarlet.
As the water hit her skin, in the sunlight, it felt like acid. She shrieked.
But this time, it was no normal shriek. It was the guttural roar of animal, several octaves lower. It was a horrific noise, one that sent the hairs standing on the back of the human’s necks. She shrieked and shrieked, standing, throwing back her arms, sending her mom flying, crashing into the wooden pews.
The shriek grew so loud that the entire room began to shake; as it did, all the stained-glass, on every wall, shattered, exploding in every direction.
Father McMullen turned and fled, sprinting for all he had.
Scarlet threw back her head and roared. The roar rose higher and higher, louder than the sound of the bells, louder than the sound of the exploding glass, as fragments of every color showered down all around her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Scarlet opened her eyes to see her mom looking down on her. She blinked several times, as she slowly came into focus. Her mom looked down in concern. On her other side her dad stood over her, too, also looking down with concern.
Scarlet looked around and realized she was lying in her bed, in her bedroom. She glanced out the window, and saw it was night, and looked over, and saw her clock blinked 9 PM. She wondered how she got here. She tried to piece it all together, but it was hazy. It freaked her out that her parents were in here. What were they doing here, in her bedroom, looking at her like that?
“Scarlet, are you okay honey?” her mom asked with concern.
Scarlet checked in with her body and realized she felt totally fine. She just couldn’t figure out how she got here.
Scarlet sat up in bed.
“What happened?”
“Do you remember?” her mom asked. “The church?”
Church. Scarlet thought back, and started to remember. She recalled going to church with her mom, talking to that priest. She remembered the candles blowing out…remembered him talking about her necklace…and then….
Her mind went blank.
“What happened?” she asked.
Her mom looked down, as if debating how to phrase it.
“Well…” she began. “You passed out. And I carried you home, and put you to bed. That was three hours ago.”
“Hi sweetheart,” her dad chimed in, holding her hand. “I’m so glad to see you’re doing okay.”
Scarlet tried to remember passing out, but couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe I had like low blood sugar or something. I’ve never fainted before.”
“Did you skip lunch?” her dad asked.
Scarlet thought back. Yes, she had.
“Actually, I did. And breakfast, too…. It was a stressful day, and I kind of forgot.”
“Well, then that explains it,” her dad said, sounding confident and assured, as if ready to put this whole thing to rest. “You just needed to eat. Being in church probably stressed you out, and you fainted. No big deal. I’m glad you’re okay now.”
“Wait a minute,” her mom said. “That’s not all that happened.”
“Why can’t you just let things lie?” he snapped at her. “You’re blowing this whole thing up to be more—”
“Guys, I’m right here,” Scarlet snapped at them both, tired of their arguing. “I’m totally fine. Seriously. There’s like nothing to worry about. I blacked out. I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t eat or whatever.”
Scarlet couldn’t take their fighting anymore; she couldn’t stand being around them. They both looked at her, momentarily silenced.
“Can we talk in private?” her dad asked her mom, sternly.
The two of them quickly shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind them, and immediately, Scarlet could hear the muffled sound of their arguing.