Sage felt his stomach drop at the thought.
“What good will that do you?” he asked. “The necklace must be given voluntarily for it to work. Killing her won’t do you any good.”
“Well, if she won’t give it, then we have nothing to lose, do we?” his mother asked with an evil smile.
Sage examined their expressions and could see they were serious. The thought of their harming Scarlet was like a knife in his heart. He could see they were getting desperate. They were approaching death, too: he could see the color in their cheeks fading, their bones becoming more pronounced. In a few weeks, they’d be dead. They had nothing left to lose. They were different people now than they were centuries ago. And he feared they meant what they said.
He had to think of a way to stall them. Just long enough so that he could rescue Scarlet, get her far away from here.
“I promise, I’ll get the necklace,” he said. “Just don’t harm her. Just give me a chance.”
“You have until tomorrow night,” his dad snapped. “If you don’t have it by then, she’s dead. Lore will gladly do the job.”
The two of them turned and marched back into the house. Sage walked them go, then turned back to the river, looking out, contemplating what to do next. He had to save her before it was too late.
“Well well well,” came the voice.
He turned and saw Lore ambling towards him. He was clapping, in an exaggerated way.
“Nice theater. Mom and dad bought it, didn’t they? Can’t fool me, though. You’re not going to even try for that necklace. I can tell by that lost puppy-dog look.”
He sneered as he got closer, slowly circling him, his leather boots clicking on the stone.
“You’re pathetic,” he added. “Always have been. Romance died in the Middle Ages, in case someone forgot to give you the memo. She’s just human meat. Like all of them. Even if she is a vampire, who cares? She’s not one of us.”
“Stay away from me, Lore,” Sage said, feeling his anger well up. He was in no mood for this right now.
“Gladly. I’ll stay away from you—far away, when we’re all dead. In the meantime, I’m not as stupid as the others. You can bet I’ll kill her the second they give me the green light—if for no other reason than to rile you up. Besides, I like doing things like that. In fact, I like it so much, I might not even wait until tomorrow night. After all, what are they going to do? Punish me?”
He broke into laughter.
Sage couldn’t take it any longer. The centuries of Lore’s mocking and teasing had finally gotten to him: without thinking, he leapt into the air, reached out and strangled him. He carried him through the air, slamming him into the stone railing.
The railing shattered, and the two of them went down, off the edge, plunging dozens of feet below, and landing hard in the grass.
Lore spun around, and choked Sage. Sage kneed him in the gut, then reached around and knocked him off.
The two of them lay there, on their backs, beside each other, looking up at the moonlit sky, catching their breath. Sage wiped blood off the corner of his mouth. It was useless, he knew that: Lore couldn’t be killed. Just like him.
“I love you Sage, you know that?” Lore said, breaking into light laughter.
Just like him, Sage thought. In Lore’s sick, demented mind, this was love.
“Stay away from her,” Sage spat, getting to his feet slowly, limping across the lawn.
As he walked, already Lore’s mocking laughter filled the moonlit sky.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Caleb stormed out of his house, livid. He could not believe what was happening to his family, how quickly everything seemed to be changing. Caitlin, who’d been a rock in his life for as long as he had known her, was having a breakdown. He had never seen her like this. All she talked about were vampires, supernatural nonsense, and her belief that her own daughter was turning into a vampire. It was ridiculous. He had been hoping that it was only due to stress, to Scarlet’s sickness, and that it would all go away and she would return to normal.
But Caitlin seemed to be getting worse. She wouldn’t stop obsessing over it, talking constantly of vampires, and then, bringing Scarlet to church. Now she talked about the priest, and something about the windows breaking. It was crazy. She had really lost it.
If that were not enough, now she was getting on a plane for Paris. Caleb had gone from being merely upset over this to truly worried. He didn’t know who he was more worried for now—his daughter or his wife. She had texted him from the plane, but he’d been too mad to respond.
Not to mention Scarlet: he could not understand what had come over her, either. Just a few days ago, she had been the sweet, kind, caring teenage daughter he had always known. He had never known her to act out like this. Slamming doors, yelling at them, skipping school, staying out late. And now, lying to them and sneaking out. This just wasn’t her.
He thought back to her being sick, a few days ago, and wondered if somehow it was all related. He thought it was silly to attribute all of this to some mysterious illness. This was no illness. To him, it seemed like drugs. Maybe Scarlet had been experimenting with drugs, like the police said, and maybe that was what had made her sick. Maybe it was some kind of bad trip. That would certainly explain for all her erratic behavior as of late. And the mood swings.
As Caleb walked to his car, and thought about the possibility of her doing drugs, he thought about any new friends that might have come into her life lately. His mind kept returning to one person: Blake. He didn’t know of any other new friends, and Blake was the first boyfriend she’d introduced them to. In Caleb’s mind, it was too much of a coincidence: one day, she introduces a new boyfriend, and the next, she’s acting like a completely different person. He felt certain, deep in his bones, that it was Blake’s doing, that he was a drug-addict and a terrible influence. They were probably spending all their time together, and he was probably enticing her to do drugs.
The thought sent him into a rage. He felt certain Scarlet was with Blake, and was determined to track them down and bring her back, and to keep him far away from his daughter.
Caleb floored it, screeching out of the driveway and speeding the ten or so blocks to the Wilsons’ house.
As he turned the corner in their quiet, sleepy village, he saw the street lit up: dozens of cars were parked in front, and every light in the house was on. Music blared even from here, and dozens of kids streamed onto the lawn, many holding plastic beer cups.