“We feel confident that if an animal attacked her, it was an isolated incident, and not one that could be of harm to other residents,” officer Hardy said. “There are no reports of any animals loose from local zoos, or of any local wildlife.”
Caitlin stood, palms sweating, as she read the rest of the article. Finally, she set the paper down, hands shaking worse than they had been before.
An animal attack. Late last night. Just three blocks from her house. At the same time that Scarlet had been out there, unaccounted for.
Could Scarlet have done this? Caitlin wondered.
Her heart was pounding in her throat. It was too much of a coincidence. She wanted to believe more than anything that Scarlet had nothing to do with it—but deep down, she felt she had. Scarlet had probably attacked someone. Turned someone. The officers probably hadn’t seen the small bite marks in the throat. Or maybe they were keeping it quiet. And this poor girl was probably going to change. Become like Scarlet. Attack more people. And spread this throughout the town. They would spread it throughout the county. Then the state. Then the country—and then the world.
Caitlin was wracked with guilt. Had she unwittingly allowed it all to happen?
Without even stopping to think, she picked up her cell phone, took officer Hardy’s card from the night before, and dialed him. He had said to call him anytime. This was her chance to take him up on it.
“Officer Hardy?” Caitlin asked.
“Yes?”
“This is Caitlin Paine. Scarlet’s mother?”
“Oh yes, Mrs. Paine, how are you? I’m glad to hear that Scarlet turned up okay. She is okay, isn’t she?” he added, suddenly wary.
Caitlin paused, wondering how to respond.
“Yes, the doctors say she is healthy and normal, and she’s back in school.”
“Well that’s good news. I can use good news right now. Last night was a crazy night. You saw the papers, I take it?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m so concerned for that poor girl. I’m wondering if you could tell me more. What happened?”
He paused.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked warily. “Do you think Scarlet is somehow connected to this event?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” Caitlin said quickly, trying to cover her tracks. “I just…well, I knew the girl,” she said, lying. “She was a family friend. And I guess I’m just wondering if she’s OK. And of course, wondering what attacked her—and if it’s safe to go outside.”
“Well, I’m really not at liberty to discuss all the details,” he said. He paused, though, and then lowered his voice, “but if you can keep it just between us, I’ll tell you, there is no animal. Nothing to worry about.”
Caitlin paused, surprised.
“What do you mean?”
He paused, then finally continued.
“She was hysterical. Screaming her head off—and screaming the craziest things. But the doctors gave her a full workup, and she was fine. No signs of any animal attack whatsoever. Not even a scratch. In fact, just between us, this morning they transferred her to a psych ward. She was really out-of-control. That’s where she is now. No visitors anyway, so you couldn’t see her even if you wanted to. Kids these days. It’s really sad. I’ll bet it was a bad drug trip.” Caitlin’s heart pounded at the thought of this poor girl, locked away.
“How long will she be there?” she asked. She was secretly wondering when she might be released, and if she was turned, when she might inflict damage on others.
“I have no idea,” he said. “Things like this don’t happen around here. Like I said, a crazy night.
Must have been a full moon. I’m sorry Ms. Paine, have another call coming in. Is there anything else?”
“No, thanks very much.”
The phone went dead.
Caitlin’s hands were trembling as she hung up the phone. It had confirmed her worst fears. A girl, attacked, late at night, just a few blocks away, where her daughter was.
She ran across the room, grabbing her journal, turning back its pages once again. She had to remind herself that this was all real, that she wasn’t losing her mind. She read from it again:
And then everything happened. So fast. My body. Turning. Changing. I still don’t know what happened, or who I’ve become. But I know I’m not the same person anymore.
I remember that fateful night when it all began. Carnegie Hall. My date with Jonah. And then…intermission.
My….feeding? Killing someone? I still can’t remember. I only know what they told me. I know that I did something that night, but it’s all a blur. Whatever I did, it still sits like a pit in my stomach. I’d never want to harm anyone.
The next day, I felt the change in myself. I was definitely becoming stronger, faster, more sensitive to light. I smelled things, too. Animals were acting strangely around me, and I felt myself acting strangely around them.
This was her own handwriting. There was no doubt. This was real. She had to believe that it was all real. That her daughter was like her. A vampire.
Caitlin couldn’t just sit there. She had to do something. The inaction was driving her crazy, and she felt herself bouncing off the walls. She racked her brain, desperately trying to think of what to do, who to talk to next.
And then, suddenly, as she saw the cross mounted on the wall above the table, it hit her: a priest.
If anyone was qualified to know anything about the paranormal, about vampires, about the spiritual forces of good and evil, it would be a priest. The local priest, Father McMullen, was a good, kind man. She didn’t know him that well, but she knew enough to know he was accepting. He was the perfect person to talk to; he could not only give her comfort, but also give her guidance, tell her if she was crazy, and if not, tell her what to do. After all, the church still had an exorcism ritual, didn’t they? Maybe they had a ritual for vampires? Or at least, maybe they knew of one?
Without wasting another second she crossed the room, grabbed her coat and keys and hurried through the house, taking the steps three at a time as she ran outside.
*
Caitlin walked down the bluestone walkway, crossing a huge expanse of lawn to the gothic church. Built two centuries ago, its steeple rising a hundred feet, the church towered over everything in this small town. Its exterior was ornate, gargoyles protruding from every side, elaborate stonework framing a grand, arched door; it looked like it belonged in a capital city of Europe, in another era. It was one of Caitlin’s favorite things about this town—and she especially loved that she lived just a few blocks away.