“Can you read it?” she asked.
He nodded, wide-eyed in surprise. He looked as if he’d just seen a ghost.
“It is a message,” he said, and turned and looked at her. “And it is from your father.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Scarlet roamed the narrow streets of Jerusalem with Ruth, feeling unlike she ever had. She felt as if something inside her had been unleashed, something she didn’t understand, and couldn’t contain. She felt more animal than human. She was roving, looking for her next kill, and she didn’t even trust herself.
The taste and smell of blood filled Scarlet’s every pore. Her first kill had been indescribable, something beyond what she could have ever imagined. The feel of that man’s blood filling her veins did something to her, something she couldn’t explain: she felt filled with power and strength at the same time. Reborn.
Yet it also whet her appetite. It turned on a switch inside, made her realize how good it could feel—and it demanded more. She now roamed the streets wildly, watching people’s throats, zooming in on the pulsing of their heartbeat. She felt an itch inside her veins, a thirst for more victims.
She also felt a fresh sense of rage, of entitlement, that she never had before. And of fearlessness. She turned down another alleyway, this one crowded with people, and this time, she no longer cowered, hid from anyone. Instead, she walked boldly, strutting right down the center. And when people got too close to her, she merely put her shoulder into them and knocked them out of the way.
“Hey little girl, watch it!” a man yelled.
Scarlet turned and smiled at him, feeling her fangs protruding, feeling her eyes glowing red, and heard the guttural sound she made. She saw horror and fear on the man’s face, and watched him quickly turn and run away. She knew that, now, she was a thing to fear.
Scarlet heard Ruth snarling beside her, too, and she felt more of a kinship with Ruth than ever. She also could feel Ruth picking up on her rage, sharing it. The two of them were like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.
Scarlet spotted the vendor she had seen before, with his huge rack of meat. This time, she was determined to get Ruth fed.
The vendor saw her coming, and stood out before his booth. He reached up his hands and started whistling like crazy. It was a loud, piercing whistle, cutting through the crowd.
“Guards! GUARDS!” he shrieked.
But Scarlet didn’t pause. She walked right up to him.
“You’re going to jail this time, misses,” he scolded. “Think you can steal someone else’s food? Now you’re going to pay. Stop right there!”
The big, beefy man reached down to grab Scarlet, and she felt his paws on her arm. He was strong, stronger than she could have imagined, and the old Scarlet would have slunk away in fear.
But now, she was unafraid. On the contrary, she hoped for this, relished it.
With an ease unlike any he could have imagined, she twisted his big arm around, leaned up her elbow, and brought it down the back of his, cracking his arm in half. The man shrieked out in pain.
She then reached over, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hurled him through the crowd. The huge man, well over 300 pounds, went flying through the air as if he were a child’s toy, and went crashing into the booths, knocking over dozens of carts, small tables crashing onto all the vendors. People screamed in fear and confusion, and the crowd recoiled, away from Scarlet. They kept a safe perimeter, looking back at her with complete bewilderment.
Scarlet turned back to the meat on the spit. She grabbed the entire hunk, snatched it off, and held it out to Ruth. Ruth snarled as she tore off every last scrap of meat, eating the entire thing, which was even bigger than her. Ruth ate and ate, until Scarlet could feel that she was sated.
Scarlet suddenly heard a sharp whistling noise and turned to see dozens of Roman soldiers marching towards her from one end. She heard another whistling, and turned in the other direction to see dozens more marching at her from the other.
But again, Scarlet was unafraid. On the contrary, she looked forward to the idea of battle, to having an outlet on which to vent her unquenchable need for violence. She didn’t wait for them to approach, but instead, charged right for them. They trotted towards her, hands on their swords and on their shields, but she sprinted for them at lightning speed.
Scarlet jumped into the air, and planted her two feet on the chest of the lead soldier, kicking him with such force that he went flying backwards, knocking down a dozen soldiers like dominoes.
The other soldiers jumped on Scarlet from behind, knocking her to the ground.
But with hardly any effort, she merely jumped up and threw back her arms, and as she did, she sent them flying in every direction. They smashed into the walls, and collapsed onto the ground.
The remaining soldiers faced her, pausing, and she could see the fear in their eyes. Three of the them drew their swords and charged.
But from Scarlet’s perspective it was as if they were moving in slow motion. She ducked and dodged, and their swords swung by harmlessly. She snatched one of their shields, then spun around and smashed one in the head, then pulled it back and threw it like a Frisbee, knocking another one in the chest and sending him to the ground.
Ruth came charging beside her, leapt into the air, and pounced onto the chest of the third soldier, taking him down before he could swing.
Scarlet looked down and saw the dozens of soldiers sprawled out before her, and she felt more invincible than ever.
That was when she felt it. Suddenly, from behind, she felt a net being hurled over her, enveloping her, and Ruth. She tried to yank it off, but as she grabbed it, she felt herself inexplicably weaken. The material was so cold, had such a strange sensation to the touch. And it was so heavy.
That was when she realized: the net was made of silver. And as it touched her body, it drained her strength and power. It made her weak, helpless, just like any other human.
She felt the bodies of the remaining soldiers pouncing down on her, pinning her to the ground.
And the last thing she saw, as she turned her neck, was the furious face of a Roman soldier, bringing his fist down hard, right for cheek.
CHAPTER NINE
As the sun began to set, Sam walked with Samantha in a desolate part of the streets of Jerusalem, far from anyone. They had been walking for hours, Samantha silently leading him, and he had followed without a word. There was something about her—there had always been something about her—that made Sam want to be with her, want to follow her, without even asking why.