Sam thought back to the very first time he’d met her, in the Hudson Valley, when she was living alone in that house. He had been surprised to realize he was on her property—and even more surprised that an older woman would be interested in him. It was the first time he’d ever been smitten, and the first time he’d ever fallen in love.
As they walked for hours, far from the crowds, Samantha leading him through obscure parts of the city, memories of their relationship came flooding back. Sam recalled their drive together that day in the Hudson Valley, their going to that trailer park, discovering that man who pretended to be his father was just an impostor, a creep. Sam remembered when he saw Samantha kill him—the first time he’d ever seen a vampire kill anyone. He remembered being transfixed by her.
He remembered their going to Boston, to the King’s church, their losing the sword to Kyle. He remembered being captured, imprisoned, in New York. And most of all, he remembered that fateful night when she turned him. When she became his maker. At that moment the relationship between them changed from mere love to something endless, timeless.
Sam had thought that he’d put her out of his mind long ago—but truthfully, deep down, he knew that he had never quite forgotten. Memories of her had always lurked somewhere, deep in his consciousness. He felt himself drawn to her at times, like a magnet, like a servant wanting to return to its master. And now, with her by his side, he felt in some ways like he had found his way back home.
But he also remembered their parting. He remembered how she had urged him to kill his own sister, when he had fallen so completely under her spell, and had almost done it. Then he remembered breaking free from her, and never wanting to see her again. There remained a part of him that could still never forgive her for what she had done.
But now, here, in this different time and place, he was surprised to find himself happy to be in her presence. After all, he had changed: he was not the same person he used to be. Everything in the past that she had done, all of her violence, and ambition, and rage, and trickery—everything that had once bothered him so much—now, he liked. He admired it. The very same qualities he once despised, now, he looked up to. Now, he found himself wanting to be with her.
Yet as they walked in silence, Sam couldn’t help wondering if all these memories of Samantha had flooded back to him naturally—or if Samantha had played one of her mind tricks, and had implanted all those feelings into his brain. Was she still manipulating him, even now?
But the funny thing was, Sam didn’t care. He wanted to be manipulated. He wanted to be with her. She was so overflowing with vengeance and darkness that he saw himself in her—and he no longer cared about whatever dark place she would lead him.
Samantha reached over and took his hand and squeezed it hard. She looked over at him, and as he looked into her pale blue eyes, he could feel their connection grow even stronger. Before, roaming the streets of Jerusalem alone, he’d felt no sense of direction, of purpose. Now, with her by his side, he felt he was being led in the direction he was meant to go.
They continued walking down a narrow side street, up a steep hill, and as they went, Sam looked up and saw a huge structure waiting before them: an ancient, pagan Temple. Shaped in an octagon, it was surrounded by Roman columns and covered by a shiny, circular dome. There were eight columns and each took the shape of a different pagan God. Gargoyles stuck out from all corners, and even from here, as they walked straight up towards it, into the blood-red sun, Sam could feel the evil energy coming off this place.
Sam could hardly believe they were back in a time and place where people still actively worshipped pagan gods. The old Sam would have recoiled from this place; but the new Sam looked forward to it. He felt that, behind those walls, were those like him. He couldn’t wait to meet them.
“You are about to meet our leader,” Samantha said to him, in a cold, raspy voice. “I’ve been sent to bring you back home. With us. Where you belong. This will be a great place of welcome and honor for you. The place where you can fulfill your destiny. You’re one of us now, Sam. Your time for searching is over.”
“I know,” he replied, and was surprised to realize how gravelly his own voice had become.
They reached the top of the hill, walked across the wide marble plaza, and up a long flight of marble steps leading to the temple entrance. Standing guard under the portico were a dozen huge vampires, dressed in all black. They wore elaborate velvet cloaks, despite the heat, with a broad red sash crossing over them. They hissed back in greeting, and Sam could see their long fangs protruding. He looked down and saw their hands were irregular: each had only two fingers and a thumb, long and pointy, with nails that stretched for inches and were sharpened to a point. Their skin was stark white, and covered in blisters. These were no normal vampires, he realized. He had reached their capitol: the capitol of darkness.
They reached over, grabbed the large knockers, and yanked open the enormous arched brass doors for them. They opened with a creak, and Samantha walked right in, not even hesitating. Sam followed. As he did, he felt a wind behind them and heard the door slam, just inches behind, locking them in.
Sam found himself in an octagonal room, framed by columns, filled with statues of pagan gods. It was a vast and open space that reminded him of the Pantheon in Rome, except on a smaller scale. Milling about were hundreds of vampires, dressed in black, some of them flying about the room, hovering in the air, but most on the ground, squirming. Among them were female humans, naked, sprawled across the floor. The vampires, Sam could see, were busy feeding on them.
The room was filled with the screams and moans of humans, suffering, trying to get away. But there was nowhere for them to go. It was a bloodbath: hundreds of vampires feeding on hundreds of innocent humans. The entire floor was alive, squirming with victims and victimizers.
On the far side of the room, all along the walls, more humans were chained to the walls, some of them crucified on crosses, others bound to columns. More vampires stood over them, beside them, behind them, whipping them, beating them with straps, and torturing them in all kinds of ways. Their cries punctuated the air, rising even over the cries of the vampires on the ground. Sadistic smiles lit up the faces of all the vampires, busy torturing the humans for sport. While in the past Sam would have recoiled from such a sight, now he enjoyed it. He understood it. Even sympathized. These vampires needed an outlet for their boundless rage and lust, needed something on which to unleash it.