Then it suddenly hit her. She took a step back, and looked again at the map. She traced her finger along it, along everywhere they had already traveled. And her eyes lit up with excitement.
“A pen,” she said breathlessly. “Quick. I need a pen.”
Caleb ran down the aisle, found a pen in one of the pews, and hurried back.
She began drawing a line on the map of the freedom trail.
“It’s a pattern,” she said. “We’ve been walking a pattern. We started in the Common,” she said, circling it. “Next, we entered the ring of blood,” she said, connecting it with a line, and circling it. “Then, we went to the meeting house,” she connected that with a line, and circled it.
She held it up, showing him.
“Look at where we’ve walked. Look at the pattern.”
He squinted, unsure.
“It’s not finished yet, that’s why you don’t see it. We’ve only walked three points. But a fourth point would complete it.”
She drew a straight line to complete the pattern.
His jaw dropped as he recognized it.
“A cross,” he said quietly. “We were meant to walk in the shape of a cross.”
“Yes,” she said excitedly. “And if we follow the line, if we complete the cross symmetrically, it only leads to one place.”
They both followed the line she drew.
Right there, at that exact spot, at the fourth tip of the cross, lay the King’s Chapel burying ground.
“The ones they loved,” Caleb said. “The burying ground.”
“He’s buried there,” she said.
“And so, I bet, is the sword.”
*
Samantha raced the BMW on the outskirts of Boston, Sam in the passenger seat beside her, heading along the highway towards Salem. She was increasingly annoyed at the growing difficulty in finding his dad. She’d been sure, when she’d seen those Facebook messages, when Sam had told her with such excitement that he’d been in touch with him, that this would be easy. She would just take him to his dad’s house, and from there it would be a direct path to the sword.
But things had gotten complicated. She hadn’t expected to encounter that creep, and most of all, hadn’t expected to develop any feelings for Sam. It was complicating things. Making her less sharp. Her original plan had been so simple: find his dad, kill them both, and return with the sword. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to kill Sam at all. Especially as she looked over at him, and saw that fresh scar on his cheek, the reminder of how he’d tried to save her.
More than anything, she was mad at herself for that, mad at her lack of discipline. She hated feelings. They always got in the way.
After she’d seen his watch, after he’d given her the lead to Salem, she could have easily cut him loose. But for some weird reason, she wanted him around. She didn’t quite understand why. She’d told him she needed his help, for something important to her, and that they’d need to go to Salem. Was he game? He’d broke into a big smile. This was clearly a kid who didn’t care about going back to school.
Besides, she could still use him to find his dad. That had been a lucky break with the watch. But Salem was a big place. And that inscription could mean anything. Having him around might actually come in handy.
Suddenly, she sensed something, and slammed on the brakes. Their car screeched to a stop in the middle of the highway.
“Whoa,” Sam said, slamming his palms on the dash. “What’s the deal?”
Several cars screeched to a stop behind them, leaning on their horns.
But Samantha didn’t care. She had felt something in the air. A vibration.
She sat there and raised her chin. Sensing.
Yes. There it was again. So close. The signal was unmistakable. There was important vampire activity. Right here in Boston. The vibration of it coursed through her veins. It was so close. She felt an urgency. Maybe, even, something to do with the sword itself.
She suddenly peeled out of traffic, made a sharp U-turn. All the traffic on both sides of the highway screeched to a halt, as she sped down the opposite side of Storrow Drive.
Sam was thrown against the side of the door, as he tried to get his bearings.
“What’s the rush?” he asked, surprised, and a bit scared.
Samantha drove another few hundred yards, then made a sharp left, screeching and cutting off four lanes of traffic.
“Change of plans,” she said.
*
Kyle jumped off the yacht before it even docked, and landed nimbly on the Boston cobblestone. The Russian soon landed beside him.
He had thought of killing the Russian on the boat ride over, many times, but while it would make him temporarily happy, it wouldn’t get him what he needed. So he decided to give him one last chance, to see if he could, this time, point him in the right direction.
If the Russian was clueless in Boston, then he would kill him for sure. And then just find another way. Kyle looked over at him impatiently.
At least the boy still had that big wound on his cheek. Kyle was sure it would leave a nice, big scar. The thought of it made him happy.
Luckily for the Russian, his eyes lit up, and he pointed.
“She is definitely here, my master,” he said, excitedly. “I sense her. Strongly. Only blocks away.”
Kyle broke into a grin. This time, it seemed real. Yes, he believed him. Blocks away. He loved the sound of that.
Kyle approached a shiny, new Towncar, its driver standing beside the open door.
As they approached, the Russian opened the passenger door and got in.
“Hey!” yelled the driver.
But before he could react, Kyle, with one strong punch, had knocked him back several feet in the air. Without even slowing, Kyle got into the driver’s side, and with the car already running, peeled out.
Kyle raced through the Boston traffic, veering for the fun of it and slamming hard into a car as he went. Horns began to blare all around him. He smiled widely. It made him feel just a little bit better.
Within moments, he knew, that sword would be his.
And then he would kill them all.
TWENTY NINE
As Caitlin and Caleb left the Meeting House, turning onto School Street, the King’s Chapel Burying Ground came into view. It was only two short blocks away, and a direct, straight walk.
The fourth tip of the cross, Caitlin thought. It all makes perfect sense.
As they walked, she marveled at the fact that they had walked, this entire time, in the shape of a cross, as if they had been led by some invisible hand.