Betrayed
Authors: Morgan Rice
betrayed
(book #3 in the Vampire Journals)
morgan rice
Also by Morgan Rice
TURNED (Book #1 in the Vampire Journals)
LOVED (Book #2 in the Vampire Journals)
DESTINED (Book #4 in the Vampire Journals)
DESIRED (Book #5 in the Vampire Journals)
Copyright © 2011 by Morgan Rice
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table Of Contents
FIVE
FACT:
60 miles north of Manhattan, there exists a small, obscure island in the Hudson River on which sits a crumbling Scottish castle. This island is known as Pollepel, and was named after a young girl, Polly, who hundreds of years ago, was stranded on the ice of the Hudson and ended up on its shores. Legend has it she was romantically rescued by her sweetheart, who married her on the island.
“Threescore and ten I can remember well,
Within the volume of which time I have seen
Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.”
--William Shakespeare,
Macbeth
ONE
Pollepel Island, Hudson River, New York
(Present Day)
“Caitlin?” came the soft voice. “Caitlin?”
Caitlin Paine heard the voice, and struggled to open her eyes. They were so heavy, though; no matter how much she tried, she could barely lift them. Finally, she managed to pry them open, just for a brief second, to see where the voice was coming from.
Caleb.
He was kneeling by her side, holding her hand in both of his, concern etched across his face.
“Caitlin?” he asked again.
She tried to get her bearings, to lift the immense cobwebs from her head. Where was she? She could see enough to see that this room was bare, made of stone. It was nighttime, and a large window let in the light of a full moon. Stone floors, stone walls, an arched, stone ceiling. The stone looked smooth and ancient. Was she in a medieval cloister?
Aside from the moonlight, the room was lit only by a small torch, fixed to the far wall, and not giving off much light. It was too dark to see more.
She tried to focus on Caleb’s face, so close, only a foot away, staring at her hopefully. His eyes seemed to light up, as he squeezed her hand tighter. His hands felt warm. Hers were so cold. She couldn’t feel the life in them.
Despite her efforts, Caitlin couldn’t hold her eyes open a second longer. They were just too heavy. She felt…
sick
was not the word. She felt…
heavy
. She felt free-floating, as if she were in limbo, stuck between two worlds. She didn’t feel connected to her body, didn’t feel like a part of the earth anymore. But she didn’t feel dead, either. She felt as if she were trying to awaken from a very, very deep sleep.
She struggled to remember. Boston…the King’s Chapel…the sword. And then…getting stabbed. Lying there, dying. And Caleb at her side. And then…his fangs. Approaching her.
Caitlin felt a dull, throbbing pain on the side of her throat. It must have been from where she’d been bit. She had asked for it—had
pleaded
for it.
But the way she felt now, she was not sure she should have. She didn’t feel right. She felt an icy, cold blood racing through her veins. She felt as if she had died, but had not taken the next step. As if she were stuck.
More than anything, she felt pain. A dull, throbbing pain in her lower right side, and in her stomach. It must be from where she’d been stabbed.
“What you are going through is normal,” Caleb said softly. “Don’t be afraid. We all go through it when we are first turned. It will get better. I promise you. The pain will go away.”
She wanted to smile, to reach up and caress his face. The sound of his voice made everything perfect in the world. It made all of this worth it. She would be with him forever, now, and that gave her hope.
But she was too tired. Her body was not responding to what her brain wanted. She couldn’t get her lips to smile, and she couldn’t summon the strength to lift her hand. She felt herself drifting back into sleep…
Suddenly, her thoughts shifted again, jolting her awake. The Sword…it was lying there, and then…stolen. Who had it now?
And then she remembered her brother, Sam. Unconscious. Then, taken away by that vampire. What had happened to him? Was he safe?
And Caleb. Why was he here? He should be pursuing the Sword. Stopping them. Was he here only for her sake? Was he sacrificing it all to stay at her side?
Question after question raced through her mind.
She summoned every ounce of strength she had, and opened her lips just the slightest bit.
“The Sword,” she managed to say, her throat so dry it hurt to speak. “You must go…” she added. “You must save…”
“Shhh,” Caleb said. “Just rest.”
She wanted to say more. So much more. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him. How grateful she was. How she hoped that he would never leave her side.
But it would have to wait. A new wave of fuzziness washed over her, and her lips simply would not open again. Despite herself, she found herself sinking, sinking, reeling back into the blackness, back into her state of immortal sleep.
TWO
As Kyle flew over northern Manhattan, he had never felt so elated. Behind him flew Sergei, his obedient soldier, and behind him, hundreds of vampires that had joined them along the way. Kyle now held the fabled Sword in his belt, and nothing more need be said. Malevolent vampires all along the East Coast had already heard the news, and as Kyle flew over, many covens were eager to join him. They knew war was coming, and Kyle’s reputation preceded him. These mercenary vampires knew that, wherever he was going, he would be up to no good. And they wanted to be a part of it.
Kyle felt the thrill of the growing army behind him, and felt another surge of confidence as he flew over the city. Sergei had done well in grabbing the Sword and stabbing that girl, Caitlin. In fact, Kyle had been surprised. He’d never imagined Sergei had it in him. He had underestimated him, and as a reward, he’d decided to keep him alive, realizing that he’d make a good sidekick. He was especially impressed that Sergei had dutifully handed him the Sword immediately after leaving the King’s Chapel. Yes, Sergei knew his place. If he kept this up, Kyle might even promote him, might even give him a small legion of his own. Kyle hated most things about most people, but the one thing he appreciated was loyalty.
Especially after what his people, the Blacktide Coven, had done to him. After thousands of years of loyalty, Rexius, their supreme leader, had cast Kyle out as if he were nothing, as if his thousands of years of service had meant nothing. All for one little mistake. It was unthinkable.
Kyle’s plan had worked perfectly. Now he wielded the Sword, and nothing—absolutely nothing—would get in his way. War with the human race, and with the other vampire races, would soon be his to wage.
As Kyle continued downtown, now over Harlem, he dipped closer to the ground, using his vampire vision to zoom in on the details below. He grinned wider.
His spreading of the Bubonic Plague has really worked. Pandemonium and chaos ruled. Those pathetic little humans were scrambling every which way, racing their cars the wrong way down one-way streets, arguing with each other, looting stores. He could see that most humans were covered in the horrible sores indicative of the plague. He could also see the corpses, already piled high on nearly every street corner. It was Armageddon down there. And nothing made him happier.
It would only be a matter of days until every human in the city fell. At that point, Kyle and his men could easily wipe out the rest of them. They would feed as they had never fed before. And then would enslave the rest of the human race.
The only small obstacle that remained in his way was the White Coven, those pathetic vampires who fed only on animals, who thought they were better than everyone else. Yes, they would try. But they would be no match for the Sword. When he finished with the humans, he would wipe them out next.
First, and most importantly, he would take back his place in his own coven. And he would do it brutally. Rexius had made a grave mistake in punishing him, Kyle thought, as he reached up and felt the hardening scars all along the side of his face, his horrible fate, his punishment for letting Caitlin slip away. Rexius would pay for each and every one of Kyle’s scars. Rexius was powerful, but now, with the Sword, Kyle’s power was even greater. Kyle would not rest until Rexius lay dead, at his own hand, and until he himself was declared the new supreme leader.
Kyle smiled wide at the thought. Supreme leader. After all these thousands of years. It was what he deserved. It was his destiny.
Kyle and his men flew and flew, over Central Park, over Midtown, over Union Square, over Greenwich Village…and finally, they reached City Hall Park.
Kyle descended gracefully, landing on his feet, and the flock of now hundreds of vampires landed behind him. Kyle’s army had grown beyond belief. What a way to return, he thought.
Kyle was about to head to the gates of City Hall, to crash down its door and begin his war, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Something that bothered him.
Kyle used his vision to zoom in over several blocks, and to look closely at the pandemonium in front of the Brooklyn Bridge. Hundreds of cars were stuck in traffic, jammed up against each other, backlogged in front of the bridge. All wanting to get out.
But the bridge was cordoned off. Blocking the way were several military tanks and trucks, on top of which sat dozens of soldiers, machine guns aimed at the crowd. Clearly, no humans were being allowed off the island of Manhattan. The military must not have wanted the plague to spread. They had probably locked down all the bridges and tunnels.
On the one hand, that was exactly what Kyle had wanted: it made life easier, since all the humans would be trapped in Manhattan, and he could kill them all more easily.
But on the other hand, now that he actually saw it with his own eyes, it made his stomach turn. He hated authority—of any kind. And that included the military. He almost sympathized with the masses of humans, clamoring to get off the island. They were being stopped by authority figures. Kyle’s veins burned at the thought.
At the same time, a new idea came to him. Why not let some humans off the island? In fact, that would only serve his purpose. They would spread the plague further. To Brooklyn, to start. Yes, that could be very convenient indeed.
Kyle suddenly lifted back into the air, flying towards the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. Immediately, the hundreds of vampires followed him, on his heels.
Good, he thought. They were loyal and obedient, and they didn’t ask questions. This would be a very convenient army indeed.
Kyle landed at the base of the Brooklyn Bridge, setting down on the hood of a car, and the hundreds of vampires landed on cars behind him, the sound of their boots click-clacking as they touched down.
Car horns suddenly flared up. It seemed the humans didn’t like people walking on their cars.
A new rage washed over Kyle, as he thought of the ingratitude of these pathetic humans, blaring their horns as he had come to help them.