Vowed (The Vampire Journals, #7) - Morgan Rice Page 0,11

where she stood, on her feelings for Sam. Maybe it was because Polly was more guarded. Or maybe it was because this time, Polly truly cared. Caitlin could sense, deep down, that Sam meant the world to her, and that she was being extra careful not to disclose her feelings, or mess it up. Caitlin did notice that every once in a while, when Sam looked away, Polly stole a quick glance back at him. But then she quickly averted her eyes, so that Sam wouldn’t catch her looking.

Caitlin felt, beyond a doubt, that her brother and her best friend were about to become a couple.

The idea of it thrilled her. And it amused her that both of them were still in denial of what was happening between them—and even trying to pretend that it wasn’t.

The table was also filled with new human friends, and Caitlin met so many people who she felt close to. They were all warriors. The king sat at the head, surrounded by his dozens of knights.

Throughout the afternoon, they all sang drinking songs, and laughed aloud as they recounted stories of battle, of hunting expeditions. Caitlin could tell that these Scottish people were warm, friendly, hospitable, loved to drink, and were great raconteurs. And yet they were also very noble and proud, and great warriors.

The meal and stories went on for hours, as lunch extended into late afternoon. Torches died out and were re-lit. Dozens of new logs were added to the massive, stone fireplace; huge vats of wine were replaced. Eventually, all the dogs tired out, feel asleep on the rugs. Scarlet finally feel asleep on Caitlin’s lap, while Ruth curled up beside Scarlet. Ruth had been well-fed, thanks to Scarlet, who’d fed her a never-ending supply of meat. A dozen dogs were seated around the table, begging for scraps, but they all had the good sense to steer clear of Ruth. And Ruth, content, didn’t seem interested in messing with them, either.

Some of the warriors, gutted from food and drink, eventually nodded off on their furs, too.

Caitlin found herself drifting off, turning her mind to other times and places, other matters. She started to wonder what her next clue would be; if her Dad would be in this place and time; where her next journey would take her. Her eyes started to close, when suddenly, she heard her name.

It was the king, McCleod, addressing her over the din.

“And what do you think, Caitlin?” he asked again.

As he did, the jovial table slowly began to quiet, as people turned and looked her way.

Caitlin felt embarrassed, not having been listening to the conversation. The king looked at her, as if awaiting an answer. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“What do you think of the Holy Grail?” he asked again.

The Holy Grail? Caitlin wondered. Was that what they had been talking about?

She had no idea. She had not been thinking of the Holy Grail at all, and hardly even knew what it was. She wished now that she had been listening to their conversation. She tried to remember what it was, and thought back to childhood fairytales, to myths and legends. To the stories of King Arthur. Excalibur. The Holy Grail…

Slowly, it was coming back to her. If she recalled correctly, the Holy Grail was rumored to be a chalice or goblet, rumored to hold a special liquid….Yes, now it was coming back to her. Some people had said that the Holy Grail held the blood of Christ, that drinking it would make you immortal. If she remembered correctly, the knights had spent hundreds of years searching for it, had risked their lives trying to find it, to the ends of the earth. And no one ever had.

“Do you think it will ever be found?” McCleod asked again.

Caitlin cleared her throat, the entire table looking to her for an answer.

“Um…” she began, “I haven’t really thought about it,” she answered. “But if it really exists…then I don’t see why it can’t be found.”

There was a small roar of approval at the table.

“You see,” McCleod said to one of his knights. “She is an optimist. I, too, think it will be found.”

“An old wives’ tale,” said a knight.

“And what will you do when you find it?” asked another knight. “That’s the real question.”

“Why, I shall make myself immortal,” the king answered, breaking into a hearty laugh.

“You don’t need the Holy Grail for that,” said another knight. “All you need is to be turned.” A tense silence suddenly