Vowed (The Vampire Journals, #7) - Morgan Rice Page 0,12

fell around the table. Clearly, this knight had overspoke, had crossed a line and mentioned something taboo. He lowered his head in shame, recognizing his mistake.

Caitlin saw McCleod’s sudden, dark expression, and in that moment, she realized that he desperately wanted to be turned. And that he sorely resented Aiden’s coven for not obliging him.

Clearly, this knight had raised a sore point, the one point of tension between the two races.

“And what is it like?” the king asked aloud, directing his question to Caitlin, for some reason.

“Immortality?”

Caitlin wondered why he’d had to ask her, of all the vampires in the room. Couldn’t he have picked someone else?

She thought about that. What was it like? What could she possibly say? On the one hand, she loved immortality, loved living in all these times and places, seeing her family and friends again and again, in each new time and place. On the other hand, some parts of her still wished she had a normal, simple life, wished that there was a normal arc to things. Most of all, she found herself surprised at how brief immortality seemed: on the one hand, it felt like life forever—but on the other hand, it still always felt to her like there was never enough time.

“It doesn’t feel as permanent as you might imagine.”

The rest of the table nodded in approval at her response.

McCleod suddenly rose from his chair. As he did, all the others rose at attention.

Just as Caitlin was turning over the odd exchange in her head, wondering if she had upset him, she suddenly felt his presence behind her. She turned, and he was standing over her.

“You are wise beyond your years,” he said. “Come with me. And bring your friends. I have something to show you. Something that has been waiting for you a very long time.” Caitlin was surprised. She had no idea what it might be.

McCleod turned and strutted out the hall, and Caitlin and Caleb rose, followed by Sam and Polly, and followed him. They looked at each other in wonder.

They crossed the large, stone floor, following the king through the enormous chamber and out a side door, as the knights around the table slowly sat back down and resumed their meal.

McCleod walked in silence, strutting down a narrow, torch-lit hall, with Caitlin, Caleb, Sam and Polly following. The ancient stone halls twisted and turned, leading them to a staircase.

McCleod took a torch off the wall and led the way down the darkened staircase, into seeming blackness. As they walked, Caitlin began to wonder where exactly, he was leading them. What could he possibly have to show them? An ancient weapon of some sort?

Finally, they reached a subterranean level, well lit by torches, and Caitlin was amazed at the sight.

The low, arched ceiling glittered, plated in gold. Caitlin could see illustrated images of Christ, Knights, scenes from the Bible, mixed with various odd signs and symbols. The floor was an ancient, well-worn stone, and Caitlin couldn’t help but feel as if they’d entered a secret treasure chamber.

Caitlin’s heart began to beat faster, as she sensed something important awaiting them. She strutted faster, hurrying to catch up to the King.

“The treasury vault of the McCleod clan for a thousand years. It is down here where we hold our most sacred treasure, weapons and possessions. But there is one possession which is more valuable, more sacred, than all of them.”

He stopped and turned to her.

“It is a treasure we have been saving just for you.”

He turned and lifted a torch off a side wall, and as he did, a hidden door in the wall suddenly opened up in the stone. Caitlin was amazed: she would have had no idea it was there.

McCleod turned and led them down another twisting corridor. Finally, they came to a stop in a small alcove area. Before them was a throne, on which sat a lone object: a small, jeweled treasure chest. Torchlight flickered over it, illuminating it, and McCleod gingerly reached down and picked it up.

Slowly, he lifted the lid. Caitlin could not believe it.

There, inside the chest, sat a single piece of ancient parchment, a faded, antique color, wrinkled and torn in half. It was covered in ancient handwriting, in a delicate script, in a language Caitlin did not recognize. Along its edges were multi-colored letters, drawings and symbols, and in its center was a drawing, semi-circular. But given that it was torn in half, Caitlin could not make out what it was