Vowed (The Vampire Journals, #7) - Morgan Rice Page 0,66
the Grail,” the vampire said as he walked, his back still to them. “What they seek, of course, is hidden far beneath us. In the lower crypts. The reason they never find it,” he said, stopping before the altar, and facing them, “is because there is no entrance. It was walled off. Centuries ago. And no one knows where to look. Or that it even exists.”
He stared intently at Caitlin.
“Your key will reveal it.”
He nodded at the altar. Caitlin looked, and saw a tall, golden staff, intricately carved, placed squarely in the altar. At first glance, it looked like an ornate candle holder. But as she looked closely, she could see that it was not. It was an ancient staff, shining in the light, with biblical images carved into it. She could see a tiny hole in it, just big enough to hold a key.
The vampire nodded at her again.
“I hope your key is the right one. We only have one chance at this. If the wrong key is inserted, it will destroy the trail forever. Are you sure it is the right one?” Caitlin swallowed hard, feeling sweat break out on her forehead. At Eilean Donan, they had only given her one key. She assumed it must be the right one.
Caitlin nodded. She reached up, and slowly inserted the key into the slot. It fit perfectly.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
She gently turned to the right, and as she did, she suddenly heard a rumbling behind her. The staff before her suddenly sank into the ground, lower and lower, and then a wall slid open behind them.
Caitlin was in shock. An ancient passageway had been revealed, clouds of dust coming out of it, leading into the blackness.
The vampire looked at her and smiled. “Well done,” he said.
He led the way, taking a torch off the wall, and the three of them walked through the opening and down an ancient, stone stairwell, twisting into the blackness.
They finally reached the lowest levels, and continued down a corridor, barely lit by the torch.
Finally, they reached a room.
In it was a single object: a golden stand, on which sat a huge, ancient Bible. The ancient book must have been two feet wide and long, covered in an ornate casing of silver and gold.
The three of them crowded over it. As Caitlin stared, she could feel the scroll heating up in her pocket, and she knew, she just knew, that this was the book from which the page was torn.
Caitlin gently pulled back the heavy pages, surprised at its weight. She turned the pages gingerly, crackling as she went. Each page was thick, and heavy, ancient from years of use, ornately illustrated in all different colors, in drawings all along the edges. The text was in a handwritten scrawl, in ancient Latin. She felt as if she had stepped back into another time.
Caitlin turned and turned, until she reached the middle of the book, and finally, she found it.
The torn page. She reached into her pocket, extracted the rolled up scroll, and carefully lined up the other half of the torn page.
It was a perfect match.
They all crowded in closer.
As the pages came together as one, Caitlin could not believe what she saw. Each page showed one half of an ancient shield, sun rays coming off of it, shining. As she lined the pages up together, Caitlin realized it could be none other than a picture of the ancient vampire shield.
All around the picture were Latin words. As the pages lined up, the sentences were now complete. Words, previously torn in half, now fit together, letters matching each other perfectly.
She turned and looked to Caleb. His eyes open wide as he read.
“It’s a message,” he said, as he scanned the page, reading again and again. “An instruction. It’s telling us where to go next. Our final destination. To find the Holy Grail. The final key. And the ancient shield.”
He stopped and looked at them both, and Caitlin awaited, breathless, her heart pounding.
“It reads: the Grail awaits in Dunnottar.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Blake could not comprehend the sight unfolding before him. It was one thing to see a vampire army approaching. That was shock enough. But it was quite another to see McCleod’s men—the human warriors they had grown to love and to trust—betraying them, attacking them. There was no doubt about it: Blake could see from the scowls on their faces, from the way they were charging, that it was an ambush.
Blake stood on the roof