“We only meant to stopover for a couple of days. I’m flattered you want us to stay, and we will miss you, but the open road is our home and we must be on our way.”
“How can the road be anyone’s home?” I asked stubbornly.
“I wish there were a good way to explain this to you, Alyssa. It is hard to appreciate, but traveling is what keeps us going. Life cannot stagnate if you are always on the move.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re quite young still, and do not yet know the weight of the years,” said Rozaline. “We travel to keep moving with time, and experience all the changes of the world. Eternity is a very long time. How long will it be before you too tire of just existing, before you bore yourself with the daily grind of hunting and sleeping in this city?”
I had never given thought to eternity and how long it was. Immortality was still a vague concept to me. If that was the case, why didn’t Lysander travel like the Peregrinus?
“Alyssa, every immortal must find their own way in this world. Ours is the way of the road. You’ll find yours in time.”
I wondered if I would ever get used to having my mind read so easily. It took so much energy to close my thoughts. I didn’t bother at most times.
Rozaline’s words didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t understand how the years had weight.
“The first couple hundred years might slip by before you realize the full weight of eternity, Alyssa. Life can get boring very quickly if you do not take opportunities to experience all you can. Boredom has led to the suicide of many an immortal. They lose the spark of life that keeps us going.”
I remembered Lysander’s history lesson. He too talked of once wanting to end it all, to give in to eternal sleep. It seemed writing was what kept him alive, just as travel kept the Peregrinus going.
“The world is constantly changing,” Rozaline added. “Through our travels, we get to watch those changes unfold.”
I knew there was nothing I could do to convince them to stay any longer. I retreated to the loveseat in the living room. Depression washed through me. I wasn’t ready for them to leave, and a small part of me wanted to go with them. I’d hardly gotten over the loss of my mortal friends. The Peregrinus had kept me busy, teaching me and training me, leaving me no time to dwell on the things and people I’d lost. Now that they too would be going, I would have no distractions to prevent me from dwelling on my losses.
Ten o’clock came and I heard the familiar
Action News
theme music playing on the TV. News anchors began teasing the top stories of the night. Nicholas walked into the room and took his usual spot on the couch.
He had a fascination with the news, and since the arrival of the Peregrinus, the news was everywhere in our house. Papers were strewn about the living room: small press journals, large city newspapers, and sometimes even a tabloid or two could be found stuffed into the couch cushion. I was tired of hearing random stories of murders, car accidents, stock market reports, and the housing boom, so I paid no real attention.
I sat back on the loveseat, daydreaming about traveling and seeing new places with the clan.
I wonder if I could convince Lysander to travel, for a vacation or something small, just some-thing to get us out to see some new sights. We could easily make it to the beach in his SUV.
Something was said that caught Nicholas’s attention. I saw him quickly grab the TV remote. He upped the volume, drowning out the sounds of the rest of the house. The Authoritative voice of the female news reporter stole my focus from daydreaming.
“…will be welcoming these visitors as they tour local parishes in the city. Quentin Kagan, a spokesperson from the Vatican, has been working with local parishes to...”
“They’re here,” Nicholas growled.
Lysander came into the room with a concerned look on his face. “Who’s here?”
“The Saints,” Nicholas growled again, as he threw down the remote control.
I sank into the loveseat. Fears of the Saints breaking in through the windows, exposing us to daylight, filled my mind.
“Are we sure it is the Saints, the real Acta Sanctorum—not just a bishop or a cardinal here for some feast day or church opening?” Lysander asked, a note of concern in his voice.
“They said Quentin Kagan. He’s Santino’s handler. It wouldn’t matter if they hadn’t said his name. Think about it, Lysander. Why would Rome choose to send any visitors from the Vatican to Vegas? Sin City has never before deserved their attention. Why now?”
Drew entered the room. “Did I just hear you say the Saints are here?”
“How many times am I going to have to repeat myself? Yes, they’re here,” Nicholas replied. “You can thank Kallisto for that. She’s drawn too much attention to that coven of hers.”
“If you’re right,” Rozaline said, “we must be extra careful not to make the same mistake our-selves.”
“No! What we need to do is leave. Now,” Nicholas said.
My heart sped up, beating frantically against my chest. I agreed with Nicholas. I wanted to get the hell out of this city, now. I didn’t want to end up a victim of the Acta Sanctorum.
Lysander took a spot next to me on the loveseat, placing his hand on my knee, a gesture I assumed was meant to comfort me. “Let’s not jump to conclusions too quickly—”
Nicholas interrupted. “Do you want to take a risk that I’m wrong? You want to be a sitting duck when they attack?”
“If they are here, they are here for Kallisto,” Lysander said calmly. “And that takes care of any problems I’ve had with her.”
“Lysander, you know it is not wise to be in the city when they are actively hunting,” Rozaline protested. “Any suspicious activity will come under great scrutiny now.”
“If Kallisto knows of you, then the Saints will find you,” Nicholas said coldly.
“Nicholas is right,” Drew said with a heavy sigh. “Lysander, is it really worth waiting to see if they attack you?”
“You all make a strong argument,” Lysander said.
“Travel with us,” urged Rozaline. “It would do you good to get out of the city for a little while.”
“Can we go with them?” I pleaded. I wanted nothing to do with the Saints. If they were here, I wanted to be far away. I was sold on the idea of travel before Lysander had even begun to think about it. The Saints threat was a perfect excuse to get Lysander to go.
“Lysander, you know you must go with us,” Rozaline urged.
“There is no use risking yourself and Alyssa,” Nicholas added.
“We can make room for you in our vehicle,” Drew said.
Lysander nodded slowly. “You are right, for the safety of all, it is best we leave. At least until this threat is over.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
I wanted to go immediately, but preparations had to be made before we left.
The clan was told to start packing as soon as they returned from their evening’s hunt. Crystal and Damon rushed to start packing the RV as soon as they arrived at the house, while I helped Lysander secure all of his prized books and writings. He couldn’t bear to be away from them and refused to leave them, in case the house was attacked.
While packing them into a box, I noticed the book that Lysander had recently been writing in.
I opened it, scanning the pages and admiring the various sketches. I saw drawings of vampires I recognized. Members of the Peregrinus had pages dedicated to them. I smiled, finding pages for Nicholas, Rozaline, Crystal, and Drew.
As I flipped further into the book, I noticed a frightening sketch of a grizzled older man. Sur-rounded by a lion’s mane of salt-and-pepper hair, his face was ugly and horribly scarred. The man seemed to stare me down from the page as if he would jump out and grab me. There was a note written under the picture.
Santino Vitale. First among the Holy Damned
.
Lysander walked into the room as I stared at the sketch. “Ah, I see you found the Saint.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
He jabbed his finger at the picture. “He is the reason the Acta Sanctorum has become so powerful.”
“One man? How does one man strike so much fear into the hearts of immortals?”
“Do you remember Rozaline mentioning that Rome wanted to fight us on our own level?”
I nodded.
“He is how they did it. He is the first Acta Sanctorum hunter. A vampire like us, and a cold-blooded killer.”
“But why does he kill his own kind? How did the Acta Sanctorum convince a vampire to turn on his own kind?”
“They own him. He’s their attack dog. They granted him his immortality.”
That didn’t make any sense. “How did the Church give him immortality?”
Lysander stared at the ceiling for a moment, as if trying to recall a memory.
“I’m not quite sure of all the details, but I’ve been told the Acta Sanctorum had been mildly successful in taking on small covens. But they struggled to find new ways to eradicate our kind. The casualties of fighting a war with immortal creatures, the Unnatural as they called us, left their ranks depleted of willing soldiers. They decided to try to level the playing field.”
Lysander took the book away from me; he stared at the picture for a moment before turning the page. “No one knows his mortal name. He’s been Santino since he first appeared with the Acta Sanctorum. What I do know of his mortal life is that he was a mercenary, and quite an accomplished killer. He loved war and fighting. It didn’t matter who he fought as long as the price was right. Eventually, as happens to all mortals, he aged. He lost his strength and ability to fight. Illness took hold of him. His time drew to an end, as it does with all men. Legend says that at his last rites, a priest made him an offer: a cure for his illness and age.”
“Immortality,” I gasped the words.
“Yes. In exchange for his service as a soldier of the Acta Sanctorum, they would make him immortal.”
“But how is that possible? You turned me by feeding me your blood.”
“Somehow, they managed to entomb a vampire. No one knows how they did it. Maybe they killed the vampire and drained him, or they convinced the poor vampire to do it willingly. However it happened, Santino was turned and dubbed their new immortal soldier. He heads up the team of hunters that has raided covens all across Europe.”
“Teams? There are more than one?” My mouth hung open at this fresh disturbing news. A shiver danced down my spine. I dropped the book into the box next to me.
“Careful with that book,” Lysander snapped. “I don’t know how many are out there. I’ve been told he has sired at least two others in the last hundred years, but there could be many more.”
I shuddered. I now had a face to put to my nightmares of the Saints.
Lysander put his hand on my shoulder. “They are ruthless killers and expert hunters. When the main force of the Acta Sanctorum raids a coven house, he and his disciples wait and hunt down those that try to escape.”
“So the Acta Sanctorum controls him?” I asked. “There is no reasoning with him?”
“They have him so brainwashed that he will do anything they ask of him,” Lysander said scorn-fully. “He thinks he will be granted pardon for all his earthly sins once he destroys the last of our kind. They have told him that when it is over, he will be welcomed into Heaven.”
“Doesn’t he see that he is one of us? That he is our kind and is no better than we are?”
Lysander shook his head and sighed. “He doesn’t associate himself with us. To him, we are all monsters to be put down, and he is working God’s will by destroying us.”
“Won’t the Church just destroy him when they are all done?”
“Of course.” Lysander laughed. “But he won’t listen to that blasphemy. He will not listen to reason. He only listens to the Acta Sanctorum and its leaders in Rome.”
“You sound like you have dealt with him before.”
Lysander’s face contorted into a grimace. “I’ve escaped him on a few occasions, yes. He’s grown quite strong, feeding off the blood of other immortals. He is quite a force to be reckoned with. If Nicholas is correct and he knows of my home or learns of it through his dealing with Kallisto, we will not be safe. The Acta Sanctorum will attack by day, and those that survive will be hunted down by nightfall.”
“So shouldn’t we leave now?” I asked, tossing a few more things into the box.
“My guess is they will go after the main coven first. That is the big target. We should have a few days before they attack the smaller locations. But, to be safe, we will leave at dusk tomorrow. Now, let’s finish getting packed.”
The urgency brought on by the threat of the Acta Sanctorum’s presence could be felt all over the house. We managed to pack everything we needed in only a few short hours, leaving no real time for me to hunt.
Hunger would be a problem. I needed blood more frequently than the older ones. Most of the clan had already gone out to hunt for the night, and those that had returned didn’t wish to risk another outing.
“Will you hunt with me tonight, Lysander?” I asked sweetly. I wanted him to go with me. The new threat of the Saints made me feel like enemies were all around.
He and Nicholas were busy planning a safe spot to retreat to. He barely took his eyes away from the map on the dining room table. “Please try to find someone else to go with you tonight.”
“Everyone has already gone for the night,” I whined.
“I’m sorry, Alyssa,” he said. “There is still much to do.”
I sat sulking out on the front porch when Jessie arrived. She’d been away most of this evening, as usual, and seemed unaware of the situation with the Acta Sanctorum. She was my last hope for a hunting partner.
Thankfully, and much to my surprise, she jumped at the idea of going out again. She smiled and eagerly offered to take me out. “I’ve got the perfect spot to take you, Lyss,” she said happily. “You’re going to die when you see this place.”
CHAPTER 20
* * * * *
We drove Lysander’s Jeep toward Downtown. Jessie seemed excited about our hunt, but re-fused to tell me exactly where we were going, saying only that it would be “unforgettable.”
I mentioned the threat of the Acta Sanctorum, and she didn’t seem to be concerned at all, unlike the rest of the coven.