Suddenly, a thought occurred to Caitlin.
“Have you actually met him?” she asked.
Caleb slowly shook his head.
“No, not up close. Once, I was in the same city, at the same time. And the energy was overwhelming. Unlike anything I’ve felt before.”
Once again, Caitlin was amazed by all the things Caleb had seen, all the times and places he had experienced.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Caleb said. “We need to know what year it is. But the problem is, of course, that no one started counting the years, like we do, until long after Jesus died. After all, our calendar year is based on the year of his birth. And when he lived, no one counted the year based on Jesus’ birth – most people didn’t even know who he was! So if we ask people what year it is, they’ll think we’re crazy.”
Caleb looked around, carefully, as if searching for clues, and Caitlin did, too.
“I do sense that he’s in this time,” Caleb said slowly. “Just not in this place.”
Caitlin examined the village with a new respect.
“But this village,” she said, “it seems so small, so humble. It’s not like a great, biblical city, like I would imagine. It just looks like any other desert town.”
“You’re right,” Caleb answered, “but this is where he lived. It wasn’t some grand place. It was here, among these people.”
They continued walking and finally turned a corner and came to a small square in the center of town. It was a simple little square, around which were small buildings and in the center of which sat a well. Caitlin looked around and spotted a few elderly men sitting in the shade, holding canes, staring at the empty, dusty town square.
They made their way over to the well. Caleb reached out and turned the rusty crank, and slowly the weathered rope pulled up a pail of water.
Caitlin reached out, cupped the cold water with her hands, and splashed her face. It felt so refreshing in the heat. She splashed her face again, then splashed her long hair, running her hands through it. It was dusty and greasy, and the cold water felt like heaven. She’d give anything for a shower. She then leaned over, cupped some more, and drank. Her throat was parched, and it hit the spot. Caleb did the same.
They both finally leaned back, against the well, and surveyed the square. There didn’t seem to be any special buildings, any special markers or clues of where they should go.
“So where now?” she finally asked.
Caleb looked around, squinting into the sun, holding his hands to his eyes. He seemed as at a loss as she.
“I don’t know,” he said flatly. “I’m stumped.”
“In other times and places,” he continued, “it seemed like churches and monasteries always held our clues. But in this time period, there is no church. There is no Christianity. There are no Christians. It was only after Jesus died that people began to create a religion after him. In this time period, there is only religion. Jesus’ religion: Judaism. After all, Jesus was Jewish.”
Caitlin tried to process it all. It was all so complex. If Jesus was Jewish, she figured, that meant he must have prayed in a synagogue. Suddenly, she had a thought.
“So then, maybe the best place to look is the place where Jesus prayed. Maybe we should be looking for a synagogue.”
“I think you’re right,” Caleb said. “After all, the only other religious practice of that time, if you can even call it that, was paganism – the worshipping of idols. And I’m sure Jesus wouldn’t worship in a pagan temple.”
Caitlin looked around the town again, squinting, searching for any building that resembled a synagogue. But she found none. They were all just simple abodes.
“I don’t see anything,” she said. “All the buildings look the same to me. They’re all just small houses.”
“I don’t either,” Caleb said.
There was a long silence, as Caitlin tried to process it all. Her mind raced with possibilities.
“Do you think that my Dad and the shield are somehow connected to all this?” Caitlin asked. “Do you think that going to the places where Jesus was will lead us to my Dad?”
Caleb narrowed his eyes, as he seemed to think for a long time.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “But clearly, your Dad is guarding a very great secret. A secret not just for the vampire race, but for all humanity. A shield, or a weapon, that will change the nature of the entire human race, for all time. It must be very powerful. And it seems to me, that if anyone was meant to help lead us to your father, it would be someone very powerful. Like Jesus. It would make sense to me. Maybe, to find one, we have to find the other. After all, it is your cross that unlocked so many keys to get us here. And nearly all of our clues we found in churches and monasteries.”
Caitlin tried to take it all in. Was it possible that her Dad knew Jesus? Was he one of his disciples? The idea was staggering, and her sense of mystery around him deepened.
She sat there on the well, looking around the sleepy village, stumped. She had no idea where to even begin to look. Nothing at all stood out to her. And even more, she was feeling increasingly desperate to find Scarlet. Yes, she wanted to find her Dad more than ever; she felt the four keys practically burning in her pocket. But she saw no obvious way to use them – and it was hard to even focus on him with thoughts of Scarlet in her mind. The idea that she was all alone out there tore her apart. Who knew if she was even safe?
But then again, she had no idea where to look for Scarlet either. She felt an increasing sense of hopelessness.
Suddenly, a shepherd appeared through the gate, walking slowly into the town square, followed by his flock of sheep. He wore a long white robe and hood covering his head from the sun and headed towards them, holding a staff. At first, Caitlin thought that he was walking right to them. But then she realized: the well. He was merely coming to get something to drink, and they were in the way.
As he walked in, the sheep swarmed all around him, filling the square, all heading for the well. They must have known it was watering time. Within moments, Caitlin and Caleb found themselves in the midst of the flock, the delicate animals nudging them out of the way so they could get to the water. Their impatient bleating filled the air, as they waited for their shepherd to tend to them.
Caitlin and Caleb moved aside as the shepherd approached the well, turning the rusty crank, and slowly raising the pail. As he went to lift it, he pulled back his hood.
Caitlin was surprised to see that he was young. He had a large shock of blond hair, a blonde beard, and bright blue eyes. He smiled, and she could see the sun lines in his face, crinkling around his eyes, and could feel the warmth and kindness radiating off of him.
He took the overflowing pail of water, and, despite the sweat all over his forehead, despite the fact that he appeared thirsty, he turned and poured the first bucket of water into the trough at the base of the well. The sheep crowded in, bleating, muscling each other out of the way as they drank.
Caitlin was overcome by the strangest feeling that perhaps this man knew something, that perhaps he was put in their path for a reason. If Jesus lived in this time, she figured, maybe this man would have heard of him?
Caitlin felt a pang of nervousness, as she cleared her throat.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
The man turned and looked at her, and she felt the intensity in his eyes.
“We are looking for someone. I’m wondering if you might know if he lives here.”
The man narrowed his eyes, and as he did, Caitlin felt as if he were seeing right through her. It was uncanny.
“He lives,” the man replied, as if reading her mind. “But he is in this place no longer.”
Caitlin could hardly believe it. It was true.
“Where has he gone?” Caleb asked. Caitlin heard the intensity in his voice, and could sense how desperately he wanted to know.
The man shifted his gaze to Caleb.
“Why, to the Galilee,” the man responded, as if it were obvious. “To the sea.”
Caleb narrowed his eyes.
“Capernaum?” Caleb asked tentatively.
The man nodded back.
Caleb’s eyes opened wide in recognition.
“There are many followers on the trail,” the man said cryptically. “Seek and ye shall find.”
The shepherd suddenly lowered his head, turned, and began to walk away, the sheep following. Soon, he was heading across the square.
Caitlin could not let him go. Not yet. She had to know more. And she sensed that he was holding something back.
“Wait!” she cried out.
The shepherd stopped and turned, staring at her.
“Do you know my father?” she asked.
To Caitlin’s surprise, the man slowly nodded back.
“Where is he?” Caitlin asked.
“That is for you to find out,” he said. “You are the one who carries the keys.”
“Who is he?” Caitlin asked, desperate to know.
Slowly, the man shook his head.
“I am merely a shepherd on the way.”
“But I don’t even know where to look!” Caitlin responded, desperate. “Please. I have to find him.”
The shepherd slowly broke into a smile.
“Always, the best place to look is right where you are,” he said.
And with that, he covered his head, and turned and crossed the square. He passed through the arched gate, and a moment later, he was gone, his sheep following.
Always the best place to look is where you are.
His words rang through Caitlin’s mind. Somehow, she sensed it was more than just an allegory. The more she dwelled on it, the more she felt that it was literal. As if he were telling her there was a clue right here, where she was.
Caitlin suddenly turned and searched the well, the place they had been sitting. Now, she sensed something.
Always the best place to look is where you are.
She knelt down and ran her hands along the ancient, smooth stone wall. She felt all along it, feeling more and more certain that something was there, that she had been led to a clue.
“What are you doing?” Caleb asked.
Caitlin searched frantically, scanning all the cracks of all the stones, feeling she was onto something.
Finally, halfway around the well, she stopped. She found one crack that was slightly larger than the others. Just large enough to get her finger in. The stone surrounding it was just slightly too smooth, and the crack was just slightly too big.
Caitlin reached in and pried it open. Soon, the stone began to wiggle, then to move. The stone came loose, out of the base of the well. Behind it, she was amazed to see, was a small hiding place.
Caleb came close, huddling over her shoulder, as she reached down into the darkness. She felt something cold and metal in her hand, and pulled it out slowly.
She raised her hand into the light, and slowly opened her palm.
She could not believe what was in it.
Chapter Five
As Scarlet stood there with Ruth, at the end of the dead end, her back to the wall, she watched in fear as the group of bullies set their dog loose on her. Moments later, the huge, wild dog was charging, snarling, aiming right for her throat. It was all happening so fast, Scarlet hardly knew what to do.
Before she could react, Ruth suddenly snarled and charged for the dog. She leapt into the air and met the dog halfway, sinking her fangs into its throat. Ruth landed on top of her, pinning her to the ground. The dog must have been twice Ruth’s size, yet Ruth pinned her effortlessly, not letting her get up. She clamped her fangs down with all she had, and soon, the dog stopped struggling, dead.
“You little bitch!” screamed the lead boy, furious.
He burst out of the pack and charged right for Ruth. He raised a stick, sharpened at one end into a spear point, and brought it down right for Ruth’s exposed back.
Scarlet’s reflexes kicked in, and she burst into action. Without even thinking she sprinted for the boy, reached up and caught his stick in mid-air, right before it hit Ruth. She then pulled him towards her, leaned back and kicked him hard in the ribs.
He keeled over, and she kicked him again, this time in the face with a roundhouse kick. He spun around and landed face-first on the stone.
Ruth turned and charged the group of boys. She leapt high in the air, and sank her fangs into one boy’s throat, pinning him to the ground. That left only three of them.
Scarlet stood there, facing them, and suddenly, a new feeling overtook her. No longer did she feel afraid; no longer did she want to run from these boys; no longer did she want to cower and hide; no longer did she want the protection of her mommy and daddy.
Something snapped inside her as she crossed an invisible line, a tipping point. She felt, for the first time in her life, that she didn’t need anybody. All she needed was herself. Instead of fearing the moment, now, she relished it.
Scarlet felt herself infused with rage, rising from her toes, through her body, all the way to her scalp. It was an electric emotion that she didn’t understand, one she had never experienced before. She no longer wanted to run away from these boys. She didn’t want to let them get away, either.
Now, she wanted vengeance.
As the three boys stood there, staring in shock, Scarlet charged. It all happened so fast, she could barely process it. Her reflexes were so much faster than theirs, as if they were moving in slow motion.
Scarlet leapt into the air, higher than she ever had, and kicked the boy in the center, planting her two feet on his chest. She sent him flying back, like a bullet across the alley, until he smashed into the wall and collapsed.
Before the other two could react, she wheeled and elbowed one in the face, then spun and kicked the other in the solar plexus. They both collapsed, unconscious.
Scarlet stood there, with Ruth, breathing hard. She looked around, and saw all five boys sprawled out around them, not moving. And then, she realized: she was the victor.
She was no longer the Scarlet she once knew.
* * *
Scarlet roamed through the alleyways for hours, Ruth by her side, putting as much distance between herself and those boys as she could. She turned down alleyway after alleyway in the heat, getting lost in the maze of narrow side streets in the old city of Jerusalem. The midday sun beat down on her, and she was beginning to feel delirious from it; she was also feeling delirious from the lack of food and water. She could see Ruth panting hard beside her as they meandered through the crowds, and she could see that she was suffering, too.
A child passed by Ruth and grabbed her back, yanking on her playfully, but too hard. Ruth turned and snapped, snarling and bearing her fangs. The child screamed, cried, and ran away. It was unlike Ruth to behave this way; usually, she was so tolerant. But it seemed the heat and the hunger was getting to her, too. She was also channeling Scarlet’s own rage and frustration.
As much as she tried, Scarlet didn’t know how to turn off her residual feelings of rage. It was as if something inside her had been unleashed, and she couldn’t reign it back in. She felt her veins pumping, the anger pulsing, and as she passed vendor after vendor, displaying all manner of food that she and Ruth could not afford, her anger grew. She was also beginning to realize that what she was experiencing, her intense hunger pains, weren’t just typical hunger. It was something else, she realized. Something deeper, more primal. She didn’t just want food. She wanted blood. She needed to feed.
Scarlet didn’t know what was happening to her, and she didn’t know how to handle it. She smelled a hunk of meat and squeezed her way through the crowd, right up to it, staring. Ruth squeezed in, beside her.
Scarlet elbowed her way right to the front, and as she did, a resentful man in the crowd shoved her back.