kept walking, heading into the throng, and was soon enveloped by a new crowd. He blended into the never-ending stream of humanity that filled the city. He wasn’t sure which way to go, but he felt new desires overwhelming him. He felt the desire to feed coursing through. He wanted blood. He wanted a fresh kill.
Sam let his senses take over, and felt himself being led down a particular alleyway. As he turned down it, the alley became narrow, darker, higher, shut off from the rest of the city. It was clearly a seedy part of the city, and as he went, the crowd grow more sketchy.
Beggars, drunks and prostitutes filled the streets, and Sam brushed elbows with several roguish, fat men, unshaven, missing teeth, who stumbled by. He made sure he leaned over and bumped shoulders hard with them, sending them flying in every direction. Wisely for them, none stopped to challenge him, other than shouting an indignant: “Hey!”
Sam kept going and soon found himself in a small square. Standing there, in the middle, backs to him, was a circle of about a dozen men, cheering. Sam walked up and pushed his way through to see what they were cheering about.
In the midst of the circle were two roosters, tearing each other apart, covered in blood. Sam looked over and saw the men placing bets, trading ancient coins. Cockfighting. The oldest sport in the world. So many centuries had passed, yet nothing had really changed.
Sam had enough. He was getting antsy, and he felt the need to stir up some havoc. He marched into the center of the ring, right up to the two birds. As he did, the crowd burst into an indignant cry.
Sam ignored them. Instead he reached out, grabbed one of the roosters by its throat, lifted it high and spun it over his head. There was a cracking noise, as he felt it go limp in his hand, its neck broken.
Sam felt his fangs protract, and sunk his teeth into the rooster’s body. He gorged with blood, and it poured out and ran over his face, down his cheeks. Finally, he threw down the bird, unsatisfied. The other rooster scurried away as fast as it could.
The crowd stared at Sam, clearly shocked. But these were rough, crude types, not ones to walk away easily. They scowled back, prepared for a fight.
“You ruined our sport!” one of them snapped.
“You will pay!” another yelled.
Several burly men pulled out short daggers and lunged at Sam, slashing right for him.
Sam hardly flinched. He saw it all happening as if in slow motion. His reflexes a million times faster, he simply reached out, grabbed the man’s wrist in mid-air and twisted it back in the same motion, breaking his arm. Then he leaned back and kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying back to the circle.
As another man approached, Sam lunged forward, towards the man, beating him to it. He got in close, and before the man could react, sank his fangs into the man’s throat. Sam drank deeply, blood squirting everywhere, as the man shrieked in pain. Within moments he drained his life, and the man slumped to the floor, unconscious.
The others stared, terrified. Finally, they must have realized they were in the presence of a monster.
Sam took a step towards them, and they all turned and sprinted away. They disappeared like flies, and in just a moment, Sam was the only one left in the square.
He had beaten them all. But it wasn’t enough for Sam. There was no end to the blood and death and destruction he craved. He wanted to kill every man in this city. Even then, it would not be enough. His lack of satisfaction frustrated him to no end.
He leaned back, face to the sky, and roared. It was the shriek of an animal finally let loose. His cry of anguish soared up, into the air, reverberated off the stone walls of Jerusalem, louder than the bells, louder than the cries for prayer. For just a brief moment, it shook the walls, dominated the entire city – and from end to another, its inhabitants stopped and listened and learned to fear.
In that moment, they knew, a monster was among them.
Chapter Four
Caitlin and Caleb hiked down the steep mountain face, heading towards the village of Nazareth. It was rocky, and they slid more than walked down the steep face, stirring up dust. As they went the terrain began to change, the rock giving way to clumps of weeds, the occasional palm tree, then to real grass. They finally found themselves in an olive grove, walking amidst rows of olive trees, as they continued further down, towards the town.
Caitlin looked closely at the branches and saw thousands of small olives, shimmering in the sun, and marveled at how beautiful they were. The closer they got to the town the more fertile the trees were. Caitlin looked down and from this vantage point had a bird’s eye view of the valley and the town.
A small village nestled amidst enormous valleys, Nazareth could hardly be called a city. There looked to be only a few hundred inhabitants, only a few dozen small buildings, one story high and built of stone. Several of them appeared to be built of a white limestone, and in the distance, Caitlin could see villagers hammering away at the enormous limestone quarries surrounding the city. She could hear the soft ping of their hammers echoing, even from here, and could see the light limestone dust lingering in the air.
Nazareth was encased by a low, winding stone wall, maybe ten feet high, which looked ancient even now. At its center was a wide, open arched gate. No one stood guard at the gate, and Caitlin suspected they had no reason to; after all, this was a small town in the middle of nowhere.
Caitlin found herself wondering why they had awakened in this time and place. Why Nazareth? She thought back and tried to remember what she knew of Nazareth. She vaguely remembered once learning something about it, but she just couldn’t remember. And why the first century? It was such a dramatic leap from Medieval Scotland, and she found herself missing Europe. This new landscape, with its palm trees and desert heat, was so foreign to her. More than anything, Caitlin wondered if Scarlet were behind those walls. She hoped – she prayed – that she was. She needed to find her. She couldn’t rest until she did.
Caitlin walked through the town gate with Caleb and entered with a great sense of anticipation. She could feel her heart pounding at the thought of finding Scarlet – and of figuring out why they had been sent to this place to begin with. Could her Dad be inside, waiting?
As they entered the town, she was struck by the vibrancy of it. The streets were filled with children running, screaming, playing. Dogs ran wild, as did chickens. Sheep and oxen shared the streets, ambling about, and outside every home there was a donkey or camel tied to a post. Villagers walked casually about, wearing primitive tunics and robes, carrying baskets of goods on their shoulders. Caitlin felt as if she’d entered a time machine.
As they walked down the narrow streets, past small houses, past old women washing laundry by hand, people stopped and stared. Caitlin realized they must have looked so out of place walking down these streets. She looked down and noticed her modern clothing – her tight, leather battle outfit – and wondered what these people must have thought of her. They must have thought she was an alien that had dropped down from the sky. She didn’t blame them.
In front of each house was somebody preparing food, selling goods, or working on their craft. They passed several families of carpenters, the man seated outside the home, sawing, hammering, building things from bed frames, to dressers, to wooden axles for plows. Before one house a man was building a huge cross, several feet thick, and ten feet long. Caitlin realized it was a cross meant for someone to be crucified on. She shivered and looked away.
As they turned down another street, the entire block was filled with blacksmiths. Everywhere flew anvils and hammers, and the ping of metal rang throughout
