Turned (Book 1 in the Vampire Journals) by Morgan Rice by Morgan Rice Page A

say.
    “I will begin. My name is Kyle. I am Deputy Leader of the Blacktide Coven,” he paused. “Your turn.”
    “I don’t know what you want from me,” Caitlin answered.
    “To start with, your coven. Who do you belong to?”
    Caitlin wracked her brain, trying to figure out if she had lost her mind. Was she imagining all of this? She thought she must be stuck in some sort of sick dream. But she felt the very real cold steel on her wrists and ankles, and knew she was not. She had no idea what to tell this man. What was he talking about? Coven? As in…vampire?
    “I don’t belong to anyone,” she said.
    He stared for a long while, then slowly shook his head.
     “As you wish. We have dealt with rogue vampires before. It’s always the same: they come to test us. To see how secure our territory is. After that, more follow. That’s how territory shifts begin.
    “But you see, they never get away with it. Ours is the oldest strongest and coven in this land. No one kills here and gets away with it.
    “So I ask again: who sent you? When do they plan to invade?”
    Territory? Invasions? Caitlin couldn’t understand how she was not dreaming. Maybe she had been slipped some sort of drug. Maybe Jonah had slipped her something. But she didn’t drink. And she never did drugs. She was not dreaming. This was real. Too awfully, incredibly real.
    She could’ve just dismissed them as a group of completely crazy people, as some weird cult or society that was completely delusional. But after all that had happened in the last 48 hours, she actually found herself thinking twice. Her own strength. Her own behavior. The way she felt her body changing. Could vampires be true? Was she one of them? Had she stumbled into the middle of some kind of vampire war? That would be just her luck.
    Caitlin stared back, thinking. Had she really killed someone? Who? She couldn’t remember, but she had this awful feeling that what he said was true. That she had killed someone. That, more than anything, made her feel terrible. She felt an awful feeling of pity and regret wash over her. If it was true, she was a murderer. She could never live that down.
    She stared back at him.
    “I wasn’t sent by anyone,” she said, finally. “I don’t remember exactly what I did. But whatever I did, I did it on my own. I don’t really know why I did it. I’m really sorry for whatever I did,” she said. “I didn’t mean it.”
    Kyle turned and looked at the others. They looked back at him. He shook his head, and turned back to her. His glare turned cold and hard.
    “You take me for a fool, I see. Not wise.”
    Kyle gestured to his subordinates, and they hurried over and uncuffed her chains. She felt her arms drop, and was relieved to have the blood flow back to her wrists. They uncuffed her ankles next. Four of them, two on one each side, got a tight grip on her arms and shoulders.
    “If you won’t answer to me,” Kyle said, “then you will answer to the Assembly. Just remember, you have chosen this. They will show no mercy, as I may have done.”
    As they led her away, Kyle added, “Make no mistake, you will be killed either way. But my way would have been quick and painless. Now you will see what suffering is.”
    Caitlin tried to resist as they dragged her forward. But it was useless. They were leading her somewhere, and there was nothing she could do but embrace her fate.
    And pray.
    *
    When they opened the oak door, Caitlin could not believe her eyes. The room was enormous. Shaped in a huge circle, it was lined with hundred-foot-tall stone columns, ornately decorated. It was well lit, torches placed every 5 feet, all throughout the room. It looked like the Pantheon. It looked ancient.
    As she was led in, the next thing she noticed was the noise. It was a huge crowd. She looked around and saw hundreds, if not thousands, of men and women dressed in black, moving quickly all about the room. There was a strangeness to how they moved: it was so fast,