by Morgan Rice
Rose ran to the nearest bush and relieved herself, while Polly nimbly climbed out of the boat and finished tying the boat. She then opened wide the large church doors and stepped aside for them to enter.
Caitlin stepped inside, and was overwhelmed. Like the church in Assisi, this one had high, soaring ceilings, elaborately decorated with frescoes, and the open room was enormous. Light streamed in through the stained-glass windows, and as they walked down the marble aisle, their footsteps echoed all around them.
“The church of San Michele,” Polly said, as they walked. “Its namesake, of course, is Saint Michael, the holder of the scales on Judgment Day. Legend has it that Saint Michael is the guardian of sleep for the faithful dead. One could hardly find a more appropriate place for us.”
Polly led them to the back of the church, through a rear door, and it opened up onto a large, medieval courtyard. Columns stretched in every direction. It was solemn, and very peaceful, except for the two vampires sparring in the center, fighting with wooden swords, the click-clack of their swords echoing off the walls.
Caitlin stared at them, and couldn’t believe it: Tyler and Taylor. The twins. They looked exactly as they had on Pollepel, identical brother and sister, startlingly attractive, they still looked to be maybe 16.
“Those two,” Polly said. “They’re always sparring. Peas in a pod.”
The twins, sensing someone’s presence, stopped and walked towards them, breathless. They looked at Polly in confusion, clearly wondering who their new guest was.
“I know, it’s not often that we get visitors,” Polly said, “but this one is special. Caitlin is her name. Please make her feel welcome. She saved me from some miscreants in Venice. We owe her one. Well, I owe her one, anyway.”
“Have you cleared it with Aiden?” Tyler asked.
Polly paused, and Caitlin’s stomach tightened. She hoped that she wasn’t intruding.
“Not yet,” Polly said. “He’s off somewhere. But I’m sure he’ll be agreeable. How could he not?
She’s darling. We could use someone like her. Not to mention, the room next to mine is empty.”
“I’m Taylor,” she said, reaching out her hand with a warm, friendly smile.
Caitlin was tempted to say, I know.
Instead, she merely reached out and took her hand.
Taylor’s hand, cold and firm, felt very real, and helped bring her back to reality.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Caitlin said.
“And what have we here?” Taylor asked, as she reached down and petted a willing Rose. “My, she’s adorable.”
“I’m Tyler,” he said, elbowing his way in, and grinning down at Caitlin. As she shook his hand, she could feel his attraction to her, and she remembered the first time they’d met, in Pollepel. Some things never changed.
Tyler suddenly screamed and jumped.
Taylor stood behind him, grinning, having just whacked him hard with her wooden sword in the back of the leg. “Stop idling around,” she said. “We have a dance to get ready for.”
Tyler jumped back into the fight, swinging wildly at her, she parrying blow for blow.
Polly continued down the corridor, and Caitlin followed.
“This is where we live and train,” Polly said. “We’ve been here for hundreds of years. I can’t envision us ever leaving this place, unless there were a really good reason.”
Caitlin thought of the future, and for a moment, debated telling Polly that she would, indeed, one day leave this place. But she realized that if she did, Polly would think she was totally crazy.
Besides, why disappoint her?
Still, it was weird, knowing what Polly’s future would be, when Polly herself didn’t even know. It made Caitlin realize that we all feel so certain things will never change, but eventually, all of our plans never quite end up exactly how we thought.
“It’s usually packed in here,” Polly said, as they continued down a corridor. “But not today.
Most of us are sleeping. Getting ready for the big night.”
Caitlin looked over the place, and thought of the twins, and wondered about the other coven members. Was there anyone else she’d know? Her heart beat faster, as she suddenly remembered: Blake. She was almost afraid to ask.
“Among your coven members, is there somebody here named Blake?”
“No Blake here,” Polly said. “Why?”
Caitlin breathed a sigh of relief. She was on edge enough as it was just looking for Caleb. Having Blake there now, too, would just be too much.
“No reason,” she said, then quickly changed the subject. “So what is this Ball, exactly?”
Polly looked at her, eyes wide in excitement. “It’s only the biggest night of the year. I’ve been waiting for ages. Everyone, and I mean everyone, will be there. Not just humans, but every vampire, too. Everyone has a date. Everyone looks stunning,” she said, getting more excited as she went.
Caitlin thought. Everyone. She wondered if that meant Caleb.
“So, are there…vampires from all the covens?” Caitlin asked.
“Everyone who’s anyone in the vampire world,” Polly said. “Not just the surrounding covens—
they come from all over Europe. It’s the very best of high society. Not only that, it’s also a masquerade. You would not believe it—there are the most elaborate costumes. You can’t get in without a mask. And it goes on for hours. No one knows who’s who. It’s always someone different than you think.”
“Are there parties here all the time?” Caitlin asked. “This whole city seems like it’s drunk.”
“You’ve really never been here, have you?” Polly shook her head in disbelief. “It’s Carnival season. It’s days and days of games, parties, drinking, gambling….That’s why it’s such a madhouse here. I mean, it’s always a madhouse in Venice, but now, especially. Everyone’s out in force. The finest costumes from all of Europe, all in one place. It’s like a huge party, and it never ends. You came at the perfect time! And very convenient for vampires, I might add: with everyone in costumes, no one thinks twice about whether someone is human.”
Polly opened an arched, oak door, and entered a small room, leaving the door open. Caitlin followed tentatively, with Rose.
This was clearly Polly’s bedroom. The simple stone room had a large window in it, looking out at the trees, and Polly had a big, comfortable straw bed, covered in a pink linen and in what looked like straw teddy bears. Polly blushed at the site, and quickly shoved them under her pillow.
There were clothes strewn all over the floor, and all over her wooden dresser. Polly quickly tried to tidy the place.
“Sorry,” she said, “my room is such a mess. I wasn’t expecting any guests. Aiden would kill me if he saw it like this. But what does he expect? Tonight’s the big dance. And I still have absolutely no idea what I’m wearing,” she said, as she hurried through the room, trying to make sense of the chaos.
Caitlin saw several elaborate dresses along the wall, and several intricate masks. She was amazed by their craftsmanship. They looked like works of art. Some had long, curved noses, while others were small, no more than just an eye mask. There were gold masks and silver masks, some simple, and others elaborately adorned. Some were sinister, some jovial; some had feathers, others were plain. It was quite a collection.
Caitlin, fascinated, made her way over to the wall, and reached up and touched one.
“Go ahead, try it on,” Polly said. “It’s fun. You can be anyone you want. And you can switch every night. That’s what Venice is about.”
Caitlin gingerly removed a mask. It was the most unusual of them all. It was ornate, with a Persian or Indian influence, and its colors were copper, gold, and a burnt orange. A pattern of flowers was carved over the forehead and down between the eyes, giving it a regal quality.
Caitlin reached up and gently put it on her face. She walked over to the mirror, and then remembered. No reflection.
“I know, it sucks, doesn’t it
?” Polly asked. “I can never tell what I look like. It’s so frustrating. I don’t know why I even keep a mirror. I guess I’m hoping one day it will work. In the meantime, you just have to learn to go by what other people say.”
Caitlin couldn’t see what she looked like, but she felt different just wearing it. She felt like she’d stepped into someone else’s shoes, like she had a license to be anyone. It felt liberating.
“It suits you well,” Polly said. “You can wear it tonight.”
A pang of fear raced through Caitlin.
“Tonight?” she asked, her voice nearly cracking.
“You’re coming, aren’t you?” Polly said, then grabbed her wrist. “Oh, you have to come. You just have to. How could you possibly miss it? Please. I could use the backup. Everyone else here is so boring, or they have dates. I’d love to have you with me. The best boys, the very best boys will be there, and it helps to have support. It will be so fun. Please, please,” Polly said, grabbing her arm.
Caitlin thought. The last thing on her mind right now was going to a dance, or looking for boys.
All that mattered to her was Caleb, and she simply could not allow herself to rest, or enjoy herself, until she found him.
She slowly removed the mask and handed it to Polly.
“I’m sorry, Polly,” she said. “I don’t want to disappoint you. But I can’t go. I really need to focus on finding someone.”
“That guy you asked about? Caleb?” Polly asked. “Well, if so, then you need to go. I’m sure he’ll be there. If he’s one of us, that’s where he’ll be. You have to go. For your own sake.”
Caitlin thought about it, and as she did, she realized it made sense. If Polly was right, if this ball was really such a big affair, maybe he would be there. Besides, she had no other leads, no other ideas for where to search for him. Perhaps she should go.
But another worry struck her: she had nothing to wear. She was never good at going to dances; she always got so nervous leading up to them. And this sounded like the biggest, most formal dance yet. Plus, she wasn’t even a good dancer in the 21st century—how could she possibly dance well in the 18th? She would just look clumsy, conspicuous, stupid.
“Don’t worry, the dances are easy,” Polly said, annoyingly reading Caitlin’s mind again. “I’ll teach you, I promise. Just grab the wrist of the person next to you, and they lead you along.
Everyone’s so drunk anyway, I promise no one will notice.”
“Drunk?” Caitlin asked. “Do they let girls our age drink? Isn’t there, like, an age limit?”
For a brief moment, Caitlin worried about getting in, about having I.D.
Polly laughed aloud. “Are you kidding? This is Venice. No one cares. Toddlers can drink if they want to.”
“But I’ve nothing to wear,” Caitlin protested.
Polly’s eyes lit up. “Oh, but you do,” she said. “Have you not seen this room? I have enough gowns here to last me for fifteen balls. And we look to be the same size. Please, try one on. Let’s have fun! It’s almost the 19th century, after all! When else will we get a chance to live like this!?”
Caitlin thought. She certainly had a point. If not now, when? And she’d always wanted to try on one of those elaborate gowns.
Not to mention, if Caleb was there, what better way to meet him again than in a beautiful, elaborate gown?
The more Caitlin thought about it, the more she liked the idea.
Maybe going to the ball would be just the thing she needed.
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CHAPTER NINE
Kyle, flying over the hillsides of Umbria, dove in lower as he circled the small, medieval town of Assisi. He got a good glimpse of its medieval walls, of the huge church that dominated the village. In the sunset light, villagers were spread out below, lighting torches, herding their cattle, bringing their chickens and sheep inside. Everyone was hurrying to and fro, as if to prepare: this seemed like a town that feared the night.
Kyle smiled. He would give them a whole new reason to.
There were few things that Kyle enjoyed more than striking panic and fear into the hearts of commoners, in giving them new nightmares to dwell on for the rest of their lives. He hated this type of simple folk. They had persecuted his kind for as long as he could remember, and Kyle felt that it was long past due that they got a good thrashing themselves. Whenever he found the opportunity, he relished the chance.
Kyle dove lower, aiming right for the town square, not far from the church, hoping that his sudden and dramatic landing would stir up some activity, perhaps even flesh Caitlin out. If that despicable little girl was here, he wanted to waste no time in catching her. He was already itching to go back to the 21st century, to continuing his war, and to be done with this petty little distraction.
Of course, he had the Grand Council to answer to, and they wanted her alive. It was an annoyance, but a necessary one. He could play along, could capture her for now, just to appease them. But he would personally escort her back, and he would not leave until he personally watched her tortured and killed. In fact, he would quite enjoy that. But this time, he would leave nothing to chance. If they delayed, he would finish her off himself—with their approval or not.
As Kyle landed with a flurry in the town square, his black wings spread wide, sending a gust of wind that sent dogs yelping and chickens flying, villagers in every direction erupted into a scream.
Old ladies crossed themselves, and young boys fled for their lives. It was as if a bomb had landed.
A few of the more courageous ones grabbed farming instruments and bore down on him. Kyle smiled. He loved these types. If they were his kind, he might even befriend them.
Kyle easily ducked as one of them swung his hoe clumsily at his head; then he reached up and, in one simple move, tore his head clean off his body.
Kyle delighted at the site of the gushing blood. He bent over and sank his teeth into what was left of the man’s throat, and drank greedily. He felt the blood rushing through his veins with a thrill.
It was just the afternoon snack he needed.
The other two villagers, upon seeing this, literally froze in their tracks with fear, dropping their instruments. So much the easier for Kyle.
Kyle walked up and grabbed each by his throat, lifting them cleanly off the ground, and smashed them into each other with such force that he killed them on the spot.
Screams rang through the courtyard and the church bells tolled, as everyone fled to their homes, locking the doors and shuttering their windows.
A mob of a dozen men came running over the hilltop, all carrying farming instruments, screaming and charging right for Kyle. Kyle smiled. They still had not learned their lesson.
Kyle didn’t wait. He charged them himself, meeting them halfway, and as they swung at him, he suddenly leapt over the entire group, and landed behind them. Before they could react, he grabbed the closest one by the back of his head, grabbing his hair and lifting him off the ground. He swung him like a rag doll, and then threw him into the crowd. They went down like dominoes.
Before they could regain their feet, Kyle grabbed one of their sickles, and swung wildly. Using his vampire lightning speed, he attacked the flustered men as if they were a bale of hay. He chopped them to pieces.
Within moments, all of them were dead.
The village squar
e now a blood-soaked battleground, Kyle stepped over the mangled bodies, and walked casually towards the church. As he did, he watched the doors get slammed and bolted. He smiled. He wondered why people always thought that bolting doors would make any difference.
Kyle leaned back and kicked in the huge church doors, knocking them off their hinges.
He strutted into the ancient church of Assisi, and headed right down the aisle. As he did, he tore up pew after pew, hurling them across the room, up high, into the windows, shattering the ancient stained-glass. He reached up and grabbed a huge candelabra and snapped it off its rope, and swung it over his head. When he let go, it went flying through the church, smashing the stained-glass windows on the far wall.
Kyle surveyed the destruction. It was beautiful. There were few things he enjoyed more than smashing up a church.
He sensed Caitlin’s presence. He followed his senses, and they led him down a corridor, down a flight of steps, and into the lower levels of the church. As he turned the final corner, he was surprised by what he saw.
Standing there was a small, silver haired priest, staring back at him. Kyle sensed immediately that this man was of his race. It surprised him to see him in a priest’s garb. What a sacrilege for his race.
“The girl you seek is long gone,” the priest said, unafraid. He stared at Kyle with courage, unwavering.
“And you’ll never find her,” he said.
Kyle smiled.
“Is that right?” he said.
Kyle took several steps towards him, but the man showed no sign of backing down. He was far braver—or dumber—than Kyle thought.
“You can overpower me,” the priest said, “but God overpowers you. You can kill me on this day, but God will surely kill you on another, and I will be avenged. Death holds no fear for me.”
