by Noah
Caitlin stood abruptly, taking Scarlet’s hand.
Caleb stood, too, a concerned look on his face. "Where are you going?” he asked her.
Caitlin didn't trust herself to answer him, didn't trust herself to say the right thing. So instead, she silently took Scarlet and pushed her way out through the crowd.
"Caitlin, you don't understand!" Caleb yelled out after her, "It's not like that. It was centuries ago!"
Caitlin grabbed Scarlet’s hand more firmly, and parting the crowd, finally made it to the staircase, and up the steps.
"Mommy? Where are we going?" Scarlet asked.
But she was distracted by Caleb’s words, which rang through her mind. Centuries ago. She desperately wanted to believe that there was nothing there. She breathed deeply, willing herself to believe it.
She made it outside, and standing there, she began to feel better already. She breathed deeply, trying to get a hold of herself. She willed herself to believe Caleb. She had made the mistake in the past of not giving him the benefit of the doubt. And she felt that now she had to grow, to become a better person, to learn from that. She had to believe him.
Rationally, she knew that she did. But deep down, emotionally, it was hard. She saw the look in Caleb's eye. And the look in Violet’s eye. The way they looked at each other. As a woman, she knew there was something there.
Caitlin stood there, feeling at a crossroads. She didn't know which way to go. A part of her wanted to flee, like she had in the past, to get far away from Caleb, and everyone.
But another part of her, a part that was evolving under her eyes, knew that she had to be more mature. Patient. To hear everyone out. To think things through. To allow everyone the benefit of the doubt. She had to be the bigger person.
"Mommy, I'm not feeling so well," Scarlet suddenly said.
Caitlin snapped out of it. She knelt down and looked at her, and brushed the hair out of her eyes. As she did, she noticed how clammy her forehead was. She already knew Scarlet well enough to see that she was not herself. In fact, she looked extremely pale and sick.
Scarlet reached down, and scratched her ankles with both hands.
Caitlin looked down, and her heart dropped as she saw that they were covered with welts. Bites.
At the same time, Caitlin noticed several rats, scurrying past them in the mud.
Bites. Around the ankles. Large, red welts.
Caitlin's breathing stopped, as she realized what they were. Flea bites.
Caitlin tried to push the thought of her mind. Flea bites didn't necessarily mean the Plague. But she knew it didn’t bode well.
"Mommy, I feel really sick," Scarlet said again. And then, as she said it, Scarlet suddenly fainted.
Caitlin's lightning fast reflexes allowed her to catch Scarlet in mid-air, in her arms.
"Scarlet? SCARLET!?" Caitlin screamed, frantic.
But she didn't respond.
Scarlet opened her eyes, gently. She looked deathly ill.
"Mommy, can we go home?”
"Of course, sweetheart," Caitlin answered, repressing tears.
Scarlet closed her eyes again. As she did, Caitlin picked her up, and took off into the air, flying with more speed than she ever had. She knew where she had to go: to the one person in the world she knew who could help someone who was deathly ill.
Aiden.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Caleb sat there, watching Caitlin leave the tavern, in total shock. He could not believe that this was all happening. Just moments before, it had been a high point for them, one of their very best days, an incredible engagement party, an incredible play, and they were having an amazing time with everyone. It had seemed like things could never get better.
And then, moments later, it all came crashing down, and so unexpectedly. Caleb had been absolutely shocked to see Violet, someone who hadn't even entered his consciousness for hundreds of years, and he was at a complete loss for words. He didn't know what to say to her, and he didn't know what to say to Caitlin. It had happened so fast, he was so caught off guard, and before he knew it, Caitlin was leaving.
"Caitlin!" he had called after her again.
But it was no use. She had already pushed her way through the thick crowd, Scarlet in hand, and was already heading out the bar.
Caleb wanted to go after her. And he would. But he figured it was best to first let her get some air, to clear her head and calm down. He planned on giving her a few minutes, then he would go out and talk to her.
In the meantime, he wanted to know what Violet was doing here—and he didn't want to be rude by walking out on her.
"She's a touchy one," Violet said, looking down and smiling at Caleb.
Caleb was not amused, and did not smile back.
"How did you find me here?" he asked. "And what are you doing here? Last I heard, you were living in Sweden."
She smiled back. "That was five hundred years ago," she said. "People move around. London is my home now. It has been for the last 200 years.”
"Did you follow me here?” Caleb asked. “Is there something you want from me?” Caleb felt nervous that perhaps she was stalking him, wanting to ruin his relationship—maybe wanting to get back together.
But he was also a bit baffled, because Violet had never been that type. She had always been a loner, and when they had broken up, hundreds of years ago, she had never once tried to contact him.
"Don't flatter yourself," Violet shot back. "You're not the only reason that someone lives in London, or goes to a Shakespeare play. This is a very popular tavern. The world does not revolve around you. I happened to be here. And I happened to see you. That's all there is to it. Nothing more.”
Caleb sighed, feeling the tension leave his body, and the table seemed to relax, too, the tension visibly reduced.
“I'm just leaving,” she said. “I suppose I shouldn't even have stopped to say hello. But I presume you'd be more courteous than you were.”
Caleb now felt badly. She was right. She had done nothing wrong, and he owed her at least a tiny bit of cordiality. He should have been more polite to her.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Just bad timing. Caitlin I just got engaged, and this was our engagement party. She doesn't know about you, so your appearing here out of the blue—” Violet held up a palm. "I get it," she said. “Sorry. I wish you both well.” With that, she turned, and disappeared into the crowd. That was the Violet he remembered.
Always quick to leave, not to stalk. Which was why seeing her in the first place had so surprised him.
The table seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she left, and slowly, the chattering resumed.
"Don't feel bad," Sam said to Caleb, "Caitlin’s always been that way. She can be hotheaded.
Territorial. It's not your fault," he said.
Caleb nodded back, grateful.
"I should go and check on her," Caleb said, rising.
"Polly already went out to check," Sam said. "She’ll be fine.”
"I think I should check myself," he said, and rose from the table and pushed his way through the crowd.
Caleb headed out into the sunlight, and looked everywhere for Caitlin and Scarlet. The crowd was thick, and swarmed in every direction. But he could not see her anywhere. And he did not sense her presence, either.
He saw Polly standing there, looking around, too.
"Where is she?" he asked Polly.
"Your guess is as good as mine," she said, looking worried. "It seems that your girlfriend, Violet, scared her away. I don't blame her."
"Polly, she's not my girlfriend. I didn't do anything wrong.” Probably merely shrugged and looked away, and Caleb could tell that she was mad at him, too.
Girls, he thought.
Caleb stormed back into the bar, needing a drink. He went back to the table and sat back across from Sam. He saw all the empty glasses and noticed that Sam had been drinking too much, and he realized again what a wildcard Sam seemed to be. A fresh round of drinks came, and S
am grabbed two for himself, and handed a glass to Caleb.
Caleb drank the whole thing in just a couple of gulps.
"Is Polly still out there?" Sam asked.
Caleb nodded back. "She's pissed at me, too.”
Sam shook his head. "Girls," he said. "I better go talk to her," Sam added, and got up from the table, seeming a little bit drunk. Caleb watched him push his way through the crowd.
Caleb felt the beer go to his head, and it felt good.
He wanted another drink, but the waiter was nowhere in sight, and he could tell that, with the thick crowd, it would take forever to get served.
He scanned the table for any leftover beer, and saw, across from him, Caitlin’s untouched drink, still filled to the rim. She was gone now, and so she wouldn’t be drinking it. He didn’t see the harm.
It was a shame to let it go to waste. And after all that happened, he really could use just one more drink.
Caleb reached over and grabbed her glass, and drank it all down. He couldn't help noticing that it tasted a little bit funny going down, not like the normal beer. He wondered if maybe her beer had gone sour, or came from a bad batch.
But he didn't care. He wanted to drown out his woman troubles, and make it all go away.
*
Polly was upset as she stood outside the bar, searching everywhere for Caitlin and Scarlet. She knew that Caitlin could handle herself, but it bothered her that she was nowhere to be found. That could only mean one thing: she had left. Gone somewhere. And that she must have been really upset with Caleb.
And Polly could understand. If it were Polly's engagement party, she surely wouldn't wish for some ex-girlfriend to show up. It was annoying, to say the least. Not that Caleb could be blamed, necessarily. But still. It wasn't what any bride-to-be wanted.
Polly knew how emotional Caitlin could be, and only hoped that she would stay clear-headed, and not let this affect things between her and Caleb. She thought they were the perfect couple, and hated to see all these things constantly get between them.
As Polly turned, preparing to go back into the bar, she suddenly felt a cold hand grip her arm.
The grip was firm—too firm to be Caitlin's, and she wondered who it could be, as she spun to look.
Polly was aghast.
There, just feet away from her, stood Sergei.
He looked much like he had back in France, even wearing the same regal outfit he’d had on back then. She couldn’t believe that he was here, that he had traveled back in time. And that he had tracked her down.
She still felt a burning hatred towards him. He had tricked her, back in Versailles, into revealing where Caitlin was. He had used her all along. He had duped her, made a fool of her; he had played with her heart, and broken it. She felt ashamed and embarrassed at how deeply she had fallen for him, at how blind and stupid she had been.
Now, seeing him here, back in the flesh, all of her emotions burned fresh. She felt a new wave of anger towards him, as if it had all just happened yesterday. What audacity he had to come back in time, to try to talk to her. He stood there with a stupid smile on his face, as if nothing had ever happened between them, and Polly felt her anger grow even more.
"Polly,” he said, “I came back for you. To find you. I miss you.” Polly shook her arm roughly, throwing his hand off of it, and stared back at him.
"Don't you dare put your hand on me," she snarled at him. "Don’t you ever put your hand on me again."
His face seemed to collapse with sorrow.
"I'm so sorry, Polly. I behaved badly. I recognize that now. I made a huge mistake. I was under such pressures—I wasn't myself. That wasn't really me. I really loved you, all along. I still do.” Polly felt such a wave of anger, she couldn't help herself. She reached up and smacked him hard across the face, the noise so loud that several passersby turned to look. It felt good to hit him, to release a fraction of her anger.
Sergei looked shocked, as if he hadn't expected that.
"You lied to me,” she said, her voice cold and steely. “You used me. You're a liar. I'll never trust you again. No matter what you say. I can't believe you even came back here. You’re pathetic. And you're just wasting your time if you think I’ll ever so much as like you again."
He lowered his eyes.
"I deserved that. I know. And I'm so sorry. I can't say it enough. Can’t you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"
Polly could hear how broken his voice sounded. It certainly sounded genuine. And it felt good to hear those words, especially after what he had put her through. And she did have to admit that somewhere, deep down, she still felt a tiny twinge of affection for him.
But Polly quickly pushed those feelings away, forcing herself to remember what he had done.
And forcing herself to think of Sam, who she genuinely liked.
“If you come near me again," Polly said, "I won't be so kind. You and I are enemies now. I will never forgive you. No matter what you say."
"I came back in time because I love you!” he pleaded. “And I know that you still love me too. I want to hear those words. Please, tell me that you love me, Polly. Just like you used to. Say it again.
Tell me that you love me again."
Polly turned, as she sensed someone approach.
Just a few feet away, watching them, was Sam. He looked wide-eyed, a little drunk, and very, very jealous.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
As Sam exited the bar, having had a little bit too much to drink, he took several steps, then ran smack into Polly and Sergei. He stopped short in his tracks, completely shocked at the sight before him: there stood Polly and Sergei. And he was asking her to tell him again how much she loved him.
Sam felt jealousy and anger well up within him. There was Sergei, who had clearly traveled back in time to win back Polly. And there was Polly, who must have just declared her love for him. Why else would he ask her to “say it again?” To Sergei, the creature who had betrayed Polly once, and who had betrayed his sister. The man who had tried to kill them both in the Notre Dame.
And now here they were, standing, talking together. And talking about love.
Sam felt an overwhelming rage well up in him.
Sergei turned and looked at Sam, and for a flash, Sam could see fear in his eyes.
He should be afraid, Sam thought.
"Sam," Polly said. She must have seen the look in his eyes, too.
But it was too late. Nothing she said could stop Sam’s swirling emotions.
He lowered his shoulder and lunged at Sergei, tackling him hard, and driving him all the way back through the crowd.
People screamed, carts were overturned, and bodies went flying, as Sam threw Sergei across the road with such force that he went flying, dozens of feet into the air, and into a huge cart of fruits and vegetables, knocking it over.
The entire cart went crashing to the ground, collapsing onto Sergei, who lay there, looking stunned.
"Sam, stop!" Polly yelled.
Sam couldn’t understand why she was being protective of Sergei. That only proved that she did care about Sergei. That she still loved him.
And that just made Sam feel even more rage.
Sam charged Sergei again as he lay on the ground, ready to finish him off.
But Sergei quickly jumped to his feet, and suddenly took off into the air, flying away, to the shock and screams of passersby. Sam had almost forgotten that Sergei was one of his, able to fly, and with reflexes nearly as fast.
Sam stood there and watched Sergei fly away, the coward that he was, afraid to fight him. Sam stood there, breathing hard, and could feel the shocked stares of all the people around him.
For now, he would let him fly away. If Sergei was too much of a coward to stand and fight, then he didn't deserve to fight Sam anyway.
Slowly, Sam's anger began to calm.
"Sam, what are you doing!?" Polly yelled.
She was standing next to him, and looked pissed, hands on her hips.
"What do you mean, what was I doing?” he snapped back. “He tried to kill my sister. He tried to kill both of us! The better question is: what were you doing? Why was he here? And why were you talking about how much you love him?"
Sam saw Polly's face darken. He'd never seen her look so mad before.
"I was NOT talking to him about love. You misheard us. I would have hoped that you would think better of me than that.”
"Well that's not the way it looked," Sam snapped back.
“Well then," she said, "if you don't trust me, then let’s just go our separate ways. We’re not even together!”
Sam felt himself torn apart by his emotions—anger, jealousy, betrayal.
"Fine," he snapped.
"Fine," she snapped back.
Sam turned and stormed away from her, elbowing his way through the crowd, feeling hollowed out. His rage was leaving him, and was being replaced by something else. Sadness. He had felt that he and Polly were really getting close. And now, this. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but he felt that whatever it was, it had ruined things between them.
Sam hurried back down into the tavern, back to his table, and sat across from Caleb, needing a drink more than ever.
As he looked up at Caleb, who sat there, looking woozy, Sam could commiserate with him.
"Girls," Sam said, shaking his head. “I know how you feel now," he said. "It just isn't fair."
Suddenly, Sam watched as Caleb reached for his own throat, as if choking. His eyes opened wide, and he began to quiver.
"Caleb?" Sam asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"
Caleb’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he began to slump over, about to collapse.
Sam, with his lightning quick reflexes, jumped around the table and caught Caleb in mid-air, right before he hit the ground. He held Caleb's limp body in his arms, as the other coven members began to crowd around.
"Caleb?" Sam prodded, frantic, as he shook him. “Caleb?” Caleb did not respond, and his already-pale skin looked as if it were turning blue.
"We need a doctor!" Sam yelled, into the crowd.
But even as he screamed it, as the startled crowd began to gather around him, Sam knew it would be useless. After all, Caleb was a vampire. And only one person he knew of knew how to heal a vampire.
