Kyle smiled at the thought of it. Here he was, in Napoleon’s final resting place, before Napoleon had even “died.” He would look forward to seeing him again, to reminiscing about old times. He was, after all, one of few people of his kind that Kyle semi-respected. But he was also an arrogant little bastard. Kyle would have to slap him into shape.
Kyle walked slowly across the marble floor, footsteps echoing, and checked himself. He had seen better days. He had lost one eye from that horrible little child, Caleb’s son, and his face was still disfigured from what Rexius had done to him back in New York. If that weren’t enough, he now had a large wound in his cheek from the spear that Sam had hurled at him in the Colosseum. He was a wreck, he knew.
But he also kind of liked it. He was a survivor. He was alive, and no one had been able to stop him. And he was madder than ever. Not only was he determined to stop Caitlin and Caleb from finding the Shield, but now he was determined to make them both pay. To make them suffer, just as he had suffered. Sam was on his list now, too. All three of them – he would stop at nothing until he tortured each of them slowly.
With a few leaps, Kyle bounded up the marble staircase, and into the upper level of the tomb. He circled around, walking down to the end of the chapel, beneath the huge dome, and reached behind the altar. He felt its limestone wall, searching.
Finally, he found what he was looking for. He pushed a hidden latch, and a secret compartment opened. He reached in, and pulled out a long, silver sword, its hilt encrusted with jewels. He held it up to the light, and studied it with satisfaction. Just as he remembered it.
He slung it over his back, turned, and headed down the corridor, reaching the front door. He leaned back, and with one huge kick, the large oak door when flying off its hinges, the crash of it echoing throughout the empty building. Kyle felt satisfied that he had his full strength back already.
Kyle saw that it was still night, and he relaxed. If he wanted to, he could fly through the night, head right for his target – but he wanted to savor his time. Paris in 1789 was a special place. It was still, he remembered, rife with prostitutes, alcoholics, gamblers, criminals. Despite the nice veneer and architecture, there lived an underbelly that was long and wide. He loved it. The town was his for the taking.
Kyle lifted his chin, listening, sensing, closing his eyes. He could sense Caitlin’s presence strongly in this city. And Caleb’s. Sam, he wasn’t so sure about, but he knew that at least the two of them were here. That was good. Now all he had to do was find them. He would come upon them by surprise, and, he imagined, kill them both quite easily. Paris was a much simpler place. There was no grand vampire Council, like in Rome, that he had to answer to. Even better, there was a strong evil coven here, led by Napoleon. And Napoleon owed him.
Kyle decided that his first order of business would be to track down the little runt and make him reciprocate. He would enlist all of Napoleon’s men to do whatever they could to track down Caitlin and Caleb. He knew Napoleon’s men could be useful if he should run into resistance. He would leave nothing to chance this time.
But he still had time. He could feed first, and get both his feet planted firmly on the ground. Plus, his plan here was already set in motion. Before he’d left Rome, he’d tracked down his old sidekick, Sergei, and had sent him back here ahead of him. If all had gone as planned, Sergei was here already, and hard at work executing their mission, infiltrating Aiden’s coven. Kyle smiled wide. There was nothing he loved more than a traitor, than a little weasel like Sergei. He had become a most useful plaything.
Kyle bounded down the steps like a schoolboy, filled with joy, ready to plunge right into the city, to take whatever he wanted.
As Kyle headed down the street, a street artist approached him, holding out a canvas and brush, gesturing for Kyle to allow him to paint his picture. If there was anything Kyle hated, it was someone wanting to draw his picture. He was in such a good mood, though, he decided to let the man live.
But when the man pressed his case, following Kyle aggressively, thrusting his canvas towards him, he pushed it too far. Kyle reached over, grabbed his brush, and jabbed it right between the man’s eyes. A second later, the man dropped dead.
Kyle took the canvas and tore it up over his corpse.
Kyle continued on, quite happy with himself. This was already turning out to be a great night.
As he turned down a cobblestone alley, heading into the district he remembered, everything began to feel familiar again. Several prostitutes lined the streets, beckoning him. At the same time, two large men stumbled out of a bar, clearly drunk, and bumped hard into Kyle, not looking where they were going.
“Hey, you jerk!” one of them yelled at him.
The other turned to Kyle. “Hey, one-eye!” he yelled. “Watch where you’re going!”
The big man reached out to give Kyle a hard shove to the chest.
But his eyes opened wide in surprise when his shove didn’t work. Kyle hadn’t been budged at all; it had been like pushing a stone wall.
Kyle shook his head slowly, amazed at the stupidity of these men. Before they could react, he reached back over his shoulder, extracted his sword with a cling, and in one motion, swung it, chopping off both their heads in a fraction of a second.
He watched with satisfaction as their heads rolled, and both of their bodies began to slump to the ground. He put back his sword, and reached out and pulled a headless corpse to him. He sunk his long fangs right into the open neck, and drank hardily as the blood squirted.
Kyle could hear the screaming of the prostitutes erupt all around him, as they saw what had happened. This was followed by the sound of doors slamming, window shutters closing.
The whole town was already scared of him, he realized.
Good, he thought. This was the sort of welcome he loved.
Chapter Seven
Caitlin and Caleb flew away from Paris, over the French countryside in the early morning, she holding tightly onto his back as he cut through the air. She felt stronger now, and felt that if she wanted to fly, she could. But she didn’t want to let go of him. She loved the feel of his body. She just wanted to hold him, to feel what it was like to be together again. She knew it was crazy, but after being apart for so long, she had a fear that if she let him go, he might fly away forever.
Beneath them, the landscape was ever-changing. Pretty quickly the city fell away and the landscape shifted to dense woods and rolling hills. Closer to the city, there were occasional houses, farms. But the further they got, the more the land opened. They passed field after field, rolling meadows, an occasional farm, sheep grazing. Smoke rose from chimneys, and she guessed that people were cooking. Clotheslines spread out over lawns, and sheets hung from them. It was an idyllic scene, and the July temperature had dropped just enough so that the cooler air, especially up this high, was refreshing.
After hours of flying, they rounded a bend, and the new view took Caitlin’s breath away: there, on the horizon, sat a shimmering sea, vibrant blue, its waves smashing into an endless, pristine shoreline. As they got closer, the elevation rose, and rolling hills went right up to the shoreline.
Nestled in the rolling hills, amidst the tall grass, she saw a single building set against the horizon. It was a glorious, medieval castle, designed of an antique limestone, covered in ornate sculptures and gargoyles. It was nestled high on a hill, overlooking the sea, and surrounded by fields of wildflowers as far as the eye could see. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and Caitlin felt as if she were in a postcard.
Caitlin’s heart beat with excitement, as she wondered, as she hoped to dream, that this could be Caleb’s place. Somehow, she felt that it was.
“Yes,” he called out, over the wind, reading her mind, as always. “This is it.”
Caitlin’s heart pounded with delight. She was so excited, and felt so strong, she was ready to fly by herself.
She suddenly jumped off of Caleb’s back, and went flying through the air. For a moment, she was terrified, wondering if her wings would sprout. A moment later, they did, supporting her in the air.
As the air ran through them, she loved the feeling. It felt great to have them again, to be independent. She rose and dove, swooping up, close to Caleb, who smiled back. They dove down together, then up, swerving in and out of each other’s flight paths, the tips of their wings sometimes touching.
As one, they dove down, closer to the castle. It looked ancient; it felt worn in, but not in a bad way. For Caitlin, it already felt like home.
As she took it all in, looked at the landscape, the rolling hills, the distant ocean, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt a sense of peace. She felt, finally, like she was home. She saw her life together with Caleb here, living together, even starting a family together again, if that was possible. She would be happy to live out her days here with him – and finally, at long last, she didn’t see anything that stood in their way.
* * *
Caitlin and Caleb landed together in front of his castle, and he took her hand and led her to the front door. The oak door was covered in a thick layer of dust and sea salt, and clearly hadn’t been opened in years. He tried the knob. It was locked.
“It’s been hundreds of years,” he said. “I’m pleasantly surprised to find that it’s still here, that it hasn’t been vandalized – that it’s even still locked. There used to be a key…”
He reached up, way above the door frame, and felt the crevice behind the stone arch. He ran his fingers up and down it, and finally stopped, extracting a long, silver skeleton key.
He slipped into the lock, and it fit perfectly. He turned it with a click.
He turned and smiled at her, stepping aside. “You do the honors,” he said.
Caitlin pushed the heavy, medieval door, and it opened slowly, creaking, encrusted salt falling off in clumps as it did.
They walked in together. The entry room was dim, and covered in cobwebs. The air was still and dank, and it felt like it hadn’t been entered in centuries. She looked up at the high, arched stone walls, the stone floors. There were layers of dust on everything, including the glass windows, which blocked a lot of the light, making it seem darker than it was.
“This way,” Caleb said.
He took her hand and led her down a narrow corridor, and it opened up into a grand hall, with high, arched windows on both sides. It was much lighter in here, even with the dust. There was some furniture left over in here, too: a long, medieval oak table, surrounded by ornate, wooded chairs. At its center sat a huge, marble mantel, one of the largest fireplaces Caitlin had ever seen. It was incredible. Caitlin felt as if she had walked right back into the Cloisters.
“I had it built in the 12th century,” he said, looking around himself. “Back then, this was the style.”
“You lived here?” Caitlin asked.
He nodded.
“For how long?”
He thought. “Not more than a century,” he said. “Maybe two.”
Caitlin marveled, once again, at the huge increments of time in the vampire world.
Suddenly, though, she got worried, as she thought of something else: had he lived here with another woman?
She was afraid to ask.
He suddenly turned and looked at her.
“No, I did not,” he said. “I lived here alone. I assure you. You’re the first woman I’ve ever taken here.”
Caitlin felt relieved, though embarrassed at his reading her mind.
“Come on,” he said. “This way.”
He led her up a spiral stone staircase, and it twisted and turned, and let them out on the second floor. This floor was much brighter, with large, arched windows facing every direction, sunlight pouring in, reflecting the distant sea. The rooms were smaller here, more intimate. There were more marble fireplaces, and as Caitlin wandered from room to room, she saw a huge four-poster bed dominating one of them. Chaise lounges and overstuffed velvet chairs, were spread throughout the other rooms. There were no rugs, just a bare stone floor. It was very stark. But beautiful.
He led her across the room, to a set of huge, glass doors. They’d been covered in so much dust, she hadn’t even known they were there. He stepped up and tugged hard at the locks and knobs, and finally, with a bang and a cloud of dust, they opened.
He stepped outside, and Caitlin followed.
They stepped out onto a huge, stone terrace, framed by an ornate limestone, column railing. They walked together up to the edge, and looked out.
From here, they had a commanding view of the entire countryside, of the ocean. Caitlin could hear the crashing of the waves, and smell the sea heavy in the air on the rolling breezes. She felt like she were in heaven.
If Caitlin had ever imagined a dream house, this would definitely be it. It was dusty, and it needed a woman’s touch, but Caitlin knew that they could fix it up, could get it to the state that it once was. She felt that this was truly a place they could call home together.
“I was thinking about what you said,” he said, “the entire flight here. About our building a life together. I would like that very much.”
He put an arm around her.
“I would like for you to live here with me. For us to start our life over again. Right here. It’s quiet here, and safe, and protected. No one knows about this place. No one will ever find us here. I see no reason why we can’t live out our lives safely, as regular people,” he said. “Of course, it will need a lot of work to fix it up. But I’m game, if you are.”
He turned and smiled at her.
She smiled back. She had never been more game in her life.
More than that, she felt deeply touched that he’d invited her to live with him. Nothing had ever meant more to her. The truth was, she would have lived with them anywhere, even if it was just a hut in the woods.
“I’d love to,” she answered. “I just want to be with you.”
Her heart pounded as they came together in a kiss, the sound of the waves in the background, the ocean breezes rolling over them.
Finally, everything was perfect in her world again.
* * *
Caitlin had never been so happy as she ambled through the house, going room to room, carrying a washcloth. Caleb had left, had gone out hunting, excited to bring them both home dinner. She was thrilled, because it gave her some time alone to walk through the house, to take it all in, by herself, and to look at it, with a woman’s eye, for how she could fix it up and make it a home for them both.
She walked through the rooms, opening windows, letting in the ocean air. She’d found a pail and rag and had gone down to the stream she’d seen running through the backyard, and had returned with an overflowing pail full of water. She’d run the rag through the stream until it was as clean as could be. She’d found a large crate to stand on, and as she opened each of the huge, medieval windows, she stood up on the crate, and wiped each pane. There were a few windows which were simply too high for her to reach, and for these, she activated her wings, fluttering high in the air, and hovering before the windows as she cleaned them.
She was shocked at the immediate difference it made. The room transformed from being dark to being completely flooded with light. There must’ve been hundreds of years of caked dirt and salt on both sides of the pane. Indeed, just opening each window was a feat in itself, taking all her might to yank them free of rust and debris.
Caitlin looked carefully and was in awe at the craftsmanship of each window. Each window pane was several inches thick, and had the most beautiful design. Some of the glass was stained, some was clear, and some had the slightest tint of color. As she wiped each one down, she could almost feel the house’s gratitude, as it slowly, inch by inch, came back to life.