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  He looked at her, and she smiled back.

  “It’s where we live. You are in France. In 1789. And I’m sure that Aiden wil let you join us, assuming that Marie al ows it.”

  Sam looked at her, puzzled.

  “Marie?” he asked.

  She smiled wider, shaking her head. She turned and skipped across the field, towards the palace.

  As she did, she cal ed out over her shoulder.

  “Why, Marie Antoinette, of course!”

  *

  Sam walked at Pol y’s side, up the endless marble staircase, heading towards the front doors of the palace.

  As he went, he took in al the sights around him. The magnitude and proportions of this place were astounding.

  Al around him, strol ing the grounds, were people he presumed to be royalty, dressed in some of the finest clothing he’d ever seen. He couldn’t get over this place. If someone had told him he were dreaming, he would believe them. He had never been in the presence of royalty before.

  Pol y hadn’t stopped talking, and he forced himself to focus on her words. He liked being around her, and enjoyed her company, even if paying attention to her was real y hard. He thought she was pretty, too. But there was something about her that made him unsure whether he was real y attracted to her, or whether he just liked her as a friend. With his past girlfriends, it had been lust at first sight. With Pol y, it was more like a camaraderie.

  “You see, the royal family lives here,” Pol y said, “but we live here, too. They want us here. After al , we’re the best protection they have. We live together in what you might cal a friendly harmony.

  It serves us both. With this huge forest, we have unlimited hunting, a great place to live, and great company. And in turn, we help protect the royal family. Not to mention that a few of them are our kind, anyway.”

  Sam looked at her, surprised.

  “Marie Antoinette?” he asked.

  Pol y nodded slightly, as if trying to keep it a secret, but unable to.

  “But don’t tel anybody,” she said. “There are a few others, too. But most of the Royals are human. They want to be among us. But there are strict rules here, and it’s not al owed. It’s us and them, and we’re not al owed to cross that line. There are certain members of the royal family we don’t want to have too much power. And Marie insists on it, too.

  “Anyway, this is just the most fabulous place. I can’t imagine it ever coming to an end. There’s party after party, endless dances, bal s, concerts….There’s going to be the most fabulous one this week. An opera, actual y. I already have my outfit picked out.”

  As they approached the doors, several servants scurried to open them. The golden doors were massive, and Sam looked at them, awestruck, as he walked through.

  Pol y marched right down a huge, marble corridor, as if she owned the place, and Sam hurried to keep up. As they walked, Sam looked al around, amazed by the opulence.

  They walked down endless corridors made of marble, with enormous crystal chandeliers hanging low, reflecting the light off of dozens of gilded mirrors. The sun poured in and reflected the light in every direction.

  They went through door after door, and final y entered a huge parlor, made of marble, with columns al around it.

  Several guards stood at attention as Pol y entered.

  Pol y just giggled, apparently immune to them. “We also get to train here,” she said. “Their facilities are the best. Aiden has us on a hard schedule. I’m surprised that he let me break to come get you. You must be pretty important.”

  “So where is he?” Sam asked. “When wil I get to meet him?”

  “My, you are impatient, aren’t you? He’s a very busy man.

  He might not choose to meet you for some time. Or he might summon you right away. Don’t worry, you’l know when he wants to see you. Give it time. In the meantime, I’ve been asked to show you to your room.”

  “My room?” Sam asked, surprised. “Wait a second. I didn’t say I could stay here. Like I said, I real y need to find my sister,” Sam began to protest—but at that moment, a huge set of double doors opened before them.

  An entourage of royals suddenly entered, surrounding a woman in the middle, who they carried on a royal throne.

  They set her down, and as they did, Pol y bent low, gesturing for Sam to do the same. He did.

  A woman who could have only been Marie Antoinette, slowly got down, took several steps towards them, and stopped right before Sam, gesturing for him to rise. He did.

  She looked Sam up and down, as if he were an object of interest.

  “So, you’re the new boy,” she said, expressionless. Her green eyes burned with an intensity he’d never seen, and he could, indeed, sense that she was one of theirs.

  Final y, after what seemed like forever, she nodded.

  “Interesting.”

  With that, she walked right past them, and her entourage quickly fol owed.

  But one person lingered behind, clearly one of the royals.

  She looked to be about 17, and was dressed in a royal blue, velvet gown, from head to toe. She had the fairest skin that Sam had ever seen, set against long, curly blonde hair, and piercing aqua eyes. She fixed them right on Sam, locking them onto his.

  He felt helpless in her gaze, unable to look anywhere else.

  She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

  After several seconds, she took a step forward, and stared even closer into his eyes. She reached out her hand, palm down, clearly expecting him to kiss it. She moved slowly, proudly.

  Sam took her hand, and was electrified at the touch of her skin. He pul ed her fingertips close, and kissed them.

  “Pol y?” the girl said. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

  Pol y cleared her throat, reluctantly.

  “Kendra, Sam,” she said. “Sam, Kendra.”

  Kendra, Sam thought, staring into her eyes, taken aback by how aggressively she stared back at him, as if he were already her property.

  “Sam,” she echoed, smiling. “A bit simple. But I like it.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kyle smashed through the stone sarcophagus with a single punch. It smashed into a mil ion bits, and he walked right out of the standing coffin, on his feet, and ready for action.

  He wheeled and looked about, ready to fight anyone who approached. In fact, he was hoping that someone approached him for a fight. This time travel had been particularly annoying, and he was ready to let his rage out on someone.

  But as he looked around, to his disappointment, he saw that the chamber was empty. It was just him.

  Slowly, his rage began to cool. At least he’d landed in the right place, and he could already sense, the right time. He knew that he was more of a veteran of time travel than Caitlin, and he could place himself more specifical y. He looked around, and to his satisfaction, saw that he landed exactly where he’d wanted to be: Les Invalides.

  Les Invalides was a place he’d always loved, one that had been important to the more evil of his kind. A mausoleum, deep underground, it was made of marble, beautiful y adorned, sarcophagi lining its wal s. The building had a cylindrical shape, with a soaring, hundred foot ceiling, culminating in a dome. It was a somber place, the perfect resting place for al of France’s elite soldiers. It was also the place, Kyle knew, that Napoleon would one day be buried.

  But not yet. It was only 1789, and Napoleon, that little bastard, was stil alive. One of Kyle’s favorites of his own kind. He would be about 20 years old now, Kyle realized, stil starting his career.

  He wouldn’t be buried in this place for some time to come.

  Of course, being of his race, Napoleon’s burial was just a ruse, just a way to let the human masses think he was one of theirs.

  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 seein
g him again, to reminiscing about old times. He was, after al , 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 stil 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. Al 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 wal , searching.

  Final y, he found what he was looking for. He pushed a hidden latch, and a secret compartment opened. He reached in, and pul ed 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 ful strength back already.

  Kyle saw that it was stil 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 stil , he remembered, rife with prostitutes, alcoholics, gamblers, criminals. Despite the nice veneer and architecture, there lived an underbel y 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 al he had to do was find them. He would come upon them by surprise, and, he imagined, kil 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 al 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 stil 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 al 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, fil ed 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 al ow 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, fol owing 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 al ey, 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 yel ed at him.

  The other turned to Kyle. “Hey, one-eye!” he yel ed. “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 al ; it had been like pushing a stone wal .

  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 rol ed, and both of their bodies began to slump to the ground. He put back his sword, and reached out and pul ed 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 al around him, as they saw what had happened. This was fol owed 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

  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 fel away and the landscape shifted to dense woods and rol ing hil s. Closer to the city, there were occasional houses, farms. But the further they got, the more the land opened. They passed field after field, rol ing 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 idyl ic scene, and the July temperature had dropped just enough so that the cooler air, especial y 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 rol ing hil s went right up to the shoreline.

  Nestled in the rol ing hil s, amidst the tal 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 hil , 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 cal ed 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 al in, looked at the landscape, the rol ing hil s, the distant ocean, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt a sense of peace. She felt, final y, 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 final y, 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 stil here, that it hasn’t been vandalized—that it’s even stil 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 final y 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 fal ing off in clumps as it did.

  They walked in together. The entry room was dim, and covered in cobwebs. The air was stil and dank, and it felt like it hadn’t been entered in centuries. She looked up at the high, arched stone wal s, 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.