She looked up at him carefully. He wore a mask, a proud, golden mask of royalty, and she couldn’t see his eyes. But her body told her.
She became breathless. The entire room stopped around here.
It had to be Caleb.
But as she opened her mouth to speak, a random dancer pulled her away, grabbed her and spun her in the other direction. At the same time, another dancer grabbed him away, and spun him in the other direction.
Caitlin tried to yank herself away, but he was too heavy and strong. By the time she managed to disengage, she was already halfway across the room, looking desperately for Caleb. She scoured every which way, looking for that golden mask, but he seemed to be gone, lost in the sea of bodies.
Frantic, Caitlin hurried through the room, shoving anyone in her way, absolutely determined to find him.
She did it again and again, crisscrossing the entire room, from one exit to the other.
Finally, after almost an hour, she was exhausted. He was nowhere to be found. If it had been him, he was gone.
Or had she imagined the whole thing?
Caitlin bent over, removed her mask, and breathed. She couldn’t stand it. It was too much.
She ran out the nearest door and then kept running, through the lobby, and through another door.
Finally, she was outside, on the square, gulping in the fresh air. She removed her mask and felt overwhelmed with emotion.
She cried and cried and cried.
A bell tolled, and Caitlin looked up at the giant clock tower, on the opposite side of the square, and saw that it was four A.M. She couldn’t believe how late she’d been out. If she had been home, in modern times, and it had been a school night, her mom would’ve killed her. Here, no one cared.
There had been many teenage girls in that room, and there were still many of them hanging out here in the square, at four in the morning.
Caitlin was exhausted. She just wanted to go home, to go back to Polly’s Island, and crash. She needed to sleep, to clear her head, to formulate a plan for finding Caleb—if he was even alive. She had been foolish, she realized now, to expect to find him in that ball. Even if that had been him, it clearly he was now gone for good.
She needed to go back in there, find Polly, and ask her if she was ready to go. She hoped that she was. The last thing she wanted was to wait here for hours more until Polly was ready to leave.
And she didn’t exactly have another way of getting back to the island—or any place else to go.
Caitlin went back inside the ballroom, and was a bit relieved to see that it was already petering out. It was half as crowded as it had been, and people were leaving by the minute.
Caitlin found Polly, luckily, and was concerned to see her crying. She hurried up to her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What happened?”
“Robert,” Polly said. “I asked him to dance. At first, he said no. Then, he changed his mind, and danced with me, but it was like he didn’t really want to dance. He was dancing too fast, like he was rushing to get through it, and jerking me around. He made me trip. He said I was a clumsy dancer.
He made fun of me and people were laughing. I’m so embarrassed,” she said, crying.
Caitlin turned red, furious. If she needed one more reason to hate Robert, she’d just found it.
“Can we leave?” Polly asked. “I want to go home.”
Caitlin was relieved to hear those words, but after hearing the story, she wasn’t quite ready to go just yet. “Of course, she said, “but can you just give me one minute?”
Polly nodded through her tears, her makeup running, and Caitlin strutted through the room.
She spotted Robert easily—he was the easiest one in the room to find, with that huge white feather protruding off the back of his mask, three feet higher than anyone else. She saw him giggling as he danced with several girls across the floor.
Caitlin spotted a passing server, reached over and grabbed a silver goblet overflowing with champagne, and hurried towards him. She snuck up behind them, and as he was dancing, casually pretended to trip, and dumped the entire goblet of champagne down his back. She made sure she dumped it down his neck, so that it trickled down his bare skin.
Robert shrieked, and pranced about the room, hopping from one foot to the other, as the cold liquid trickled down his bare back.
Caitlin ducked into the crowd and hid herself. Robert wheeled, again and again, looking for the offender, but it was futile. The girls all around him laughed at him.
Caitlin, satisfied, set the goblet down and hurried back towards Polly.
The room was really emptying out now, and a new song started, a slower, more romantic one—
probably, Caitlin assumed, the last song of the night. She looked over and saw that Mozart was still playing, sweat pouring off his face, pale, not looking very healthy.
And that was when she felt it.
The fingers on her shoulders. The electric thrill as it passed through her.
She stopped in her tracks. She was afraid to turn around and face him. Afraid that it was really him. And that she would lose him again.
Slowly, she turned.
And there he stood, with the same gold mask. With one hand outstretched, waiting for her hand.
He had found her. For the last dance of the night.
Her heart pounding, Caitlin took his hand, as he placed his other on her waist. She held his hand tightly this time, and put her other on his shoulder, determined not to let anyone break them apart.
They waltzed slowly across the room, and with each step, she felt her heart soaring through her chest. It was really him. She was so happy that he was alive. That he had made it. It reaffirmed her belief that everything had a reason. That, no matter what came between them, they would always be destined to be together.
The dance went on, as slowly, the room emptied.
Finally, the dance died down, and they stopped, each holding the other tightly, neither willing to let go.
Finally, he released his grip, raised his hand, and prepared to lift his mask.
Caitlin’s heart pounded so hard, she could barely even think.
He pulled his mask back.
And that was when Caitlin fainted.
Kyle flew quickly in the night, diving right for Venice. That priest had been a tough one—it had taken more severe torture than Kyle had imagined to get the answers out of him, to find out where Caitlin had gone. But in the end, right before he killed him, Kyle prevailed. He smiled at the thought of it.
Kyle dove for the back streets of Venice. It was a fast and hard dive, and he chose an unlit alley, one that he’d always used whenever he’d needed to visit this stinkhole of a town. Just as he remembered, the alley was filthy and pitch-black. It provided the perfect cover for landing in the night.
It was so dark that Kyle couldn’t precisely see where he was going, and he came in a bit too fast, and accidentally set down on something. At first he was surprised by the softness of the ground, but when he heard a man grunt, he realized he’d landed on a sleeping bum.
The bum jumped up, and scowled back at Kyle. “What do you think you’re doing!?” he screamed.
Kyle, annoyed already, didn’t give him a chance to finish. He kicked him hard, and sent him flying across the alley, hard into a wall. The bum collapsed, unconscious. That made Kyle feel just a bit better.
Kyle looked around, and, with satisfaction, noted that no one had seen him land. As he headed down the alleyway, he recoiled at the smell, the stink of this city. It almost made him pine for the 21st century.
Kyle straightened his shirt, and walked out into a square. He found himself smack in the thick of the crowds of Venice. The human fools danced and played and sang all around him. It irritated him beyond belief. He couldn’t fathom what they could be so happy about. They were just a bunch of mortals, with no purpose of life, like he had.
