Destined

None of them were driven, set out to achieve things, worked nearly as hard as he.

The more they laughed, the more that he felt they were mocking him. His fury rose. He picked out one of them from the crowd, a particularly happy clown. He crept up behind him and kicked him hard, right behind the knee, and sent him to the ground, his juggling balls scattering everywhere.

The man spun and looked all around to see who did it, but he could not figure it out in the crowd. At least he had stopped laughing. That made Kyle smile, and lifted his spirits just a bit.

Kyle elbowed his way through the crowd, across the square, then down another alleyway.

Finally, he reached the waterfront, and made his way along the docks. It was slightly less crowded.

And there it was, just as he remembered it: the Bridge of Sighs. A small foot bridge, with maybe 20 steps on either side, and a fifteen foot bridge, it was just high enough for small boats to pass under. It stood opposite a prison, and from here, one could watch as prisoners were hauled off to jail. The bridge got its name, Kyle remembered, from the “sighs” of the loved ones who would stand and watch their people being taken away. It was one of Kyle’s favorite places in Venice.

More importantly, it was exactly where he needed to be. Before he could track Caitlin down, he wanted to first wreak havoc on this dump of a town. Not only because it would give him great joy to do so, but also because it was pivotal to his plan. He needed a distraction. He didn’t want to have to encounter her entire coven head on, by himself; he didn’t want to risk getting outflanked, and missing the girl again. He needed some back up. And since the Grand Council wasn’t going to give him any, he needed to create a plan of his own: the jail. Once he opened their cells, they would tear the town to pieces. That would more than suffice to provide the distraction he needed to keep the humans and the covens’ hands full.

Kyle descended the bridge, made his way down the alleyway, through a backdoor, and into the large structure housing the jail.

He strutted down the empty, marble corridor, and headed to a flight of stairs. Down there, he knew, in the bowels of Venice, sat the city jail. There he would find hundreds of human prisoners to let loose, to wreak havoc on the city—and even some prisoners of his own race.

Several policemen stood guard before the staircase, and stiffened as he approached. One of them began to raise his bayonet.

But Kyle didn’t give them the chance. He suddenly leapt in the air, kicking one hard in the chest.

In a whirlwind of speed, he punched and elbowed the others before they could react, tore the bayonet from another’s hand, and stabbed them.

Within moments, all the guards lay before him, dead.

Kyle quickly looked each way, reassured he had not been watched, and hurried down the flight of steps.

This was going to be a beautiful night, indeed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Caitlin opened her eyes, she found herself looking up at a ceiling. It was so high, so far away from her, and she noticed it was beautifully painted in a fresco. She was so disoriented, she tried to remember where she was. She felt that she was lying on her back, and felt that her head was in someone’s lap. Immediately, she remembered.

She looked up, blinking, to see who it was, her heart racing.

But staring back down at her was not Caleb.

It was Polly.

Caitlin sat up quickly, shaking off the cobwebs, looking all around.

“Finally,” Polly said. “I thought you’d be out forever. What happened?”

Caitlin looked all about the room, scanning the masks of the crowd that was quickly petering out. A pang of terror raced through her.

“Where is he?” Caitlin asked.

“Who?” Polly asked.

She scanned the room again. No. This could not be happening. Not again.

Caitlin thought back. She tried to remember the moment when he lifted the mask. Looking into his eyes.

It hadn’t been Caleb. And that was what had shocked her most of all.

No, Caleb had not appeared, at any time in the night.

The man facing her, the man she had danced with, the man she had felt such a connection with, was Blake.

And now, he was gone.

She was so mad at herself. Why had she had to pass out? Why did things like this always happen to her, at just the wrong moments?

“I saw you faint,” Polly said, “and saw a boy catch you, and I came over to help.”

“Where is he?” Caitlin asked anxiously.

“Once you were safe in my arms, he disappeared.”

Suddenly, another voice came: “Only for a moment.”

Caitlin wheeled, and her heart stopped in her chest.

Standing there, just a few feet away, was Blake. He slowly removed his mask, and stared back at her with the same intensity he had before, the same intensity she remembered from the very first time they’d met.

It all came flooding back. Their guard duty together on Pollepel, his cello playing, that night on the beach, their talk—she remembered all of it as if it were yesterday.

She wondered if he remembered, too. The way he looked at her, it made her feel as if he did.

But then again, how could he? That was in the future, and now she was in the past. Unless he had the power to see into the future. It seemed that most vampires had it, some stronger than others, so, she reasoned, it could be possible for him to remember, or, rather, to see into the future.

“Yes,” he said, reading her mind with precision. “I do.”

Caitlin felt herself blush, once again embarrassed by others reading her mind. At the same time, she felt overwhelmed with emotion, by the fact that he remembered.

He remembers. All of it. He really does.

That alone meant the world to her. Finally, she felt as if she weren’t so crazy, weren’t so alone. It felt like her first real connection to the 21st century. Finally, she didn’t feel like a complete stranger here, like none of it had ever happened.

“Caitlin?” Polly said slowly, bewildered, looking back and forth between the two. “You haven’t introduced me to your friend.”

Caitlin stood there speechless, not sure what to say.

“Um…” she started, but then stopped. She tried to think of how to explain, but she had no idea where to begin.

So she stood there, speechless, until it got awkward.

“I’m Blake,” he said finally, extending a hand to Polly.

Polly took his hand, warily. She looked at Caitlin, who was still staring at Blake as if she had seen a ghost. Not only was Caitlin overwhelmed by this connection to her past—but she also felt overwhelmed by her feeling of connection to him. She’d forgotten how striking he looked.

“You okay?” Polly asked.

Caitlin slowly nodded, still transfixed. That feeling she’d felt when they’d danced, when they’d held hands… she knew it was real. She had felt certain it had been Caleb. The connection had been overpowering. How could it be that it was not Caleb? That it was Blake? And how could it be that Caleb didn’t appear the entire night?

Caitlin felt certain that, since Caleb hadn’t appeared this night, with her searching so hard for him, with her willing him to be there, that he wasn’t here. She felt a mix of emotions, as her heart dropped, as the reality began to hit her that Caleb may not have survived the trip. Or maybe he had survived, but had ended up in another time and place.

At the same time, her heart soared at her feeling of connection to Blake. There was so much left unsaid