“I was wondering the same thing,” Caleb said, reading her thoughts.
They surveyed the horizon, turning completely in every direction.
“Do you recognize it?” Caitlin asked.
He slowly shook his head.
“Well, it looks like we only have two options,” she continued. “Up or down. We’re so high up already, I say we go up. Let’s see what’s to be seen from the top.” Caleb nodded his approval, Caitlin reached out and took Scarlet’s hand, and the three of them began to hike up the slope.
It was cold up here, and Caitlin was barely dressed for this weather. She still had on her black leather boots, her tightly fitting black pants, and a fitted black long-sleeved shirt, from her sparring time in England. But it wasn’t warm enough to shield her from these cold, mountain winds.
They pressed on, climbing up the slope, grabbing onto boulders and pulling their way up.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, just as she was beginning to wonder if they’d made the right decision, finally, they reached the highest peak.
Out of breath, they stopped and surveyed their surroundings, finally able to see over the ridge.
The sight took Caitlin’s breath away. There, spread out before them, was the other side of the mountain range, stretching as far as the eye could see. Beyond that, an ocean. Far out into the ocean, she could see a mountainous, rocky island, covered in green. A primordial island, jutting out from the ocean, it was more picturesque than anything she had ever seen. It looked like a place of fairytales, especially in the early morning light, covered in an eerie mist, and in an orange and purple glow.
Even more dramatic, the only thing connecting the island to the mainland was an endlessly long rope bridge, which swayed violently in the wind and looked hundreds of years old. Beneath it was a drop of hundreds of feet to the ocean.
“Yes,” Caleb said. “That is it. That island is familiar.” He surveyed it in awe.
“Where are we?” Caitlin asked.
He looked out at the sight with reverence, then turned and faced her, excitement in his eyes.
“Skye,” he said to her. “The legendary Isle of Skye. Home to warriors, and to our kind, for thousands of years. We are in Scotland, then,” he said. “near the approach to Skye. Clearly, that is where we are meant to go. It is a sacred place.”
“Let’s fly,” Caitlin said, feeling her wings already active.
Caleb shook his head.
“Skye is one of the few places on earth where that is not possible. There will surely be vampire warriors guarding it, and more importantly, there will be an energy shield protecting it from direct overhead flight. The water creates a psychic barrier to this place. No vampire can enter without being invited.” He turned and looked at her. “We’re going to have to enter the hard way: by crossing that rope bridge.”
Caitlin stared at the bridge, swaying in the wind.
“But that bridge is treacherous,” she said.
Caleb sighed.
“Skye is unlike any other place. Only the worthy are allowed to enter. Most people who try to approach it, meet their deaths, in one way or another.”
Caleb looked at her.
“We can turn back,” he offered.
Caitlin thought about it, then shook her head.
“No,” she answered, determined. “We were placed here for a reason. Let’s do it.” CHAPTER TWO
Sam woke with a start. His world was spinning, then rocking violently, and he couldn’t understand where he was, or what was happening. He was lying on his back, that much he knew, on what felt like wood, slumped in an uncomfortable position. He was looking straight up at the sky, and he saw the clouds moving erratically.
Sam reached over, grabbed hold of a piece of wood, and pulled himself up. He sat there, blinking, his world still spinning, and got a hold of his surroundings. He couldn’t believe it. He was on a boat, a small, wooden rowboat, lying on the floor, in the middle of an ocean.
It rocked violently in the rough sea, the waves lifting it and bringing it back down. It creaked and groaned as it moved, bobbing up and down, rocking side to side. Sam saw the foam of the waves crashing all around him, felt the cold, salty wind spray him in his hair and on his face. It was early morning, in fact, a beautiful dawn, with the sky breaking in a myriad of colors. He wondered how on earth he had ended up here.
Sam spun around and surveyed the boat, and as he did, he spotted a figure lying there, in the dim morning light, on the far side, curled up, on the floor, and covered with a shawl. He wondered who it could be, stuck with him on this small boat in the middle of nowhere. And then he sensed it.
It went through him, like an electric shock. He didn’t have to see her face.
Polly.
Every bone in Sam’s body told him. He was surprised at how definitively he knew, at how connected he was with her, how deep his feelings ran for her—almost as if they were one. He didn’t understand how it had happened so quickly.
As he sat there, looking at her, unmoving, he suddenly felt a feeling of dread. He couldn’t tell if she were alive or not, and at that moment, he realized how devastated he would be if she were not.
That was when he realized, finally, unequivocally, that he loved her.
Sam got to his feet, stumbling in the small boat as a wave turned and lifted it, and managed to take a few steps and kneel by her side. He reached over and gently pulled back the shawl, and shook her shoulders. She didn’t respond, and his heart pounded as he waited.
“Polly?” he asked.
No reply.
“Polly,” he said, more firmly. “Wake up. It’s me, Sam.” But she didn’t budge, and as Sam brushed the bare skin of her shoulder, it felt too cold to him.
His heart stopped. Could it be possible?
Sam leaned over and held her face in his hands. She was as beautiful as he remembered, her skin a very pale shade of translucent white, her hair a light brown, and her perfectly-chiseled features exquisite in the glow of the early morning light. He saw her perfect, full lips, her small nose, her large eyes, her long, brown hair. He remembered those eyes when they were open, an incredible, crystal blue, like the ocean. He longed to see them open again now; he would do anything. He longed to see her smile, to hear her voice, her laughter. In the past, it had sometimes bothered him when she talked too much. But now, he would give anything to hear her talk forever.
But her skin was too cold in his hands. Ice cold. And he was beginning to despair that her eyes would never open again.