Polly brightened at the thought of it, as she reached the lake. She knelt at its shore and began scrubbing her dress in the icy water. As she did, another cold wind picked up, this one stronger than the last, rippling the water and the otherwise still lake, forcing Polly to take a break and look up.
Polly was surprised. Seemingly out of nowhere, there appeared a small canoe on the water, drifting her way, and quickly. Polly looked at it, puzzled. Where had it come from? How had it gotten so close so fast?
She was even more taken aback as she saw a head rise up out of the canoe. It was the head of a man who was injured, his face covered in blood, and he looked right at Polly, and held out a hand for her help.
Polly stood, her heart suddenly pounding. It was a face she would recognize anywhere in the world.
It was Sam.
Polly ran out into the water, not even feeling the ice cold pain rippling through her calves as she ran up to her thighs, grabbed the canoe, and pulled it close.
There was no mistake about it: it was Sam, lying on his back, covered in blood. How was it possible?
“Help me, Polly,” he said, weakly.
It was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. It was definitely Sam, down to the last iota.
It was his hair and clothes and body and voice. It was definitely him.
But at the same time, there was something that Polly sensed, somewhere deep inside, that told her it was not Sam. She couldn’t understand it.
“What happened?” Polly yelled out to him, frantic that he was hurt.
“Please, help me,” he said, reaching out a hand.
She grabbed it. It was icy cold, and left blood on her wrist. She pulled him close to her, and felt herself wanting to break into tears. But she forced herself to be strong for him. She couldn’t imagine what might have happened to him.
“What happened to you?” she yelled out. “How can I help? What can I do?”
“Can I come onto the island?” he asked, weakly.
“What kind of question is that?” she asked, confused. “Of course you can,” she replied, as she went to pick him up in her arms.
But he resisted, staring fiercely back at her.
“So are you inviting me?” he pressed. “Do you invite me onto the island?” Polly stared back at him, narrowing her eyes, unsure what he was talking about. Was he delusional? Had he been injured in the head? Was he not thinking clearly?
“What do you mean, do I invite you?” she asked. “Why would you need an invitation?”
“Answer me,” he said, clutching her wrist. “Please,” he added, softening. “I need your help. Will you invite me?”
“Of course I invite you. You are invited. There. Are you happy? Now stop talking crazy, and let me help you,” she said, and swooped down and picked him up in her arms. She turned and carried him to shore.
This time, he did not resist. Polly couldn’t help thinking how peculiar it was, his wanting to be invited. She couldn’t even comprehend what he meant by it. He must be delusional.
She tried not to think of it, as she carried him through the water, and onto the shore. She lay him down gently on the sand and knelt beside him, ready to tend his wounds.
More than anything, she was bursting to tell him the news. About their child. But she knew this was the wrong time. So instead, she checked his body, trying to find the source of his injury.
But oddly, she could not find anything. As she examined him, he seemed perfectly fine.
She suddenly sat up and reached into his waistband. She wondered what he was reaching for, and then, in the sudden afternoon light, she saw something gleaming. A weapon.
A knife.
Before Polly could open her mouth to ask him what he was doing, suddenly, Sam reached the knife up high, and plunged it into her heart.
It was a silver knife, Polly saw, right before it entered her. She felt it plunge into her chest, right into her heart.
Polly was too shocked to scream. Instead, she sucked in her breath, gasping for air, staring at Sam with more surprise and horror than she’d ever thought possible.
She could feel the life ebbing out of her, out of her child yet unborn. She looked into Sam’s eyes and saw him staring remorselessly back—and her final thought, before her world turned black, was how much she had loved him.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Scarlet stormed out of the castle, Ruth by her side, and marched over the footbridge, determined to track down Polly and make sure she was safe. Scarlet had been sure about her premonition. With each passing day, she felt her powers grow stronger, felt herself able to see more clearly into the future—and she knew she was right. In fact, she had brought her bow and arrow with her, had snatched it off the training ground, along with a small quiver of arrows. Scarlet felt confident in her own skill as an archer, reinforced by everyone’s praise on the training grounds, and she felt that she could be of help in protecting Polly from whatever it was that was coming for her.
Besides, Scarlet did not like taking orders from anybody, or just sitting around the castle, confined—especially when she felt something bad might happen to others. And she wasn’t afraid. In fact, she never felt afraid. The only thing she felt afraid of was not being allowed to take action of her own.
Scarlet jogged down the grassy hill, and as she got closer to the lake, her sense of foreboding increased, and she broke into a sprint. Ruth, beside her, was on edge, too, her hair standing up on her back, and her fangs revealed. Ruth, too, must have sensed it.
As they rounded the hill and the view unfolded before them, Scarlet saw that she had been right.
She couldn’t understand what she saw: there was Sam, standing over Polly, reaching up a knife, and getting ready to plunge it down.
Scarlet screamed.
But it was too late. Before her words got out, before she could react, the knife was already descending, plunging towards Polly’s heart. Scarlet felt her breath taken away as she watched the horrific sight. She couldn’t understand why Sam would ever do such a thing.
But then, as she watched, right before her eyes, Sam’s face transfigured, morphed into someone else. He was now a disgusting man, with a square jaw, a pockmarked face, and large, black eyes. It hadn’t been Sam after all. It had been someone else, some evil creature who had pretended to be Sam. A shapeshifter.
Behind this man, suddenly, the water blackened with hundreds of boats, all containing vampires, and then the sky, too, blackened with hundreds more vampires. It looked like an entire vampire army, all waging war, and all heading right for the Isle of Skye. Scarlet couldn’t believe it. It was as if this first person had somehow led the way for an entire vampire army.