“So why were you in Venice today?” Caitlin asked.
Polly sighed. “My fault. I should have brought backup. Aiden warned us not to travel alone. But I had to get something for tonight’s party and no one was around. I just had to get the right dress. I have absolutely nothing to wear. I mean, I do, but nothing spectacular enough, at least not for tonight. I mean this ball only comes around once a year.”
“Ball?” Caitlin asked.
“How can you not know!?” Polly asked, flabbergasted. “It’s only the Grand Ball. I’ve been looking forward to it all year. I just wanted to sneak into town to see if I could find something better. I’m weaker in the day. I’m still training. If those guys got me at night, they would have paid.
But like I said, they caught me off guard. Anyway, where did you learn to fight like that?”
“Oh,” Caitlin said, smiling, “I learned a trick or two on an island once.”
She was hoping that somehow Polly would catch the reference, would remember. But she didn’t.
“An island? Do I know it? Near Venice?
Caitlin smiled.
“Not exactly,” she said.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, Rose resting her head in Caitlin’s lap.
Caitlin tried to collect her swirling thoughts as she anxiously looked out at the horizon, waiting for the first sign of land. She was excited to see where Polly lived, excited to see if there was anyone else there that she remembered. She hoped, prayed, that one of them had heard something, anything, about Caleb.
* * *
It was afternoon by the time they reached the small island, and it was lit up in a soft, orange glow. Caitlin could already tell it was beautiful. It was hardly bigger than Pollepel, stretching only a half a mile in each direction, but, unlike Pollepel, it was flat as a pancake. The trees here were different, too, with the tall, narrow Italian Cypress trees dotting the island, spread out everywhere amidst the lush, verdant grass. There was no grand castle, either, but instead, there was a huge, Renaissance church, it’s glowing white façade built right up against the water, facing the canal. It appeared to be hundreds of years old. Its entrance was flush against the water, and one could boat right up to the front doors, and step right in. She had seen this with other buildings in Venice, but it still amazed her, the idea that she could open a door and step right into the water.
Attached to the church was a huge cloister, stretching as far back as Caitlin could see, with a sloping, red-tiled roof, and dozens of arched walls and columns. Caitlin could already feel that Polly’s coven lived here.
It was still hard for Caitlin to reconcile, the idea of vampires living inside a church, or cloister.
She wondered why they had chosen this place, this island in the middle of nowhere. She assumed they could have chosen any place in Venice to live.
“Because it keeps us anonymous,” Polly said, reading her mind. Caitlin reddened, always forgetting how adept vampires were at reading minds.
“Being here keeps us off the beaten path,” Polly continued. “Venetians rarely trek out here, and when we visit them, we keep a low profile. It suits us both perfectly. We stay out of each other’s hair.”
They approached a low, gated entrance, on top of which stood several vampire guards, standing watch. Polly looked up and waved, but they stared down, straight-faced. Caitlin looked closely, but didn’t recognize any of them.
“Open the gate,” Polly said, annoyed.
“Who’s she?” one of them asked, nodding at Caitlin.
“She’s one of ours,” Polly said.
“I don’t recognize her,” said the other.
“Just open the gate,” Polly snapped. “I’m telling you it’s fine. If you have a problem with it, take it up with Aiden.”
They both paused, looking at each other, unsure. Finally, one of them pulled a lever, and the iron gate slowly rose up.
They boated right through, and onto the other side.
Caitlin looked around in amazement. This place was beautiful. In the fields, she could see dozens of vampires training in mock combat.
“Why this island?” Caitlin asked.
Polly looked at her.
“I mean, it seems like Venice has dozens of islands to choose from.”
“This is a very special place,” Polly said. “We have buried our dead here for thousands of years.
It is the Isle of the Dead for more reasons than one.”
Polly gave one last hard row, and their gondola pulled up right to the church door, its long wooden bow hitting the stone with a bang that shook the entire boat.
Rose ran down the length of it, and leapt onto the dock. Polly threw a rope onto a beam, pulled them in tight, and tied them up. Caitlin steadied herself, slowly standing in the vessel, which rocked as she did, and climbed onto shore.
Rose ran to the nearest bush and relieved herself, while Polly nimbly climbed out of the boat and finished tying the boat. She then opened wide the large church doors and stepped aside for them to enter.
Caitlin stepped inside, and was overwhelmed. Like the church in Assisi, this one had high, soaring ceilings, elaborately decorated with frescoes, and the open room was enormous. Light streamed in through the stained-glass windows, and as they walked down the marble aisle, their footsteps echoed all around them.
“The church of San Michele,” Polly said, as they walked. “Its namesake, of course, is Saint Michael, the holder of the scales on Judgment Day. Legend has it that Saint Michael is the guardian of sleep for the faithful dead. One could hardly find a more appropriate place for us.”
Polly led them to the back of the church, through a rear door, and it opened up onto a large, medieval courtyard. Columns stretched in every direction. It was solemn, and very peaceful, except for the two vampires sparring in the center, fighting with wooden swords, the click-clack of their swords echoing off the walls.
Caitlin stared at them, and couldn’t believe it: Tyler and Taylor. The twins. They looked exactly as they had on Pollepel, identical brother and sister, startlingly attractive, they still looked to be maybe 16.
“Those two,” Polly said. “They’re always sparring. Peas in a pod.”
The twins, sensing someone’s presence, stopped and walked towards them, breathless. They looked at Polly in confusion, clearly wondering who their new guest was.
“I know, it’s not often that we get visitors,” Polly said, “but this one is special. Caitlin is her name. Please make her feel welcome. She saved me from some miscreants in Venice. We owe her one. Well, I owe her one, anyway.”