But after many hours, she cried herself out, and now all that was left were dried up tears on her cheeks. She looked out the window, trying to distract herself, and breathed deep.
The Umbrian countryside spread out before her, and from this vantage point, high up on a hill, she could the rolling hills of Assisi. There was a full moon out, enough light for her to see that this was a truly beautiful countryside. She saw the small, country cottages dotting the landscape, the smoke rising from the chimneys, and she could already feel that this was a quieter, more relaxed time in history.
Caitlin turned and surveyed her small room, lit only by the moonlight and a small candle burning on a wall sconce. It was made entirely of stone, with only a simple bed in the corner. She marveled at how it seemed to be her fate to always end up in a cloister. This place couldn’t be more different than Pollepel, yet at the same time, the small, medieval room reminded her of the room she’d had there. It was designed for introspection.
Caitlin examined the smooth, stone floor, and saw, near the window, two slight imprints, a few inches apart, in the shape of a knee. She wondered how many nuns had prayed here, had knelt before the window. This room had probably seen hundreds of years of use.
Caitlin went over to the small bed, and laid down. It was just a stone slab, really, with the tiniest bit of straw. She tried to get comfortable, rolling on her side—and then she felt something. She reached over and extracted it, and realized with delight what it was: her journal.
She held it up, so happy to have it by her side. Her old trusted friend, it seemed to be the one thing that had survived the journey back. Holding it, this real, tangible thing, made her realize that this was not all a dream. She was really here. Everything had really happened.
A modern pen slipped out of its pages and landed on her lap. She held it up and examined it, thinking.
Yes, she decided. That was exactly what she needed to do. To write. To process. Everything had happened so fast, she’d hardly had time to catch her breath. She needed to play it through in her mind, to think back, to remember. How had she gotten here? What had happened? Where was she going?
She wasn’t sure if she knew the answers herself anymore. But by writing, she hoped she could remember.
Caitlin turned the brittle pages over until she found an empty page. She sat up and leaned against the wall, curled her knees to her chest and began to write.
* * *
How did I end up here? In Assisi? In Italy? In 1790? On the one hand, it doesn’t seem like long ago that I was back in the 21st century, in New York, living a normal teenage life. On the other hand, it seems like forever….How did it all begin?
I remember, first, the hunger pangs. My not understanding what they were. Jonah. Carnegie Hall. My first feeding. My inexplicably turning into a vampire. A half-breed is what they called me. I’d felt like I’d wanted to die.
All I’d ever wanted was to be like everybody else.
Then there was Caleb. His saving me from the evil coven, rescuing me. His coven in the Cloisters. But they cast me out, as human and vampire relationships were forbidden. I was on my own again—that is, until Caleb rescued me again.
My quest for my father, for the mythical sword that could spare the human race from a vampire war, led Caleb and I all over the place, from one historic place to another. We found the sword, and it got taken from us. As always, Kyle was waiting to ruin things.
But not before I had time to realize what I was becoming. And not before Caleb and I had time to find each other. After they stole the sword, after they stabbed me, as I was dying, he turned me, and saved me once again.
But it didn’t turn out like I’d thought. I saw Caleb with his ex-wife, Sera, and I imagined the worst. I was wrong, but it was too late. He fled, far from me, and into danger. On Pollepel island, I recovered, and trained, and made friends—vampires—closer than I’d ever had. Especially Polly. And Blake—so mysterious, so beautiful. He almost stole my heart. But I came to my senses just in time. I learned I was pregnant, and I realized I had to find and save Caleb from the vampire war.
I went to save Caleb, but it was too late. My own brother Sam, deceived us. He betrayed me, made me think he was someone else. It was because of him that I thought Caleb was not really Caleb, and I killed him, my love. With the sword. With my own hands. I still can’t forgive myself.
But I brought Caleb back to Pollepel. I tried to revive him, to bring him back, if there was any possible way. I’d told Aiden that I would do anything, sacrifice anything. I asked him if he could send us back in time.
Aiden had warned me that it might not work. And that if it did, we might not be together. But I’d insisted. I had to.
And now, here I am. Alone. In a foreign place and time. My child gone. And maybe even Caleb gone, too.
Did I make a mistake to come back?
I know I need to find my father, to find the shield. But without Caleb by my side, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to go on.
I feel so confused. I don’t know what to do next.
Please, God, help me….
* * *
As the sun rose in a huge ball over the horizon, Caitlin ran through the streets of New York. It was the apocalypse. Cars were turned over, bodies lay about, and there was devastation everywhere. She ran and ran, down avenues which never seemed to end.
As she ran, the world seemed to turn on its axis; as it did, the buildings seemed to disappear. The landscape changed, with the avenues turning into dirt paths, the concrete turning into rolling hills. She felt herself running back in time, from a modern age to another century. She felt that if she just ran faster, she could find her father, her true father, somewhere on the horizon.
She ran through small country villages, and then these, too, faded away.
Soon all that was left was a field of white flowers. As she ran through them, she was delighted to see that he was there, on the horizon, waiting. Her father.
As always, he was silhouetted against the sun, but this time, he felt closer than usual. This time, she could see his face, his expression. He was smiling, waiting for her, arms extended for a hug.
She reached him. She embraced him, and he hugged her tight, his muscled torso holding her.
“Caitlin,” he said, his voice exuding such love. “Do you know how close you are? Do you know how much I love you?”
Before she could respond, she spotted something to the side, and saw that, standing on the other side of the field, was Caleb. He held out a hand towards her.