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  She dangled him there before her, his face turning blue, choking. She was much smaller than he was, but he didn't stand a chance in her iron grip.

  Finally, she let him drop. He reached up, scrambling for his belt, and Caitlin leaned back and kicked him hard across the face, breaking his nose.

  She then leaned back and kicked him in the chest, a kick so forceful that she sent him flying back several feet. He hit the wall with such force that he left an indent in the bricks, and finally slumped down to the ground, a mess.

  But Caitlin could still feel the rage bursting through her veins. She thought of that innocent girl, of Ruth, and she hadn’t felt such rage in she didn't know when. She couldn't stop herself. She walked over to him, yanked the belt from his hand, reached back, and cracked him hard, right across his huge belly.

  He lurched up, gripping his stomach.

  As he sat up, she kicked him hard, right in the face. She connected with his chin, and sent him backwards fast, slamming the back of his head on the ground. Finally, he was unconscious.

  But Caitlin still wasn't satisfied. The rage in her wasn't easily summoned these days, but when it was, she couldn’t turn it off.

  She stepped up, placed a foot on his throat, and prepared to kill this man on the spot.

  “Caitlin!" came a sharp voice.

  She turned, still pulsing with rage, and saw Caleb standing beside her. He shook his head slowly, with a reprimanding look.

  “You've done enough damage. Let him go.”

  Something about Caleb's voice got to her.

  She grudgingly lifted her foot.

  In the distance, she spotted a huge tub filled with sewage. She could see the thick dark liquid spilling over its edges, and could smell its stink from here.

  Perfect.

  She reached down, hoisted the man above her head, even though he easily weighed over 300

  pounds, and walked him across the alley. She threw him, headfirst, into the vat of sewage.

  He landed with a splash. She saw him stuck, up to his neck, in all the excrement. She enjoyed the idea of his waking up, realizing where he was, and finally, she felt satisfied.

  Good, she thought. It is where you belong.

  Caitlin immediately thought of Ruth. She ran over to her, and examined the belt mark on her back; she was cowering, and slowly regaining her feet. Caleb came over, too, examining her, as Ruth placed her face in Caitlin's lap and whined. Caitlin kissed her on the forehead.

  Ruth suddenly shook them off and darted across the alley, to the girl.

  Caitlin spun, and suddenly remembered. She hurried over to her, too.

  Ruth ran to the girl, though, licking her on her face. The hysterically crying girl slowly stopped, distracted by Ruth’s tongue. She sat there in the mud, in her soiled, dirty dress, covered with belt marks on her back, blood oozing through, and looked up at Ruth in surprise.

  Her wet eyes opened wide as Ruth kept licking her. Finally, she reached up, slowly, hesitantly, and petted Ruth. She then reached up and gave her a hug. Ruth reciprocated, coming in close.

  It was amazing, Caitlin thought. Ruth had detected this girl from blocks away. It was as if the two had known each other forever.

  Caitlin came over and knelt down beside the girl, reaching out a hand, and helping her sit up.

  "Are you okay?" Caitlin asked.

  The girl looked at her in shock, then at Caleb. She blinked several times, as if wondering who these people could be.

  Finally, slowly, she nodded yes. Her eyes were open wide, and she looked too afraid to speak.

  Caitlin reached out and gently stroked the matted hair from her face. “It's okay," Caitlin said.

  "He won’t hurt you anymore.”

  The girl looked as if she were about to start crying again.

  "I'm Caitlin," she said. "And this is Caleb.” The girl looked at them, still not speaking.

  "What's your name?" Caitlin asked.

  After several seconds, the girl finally answered: “Scarlet."

  Caitlin smiled. “Scarlet," she repeated. "Such a pretty name. Where are your parents?"

  She shook her head. "I don't have any parents. He is my ward. I hate him. He beats me every day. For no reason. I hate him. Please don't make me go back to him. I don't have anyone else.” Caitlin turned to Caleb, and saw him look at her, both thinking the same thing at the same time.

  "You're safe now,” Caitlin said. “You don't have to worry anymore. You can come with us.” Scarlet’s eyes opened wide in surprise and delight, and she nearly broke into a smile.

  "Really?" she asked.

  Caitlin smiled back, reached out her hand, and Scarlet took it, as she helped her to her feet. She saw the wounds on her back, still oozing blood, and from somewhere deep within herself, Caitlin suddenly felt a power overcome her. She thought of what Aiden had taught her, of the power of being one with the universe, and deep within herself, she suddenly felt a power surging that she'd never known. She had always felt her power for the rage, but she had never felt a power like this.

  This was different, a new power, tingling up from her feet to her legs, through her torso, through her arms, to her fingertips.

  It was the power to heal.

  Caitlin closed her eyes and reached out, and gently placed her hands on Scarlet’s back, where the marks were. She breathed deeply, and summoned the power of the universe, summoned all the training Aiden had given her, and focused on sending white light to the girl. She felt her hands grow very hot, and felt an incredible energy coursing through her.

  Caitlin wasn't sure how much time had passed when she opened her eyes again. She looked up, slowly opening them, and saw Scarlet staring back at her, eyes wide in amazement. Caleb stared at her too, also amazed.

  Caitlin looked down, and saw that Scarlet’s wounds were completely healed.

  "Are you a magician?" Scarlet asked.

  Caitlin smiled wide. "Something like that."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sam flew over the British countryside, Polly at his side, but keeping her distance. Their wings were spread out but they were not close to touching, as they each wanted space from each other.

  Sam preferred it that way, and he assumed she did, too. He liked Polly, he really did. But after his debacle with Kendra, he wasn't ready to get close to anyone of the opposite sex for a long time to come. It would be a while before he could trust someone again. Even someone who had been close to his sister, as Polly seemed to be.

  They had been flying for hours, and as Sam looked down in the morning light, he saw endless stretches of farmland, with occasional small houses, smoke rising from their stone chimneys, even on this beautiful fall day. He saw the occasional person out in their yard, tending to clothing, hanging sheets on strings. There were not many houses, though. This countryside seem so entirely rural, he began to wonder if cities even existed in this time—whatever time and place they were in.

  Sam had no idea where to go, and Polly hadn’t been much help. They had both used their keen vampire senses to tune in, to try to use their close connection to Caitlin to sense where she might be.

  They had both intuited that she might be in this general direction, and they had been flying for hours. But since then, they had seen no clues or direct leads. Sam’s instincts told him that Caitlin was in a large city. But they hadn't passed anything remotely like a city for hundreds of miles.

  Just when Sam was beginning to wonder if they’d chosen the right direction, they rounded a bend, and as they did, he was shocked at what unfolded in the distance. There, on the horizon, sat a sprawling city. He couldn't recognize what city it was, and he wasn't sure that he’d be able to recognize it at all, even up close. His geography was pretty bad, and his history was even worse. It was the result of being moved one too many times, of falling in with the wrong friends, of not paying attention in school. He had been a C student, although he knew he had the potential to get A's. But with his upbringing, it had just been too hard for him
to find a reason to care. Now, he regretted it.

  "It’s London!" Polly called out, in delight and surprise. "Oh my God! London! I can't believe it.

  We’re here! We’re really here! What an amazing place to be!" she yelled, excitedly.

  Thank God for Polly, Sam thought, feeling stupider than ever. He realized there was a lot he could learn from her.

  As they got closer and buildings came into view, he marveled at the architecture. Even from this great distance, he could see church steeples rising into the sky, punctuating the city like a field of lances. As they came even closer, he saw just how grand and magnificent all the churches were—and was surprised that they already looked ancient. Beside them, all the other architecture was dwarfed by comparison.

  As he began to take it all in, he sensed keenly that Caitlin was here. And the thought of that excited and thrilled him.

  "Caitlin's down there!" he yelled out. "I can feel it.” Polly smiled back. "So can I!" she yelled.

  For the first time since landing in this time and place, Sam finally felt grounded, felt a strong sense of direction, and of purpose. Finally, he felt as if he were on the right track.

  He tried to sense whether she was in any danger. Try as he did, he was coming up blank. He thought of the last time he had seen her, in Paris, right before she’d fled the Notre Dame. She had been with that guy—Caleb—and he wondered if they were still together. He’d only met Caleb once or twice, but he’d liked him a lot. He hoped that Caitlin was with him, and that he was taking care of her. He got a good feeling from their being together.

  Polly suddenly dove lower, without warning, getting closer to the rooftops. Either she didn't care about Sam following, or she just assumed that he would. It annoyed Sam. He wished she’d given him some warning, or at least cared enough about him to signal that she was diving down low. And yet, a part of him sensed that she did care. Was she just playing hard to get?

  And why did he even care, either way? Didn't he just get through telling himself that he wasn't interested in girls right now?

  Sam dove down lower, to her level, and they flew just feet above the city. But he also made a point of veering off to the left, so that they flew even further apart. Take that, Sam thought.

  As they approached the city center, Sam was blown away. This time and place was so different, so unlike anything he had ever seen or experienced. He was so close the rooftops, he felt as if he could almost reach down and touch them. The majority of buildings were low, just a few stories high, and were built with slanted roofs, topped with what looked like huge piles of hay or straw.

  Most buildings were painted a bright white, with brown lines framing them. The churches—huge, marble, limestone—rose up out of the landscape, dominating entire blocks, and here and there were a few other large structures that looked like palaces. Probably, he guessed, residences for royalty.

  The city was divided by a wide river, over which they now flew. The river was bustling with traffic—boats of all shapes and sizes—and as he looked over at the streets, he saw that they were bustling, too. In fact, he couldn't believe how packed they were. There were people everywhere, hurrying to and fro. He couldn't imagine what they could possibly have to hurry about. It wasn't like they had internet, or e-mails, or faxes, or even phones.

  Still, other parts of the city were relatively peaceful. The dirt roads, the river, and all the boats provided a tranquil feeling. There were no racing cars, buses, horns, trucks or motorcycles revving.

  All was relatively quiet.

  That is, until a sudden roar rose up.

  Sam turned his head, and so did Polly.

  There, off to the side, they spotted a large stadium, built in a perfect circle and rising several stories high. It reminded him of the Roman Coliseum, although much smaller.

  From his bird’s-eye view, it looked as if there were some sort of large animal in the center of it, running around, with many other small animals running around it. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, but he could see that the stadium was packed with thousands of people, all standing, on their feet, cheering and roaring.

  He suddenly felt a tingling in his body as he watched. Not because he could tell what it was. But because he suddenly sensed Caitlin's presence there. Strongly.

  "My sister!" he yelled out to Polly. "She's there," he said, pointing. “I feel it.” Polly looked down, and furrowed her brow.

  "I'm not so sure," she said. "I don’t feel anything."

  She turned her head in the other direction, and pointed at the bridge looming before then. "I sense that she's there."

  Sam looked, and saw a huge bridge spanning the river. He was surprised to notice that it was covered with shops of all sorts, and even more surprised to see, as they flew over it, that there were several prisoners standing there, on a scaffold, nooses around their necks, hoods around their heads.

  It looked as if they were about to be executed. And large crowds gathered around them.

  "Okay," Sam said, and suddenly dove down low, right for the bridge. He figured he would pre-empt her, and be the first one to dive down this time.

  Sam landed on the bridge, not turning around, and moments later, he sensed Polly land several feet behind him. She caught up to him, and the two of them walked side-by-side, keeping their distance, he not looking at her, and she not looking at him either. He was proud that he was keeping their relationship purely professional. There wasn't even a semblance of closeness, which was clearly what they both wanted.

  Sam was amazed at the sights on the bridge. It was overwhelming, with so much stimulation coming at him from every direction.

  "Tan your leather, son?” a man asked him, holding a piece of rawhide up in his face. The man's breath stank, and Sam dodged out of his way.

  "Now where?" Sam asked Polly.

  She scanned the bridge, looking everywhere for Caitlin, as did he. But there was no sight of her anywhere.

  Polly finally shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I had sensed her here before, but now…I’m not so sure.”

  Sam turned and looked off at the horizon, back towards that stadium.

  “I sensed her back there,” he said. “In that stadium we flew over.”

  "Okay,” Polly said, “let's go that way. But let’s walk—just in case she’s on the bridge."

  As they walked across the bridge, through all the vendors, Polly seemed to cheer up again, to slowly become her jolly self. "Look at the fashions of all these people!" she said. "I mean, look at what they wear! It's amazing, isn't it? I don't think I would ever be caught dead wearing something like that. But I can see the functionality of it. I wonder how these fashions even come to be. I mean, how do they just change from generation to generation? So crazy, isn't it? And I was thinking, if I lived in this time, if I was one of these people, what color would I wear…"

  Sam sighed. Polly had begun talking again, and he knew there was no stopping her now.

  Inwardly, he tuned her out.

  As they walked, Sam scanned all the faces on the bridge, looking for any sign of Caitlin. He kept thinking he saw her, for a second, only to be disappointed. At one point, he saw a girl from behind that looked just like her, and grabbed her shoulder.

  “Caitlin!” he exclaimed.

  But the girl turned, and he was embarrassed to realize it wasn’t her; she gave him an odd look and walked away.

  Soon they were over the bridge, standing on land, and Sam spotted a huge sign which read

  “Southwark.” He turned right, in the direction of that stadium.

  They headed down a street which read “Clink Street,” and passed a large prison. They heard another roar, and this time, Sam felt certain that she was there. Caitlin. His sister. Just blocks away.

  They increased their pace and as they rounded the bend, Sam was blown away by the sight: before them sat a large stadium, in front of which milled thousands of people—crude, tough looking types—all hurrying in and out.

  He
stopped and turned to Polly. She stood there, looking amazed.

  "I feel that she's in there," he said to her. "Do you want to check it out?"

  Polly stared at the crowd, looking appalled.

  "These people look like they haven't bathed in a year," she said. "And their fashion leaves much to be desired.”

  A huge, sweaty man passed by them, not wearing a shirt, hair coming off his arms, and brushed by Polly’s arm, leaving sweat on her which she furiously wiped off.

  “Gross,” she said.

  Sam felt repulsed by it, too.

  "I don't know," Polly said. "I don't feel that she's in there. And I don't get a good feeling about this place.”

  Sam scanned the faces. "Do you have any other ideas?" he asked.

  He saw Polly close her eyes for several seconds. Finally, she opened them, looking frustrated.

  "No," she said.

  "Then let’s check it out," Sam said. "What do we have to lose?"

  *

  Sam was on guard as they walked through the large, open-air archway, into the stadium. It reminded him of entering the Roman Coliseum, but smaller.

  The electricity in the air was palpable. Before them, at eye level, was a circular, dirt floor, surrounded by wooden seating, rising steeply for several levels. There was not an empty seat in the packed house, and everyone was on their feet. People were crammed in impossibly close, shoulder to shoulder, leaning over the wooden railings, and screaming at the top of their lungs.

  Sam looked down to see what they were screaming about, and saw that there, tied to a post in the center of the dirt floor, was a huge, brown bear, fixed to the post by a ten foot metal chain, clamped to its hind leg. The bear snarled and roared, trying to break free, but to no avail.

  The bear ran in circles, back and forth, yanking at the chain with all its might—but it was futile.

  The crowd seemed to get excited every time the bear tried to break free, shouting and jeering. Sam looked closely, scanning the faces, and he could see that most of them were drunk, in the middle of the day, gripping flasks.