Microsoft Word - BETROTHED.docx (21 page)

Now, seeing him here, back in the flesh, all of her emotions burned fresh. She felt a new wave of anger towards him, as if it had all just happened yesterday. What audacity he had to come back in time, to try to talk to her. He stood there with a stupid smile on his face, as if nothing had ever happened between them, and Polly felt her anger grow even more.

"Polly,” he said, “I came back for you. To find you. I miss you.” Polly shook her arm roughly, throwing his hand off of it, and stared back at him.

"Don't you dare put your hand on me," she snarled at him. "Don’t you ever put your hand on me again."

His face seemed to collapse with sorrow.

"I'm so sorry, Polly. I behaved badly. I recognize that now. I made a huge mistake. I was under such pressures—I wasn't myself. That wasn't really me. I really loved you, all along. I still do.” Polly felt such a wave of anger, she couldn't help herself. She reached up and smacked him hard across the face, the noise so loud that several passersby turned to look. It felt good to hit him, to release a fraction of her anger.

Sergei looked shocked, as if he hadn't expected that.

"You lied to me,” she said, her voice cold and steely. “You used me. You're a liar. I'll never trust you again. No matter what you say. I can't believe you even came back here. You’re pathetic. And you're just wasting your time if you think I’ll ever so much as like you again."

He lowered his eyes.

"I deserved that. I know. And I'm so sorry. I can't say it enough. Can’t you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Polly could hear how broken his voice sounded. It certainly sounded genuine. And it felt good to hear those words, especially after what he had put her through. And she did have to admit that somewhere, deep down, she still felt a tiny twinge of affection for him.

But Polly quickly pushed those feelings away, forcing herself to remember what he had done.

And forcing herself to think of Sam, who she genuinely liked.

“If you come near me again," Polly said, "I won't be so kind. You and I are enemies now. I will never forgive you. No matter what you say."

"I came back in time because I
love
you!” he pleaded. “And I know that you still love me too. I want to hear those words. Please, tell me that you love me, Polly. Just like you used to. Say it again.

Tell me that you love me again."

Polly turned, as she sensed someone approach.

Just a few feet away, watching them, was Sam. He looked wide-eyed, a little drunk, and very, very jealous.

As Sam exited the bar, having had a little bit too much to drink, he took several steps, then ran smack into Polly and Sergei. He stopped short in his tracks, completely shocked at the sight before him: there stood Polly and Sergei. And he was asking her to tell him again how much she loved him.

Sam felt jealousy and anger well up within him. There was Sergei, who had clearly traveled back in time to win back Polly. And there was Polly, who must have just declared her love for him. Why else would he ask her to “say it again?” To
Sergei
, the creature who had betrayed Polly once, and who had betrayed his sister. The man who had tried to kill them both in the Notre Dame.

And now here they were, standing, talking together. And talking about love.

Sam felt an overwhelming rage well up in him.

Sergei turned and looked at Sam, and for a flash, Sam could see fear in his eyes.

He should be afraid
, Sam thought.

"Sam," Polly said. She must have seen the look in his eyes, too.

But it was too late. Nothing she said could stop Sam’s swirling emotions.

He lowered his shoulder and lunged at Sergei, tackling him hard, and driving him all the way back through the crowd.

People screamed, carts were overturned, and bodies went flying, as Sam threw Sergei across the road with such force that he went flying, dozens of feet into the air, and into a huge cart of fruits and vegetables, knocking it over.

The entire cart went crashing to the ground, collapsing onto Sergei, who lay there, looking stunned.

"Sam, stop!" Polly yelled.

Sam couldn’t understand why she was being protective of Sergei. That only proved that she did care about Sergei. That she still loved him.

And that just made Sam feel even more rage.

Sam charged Sergei again as he lay on the ground, ready to finish him off.

But Sergei quickly jumped to his feet, and suddenly took off into the air, flying away, to the shock and screams of passersby. Sam had almost forgotten that Sergei was one of his, able to fly, and with reflexes nearly as fast.

Sam stood there and watched Sergei fly away, the coward that he was, afraid to fight him. Sam stood there, breathing hard, and could feel the shocked stares of all the people around him.

For now, he would let him fly away. If Sergei was too much of a coward to stand and fight, then he didn't deserve to fight Sam anyway.

Slowly, Sam's anger began to calm.

"Sam, what are you doing!?" Polly yelled.

She was standing next to him, and looked pissed, hands on her hips.

"What do you mean, what was I doing?” he snapped back. “He tried to kill my sister. He tried to kill both of us! The better question is: what were
you
doing? Why was he here? And why were you talking about how much you love him?"

Sam saw Polly's face darken. He'd never seen her look so mad before.

"I was NOT talking to him about love. You misheard us. I would have hoped that you would think better of me than that.”

"Well that's not the way it looked," Sam snapped back.

“Well then," she said, "if you don't trust me, then let’s just go our separate ways. We’re not even together!”

Sam felt himself torn apart by his emotions—anger, jealousy, betrayal.

"Fine," he snapped.

"Fine," she snapped back.

Sam turned and stormed away from her, elbowing his way through the crowd, feeling hollowed out. His rage was leaving him, and was being replaced by something else. Sadness. He had felt that he and Polly were really getting close. And now, this. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but he felt that whatever it was, it had ruined things between them.

Sam hurried back down into the tavern, back to his table, and sat across from Caleb, needing a drink more than ever.

As he looked up at Caleb, who sat there, looking woozy, Sam could commiserate with him.

"Girls," Sam said, shaking his head. “I know how you feel now," he said. "It just isn't fair."

Suddenly, Sam watched as Caleb reached for his own throat, as if choking. His eyes opened wide, and he began to quiver.

"Caleb?" Sam asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Caleb’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he began to slump over, about to collapse.

Sam, with his lightning quick reflexes, jumped around the table and caught Caleb in mid-air, right before he hit the ground. He held Caleb's limp body in his arms, as the other coven members began to crowd around.

"Caleb?" Sam prodded, frantic, as he shook him. “Caleb?” Caleb did not respond, and his already-pale skin looked as if it were turning blue.

"We need a doctor!" Sam yelled, into the crowd.

But even as he screamed it, as the startled crowd began to gather around him, Sam knew it would be useless. After all, Caleb was a vampire. And only one person he knew of knew how to heal a vampire.

Aiden.

Sam picked up Caleb’s limp body and burst through the bar, running up the steps, out the door, and with three strong leaps, jumping up into the air, carrying Caleb. He flew as fast as he could towards the only help he knew.

He only hoped that it wasn’t already too late.

Caitlin flew down towards Warwick Castle in a panic. She was the first of her coven members to return from London, and she held Scarlet in her arms, clutching her tight. Scarlet had been in and out of consciousness for most of the trip, and over the last hour or so, Caitlin had seen welts begin to form on her face. She was out of her mind with grief and anxiety. She was certain now that Scarlet had caught the Plague.

She dove down, behind the inner walls of the castle, into the courtyard, and landed softly. She ran with Scarlet through the large oak door, and down the stone hallways.

"Aiden!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the empty corridors.

“AIDEN!”

But he was nowhere to be found, and she did not sense his presence anywhere on the property.

Where was he?
she thought. Now, of all times, when she needed him most.

Caitlin hurried down a corridor, kicking a door open, and hurrying up a flight of steps. She knew that this wing of the castle held the bedrooms, and her first order of business was making Scarlet comfortable.

She kicked open another door, and found herself in a beautiful bedroom, with a large four-poster bed, enormous windows overlooking the river, and acres of rolling hills. It was peaceful in here, and the bedding was clean and luxurious. It would be a perfect place for Scarlet to rest.

She hurried over to the bed and draped Scarlet down, laying her head gently on the pillow. She reached over and brushed Scarlet's hair, now sticky, off her forehead. But Scarlet's eyes still hadn’t opened.

Caitlin was beginning to feel overwhelmed with panic. If it had been her, Caitlin, who was injured or sick, she wouldn't be worried—and if it had been a fellow vampire, she wouldn't be worried, either. But it was someone else, and someone she loved so dearly—and a human. She felt so helpless, and had no idea what to do.

She knew the horrible twists and turns the Plague could take. She knew, from her history books, that it had wiped out nearly a third of Europe. And she knew that once you got it, your chances of survival were not good. She also knew that the pain and suffering was intolerable, even for an adult.

Her heart broke, as she thought of the pain Scarlet might have to go through while the plague reached its worse over the next few days.

Caitlin ran across the room, grabbed a washcloth, dumped it in a bucket of cold water and squeezed it out. She hurried back to Scarlet’s side, reached up and wiped her forehead with it. It was burning hot.

As she did, Scarlet's eyes fluttered open a tiny bit. Sleepily, she looked over at Caitlin.

"Mommy, I'm so hot," Scarlet said. "It hurts so bad. Can you make it go away?"

Caitlin’s heart broke. She wished that now, more than ever, she was in the 21st century, that she could take Scarlet into a modern hospital, have them give her modern antibiotics, pain reducers, anti-inflammatories. Whatever they could to make her feel comfortable.

But here, in this time and place, there was little she could do except sit by her side, and watch it take its course.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Caitlin said. "It will go away.”

"Do you promise?" Scarlet asked.

Caitlin swallowed hard.

"I promise," she said.

Caitlin felt her heart breaking inside. She couldn't believe how much had happened so fast. Just hours ago she’d been having one of the greatest times of her life. Watching Romeo and Juliet.

Meeting Shakespeare. Celebrating her engagement party, all of her family and friends so close. She had felt truly happy and secure, as if nothing could ever change.

And then, it was as if a storm had hit.

First, Violet.

Then, Scarlet.

Scarlet's illness had taken Caitlin's mind off of Violet and Caleb. But now, she thought of him.

Where was Caleb? Why wasn't he here?

Caitlin became angry now. Did he linger behind, with Violet? Why hadn't he come back to Warwick? Hadn't he realized that Scarlet was sick?

As Caitlin thought about it, she realized that Caleb didn't know that Scarlet was sick, since it had happened outside the tavern. Still, she couldn't help but feeling mad at him. She wanted him to be there, right now, at her side, helping with Scarlet. Telling her that everything would be okay.

Because deep down, Caitlin felt that it would not. That her beautiful, incredible life had just taken a very, very bad turn for the worse. And that it would never turn back around. In fact, Caitlin couldn't imagine how things could possibly get any worse.

Until suddenly, the door crashed open. Sam rushed into the room, holding Caleb in his arms, and Caitlin's heart stopped.

She couldn't believe it. Caleb looked blue, lifeless. Her heart, already broken, broke again. She was wrong about one thing: things could indeed get much, much worse.

*

Caitlin helped Sam drape Caleb on the bed, laying him down beside Scarlet. The bed was so large, it held both of them easily, one on each side.

As Caitlin looked down at the sight, she couldn't believe it: lying there, side by side, were two people she loved most in the world, both draped out next to each other, both deathly ill. Scarlet, she could understand, even if she could not accept it. She had seen the flea bites. She knew what the Plague could do. And she was human.

But Caleb? She could not conceive what could be wrong with him. He was a vampire after all.

Immortal.

Wasn’t he?

"What happened?" she asked Sam, frantic. She felt her heart pounding in her mouth. She had never seen Caleb look so ill.

"I don't know," Sam said. "One minute he was sitting there, the next he collapsed. I flew him back here. The others are right behind me.”

As if on cue, the door burst open, and in rushed Polly, Lily, Tyler, and a dozen coven members, along with Ruth, who ran up to the bed, jumped up on it, and curled up beside Scarlet. She licked Scarlet’s face repeatedly, to no avail, then laid her nose on her chest and whined.

"But it's not possible," Caitlin repeated. “Caleb—" she said, then stopped, not knowing what to say. “He's one of us. How could he be sick like this?”

"I don't know," Sam said answered, solemnly.

Polly hurried over and knelt by Scarlet’s side, taking her limp hand.

"What happened to
her
?" she asked, filled with alarm.

As she looked, she saw ever-rising welts growing all over Scarlet's face. There was nothing else it could be. "The Plague," Caitlin pronounced grimly.