Betrothed

“Please!” Sam called out, breaking into a laugh. “I can’t get a word in!”

Polly stopped and stared at him, looking surprised, as if she had no idea she were speaking so much.

“Well then,” she said, “speak!”

Sam stared back at her, distracted by how blue her eyes looked in the early morning light; finally having a chance to speak, he froze up, forgetting what he was about to say.

“Uh…” he began.

Polly threw up her hands.

“Boys!” she exclaimed. “They never want you to talk – but they never have anything to say themselves! Well, I can’t wait around here anymore!” she said, and hurried off, strutting through the fields, eating another strawberry.

“Wait!” Sam called out, hurrying to catch up with her. “Where are you going?”

“Why, to find Caitlin, of course!”

“You know where she is?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “But I know where she isn’t – and that’s in this field! We need to get out of here. Find the closest city, or buildings, or whatever, and figure out what time we’re in. We have to start somewhere! And this is not the place!”

“Well, don’t you think I want to find my sister, too!?” Sam called out, exasperated.

Finally, she stopped and turned, facing him.

“I mean, don’t you want company?” Sam asked, realizing as he said it, how much he wanted to look for Caitlin with her. “Don’t you want to search together?”

Polly looked back at him with her large blue eyes, as if summing him up. He felt as if he were being scrutinized, and he could see she looked unsure. He couldn’t understand why.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I mean, you handled yourself pretty well back there in Paris – I do have to admit. But…”

She paused.

“What is it?” he finally asked.

Polly cleared her throat.

“Well, if you must know, the last – um – boy – I spent any time with – Sergei – turned out to be a liar and a con-man, who tricked and used me. I was too stupid to see it. But I’m never going to fall for anything like that again. And I’m not ready to trust anybody of the male race – not even you. I just don’t want to spend any time with any more boys right now. Not that you and I – not that I’m saying that we’re – not that I think of you that way – as anything more than a friend – than an acquaintance – ”

Polly began stammering, and he could see how nervous she had become, and couldn’t help smiling inwardly.

“ – but it’s just that, regardless, I’m sick of boys. No offense.”

Sam smiled broadly. He loved her candor, and her spunkiness.

“None taken,” he answered. “The truth be told,” he added, “I’m sick of girls.”

Polly’s eyes opened wide in surprise; that clearly wasn’t the response she’d been expecting.

“But it occurs to me that we have a better chance of finding my sister if we search together. I mean – just – ” Sam cleared his throat, “ – just professionally speaking.”

Now it was Polly’s turn to smile.

“Professionally speaking,” she repeated.

Sam reached out his hand, formally.

“I promise, we’ll just be friends – nothing more,” he said. “I’ve sworn off of girls forever. No matter what.”

“And I’ve sworn off of guys forever. No matter what,” Polly said, still examining his hand, as it dangled in the air, unsure.

Sam left his hand out patiently, waiting.

“Just friends?” she asked. “Nothing more?”

“Just friends,” Sam said.

She finally reached out and shook on it.

And as she did, Sam couldn’t help noticing that she held his hand just the slightest bit too long.

Chapter Three

Caitlin sat up in the sarcophagus, and stared back at the man before her. She knew she recognized him from somewhere, but could not place where. She stared at his large, brown, concerned eyes, his perfectly chiseled face, his cheekbones, his smooth skin, his thick, wavy hair. He was gorgeous, and she could sense how much he cared for her. She felt deep down that this was an important person to her, but for the life of her, she could not remember who it was.

Caitlin felt something wet in her palm, and looked down to see a wolf sitting there, licking her. She was surprised at how caring it was towards her, as if it had known her forever. It had beautiful white fur, with a single grey streak running down the middle of its head and back. Caitlin felt she knew this animal, too, and that at some point in her life she'd had a close connection to it.

But try as she did, she could not remember how.

She looked around the room, trying to take in her surroundings, hoping it might jog her memory. The room slowly came into focus. It was dim, lit only by a torch, and in the distance, she saw adjoining rooms, filled with sarcophagi. It had a low, vaulted ceiling, and the stones looked ancient. It looked like a crypt. She wondered how she had gotten here – and who these people were. She felt as if she had been awakened from a dream that would not end.

Caitlin closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and as she did, a collection of random images suddenly flashed through her mind. She saw herself standing in the Roman Colosseum, fighting off multiple soldiers on its hot, dusty floor; she saw herself flying over an island in the Hudson River, looking down at a sprawling castle; she saw herself in Venice, on a gondola, with a boy she did not recognize, but who was also beautiful; she saw herself in Paris, walking along a river with a man who she recognized as the same man across from her. She tried to focus on that image, to hold onto it. Perhaps it would help her remember.

She saw the two of them again, this time in his castle, in the countryside of France. She saw them riding horses on the beach, then saw a falcon, circling high above them, dropping off a letter.

She tried to zoom in on his face, to remember his name. It seemed to be coming back to her; it was so close. But her mind kept flashing something new, and it was so hard to hold onto anything. Lifetime after lifetime flashed before her in an endless snapshot of images. It was as if her memory were repopulating itself.

"Caleb," came a voice.

Caitlin opened her eyes. He was leaning in close, reaching out a hand, holding her shoulder.

"My name is Caleb. Of the White Coven. Don't you remember?"

Caitlin's eyes closed again, as her mind was jogged by his words, his voice. Caleb. The name rang like a bell in her brain. It felt like an important name to her.

White Coven. That, too, rang a bell. She suddenly saw herself in a city she knew to be New York City, in a cloister at the northern end of the island. She saw herself standing on a large terrace, looking out. She saw herself arguing with a woman named Sera.

"Caitlin," came the voice again, more firmly. "Don't you remember?"