Morgan Rice - [Vampire Journals 05] - Desired Page 0,1

feeling in her chest that he had not come back with her.

After al , he had not awakened at her side, holding her hand, he was not there to reassure her. Did that mean he had not made the trip back? The pit in her stomach grew bigger.

And what about Sam? He had been there, too. Why wasn’t there any sign of him?

Caitlin final y reached the top of the staircase, opened another door, and stood there, amazed at the sight. She was standing in the main chapel of an extraordinary church.

She had never seen such high ceilings, so much stained-glass, such an enormous, elaborate altar. The rows of pews stretched forever, and it looked like this place could hold thousands of people.

Luckily, it was empty. Candles burned everywhere, but clearly, it was late. She was grateful for that: the last thing she wanted was to walk out into a crowd of thousands of people staring right at her.

Caitlin walked slowly, right down the center of the isle, heading towards the exit. She was on the lookout for Caleb, for Sam, or maybe even for a priest. Someone like that priest in Assisi, who might welcome her, explain things to her. Who might tel her where she was, and when, and why.

But there was no one. Caitlin seemed to be completely, utterly alone.

Caitlin reached the huge, double doors, and braced herself to face whatever might be outside.

to face whatever might be outside.

As she opened them, she gasped. The night was lit up by street torches everywhere, and before her was a large crowd of people. They weren’t waiting to enter the church, but rather were mil ing around, in a large, open plaza. It was a busy, festive night scene, and as Caitlin felt the heat, she knew that it was summer. She was shocked by the sight of al these people, by their antiquated wardrobe, by their formality. Luckily, no one seemed to notice her. But she couldn’t take her eyes off of them.

There were hundreds of people, most dressed formal y, al clearly from another century. Among them were horses, carriages, street peddlers, artists, singers. It was a crowded, summer night scene, and it was overwhelming.

She wondered what year it could be, and what place she could have possibly landed in. More importantly, as she scanned al the strange and foreign faces, she wondered if Caleb could be waiting among them.

She scanned the crowd desperately, hoping, trying to convince herself that Caleb, or maybe Sam, could be among them. She looked every which way, but after several minutes, she realized they simply were not here.

Caitlin took several steps out, into the square, and then turned and faced the church, hoping that perhaps she would recognize its façade, and that it would give her a hint as to where she was.

It did. She was hardly an expert on architecture, or history, or churches, but some things she knew. Some places were so obvious, so etched into the public consciousness, that she was sure she could recognize them. And this was one of those.

She was standing before the Notre Dame.

She was in Paris.

It was a place she could not mistake for any other. Its three huge front doors, ornately carved; the dozens of smal statues above them; its elaborate façade reaching hundreds of feet into the sky.

It was one of the most recognizable places on earth. She had seen it online before, many times. She couldn’t believe it: she was real y in Paris.

Caitlin had always wanted to go to Paris, had always begged her mother to take her. When she had a boyfriend once, in high school, she had always hoped he’d take her there. It was a place she had always dreamed of going, and it took her breath away that she was actual y here. And in another century.

Caitlin felt herself get jostled in the thickening crowd, and she suddenly looked down and took stock of her clothes.

She was mortified to see that she was stil dressed in the simple prison garb that Kyle had given her in the Colosseum in Rome. She wore a canvas tunic, rough against her skin, crudely cut, way too big for her, tied over her torso and legs with a piece of rope. Her hair was matted, unwashed, in her face. She looked like an escaped prisoner, or a vagabond.

Feeling more anxious, Caitlin again looked for Caleb, for Sam, for anyone she recognized, anyone that could help her. She had never