Desired (26 page)

Caitlin had not expected this. She’d expected to simply fly to Saint Germain Des Pres, find what was she was looking for, and continue her search. She had not expected having to navigate an angry mob of citizens in the streets. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. But then again, she couldn’t let them get in her way.

As Caitlin flew over the left bank of the city, she spotted the tal , square tower of the Saint Germain Des Pres church. It was distinctive, especial y from this bird’s-eye view. In addition to its tal rectangular tower, it was attached to a large monastery, with a long, sloping roof. Its wal s were arched along its ends, giving a beautiful, cylindrical shape to the complex. It looked like other medieval churches she had seen in the countryside, and it was shocking to see such a medieval masterpiece here, right smack in the middle of the city.

Luckily, the crowds weren’t as intense in this part of the city.

Caitlin chose a dark al ey in which to land, where no one could see her, and descended quickly.

Stil clutching Ruth, not giving her time to walk or to relieve herself, Caitlin made her way quickly into what looked like a back entrance to the church. The huge front doors, she noticed, were locked and barred, and she didn’t want to enter through the public square, and give any rowdy humans a chance for an encounter.

Instead, she went around the rear of the building, and saw a smal , arched door, probably used by the priests. This, too, was locked. But Caitlin, stronger than she’d ever been, simply looked at it, closed her eyes, and breathed, focusing on becoming one with the doorknob. When she finished, she heard a click, and saw it open by itself. Aiden’s techniques had final y sunk in.

Caitlin walked into the open door, proud of herself for not having to kick it down, and closed it firmly behind her, locking it.

It was dark in here, with just a few lingering candles, dwindling down, spread on the altar, probably the remnants of some evening worshippers. The only other thing that lit up the interior was the moonlight, streaking in through the immense stained-glass windows, which soared al the way up to the ceiling.

Caitlin looked up and took it in. It was some of the most beautiful glass she had ever seen, rows and rows of it dominating the wal s, culminating in a high, arched ceiling with Romanesque columns.

On the wal s were painted huge, ancient frescoes. The stone, too, looked ancient, and she could tel that this church was different, that it had been around forever.

She remembered Lily having told her that this was the oldest church in Paris, thousands of years old, and as she looked at it now, she could tel that it was. It was incredible to her. Here she was, in the year 1789, standing in a place that was already ancient. It made her feel insignificant in time.

Caitlin walked down the long aisle, feeling drawn towards the altar. Her footsteps echoed on the immaculate, shining black and white tiled marbled floor. There were hundreds of smal wooden chairs set out in neat rows and this place looked big enough to hold thousands. Along the wal s were smal arches, and smal statues of various medieval saints.

As Caitlin final y reached the far end, she came to a single, simple altar, recessed into the wal . It contained a large statue of Mary, holding a cross, built upon a marble pedestal.

Caitlin took out the large cross that Lily had given her. She held it up and examined it. As she did, she was shocked to see that it appeared to be the exact size of the cross in the statue’s hand.

As she looked closer, she was also shocked to realize that the cross the statue held was actual y empty. As if waiting for a cross to be inserted into it.

Could it be?
Caitlin wondered.

She climbed onto the pedestal, reached up, and held up her large silver cross. She inserted slowly, wondering if it would fit. As she inserted it, she was shocked to see that it was, indeed, a perfect fit.

As she pushed her cross, locking it firmly into place, she heard a noise, and looked down to see the pedestal of the statue swing open.

Caitlin hurried down, and pul ed open the secret compartment. The marble opened slowly, with a scraping noise, letting out ancient air and dust.

Caitlin reached in, grabbing hold of something. She pul ed it out.

She couldn’t believe it. It was another encased scrol , the same size and design as the one that had held the first half of her father’s letter.

She opened it slowly, hands trembling, and her mouth dropped open as she realized what it held.

As Sam stood there, in the entryway of Versail es, watching hordes of masses storm the steps, he broke into action. He ran to help al the guards, who were scrambling to restore the huge double doors. But the human guards weren’t strong enough to lift them back up in time.

Sam leapt forward, and, using his strength, pul ed them up by himself, restoring them back into place. He quickly scanned the room, and spotted a huge, wooden beam mounted above the fireplace. It looked like the size of an ancient tree trunk, and like it would take twenty men to lift.

Sam ran over to it, and to the shocked look of the guards, he hoisted it alone, carried it across the room, and slammed it in front of the doors, barring them.

Just in time. Moments later, there came the pounding of hundreds of fists at the door, as the masses tried to get in.

Thanks to Sam, the door seemed to be holding. At least for now.

As Sam stood there, he was soon joined by Aiden, the twins, and al the other coven members.

Guards, too, flooded in from al over the palace, and soon Pol y and Lily, and even Marie Antoinette, joined the room.

Everyone was in shock at the chaos.

“What has happened?” Marie asked.

“There have been reports that the Bastil e has been stormed, my lady,” one of the guards yel ed, frantic. “The masses are in disarray. They’re destroying everything in the streets. And now, it has spread here. I think it is a revolution!”

Sam could see the horrified expressions on the faces of Marie and her entourage.

Aiden stepped up, and mobilized his team.

“Taylor and Tyler, you protect the East wing,” he ordered, and they burst into action.

“Cain, you cover the Western entrance. I wil help hold these doors myself. And Lily, please accompany Marie back to her quarters. The rest of my men wil guard you.”

Sam walked up to him. He turned and looked at Sam, and Sam felt as if he was staring at him with disapproval.

“Go help your sister,” Aiden ordered, disapprovingly. “You have harmed her enough already.”

Sam felt a pang of guilt race through him, as he thought of Kendra and her ominous words about Caitlin.

Pol y ran up to them.

“It’s al my fault!” she cried. “I was deceived by Sergei. He asked where Caitlin was going. I told him about the Notre Dame!”

Aiden shook his head. “Go and join Sam. She wil need al of your help. And no matter what happens, make sure nothing stops her from getting the Shield.”

Sam turned to Pol y. “I made a mistake,” he said. “I need to make it up. I need to try to rescue Caitlin.”

“Me, too,” Pol y said. “I’m coming with you.”

The door shook, as several more people banged against it.

“GO!” Aiden yel ed.

Sam took off at a running start, and felt Pol y right behind him. He leapt high up into the air, through an open window, and flew into the night.

Soon, the two of them were high in the air, racing towards the horizon.

He was determined to do whatever it took to save his sister.

And if that meant kil ing Kendra, then so be it.

Caitlin unrol ed the new scrol with shaking hands. Her heart pounded as she realized that it was the second half of her Dad’s letter.

She quickly took out the first half of the letter, unrol ed it, and held it up to this one. As she put them together, she saw that the ridges fit perfectly, and that now, final y, it was one complete letter.

She read the entire letter again, from the beginning: My dearest Caitlin:

If you are reading this, you have already surpassed many obstacles. It means that you have already chosen to travel the road less traveled, to take the difficult path. For that, I commend you.

You are truly your father’s daughter.

You must forgive al the riddles, codes, letters, and keys, but the secret that I guard is most powerful, and must be broken into fragments, to prevent others from decoding it.

Only the truly worthy—only yourself—are meant to decode the secret that you ultimately wil .

If you are reading this, you already have one key in your possession. You must obtain the final three to reach me.

The second key is your focus now. To find it, you wil first have to go to the Fields of the Scholars—

Now Caitlin lifted the second half of the letter:

—and you wil need to visit the Notre Dame and retrieve the key. The dagger wil point the way.

And don’t forget: the island is a big place.

We wil be together soon.

I love you.

Your father.

Caitlin read the letter again and again, completely bewildered. The dagger wil point the way?

What dagger?

Caitlin checked back inside the marble compartment, wondering if she had missed something.

She reached in deeper than she had at first, combing its wal s with their hands.

And then she felt it. Something was attached to the back of it.

She pul ed hard, and out came a smal , silver dagger. She was shocked. She had almost overlooked it.

Now she had the dagger, and she assumed that she would need to use it, somehow, in the Notre Dame, in order to find the key.

But what did he mean when he said that the island was a big place?

Al the clues seemed to indicate that the Notre Dame was the last stop. But then again, something bothered her about his letter. It felt too obvious, too straightforward to her. She felt that there was some embedded message in there she was missing.

At least Caitlin knew where she needed to go next.

As she stood to go, there was a sudden bang at the door, fol owed by the smashing of stained glass al around her.

She heard a chorus of angry shouts, and knew it was the mob. The humans, in the midst of their revolution. Her heart broke to see such beautiful precious, ancient glass shattering, fal ing to pieces al around her.

But this was not her war. Not her revolution. She had another war to wage. One far more dangerous.

And it began in the Notre Dame.

Caleb flew through the night, determined to rush back to Caitlin’s side. He hated himself. He didn’t understand how he could have been so stupid, so naïve. So easily misled.

Worse, he had left Caitlin for nothing. He had ruined their moment, the very time he was about to propose, the very peak of their love, to run off for an il usion. For a false belief that his son was stil alive.

He would never forgive Sera for what she’d done. For ruining his life—again.

But more importantly, he would never forgive himself for being so stupid. He should have listened to Caitlin, and stayed put.

As he flew, Caleb closed his eyes, and the image passed through it again: he recal ed his arriving back at his castle, and the sinking feeling of finding it empty. Caitlin gone. He had run through empty room after empty room, and had final y realized that she had left him.

Ever since then, he had combed the skies, had looked for her everywhere. Now he was combing Paris, block by block.

As he did, he received a sudden signal, like an electric shock to his system. It was the signal of Caitlin. Of her presence. Of her being in distress. He could feel it, in every pore of his body. She was in trouble, he was certain of it.

And he could now feel where it was coming from. From deep inside Paris.

Caleb changed course, heading towards a different section of Paris with new speed, new resolve.

He was determined to find her this time, and to make wrongs right.

This time, it would be different. This time, they would real y make a new start of it. Truly be together forever. This time he knew, there would be nothing to stand in their way.

And when they final y did get a moment together, alone, he would ask her the question he’d been dying to ask her from the start.

He would ask if she would be his wife.

Caitlin flew the short distance from Saint Germain Des Pres over the Seine river, and then over the Ile de la Cite.

She circled the smal , narrow island slowly, trying to take it al in. There, of course, was the Notre Dame, huge, enormous, towering over everything, the largest building on the island.

It was an overwhelming structure. The thought of finding whatever it was she needed inside it seemed daunting.

She circled the island again, trying to take it al in context, and noticed that the Notre Dame wasn’t the only building on it. There were rows of medieval houses, crooked al eyways, cobblestone streets, and other buildings spread throughout.

She looked down to see if the mobs were here, too, as they seemed to be everywhere else in Paris. Strangely enough, they were not. In fact, the square in front of the Notre Dame was completely empty. She found that to be odd. Why would the masses revolt everywhere else in the city, but not in its most famous place? Who was control ing them, exactly?

Caitlin swooped down lower, looking more careful y. Al was eerily silent. Was it a trap?

Caitlin landed in the huge, stone plaza before the church, having it to herself, and set Ruth down. The church was lit up by dozens of torches, and she stared up at its edifice in awe. It was massive, with huge, arched doors, and dozens of figures carved over it. She had been to many churches on her journey: she thought of the Duomo in Florence, St.

Mark’s in Venice, and dozens of others—but she had never been to a church as large as this. She also couldn’t help remembering that she had begun her journey here: did that hold some significance? Was she coming ful circle?