They stood there in the warm evening air, each looking out, each lost in their own thoughts.
The silence grew thick, and Caitlin began to feel nervous. She felt her heart start to be faster. She had no idea what to say. She wanted to thank him. But she didn’t know how to begin.
“Did you come down here just for me?” she asked softly, in the summer darkness.
He waited several moments, then nodded.
“Why?” she asked.
“I couldn’t forget you,” he said.
He turned and faced her.
“Our dance. Our boat ride. I thought what we had was real.”
He looked at her.
“Was it?”
She looked back at him, at the blazing intensity in his eyes, and could see how deeply he felt things.
“Yes,” she answered.
His face seemed to relax.
“Then why did you leave me?” he asked.
Caitlin sighed, trying to think what to say.
Finally, she simply said, “I’m sorry.”
“Do you always run when you’re interested in someone?” he asked, with a small smile.
She smiled back. “Now that I think about it, I guess I do.”
“That’s a bad habit,” he said, his smile widening.
He turned and looked at the city, and she studied him as he did. He was still very mysterious to her. He was a man of few words, and he was so soft-spoken. She could feel the intensity that burned off of him, and it scared her. He felt like a man who lived life on the edge. He seemed like a hopeless romantic, like someone who was always embroiled in a passionate affair.
“That man you spoke to the other night,” Blake continued, “the one with the child. How do you know him?”
Caitlin was at a loss. She had no idea how to explain it. “It’s complicated,” she finally said.
“Do you have feelings for him?” he asked.
Caitlin paused.
“Yes,” she said, truthfully.
She saw Blake’s face fall in disappointment.
“But,” she added, “that was in the past.”
He looked at her, confused.
“What I meant to say was…we’re no longer together.”
As she spoke the words aloud, it pained her to hear them—but even as she said it, she knew that it was true.
Blake looked at her with a new hope.
“I followed you to Florence hoping that you would say that,” he said. “From the moment I met you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Last night, I visited your island, and Aiden told me you’d left for Florence. I don’t know why you’re here exactly, but I can sense that you’re searching for something. I want to help you. I want to be with you.”
He turned and faced her, and took a step closer.
She looked up into his eyes, at his smooth, flawless skin, and felt completely overwhelmed by his presence. She was unable to resist. He looked down at her, reached up, and slowly stroked her face with the back of his hand. She closed her eyes. She remembered that night on Pollepel, that same feeling she’d had. Now it came back, but stronger.
And as he leaned in, and his lips touched hers, she felt her heart swell again. She found herself kissing him back, meeting his lips with equal force.
She found herself melting, and knew that something inside of her was slowly coming back to life.
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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Caitlin woke to the morning light breaking through the large, arched windows. She reached over to the bedside table, put two drops in each of her eyes, closed them, and waited for the sting to go away.
She opened her eyes and looked around. She saw that she was lying in a huge, king-size bed, in a massive bedroom, with soaring ceilings, moldings over all the walls, and a marble floor draped in a huge, sheepskin rug. She lay on the finest of silk sheets, covered by fine linens and blankets, her head resting in an impossibly soft pillow. She’d never been in such a luxurious place in her life.
And as she looked over, she saw that she was not the only one in it.
Blake lay beside her. And they were both undressed.
She tried to remember. After that kiss, they had gone inside, had spent the night together. It had been a magical night, and thoughts of Blake filled her mind. A part of her, of course, still thought of Caleb.
But that part was slowly fading, becoming smaller and smaller. Lying next to Blake, feeling his energy, she felt she was exactly where she was supposed to be right now.
Caitlin lay there, studying his face, still sleeping, so peaceful. She wondered how far back they went, exactly how many lifetimes they’d known each other.
She finally crawled out of bed, her bare feet feeling good on the cool marble, and walked across the room, to the enormous window. She looked up: the window was at least fifteen feet high, with lace curtains that blew in the breeze.
She leaned out and watched the dawn break over Florence. The river lit up, glowing in the soft light. Birds chirped in the trees all around her.
A strong breeze came in, cooling her down on the warm summer morning, and blowing the drapes back. They billowed in the wind all around her, as she felt the wind caressing her face.
Caitlin looked into the distance, out at Florence, and for the first time in a long time, she looked forward to the day ahead. She couldn’t wait to explore the city, to continue the search for her father, for the Shield, especially with Blake by her side.
Finally, she was not alone.
*
Caitlin and Blake held hands as they exited his palace and made their way down the endless marble staircase. She felt like a new woman. She had bathed in the enormous bathtub, and had changed into a new outfit that Blake had given to her. He had actually laid out several outfits for her.
She had chosen a simple, black one, not too tight, one which was elegant and yet which seemed to fit in with the times. It had long, black pants, and a light, long-sleeved shirt, all black and all made of a silky material. The outfit was completed by a pair of open-toed sandals. She ached to see what she looked like in a mirror.
She wondered briefly why Blake had all those clothes, but she didn’t want to ask, to ruin the moment. After all, she figured, he had been alive for thousands of years, and it was only natural for him to have had past relationships. It didn’t bother her, and she was grateful for the clothes.
As they headed down the road, towards the river, it widened, and became busier, the occasional person and horse accompanying them. They blended into the crowd and, held hands. She looked up, and was glad to see that his wound had already healed.
They walked across the small bridge, crossing the river Arno for Florence.
“The Ponte Vecchio,” Blake said.
Caitlin looked over at him. He looked happy and content, in his element.
“It is known as ‘the gold bridge.’ See the merchants? All the little tables? This is where they sell gold. The finest gold in all of Europe. It is not only the entry bridge to Florence, but it also happens to be the place to come for jewelry.”
As they strolled across the bridge, offering an incredible view of the water and the city, Caitlin looked closely: small tables lined the bridge, around which stood merchants and customers, all examining various piece of jewelry.
He took her hand, and led her to a sma
ll booth.
She looked down, and was amazed to see it filled with gold bracelets, necklaces, rings, pendants…. They all shone in the light.
Caitlin fingered a bracelet.
“Try it on,” he said, smiling.
She shook her head and put it back. “I was just looking. I don’t have any money.”
He picked it up.
“Please,” he pleaded. “Money is no issue for our kind. I have money enough to last one thousand lifetimes, and one thousand more.”
Caitlin hesitated.
Blake reached over and placed it on her wrist. It was thin and elegant, the gold a brilliant yellow, and it was lined with small pieces of sea glass. It made Caitlin remember their time on Pollepel, when he had given her that piece of sea glass. Did he remember?
But it wouldn’t fit on her wrist.
He tried to open the clasp, but it wouldn’t budge.
“You need the key,” said the merchant.
She looked up, and saw that he was holding a small key. Blake took it and inserted it into the clasp, and it opened. She was amazed.
“It is designed to be opened only with the key,” said the merchant. “Only someone close to your heart holds the key. Only they can open it.”
Blake slipped it onto her wrist, then closed the clasp, and locked it. She tried to take it off, but it wouldn’t budge.
She looked it over, and held it up to the light. It was beautiful, the sea glass reflecting all different colors. She felt like she was wearing a part of Blake.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Before she could finish asking the question, Blake had already paid the smiling merchant.
He took her hand, and they continued down the bridge.
*
Caitlin was in awe as they entered the city of Florence. It was one of the most beautiful places she had ever been. The streets were much wider here than in Venice, and not nearly as crowded.
They were lined with beautiful façades of buildings, townhouses, storefronts…. People, elegantly dressed, tipped their hats as they walked, and the occasional horse walked leisurely down the street.
There were sculptures and fountains everywhere. The streets were lined with cobblestone, and every few blocks they opened into an inviting square. This was a truly a city of light.
“So,” Blake asked, after walking in silence, “where to?”
“I need to find my father,” Caitlin said. “And an ancient shield. One that he will lead me to.”
“Your father was of our kind?”
Caitlin nodded. “I’m told that he came from a special coven. I’ve never met him.”
Blake nodded back. “That’s quite common among vampires. Often, the parents abandon the children. It’s safer that way. That way, if the parent gets caught or killed, the child is safe. Plus, there isn’t as much of a need to be together: the vampire connection is so much stronger between parent and child. Vampires don’t need to physically be with their children to be close to them. We can communicate through thoughts, thousands of miles away. And through dreams.”
That jarred something, made Caitlin think. Her dream. Those golden doors.
“Actually, that’s what led me here,” she said. “I dreamt of my father. And these beautiful, golden doors. It was like…I can’t explain it, but it was like…like he was pointing me towards Florence. I kept feeling that the answer was behind these doors. They were so unusual, so tall, and beautiful, and they had these carvings all over them.”
Blake stopped and looked at her. “You are speaking of the Baptistry doors,” he said, with all seriousness. “It can be none other than these.”
Caitlin’s eyes opened wide.
“Do they really exist?”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “They’re one of the more famous sites in Florence.”
Caitlin’s heart leapt with excitement. Finally, something tangible. A real, solid clue.
Blake took her hand. “Follow me.”
*
As Caitlin and Blake walked down Via Dei Calzaiuoli, it opened up into a huge square, Piazza del Duomo, and Caitlin was taken aback by the site. Across from them stood one of the largest, most ornate churches she had ever seen. It was built in a light stone, every inch covered with carvings, statues, designs, and interlaced with color—orange and green edgings. It was so ornate, so busy.
Its rear cathedral, rose in an enormous, orange dome—the one she had seen when first flying over the city, the same dome that dominated the city skyline. It was very beautiful, and clearly the most important building in the city.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“The Duomo,” he said. “The main church of Florence for hundreds of years. Quite overwhelming, isn’t it?”
It was. But she didn’t see any gold doors.
“But the doors…” she said, “…those aren’t them.”
“No,” he said. “Those doors you speak of are opposite the Duomo. In the Baptistry.”
He turned her shoulders and pointed. “Look,” he said.
Suddenly, Caitlin saw it. There, directly across from the Duomo, sat an octagonal shaped building, which looked small compared to the Duomo, yet which was still quite large, about one hundred feet in diameter, and rising about a hundred feet high. It was as ornately carved as the Duomo itself, in a matching stone and matching colors. But what made it special, what made it eye-stopping, was its magnificent, tall doors. All bright, shining gold. All elaborately carved, with images all over them.
Exactly as Caitlin had seen in her dream.
Her heart pounded. It was so surreal to see something in real life that she had only dreamt of.
Now, more than ever, she felt that it was a message, that she was close, once again, to finding her father.
In a daze, she walked up to the doors, and slowly held out her hand and touched them.
It was just as she remembered. She couldn’t believe how smooth the metal felt. She marveled at all their shapes, at the intricate detail.
Blake came up beside her. “This is the oldest building in Florence,” he said. “Built in 1100. It took them 21 years just to build those doors. All by hand. They look like gold. But they are actually bronze.”
She looked up, and marveled at how high the doors went. She looked closely at the depictions, at the small shapes of people and animals and angels.
“These figures,” Caitlin asked. “What are they?”
“Scenes from the Bible,” Blake answered. “The Old Testament, mainly. You see: there is Moses, receiving the tablets of God.”
Caitlin looked closely. She saw angels, demons, people standing with wings….It made her think of her kind.
“Yes,” Blake said, reading the thoughts. “Our kind are included. Do you really think a human could have carved these? These doors were carved by one of us.”
Caitlin surveyed them in wonder.
“My dream…it told me that my father would be behind these doors.”
Blake opened one of them.
Caitlin pulled back the other, slowly. It was heavy, made of solid iron.
“Let’s find out,” he said.
*
It was dim inside the Baptistry, light coming in only through the stained-glass windows. Caitlin looked up at the high ceilings, and in here, she could really see the effect of the octagon-shaped building. The panels of the ceiling, all brightly colored in frescoes against a gold background, came to a point, with a small circle in its center. Their footsteps echoed on the beautiful marble floor as they walked, and as she looked around, she saw other people milling about. Sightseers.
Despite its great beauty, Caitlin could find no hidden messages, nothing of any great significance. It was basically just an empty structure, with a small altar at one end of it. And her father, of course, was nowhere in sight.
She looked around, again and again, looking for any clue, any message. Frustrated, she finally gave up.
“I don’t see anything,” she said.
&nbs
p; “Neither do I,” he said.
She thought again and again.
“What exactly happened in your dream?” he asked.
She thought of her dream again, tried to remember every last detail, wondering if she’d left anything out.
Suddenly, it struck her.
“What if the answer doesn’t lie behind the doors?” she asked, excitedly. “What if the answer is the door itself?”
He looked at her, puzzled.
She took his hand and led him out of the building.
They stood back outside, before the doors, and she stared intensely at all the carved figures. She circled the structure slowly, walking all the way around, inspecting each and every door. Each had different carvings. She could feel the electricity running through her veins. A message was embedded in one of these carvings, she knew it.
She ran her fingers along them as she walked, trying to sense which one it could be. She closed her eyes, and circled the structure again and again.
Finally, she stopped, feeling something. She opened her eyes and stared.
There it was. Before her was a carved figure of a structure, an old church, with a distinctive shape, tall, capped by three triangles, before which knelt a winged figure. To humans, it might look like an angel, but she knew it was one of her own. This was it. She felt certain of it.
“This place,” she asked Blake urgently, breathless. “What is it?”
He came close, examined it. “That is the church of Santa Croce. It’s not far from here.”
She felt it, more strongly than she ever had. Her father was here. And that was where she had to go.
She turned and took his hand. “Let’s go.”
*
Caitlin’s heart swirled with a range of emotions as she continued down the streets of Florence with Blake. She felt she was coming close, once again, to finding her father, and her heart beat faster at the thought of it. It also brought up a whole series of questions. Had he been living in Florence all this time? What had he been waiting for? What was he like? After he gave her the Shield, would that be it? Would it be over? Or would they be able to spend time together, as father and daughter?