Kyle smiled wide.
As he approached one of them—a large, buxom woman with dyed, red hair and too much makeup—she reached up and stroked his face with her hand.
“Hey big boy,” she said, “looking for a good time? How much do you have?”
Kyle smiled, draped his arm around her, and directed her down a side alleyway.
She gladly followed.
As soon as they turned the corner, she said, “You didn’t answer my question. How much do you got—”
It was a question she would never finish.
Before she could finish speaking, Kyle had already sunk his teeth deep into her neck.
She tried to scream, but he clamped her mouth shut with his free hand, and pulled her closer, drinking and drinking. He felt the human blood rush through his veins, and felt exhilarated. He had been parched, dehydrated. The time travel had exhausted him, and this was exactly what he’d needed to restore his spirits.
As he felt her body go limp, he sucked more and more, drinking more than he could possibly need. Finally, feeling completely sated, he let her limp body drop to the floor.
As he turned and prepared to exit, a huge man, unshaven, missing a tooth, approached. He extracted a dagger from his belt.
The man looked down at the dead woman, then up to Kyle, and grimaced.
“That was my property,” the man said. “You better got money for that.”
The man took two steps towards Kyle, and lunged at him with the dagger.
Kyle, with this lightning fast reflexes, easily sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and pulled it back in one motion, breaking his arm in half. The man screamed, but before he could finish, Kyle snatched the dagger from his hands and in the same motion, slashed his throat. He let the dead body fall limp to the street.
Kyle looked down at the dagger, an intricate little thing with an ivory handle, and nodded. It wasn’t half bad. He tucked into his belt and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He breathed deeply, and, finally content, walked down the alleyway and back onto the street.
Oh, how he had missed Rome.
Caitlin walked with the priest down the aisle of the church, as he finished barring the front door and sealing off all the other entrances. The sun had set, and he lit torches as he went, gradually lighting its vast rooms.
Caitlin looked up and noticed all of the huge crosses, and wondered why she felt so at peace here. Weren’t vampires supposed to be afraid of churches? Of crosses? She remembered the White Coven’s home in the New York Cloisters, and the crosses that had lined the walls. Caleb had told her that certain vampire races embraced churches. He had launched into a long monologue about the history of the vampire race and its relationship with Christianity, but she hadn’t listened closely at the time, too enamored of him. Now, she wished she’d had.
The vampire priest led Caitlin through a side door, and Caitlin found herself descending a flight of stone steps. They walked down an arched, medieval passageway, and he continued to light torches as he went.
“I don’t think they’ll be back,” he said, locking another entrance as he went. “They’ll comb the countryside for you, and when they don’t find you, go back to their homes. That’s what they always do.”
Caitlin felt safe here, and she was so grateful for this man’s help. She wondered why he had helped her, why he had put his life on the line for her.
“Because I’m of your kind,” he said, turning and looking right at her, his piercing blue eyes boring through her.
Caitlin always forgot how easily vampires could read each other’s minds. But for a moment, she had forgotten that he was one of hers.
“Not all of us fear churches,” he said, answering her thoughts again. “You know that our race is splintered. Our kind—the benevolent kind—need churches. We thrive in them.”
As they turned down another corridor, down another small flight of steps, Caitlin wondered where he was leading them. So many questions raced through her mind, she didn’t know what to ask him first.
“Where am I?” she asked, and realized, as she did, that it was the first thing she’d said to him since they’d met. All her questions came pouring out in a rush. “What country am I in? What year is it?”
He smiled as they walked, the age lines bunching up in his face. He was a short, frail man, with white hair, clean-shaven, and a grandfatherly face. He wore the elaborate garments of a priest, and even for a vampire, he looked very old. She wondered how many centuries he’d been on this earth.
She felt kindness and warmth radiate from him, and felt very at peace around him.
“So many questions,” he finally said, with a smile. “I understand. It is a lot for you. Well, to begin with, you are in Umbria. In the small town of Assisi.”
She wracked her brain, trying to figure out where that was.
“Italy?” she asked.
“In the future, yes, this region will be a part of a country called Italy,” he said, “but not now. We are still independent. Remember,” he smiled, “you are no longer in the 21st century—as you may have guessed from the dress and behavior of those villagers.”
“What year is it?” Caitlin asked quietly, almost afraid to know the answer. Her heart beat faster.
“You are in the 18th century,” he answered. “To be more precise: the year 1790.”
1790. Assisi. Umbria. Italy.
The thought of it overwhelmed her. It all felt surreal, as if she were in a dream. She could hardly believe this was really happening, that she was really, actually, here, in this time and place. That time travel really worked.
She also felt a bit relieved: of all the times and places she could have landed, Italy in 1790 didn’t sound too foreboding. It wasn’t like landing in prehistoric times.
“Why were those people trying to kill me? And who are you?”
“Despite all of our advances, this is still a somewhat primitive and superstitious time,” he said.
“Even in this age of luxury and decadence, alas, there are still scores of commoners who live very much in fear of us.
“You see, the small mountain village of Assisi has always been a stronghold for our kind. It is frequented by vampires, and always has been. Our kind of vampire only feed on their livestock. Still, over time, the villagers begin to take notice.
“Sometimes they’ll spot one of us. And when they do, the situation becomes intolerable. So every now and again, we let them bury us. We let them go through their silly little human rituals, let them feel as if they’ve gotten rid of us. And when they’re not looking, we simply rise again and return back to our lives.
“But sometimes, a vampire rises back too soon, or is seen rising back, and then there comes the mob. It will blow over. These things always do. It brings unwanted attention to our kind, but only temporarily.”
“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said, feeling badly.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “This was your first time travel. You couldn’t control it. It takes some getting used to. Even the best of us can’t control re-surfacing very well. It’s always hard to say exactly when or where we’ll end up. You did fine,” he said, gently placing a hand on her wrist.
They walked down another corridor, this one with low, vaulted ceilings.
“Besides, you didn’t do all that bad,” he added. “After all, you knew enough to come here.”
Caitlin remembered spotting the church as she’d sprinted through the field.
“But it just seemed like the logical place to go,” she answered. “It was the first building I saw, and it seemed like a fortress.”