by Морган Райс
SEVENTEEN
Caitlin was excited as she hurried through her room, laying out her clothes on her bed as she got dressed. The sunset light streamed into her window, and as she realized how late it was getting, she increased her pace. Polly would be here any second, and she couldn’t be late to the concert. But she was frozen in indecision. She just didn’t know what to wear.
Spread out on the bed before her were two outfits that Polly had found for her. They were both black, but both very different. One of them was a fitted dress made of some material that Caitlin didn’t recognize—whatever it was, it had a sheen to it, and looked like leather. The other was more subdued. It consisted of black, fitted jeans and a light black turtleneck, with black flats to go along with it. Caitlin couldn’t decide if she should be more subdued, or if she should go for the high-gloss, more dramatic look.
There was a knocking on the door. Polly.
Caitlin quickly sprang into action, deciding on the more subdued look. It was more her.
“Caitlin!” came the voice.
Before Caitlin could answer, Polly let herself. Caitlin finished pulling on the turtleneck, pulled out her hair from it, and was basically dressed.
Polly looked her up and down. “Wow,” Polly said, “that fits you so much better than me. You look beautiful.”
“Really?” Caitlin asked hopefully.
“I wish we had a working mirror to prove it,” Polly said. “One of the hazards of being a vampire girl.”
Caitlin had actually discovered, the day before, a piece of washed up metal on the island, and had brought it up to her room, rubbing it down and polishing it.
“Problem solved,” Caitlin said.
It sat in the corner, and as she walked over to it, she could indeed catch a small glimpse of her reflection.
Polly’s eyes opened wide in delight, and she came hurrying over, and stood beside it, too, looking at herself in the metal.
“OMG, this is awesome!” Polly exclaimed. “How did you figure that one? It’s great to see myself!”
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Caitlin actually liked how she looked. It felt her, and she felt as if she were starting to come into her own, to figure out what her look was.
“Your cheeks are shining, too,” Polly said, “they’re full of color. You look very healthy. Fleshed out.”
As Caitlin looked, she realized that Polly was right. She had never quite seen herself looking like this before. Was it because she was a full vampire now? She looked more mature. Less like a girl, and more like a woman. She liked it.
Caitlin looked at Polly. She was wearing the Lily Pulitzer outfit, and it suited her. She looked radiant.
“You look beautiful, too,” Caitlin said.
“Really?” Polly asked. She turned left and right, examining herself, “I hope Patrick likes it. He’s never seen me in this before. I’m so excited. It’s our first official date.”
Caitlin fell another pang of anxiety, as she remembered that everyone would have a date but her.
And Blake. That would make them both stand out. It was a lot of pressure. And really not something Caitlin wanted to deal with right now.
But on the other hand, she liked all of her covenmates and was excited to see what their concert would be like. So she would just deal with it.
She marveled at how normal things felt. If it weren’t for being on an island, and in a castle, she would right now totally feel as if she were back at home, in her bedroom, hanging out with her friends, getting ready to go out for the night. It really felt like life had finally settled down, come back to normal. She realized again how at home she felt here, and she was so grateful for it. She hoped things would never change.
Polly suddenly looked out the window, and worry flashed across her face.
“We’re gonna be late!” she said. “We have to go,” she said, hurrying out the room.
As Caitlin began to follow her, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Caleb’s letter. It still sat there, unopened, on her desk. Why had she had to look at it now, of all times? She had been feeling so good, had been just getting him out of her mind. The sight of it brought her back, left a pit in her stomach. A part of her wanted to tear it open, and another part of her wanted to tear it to pieces.
“Caitlin!” Polly yelled. “What are you doing!?”
Caitlin exhaled. Not now, she thought. She tried hard to put it out of her mind.
And with that, she steeled herself and hurried out the door, Rose following at her heels.
This was clearly a special night, because the pathway leading through the forest was lit up by torches. Caitlin, Polly and Rose had but a short walk to go until they entered the large clearing, which was lit by even more torches, and encased by small walls of crumbling ruins. There was a wide block of hewn stone in the center of the grass, which they seemed to use as a makeshift stage, and the whole scene reminded Caitlin of something out of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was a magical forest setting, and she felt as if she were in a mini, ancient theatre.
Although the setting was casual and everyone intermingled in a relaxed way, almost like a cocktail party, Caitlin nonetheless felt self-conscious as she entered. She was happy to have Polly at her side. But as soon as they entered, Patrick hurried over, Polly lit up with excitement, linked arms with him, and they headed off to the far side of the clearing. Caitlin was on her own.
She looked around, and saw that everyone was linked up in couples. She felt even more self-conscious, as if everyone were looking at her. She knew that they weren’t, but she felt it anyway.
“Caitlin,” came the voice.
Caitlin turned to see Cain standing there.
Ever since that first day, Cain had gone out of his way to be apologetic. At first, she had appreciated it, but now it was just getting annoying. She almost wished that he would just leave her alone. She had accepted his apology a million times, and it didn’t seem like it would ever end.
“I want you to meet Barbara,” he said.
Beside him stood Barbara, a very tall and thin vampire, much taller than Cain, with straight black hair, small black eyes, and a narrow, elongated face. Her eyes seemed half-closed, as if she were sleeping. She seemed either very relaxed, or very apathetic. She moved slowly, as she extended a long, pale hand to Caitlin.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Barbara said slowly, in a deep voice.
Caitlin shook it, and felt a chill run through. Her hand was supple and freezing.
“Pleased to meet you,” Caitlin said.
As the two of them drifted off, Caitlin thought that they were an odd couple. But at least they were a couple. Here she was, standing conspicuously alone, feeling worse than ever. At that moment, she desperately missed Caleb. She would give anything to have him by her side now. It was the only thing missing in the picture, the only thing keeping her from complete happiness.
Caitlin spotted, off to the side, what looked like a makeshift bar, on top of a crumbling ruin. It was lined with all sorts of exotic goblets and chalices—silver, gold, encrusted with jewels—and between them sat several glass pitchers of a red liquid, fruit floating inside.
She drifted over to it, wondering what was in it. Was it alcohol? She wondered briefly if they were allowed to drink. I guess so, Caitlin thought. Why not? After all, most of these vampires, while they looked about 18, had been alive for thousands of years. If they weren’t legal to drink, then who was?
“It’s our special sangria,” came a voice.
Caitlin looked over and saw the twins, Taylor and Tyler, standing behind her.
“I made it myself,” Tyler said.
“And I added the flourish,” Taylor said.
“It’s your typical sangria,” Tyler said. “A little wine, a little fruit—”
“And a little something special,” Taylor interjected, “To add a kick. Just for vampires. Fresh venison blood.”
He took the pitcher and poured some into a la
rge, jewel-encrusted goblet.
Caitlin took it and drank. It was delicious, and it went right to her head.
“Wow!” Caitlin said.
They both beamed, and nodded in approval.
As they drifted away, Caitlin slowly, discreetly, looked around the clearing. She noticed Madeline and Harrison, sitting to the side on a large tree stump, and she noticed Eric and Sasha, holding hands, walking slowly on the other side. She saw Polly and Patrick engrossed in conversation with Cain and Barbara. She wondered what on earth they could be talking about.
There were others, too, but she couldn’t quite remember all of their names. It was so much at once.
But as she looked, she realized that she was looking for a particular person. Despite herself, she had to admit that she was looking for Blake.
And as usual, he was nowhere in sight.
He was maddening. Why did he get special privileges? Why didn’t he have to be social, like everyone else? Didn’t Aiden tell her that it was all for one, and one for all?
Suddenly, Caitlin heard a clinking of a glass, and as she watched, her covenmates slowly drifted to various seats in the clearing. They sat on makeshift logs, tree stumps, some on the grass, and some on huge, smooth boulders.
They were all sitting with their backs to her, looking expectantly at the large, makeshift stage.
Aiden stood beside it, clinking a glass with a knife.
“Tonight,” he said loudly, enunciating each word, “we have a very special treat for you: Bach’s cello suites.”
There was light applause from her covenmates, as Aiden descended and a figure took the stage.
Caitlin’s heart stopped. It was him. Blake.
He ascended to the stage, and to Caitlin’s shock, he was carrying a cello.
She hurried over and took a seat on a large, smooth stone, and Rose jumped up and sat beside her. She watched, riveted, as Blake positioned himself on a small chair, beneath the torchlight. He looked very serious, even more serious than usual, as he stared down at the floor.
He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, pulled back the bow, and began.
The music was exquisite. Caitlin had never heard anything like it. It brought her back. She thought of Jonah, and his viola, and their concert in Carnegie Hall; she thought of Caleb, and the Whaling Church, and his incredible piano recital. But this instrument—it sounded different than the others. It was so smooth, mellow, relaxing.
She watched Blake as he played. In the torchlight, his features were even more impressive. He was lean, angular, striking. He played the instrument like a master, hitting every note perfectly, and the music was divine. It utterly relaxed Caitlin, in every pore of her body. As she listened, she was shocked that such beautiful music could come from such an anguished person. How was it possible?
As she watched him, she could see all sorts of emotions flow through his face, and she began to realize just how deep and complex Blake was. There was clearly so much that he was holding inside, so much that he was unable to vocalize. Why was he holding so much inside? What had happened to make him like this?
The hour flew by so quickly that when the playing ended, Caitlin could hardly believe it was finished. She felt as if it had just begun. The final, deep note hung in the forest air, mingling with the sound of the lapping waves of the Hudson. It was utterly silent, as her covenmates sat there, not stirring.
Finally, after several seconds of silence, they all slowly stood, and clapped loudly.
Caitlin was still in shock. It was hard for her to come back to yourself, to get over what she’d just experienced. As Blake stood there, staring right at her, she suddenly realized that she was the only one still seated, not clapping. It wasn’t because the music hadn’t affected her—it was because it had affected her. Too much. It had brought flooding back memories of Jonah, of Caleb. And now, a new memory: of Blake. She felt like she could hardly breathe, and she didn’t know what to make of all her emotions.
She felt like she was about to burst, to cry, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t lose it in front of these people. She jumped up and ran off into the woods, Rose following. As she did, she feared what they would all think of her. She was sure they would hate her now, being so rude. But she had no choice. It was just too much.
After a few minutes of running, Caitlin found herself on a small, sandy shore of the far side of the island, breathing deep and wiping away her tears. She missed Caleb so much. And now, worse, she was mesmerized by Blake. She felt some connection to him. She couldn’t explain it. It was dark and tragic, and overwhelmingly powerful. The power of it scared her. And at this moment in her life, she didn’t want to be feeling a connection with anyone but Caleb.
Caitlin walked along the shore, listening to the lapping of the waves, admiring the moonlight, and she slowly stopped crying. She forced herself to breathe deeply.
“Caitlin?” came a voice. It was so soft, she almost wondered if she’d heard it.
She spun around.
And there he was. Blake. Standing just a few feet away, and looking at her with concern.
No. Why had he had to come here? Why couldn’t he just let her be?
She felt as if she were being caught up in a web of destiny, and that no matter what she did, she was helpless to escape. She saw their relationship already, saw it already happening as clearly as day, and it terrified her.
She quickly wiped away her tears, breathed deeply, and tried to sound confident.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He took a step closer. She did not back away.
“I saw you run out,” he said, seriously. “I want to see if you’re OK?”
“Why?” she answered. “You didn’t even want to talk to me earlier today.”
“Is that why you ran off?” he asked. He had a maddening way of answering her questions with questions. “Or was my playing that bad?”
Despite herself, she laughed. He was funny. She hadn’t expected that.
“Your playing was beautiful,” she said.
She saw his features soften. He clearly needed to hear that.
“So, what is it then?” he asked.
“I…” Caitlin began.
But she didn’t really know what to say. What could she say? That she missed Caleb terribly? But that she was also starting to have feelings for him, Blake? That she felt that they had a connection?
And that she hated that as much as she loved it?
Instead, Caitlin stood there, speechless. She turned and looked out at the water.
Blake took several steps towards her, reached up, wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb.
Caitlin closed her eyes as he did. The touch of his hand—it was exquisite. And it electrified her.
It was so soft, and smooth. She forced herself to look away, to look anywhere but into his eyes.
Thankfully, he suddenly turned, took a step away, and looked out at the water himself. They stood there, side by side, staring out.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted today,” he said. “I should have been more polite.”
“Then why weren’t you?” she asked, her voice too sharp. She immediately regretted it. There she went again, not only saying what she didn’t mean, but always having too much of an edge whenever she felt nervous.
He breathed deeply. “I came to the island,” he began, “I joined this coven, because I had to get away from the world. There was a girl. A human. I loved her very much. But my love for her brought her ruin.” He paused. “It was because of me that she ended up dead.”
Caitlin looked at him. “How?” she asked. “You turned her?”
He shook his head.
“I wish I had. She wouldn’t allow it. And that was my deepest regret. But I could not go against her wishes. She wanted to die, to stay mortal. No, it was her fellow humans who killed her. Her village. They discovered our relationship, and they treated her like a witch. Before I could save her…she was dead.”
Her village, Caitlin thought. She wondered.
“How long ago was this?” Caitlin asked.
“400 years ago,” Blake answered.
Caitlin was stunned. Here he was, still reeling from it all these years later.
He must feel things very deeply, she thought.
“You see,” he said, “I feel that I’m a danger to people. Whoever is around me, bad things happen to them. No matter how hard I try. So I…distance myself. I keep away from people I care for. Including vampires.”
“But what if that’s not really true?” she asked. “What if you just believe that? What if all the things that happened in your past were just bad luck?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“But how do you know?” she asked. “I mean, you live here, and nothing bad has happened to your covenmates.”
“But I keep my distance most of the time.”
“I refuse to believe that,” Caitlin said. “You’re living with in a self-imposed exile. But you don’t even know if it’s true. What if you’re getting close to someone would bring them good luck? And you, too? You can’t just give up forever.”
She could see him looking out at the water, brow furrowed, thinking. His eyes seemed to light up with some spark of hope.
“What about you?” he asked. “Why are you here?”
She had no idea how to answer that. It all seemed overwhelming. She had no idea where to even begin.
“I don’t really know,” she finally said, staring out into the river.
He nodded slowly, looked out at the water himself. A silence fell between them.
“Well, I’m glad you are,” he said, and broke into a small smile, facing her.
She looked at him, looked right into his light-blue eyes, and felt as if she had looked into those eyes a thousand times before. The feeling of familiarity shocked her.
“So am I,” she said, her voice trembling.
He looked down, and held something out. “This was hers,” he said simply.
Caitlin looked down and saw him holding a small piece of worn sea-glass.