The man quickly hurried off. Caitlin looked around the square, and noticed street artists everywhere, all trying to get people to pay them. And then she noticed something which alarmed her: packs of wild dogs. They combed along the sides of the square, rifling through trash, and she saw one dog stop and look her way. It seemed to focus on Rose—and soon, it was trotting in their direction.
Rose must have sensed it, too, because she turned slowly and faced the oncoming animal. Caitlin could feel Rose tense up, and she tensed, too. The large, mangy dog looked somewhat like a German Shepherd, and it came up to Rose, and sniffed her. Rose sniffed back, her hair standing up on her back; as the dog tried to walk behind Rose, Rose suddenly snapped, snarling with an unearthly noise, baring her teeth, and biting the dog’s neck—hard.
The dog yelped. Although it was bigger, Rose was clearly more powerful and she did not let go.
Finally, the dog took off.
Rose, worked up, sat there, snarling, a vicious, unearthly sound, and several people backed away, giving them space.
Caitlin was shocked. She had never seen Rose like that before. It made her realize Rose was not the small, innocent pup she remembered; she was growing up, and would soon be a full-bred wolf, and a force to be reckoned with.
Caitlin felt the unwelcome stares in their direction, and decided to move on, before someone realized that Rose was not just another dog. The last thing she wanted was to call more attention to them.
Caitlin got up and led Rose to the opposite side of the square. She looked at all the side streets and alleyways leading into and out of the square, and felt overwhelmed. Had she been foolish to come here? How could she ever possibly find Caleb amidst these masses, in this maze of a city?
Maybe she should have followed the Priest’s advice, and gone to Florence instead. Had she been foolish to follow her heart?
Before she could finish the thought, something caught her attention. On the far side of the square, she noticed a girl get dragged down an alleyway, and heard her muffled cry, before a hand was clasped over her mouth. Clearly, she was in trouble.
Without thinking, Caitlin sprang into action, chasing towards her.
She ran into the alleyway, Rose by her side, and soon found herself running down a set of twisting and turning alleys. She heard the muffled cries in the distance, and turned down another alleyway, then another, getting lost in the maze of narrow side streets.
Finally, she spotted the girl up ahead. She was being dragged by three men towards the end of an alley, one of them with a hand over her mouth, and the others each grabbing an arm. They were huge men, all bald, covered in scars, and evil-looking.
The girl fought back valiantly, biting one of their hands, eyes open wide in fear as she jerked her arms and elbows and legs—but it was of little use. These men were clearly stronger than her.
“Let her go!” Caitlin screamed, as she ran towards them and stopped.
The three men stopped, turned, and looked at Caitlin. They must have been shocked to see a single girl confronting them. At first, they didn’t know what to make of it.
“I said, let her go,” Caitlin said, in a low, steely voice. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
Caitlin thought back to the all the times in her life when she’d been bullied, overpowered, especially when she’d been human. She hated bullies, more than anything. And if there was anything she hated worse than that, it was seeing a guy trying to hurt a girl. She felt the rage overwhelm her, felt the heat rise up from her toes, up through her legs and shoulders and hands; she felt it transform her, give her power she never knew she had. It was blinding, all-encompassing. She had no choice. It drove her.
The three cretins dropped the girl, roughly, on the stone, smiled at each other, and turned and walked towards Caitlin. The girl could have ran, but instead she stayed where she was, watching.
Caitlin heard Rose growl beside her.
Caitlin didn’t wait. She took three steps forward, leapt into the air, and planted two feet hard on the lead man’s chest, kicking him so hard that he flew back several feet.
Before the others could react, she wheeled and elbowed one hard across the face, cracking his cheek with a loud noise, and sending him to the ground.
The third man grabbed her from behind with all he had. Caitlin struggled, surprised for a moment. This one was much stronger than she’d expected.
Just as she prepared to flip him over her shoulder, she heard the sound of breaking glass, and felt him drop his grip.
She turned and saw the girl standing behind her, a broken bottle in her hand, and the man lying limp on the ground: she had clearly smashed a bottle over his head.
Before Caitlin could thank her, the first man, back on his feet, charged at her again. But Rose was mad now, and she took the lead, charging him, leaping into the air, and clamping down hard on his throat. The man dropped to the ground, squirming and screaming, but he could not get Rose off.
Finally, he passed out, and Rose returned to Caitlin’s side.
Caitlin surveyed the damage: the three men lay there, unconscious.
She turned and looked at the girl.
The girl stared back, bewildered and grateful at the same time.
Caitlin stared back at her, and Caitlin was shocked, too. But not because of what had happened.
Rather, because she knew this girl.
In fact, she had once been her best friend.
It was Polly.
Sam woke to the sound of clanging church bells. He never knew bells could ring that loudly, and he felt as if he were inside the bell itself. His entire body shook with the sound, as he opened his eyes to utter blackness. He reached out, and felt stone in front of him.
He frantically reached out in every direction, and felt himself encased in stone. He was flat on his back. He tried to move side to side, but couldn’t, and that’s when he realized: he was in a coffin.
Panicking, Sam reached up with all his might, and after several seconds, was finally able to move the stone lid; with a scraping noise, it slid just a few inches, as light and fresh air poured in through the crack. He breathed deeply, realizing how badly he needed it.
He slid a few fingers into the crack, and with all his might, pushed the lid to the side. Again it scraped, protesting, but soon he was able to get all his fingers in, then his hands. Within moments, he pushed the stone lid completely off, and with one final heave, it crashed to the floor, cracking into a million pieces.
He sat upright, gasping for air, and shielded his eyes from the light.
Sam jumped up from the coffin, and, stumbling on weak legs, scurried over to the corner, hiding from the direct sunlight. He searched his pockets, and quickly unraveled his skin wraps, and wrapped his arms and shoulders. He found the eye drops in his pocket, too, and put two in each eye.
After a moment, his breathing relaxed. He started to calm, to feel himself again. He looked around.
He was in a tomb of some sort, an ancient, dusty tomb. He saw an open door, leading outside.
Sam steeled himself and walked out, into the sunlight, and realized with a shock where he was.
At the top of a hill, exiting a church’s mausoleum, spread out before him were hundreds of steps, leading down to a city. Rome. The entire city spread out before him, and he was afforded a magnificent view. He turned and examined the church he exited from, then turned back, and looked again at the steps. It all suddenly struck him. He knew where he was. He had seen this picture many times on postcards: the Spanish steps of Rome.
His time travel had worked. He didn’t know exactly why it had taken him to this place, or what year it was, but he hoped it would be the same year that Kyle had gone to. Sam couldn’t remember much—his entire time in New York now felt hazy, like a dream—but he did remember one thing: his single-minded pursuit of Kyle. He remembered finding out that Kyle had gone back in time to kill his sister, and that once he learned this, he couldn’t rest. He was determined to find Kyle, no matter what it took, and kill him before he could harm his sister.
Before he’d discovered this news, Sam has been depressed, at odds, in a deep despair for what he’d done to his sister, and to Caleb. He had never meant any of it. Once he’d found out what Kyle was up to, he’d seen this as his chance to make amends for all that he had done—and to avenge himself on Kyle. Sam knew that he could never expect the forgiveness of Caitlin. But at the very least, perhaps, he could help her in his own, small way.
As Sam descended the steps, through the mobs of people, he noticed several of them parting ways for him, looking at him funny. Some of them were pointing at him, then looking up the hill.
He suddenly realized that he must have made an odd site, probably covered in dust from the tomb.
And some of them may have seen him exiting right from the mausoleum, and had probably heard the shattering of stone.