More than anything, Caitlin wished that Caleb was here with her now, at her side, as he had always been on her search. She missed him desperately, missed having him there, missed not being able to share her ideas with him. And whatever she found, she wanted to find it together with him. And if once again, for some reason, she had to go back in time, she desperately wished that he would be by her side.
But as Caitlin flew, she realized that she was much stronger now. She had become a warrior. And part of what it meant to be a warrior was to be unafraid to go it alone if need be, to carve your own path in this world. To forge forward, even when no one else was willing to forge forward with you. It was about individual strength, and courage. And sometimes that meant the courage to do what no one else was doing.
Caitlin felt a new wave of strength come over her, emboldened by all of her training with Aiden, all of his lessons, and all of the sparring she had done. She wanted Caleb there, but she felt strong enough to handle this mission on her own.
As Caitlin flew, the landscape changed, and the thick forest of the French countryside began to give way to the urban landscape of Paris. Beneath her, Caitlin recognized the buildings, the tall church steeples, the occasional medieval church and abbey, and the more fashionable recent construction of the 18th century townhouses. From up here, it was a breathtakingly beautiful city.
But at the same time, as she looked down, real concern overcame her. Despite the late hour, the streets were flooded. They were absolutely packed with mobs of angry citizens, carrying torches. The tension and anger in the air was palpable; she could feel it, even from this height. People screamed and ran throughout the chaotic streets, and worse, they were destroying property, throwing stones through windows, throwing torches into buildings. The crowd seemed to particularly center around the huge Bastille prison, and spread out from there. She couldn’t believe it: it looked as if a war had broken out.
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 tall, square tower of the Saint Germain Des Pres church. It was distinctive, especially from this bird’s-eye view. In addition to its tall rectangular tower, it was attached to a large monastery, with a long, sloping roof. Its walls 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 alley in which to land, where no one could see her, and descended quickly.
Still 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 small, 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 finally 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 all 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 walls, culminating in a high, arched ceiling with Romanesque columns. On the walls were painted huge, ancient frescoes. The stone, too, looked ancient, and she could tell 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 tell 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 small wooden chairs set out in neat rows and this place looked big enough to hold thousands. Along the walls were small arches, and small statues of various medieval saints.
As Caitlin finally reached the far end, she came to a single, simple altar, recessed into the wall. 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 actually 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 pulled 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 pulled it out.
She couldn’t believe it. It was another encased scroll, 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.
Chapter Thirty Five
As Sam stood there, in the entryway of Versailles, watching hordes of masses storm the steps, he broke into action. He ran to help all 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, pulled 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 all the other coven members. Guards, too, flooded in from all over the palace, and soon Polly 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 Bastille has been stormed, my lady,” one of the guards yelled, 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!”