Betrothed. Morgan Rice

came the woman's voice, as she continued walking. "The coronation seat of Kings and Queens for thousands of years."

      Westminster Abbey, Caitlin thought. She knew that was in England. London, in fact.

      London.

      The idea of being here hit her like a wave of bricks. It was overwhelming, awe-inspiring. She had never been here before, and had always wanted to go. She had had friends who had gone, and had seen pictures online. It made sense to her that they were here, given this city's long medieval history. This church alone was thousands of years old – and she knew that this city had a lot more like it. But she still didn't know the year.

      "And what year is it?" Caitlin asked, nervous.

      But their guide walked so quickly, she had already crossed the huge chapel and ducked through another arched door, forcing Caitlin and Caleb to hurry to keep up.

      As they entered, Caitlin was surprised to find herself in a cloister. There was a long, stone corridor, with stone walls and statues on one side and on the other, open arches. These arches were open to the elements, and through them, she could see a small, peaceful courtyard. It reminded her of so many other cloisters she had been to; she was starting to see the pattern of their simplicity, their emptiness, the arched walls, the columns, the well-cared for courtyards. They all felt like a shelter from the world, like a place for prayer and silent contemplation.

      The vampire finally stopped and faced them. She stared back at Caitlin with her large, compassionate eyes, and looked otherworldly.

      "We are at the turn-of-the-century," she said.

      Caitlin thought for a moment. "What century?" she asked.

      "The sixteenth, of course. It is 1599.”

      1599, Caitlin thought. The idea was overwhelming. Once again, she wished she’d read her history more closely. Previously, she had gone from 1791 to 1789. But now she was in 1599. Nearly a 200 year leap.

      She recalled how many things had seemed primitive even in 1789 – the lack of plumbing, the occasional dirt road, the people rarely bathing. She couldn't even comprehend how much more primitive things could be two hundred years further back. Surely, it would be far less recognizable than any other time. Even London would probably be barely recognizable. It made her feel isolated, alone, in a distant world and place. If it weren’t for Caleb’s being there, by her side, she would have felt completely alone.

      But at the same time, this architecture, this church, these cloisters – it all felt so recognizable, so familiar. After all, she was walking in the same exact Westminster Abbey that existed in the 21st century. Not only that, this building, even as it was now, was already ancient, had already been around for centuries. At least that gave her a touch of comfort.

      But why had she been sent back to this time? And this place? Clearly, it had some great significance for her mission.

      London. 1599.

      Was this the time that Shakespeare had lived? she wondered, her heart suddenly beating faster, as she imagined, just maybe, having the chance to actually get a glimpse of him, in the flesh.

      They walked silently down corridor after corridor.

      "London in 1599 is not as primitive as you think," their guide said, glancing at her with a smile.

      Caitlin felt embarrassed that her thoughts had been read. As always, she knew she should have been more vigilant in guarding them. She hoped that she had not offended this vampire.

      "No offense at all," she replied, reading her thoughts again. "Our time is primitive in many technological ways that you are accustomed to. But we are, in other ways, more sophisticated than even your modern time. We are extremely knowledgeable, and scholarly, and books rule the day. A people of primitive means, maybe, but with a very sharp intellect.

      “More importantly, this is a crucial time for the vampire race. We stand at a crossroads here. You have arrived at the turn of the century for a reason.”

      "Why?" Caleb asked.

      The woman smiled at them before entering yet another door.

      "The answer to that is one that you will have to find out for yourself.”

      They entered another magnificent room, with soaring ceilings, stained glass, marble floors, adorned with enormous candles, and carved statues of kings and saints. But this room was different than the others. It had sarcophagi and effigies placed carefully throughout, and at the center sat an enormous tomb, dozens of feet high, and covered in gold.

      Their guide walked right up to it, as they followed. She stopped before it, and turned to them.

      Caitlin looked up at the magnificent tomb: it was large, imposing. It was itself a magnificent work of art, plated in gold, adorned with intricate carvings. She also felt an energy coming off of it, as if it held some importance.

      "The tomb of Saint Edward the Confessor," the vampire said. "It is a holy place, a place of pilgrimage for our kind for hundreds of years. It is said that if one prays by its side, one will receive miraculous healings for those who are sick. See the stone, by your feet: it has been worn from all the people kneeling here over time.”

      Caitlin looked down, and saw that, indeed, the marble platform had slight impressions around its edges. She marveled at how many people must have knelt here throughout the centuries.

      “But in your case," she continued, "it holds even more significance.”

      She turned and looked directly at Caitlin.

      "Your key," she said to Caitlin.

      Caitlin was baffled. Which key was she referring to? She reached into her pockets, and felt again the two keys that she had found thus far. She wasn't sure which one the woman wanted.

      She shook her head. "No. Your other key.”

      Caitlin thought, puzzled. Had she forgotten some other key?

      Then, as she glanced at the base of her throat, she realized. Her necklace.

      Caitlin reached down, and was amazed to realize it was still there. She gingerly removed it, and held the delicate, antique silver cross in her palm.

      The vampire shook her head.

      “Only you can use it.”

      She reached out and gently took Caitlin's wrist, and guided it towards the smallest of keyholes, at the base of the pedestal.

      Caitlin was amazed. She never would have even noticed that keyhole otherwise. She inserted the key, turned it, and there was a gentle click.

      She looked up, and saw that a tiny compartment had open in the side of the tomb. She looked at the vampire, and she nodded solemnly back.

      Caitlin reached up and slowly pulled out a long, narrow compartment. Inside, she was shocked to discover, was a long, golden scepter, its head adorned with rubies and emeralds.

      She reached in and extracted it, and was amazed at how heavy it felt, at how smooth the gold was in her hands. It must have been three feet long, and made of solid gold.

      "The holy scepter," the nun said. "It was your father's, once.”

      Caitlin looked at it with a new sense of awe and respect. She felt electrified holding it, and felt closer to her father than ever.

      "Will this lead me to my father?” she asked.

      Their guide simply turned and headed out the chamber. "This way," she said.

      Caitlin and Caleb followed her through another door, and down several more corridors, passing the medieval courtyard of another cloister. As they walked, Caitlin was surprised to see several other vampires, dressed in white robes and hoods, walking through the halls. Most looked down, as if lost in prayer. Some swung incense decanters. A few who passed nodded their way, and continued on in silence.

      Caitlin wondered how many vampires lived here, and if they belonged to her father's coven. She had never realized that Westminster Abbey was a cloister, in addition to a church. Or that it was a resting place for her kind.

      They finally entered another