CHAPTER TEN

Kyle strutted right down the middle of a wide, cobblestone boulevard, late at night, cutting through the center of Paris. He felt relatively satisfied, having just come from the red light district, and having fed on several more prostitutes. He could still feel their blood swirling through his veins, and slowly, he was beginning to feel himself again.

He hated time travel. Hated it. And he hated Caitlin for making him do this. He thought of all the fun he was missing back in New York, of the raging war—his war—and fumed at her. He fantasized of all the ways he would exact revenge upon her. Gradually, his spirits began to lift.

Kyle turned down alleyway after alleyway, keeping an eye open for any more victims, but finding the streets empty. It was nearly daybreak, and it seemed most people had gone to sleep. He had already drank his fill. If he killed any more victims at this point, it would just be for pure recreation.

Kyle thought back, through thousands of years, when he and his friends would go hunting humans for recreation. Those were the days. He remembered times when they would fill the streets with corpses, not even bothering to feed. They had such fun watching them die. It had been one of his favorite games.

Nowadays, vampires were so conservative. They only killed to feed. And they only fed as much as they had to. When Kyle killed Caitlin and figured out a way to return to the future, things would change. He would make killing humans a national sport once again.

Kyle turned down the street, and finally found what he was looking for: a massive, round building, with huge stone columns and marble steps. It had a grand dome, and looked ancient. In fact, it didn’t look that different from the Pantheon in Rome. Which was fitting, because this was a Pantheon, too. The Pantheon of Paris.

Kyle remembered the building well. It was an important place for his coven, a place they had always been. It was very different from the Pantheon in Rome: the vampires here were much more chaotic, more disorderly, more democratic. In New York, or Rome, if someone stepped out of line, the leaders would step forward and have them killed on the spot. Here, the covens were run by committee. On the one hand, Kyle respected that, because he hated authority. On the other, he also enjoyed watching people get punished who were out of line, and watching them get killed before his eyes.

Kyle thought of his old friend Napoleon, and guessed that he’d already have taken control of this coven. They were probably all inside it, arguing about something right now. They were a contentious bunch.

Kyle bounded up the marble steps three at a time, eager to see him, to let them know who was boss. Napoleon had power, but not nearly as much as Kyle. After all, Kyle had survived for thousands of years, while Napoleon was still a child.

Kyle kicked open the massive doors and strutted inside.

As he suspected, the huge marble building was completely packed with his own kind. It was chaotic. The enormous, marble room was shaped in a circle, with huge columns framing it in every direction. It had a marble floor, and an arched ceiling, culminating in an oculus. It was as grand as the Pantheon in Rome.

Except this one was filled with vampires screaming and yelling over each other, pushing and shoving. As he suspected, they were in the midst of a heated debate.

And at the center of the crowd, standing on a podium, was Napoleon, yelling to be heard.

Kyle pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, elbowing people as he strutted right to the center.

As he did, the huge crowd slowly began to gain awareness of him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone else, a foot above the crowd, and his scarred face gave people pause. Slowly, the room began to turn his way.

Kyle had no intention of waiting his turn. He had urgent business. He had an agenda to fulfill, and Napoleon and his people could be of service to him.

Kyle took two huge steps and leapt up onto the platform. As he did, he reached up, grabbed Napoleon by his shoulders and hoisted him high in the air, until he was at eye level with Kyle.

The entire crowd gasped, and grew quiet in shock.

Kyle stared down at Napoleon with his disfigured face, with his one good eye, and he saw Napoleon stare back, recognition and fear in his eyes.

“Kyle,” he whispered, startled.

Kyle broke into a crooked smile. He was happy to see his old friend again. He couldn’t help admiring his audacity.

“You little bastard,” Kyle answered.

And then, in one swift move, he threw him, flying, into the crowd.

A gasp raced through the room, as several guards scurried to catch his fall. They caught him, and looked up at Kyle in shock, wondering who on earth could have the audacity to do such a thing to their leader.

Kyle smiled.

“I have returned,” he said.