CHAPTER THREE

Sam opened his eyes with a start. He was staring up at the sky, looking up the trunk of an enormous oak tree. He blinked several times, wondering where he was.

He felt something soft on his back, and it felt very comfortable, and he looked over and realized he was lying on a patch of moss on the forest floor. He looked back up, and saw dozens of trees high above him, swaying in the wind. He heard a gurgling sound, and looked over, and saw a stream trickling by, just a few feet from his head.

Sam sat up and looked around, glancing in every direction, taking it all in. He was deep in the woods, alone, the only light coming in through the tree branches. He checked himself and saw that he was fully dressed, in the same battle gear he had been wearing in the Colosseum. It was quiet here, the only sound being that of the stream, of the birds, and of some distant animals.

Sam realized, with relief, that the time travel had worked. He was clearly in some other place and time—although where and when that was, he had no idea.

Sam slowly checked his body, and realized he’d sustained no major injuries, and that he was all in one piece. He felt a terrible hunger gnawing at his stomach, but he could live with that. First, he had to figure out where he was.

He reached down, feeling to see if he had any weaponry on him.

Unfortunately, none of it had made the trip. He was on his own again, left to the devices of just his own bare hands.

He wondered if he still carried a vampire’s power. He could feel an unnatural strength still coursing through his veins, and it felt like he had. But then again, he couldn’t be sure until the time came.

And that time came sooner than he thought.

Sam heard the snap of a branch, and turned to see a large bear hulking towards him, slowly, aggressively. He froze. It glowered at him, raised its fangs, and snarled.

A second later, it broke into a sprint, charging right for him.

There was no time for Sam to run, and nowhere for him to run to. He had no choice, he realized, but to confront this animal.

But strangely enough, instead of being overcome by fear, Sam felt rage course through him. He was furious at the animal. He resented being attacked, especially before he even had a chance to get his bearings. So, without thinking, Sam charged, too, preparing to meet the bear in battle, the same way he would a human.

Sam and the bear met in the middle. The bear lunged for him, and Sam lunged right back. Sam felt the power coursing through his veins, felt it telling him that he was invincible.

As he met the bear in mid-air, he realized that he was right. He caught the bear by its shoulders, grabbed on, spun and threw it. The bear went flying backwards through the woods, dozens of feet, smashing hard into a tree.

Sam stood there and roared back at the bear, a fierce roar, even louder than the animal’s. He felt the muscles and veins bulging in him as he did.

The bear got to its feet slowly, wobbly, and looked at Sam with something like shock. It now hobbled as it walked, and after taking a few tentative steps, it suddenly lowered its head, turned, and ran away.

But Sam wasn’t going to let it get away so easy. He was mad now, and he felt like nothing in the world could abate his anger. And he was hungry. The bear would have to pay.

Sam broke into a sprint, and was pleased to find that he was faster than this animal. Within moments, he caught up to it and in a single leap, landed on its back. He leaned back, and sunk his fangs deep into its neck.

The bear howled in agony, bucking wildly, but Sam held on. He sunk his fangs deeper, and within moments, he felt the bear slumped to its knees beneath him. Finally, it stopped moving.

Sam lay on top of it, drinking, feeling its life force course through his veins.

Finally, Sam leaned back and licked his lips, dripping with blood. He’d never felt so refreshed. It was exactly the meal he’d needed.

Sam was just rising back to his feet, when he heard another twig snap.

He looked over, and standing there, in a clearing of the forest, was a young girl, maybe 17, dressed in a thin, all-white material. She stood there, holding a basket, and stared back at him, in shock. Her skin was translucent white, and her long, light brown hair framed large, blue eyes. She was beautiful.

She stared back at Sam, equally transfixed.

He realized that she must be afraid of him, afraid that maybe he would attack her; he realized that he must have looked like an awful sight, on top of a bear, blood in his mouth. He didn’t want to scare her.

So he jumped down from the animal, and took several steps towards her.

To his surprise, she didn’t flinch, or try to move away. Rather, she just continued to stare at him, unafraid.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She smiled. That surprised him. Not only was she beautiful, but she was truly unafraid. How could that be?

“Of course you’re not,” she said. “You’re one of mine.”

It was Sam’s turn to be shocked. The second she said it, he knew it to be true. He had sensed something when he’d first seen her, and now he knew. She was one of his. A vampire. That’s why she was unafraid.

“Nice takedown,” she said, gesturing at the bear. “A little messy, wouldn’t you say? Why not go for a deer?”

Sam smiled. Not only was she pretty—she was funny.

“Maybe next time I will,” he said back.

She smiled.

“Would you mind telling me what year it is?” he asked. “Or century, at least?”

She just smiled, and shook her head.

“I think I’ll leave that for you to find out for yourself. If I told you, it would ruin all the fun, wouldn’t it?”

Sam liked her. She was spunky. And he felt at ease around her, as if he’d known her forever.

She took a step forward, and reached out her hand. Sam took it, and loved the feel of her smooth, translucent skin.

“I’m Sam,” he said, shaking her hand, holding it for too long.

She smiled wider.

“I know,” she said.

Sam was baffled. How could she possibly know? Had he met her before? He couldn’t remember.

“I was sent for you,” she added.

She suddenly turned and began heading down a forest trail.

Sam hurried to catch up to her, presuming she meant for him to follow. Not looking carefully were he was going, he was embarrassed to find himself trip over a branch; he heard her giggling as he did.

“So?” he prodded. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

She giggled again.

“Well, I have a formal name, but I rarely go by it,” she said.

Then she turned and faced him, waiting for him to catch up.

“If you must know, everyone calls me Polly.”