Vowed (The Vampire Journals, #7) - Morgan Rice Page 0,59

been sealed.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

As Polly headed down the hill to the lake, clutching her white, silk dress, she felt a terrible foreboding. Scarlet’s words still lingered with her, and Polly marveled at how such a young child could speak with such authority. Polly had a creepy, ominous feeling that would not go away; she looked over her shoulder at the castle, for good measure, and wondered briefly if she should turn back.

But she realized she was being ridiculous. Legions of Aiden’s warriors, and of the King’s warriors, stood guard in every direction. She looked back at the lake, and saw nothing but clear skies and open water. They were in a remote place, heavily fortified, hundreds of miles from any possible harm. And Sam would be back in just a few hours. Everything looked absolutely normal, and there was no sign of danger anywhere in sight. Besides, she had a dress which needed washing, and it wouldn’t take very long.

Polly turned and continued down the gently sloping hill, towards the lake. As she did, the sky darkened with thick clouds, and a cold wind picked up, brushing her face. She took a deep breath, and finally forced herself to dismiss it all as just the ramblings of a precocious young child, one overwrought that her parents had just left. Of course, children could imagine things, and Scarlet was no exception. Polly forced herself to conclude that the whole thing was ridiculous, and to focus on quickly washing her dress and returning to prepare for Sam’s arrival.

Polly brightened at the thought of it, as she reached the lake. She knelt at its shore and began scrubbing her dress in the icy water. As she did, another cold wind picked up, this one stronger than the last, rippling the water and the otherwise still lake, forcing Polly to take a break and look up.

Polly was surprised. Seemingly out of nowhere, there appeared a small canoe on the water, drifting her way, and quickly. Polly looked at it, puzzled. Where had it come from? How had it gotten so close so fast?

She was even more taken aback as she saw a head rise up out of the canoe. It was the head of a man who was injured, his face covered in blood, and he looked right at Polly, and held out a hand for her help.

Polly stood, her heart suddenly pounding. It was a face she would recognize anywhere in the world.

It was Sam.

Polly ran out into the water, not even feeling the ice cold pain rippling through her calves as she ran up to her thighs, grabbed the canoe, and pulled it close.

There was no mistake about it: it was Sam, lying on his back, covered in blood. How was it possible?

“Help me, Polly,” he said, weakly.

It was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. It was definitely Sam, down to the last iota.

It was his hair and clothes and body and voice. It was definitely him.

But at the same time, there was something that Polly sensed, somewhere deep inside, that told her it was not Sam. She couldn’t understand it.

“What happened?” Polly yelled out to him, frantic that he was hurt.

“Please, help me,” he said, reaching out a hand.

She grabbed it. It was icy cold, and left blood on her wrist. She pulled him close to her, and felt herself wanting to break into tears. But she forced herself to be strong for him. She couldn’t imagine what might have happened to him.

“What happened to you?” she yelled out. “How can I help? What can I do?”

“Can I come onto the island?” he asked, weakly.

“What kind of question is that?” she asked, confused. “Of course you can,” she replied, as she went to pick him up in her arms.

But he resisted, staring fiercely back at her.

“So are you inviting me?” he pressed. “Do you invite me onto the island?” Polly stared back at him, narrowing her eyes, unsure what he was talking about. Was he delusional? Had he been injured in the head? Was he not thinking clearly?

“What do you mean, do I invite you?” she asked. “Why would you need an invitation?”

“Answer me,” he said, clutching her wrist. “Please,” he added, softening. “I need your help. Will you invite me?”

“Of course I invite you. You are invited. There. Are you happy? Now stop talking crazy, and let me help you,” she said, and swooped down and picked him up in her arms. She turned and carried him to shore.

This