and damp down here, lit only by the torch that Lily held before them. They turned down twisting and turning passageways, and entered a subterranean level covered in stone.
“At one time, this was the wine cel ar,” Lily said. “It hasn’t been used for centuries, though.”
They turned down yet another corridor, and again, it seemed to end in nothing but solid stone.
Lily reached up, combing the wal s, as Caitlin held the torch for her. Final y, she found a patch of mildew, scraped away at it, and pul ed at a smal knob.
Out of the wal , their opened a smal drawer.
Lily opened it, and began to extract something.
Caitlin held up the torch, and was shocked at what she saw.
It was a large, silver cross, bigger than the size of Caitlin’s hand, and as Lily held it up and put it into Caitlin’s palm, Caitlin could feel how heavy it was.
“It’s the cross of the Alutic,” Lily said. “It’s been in the royal family for centuries. It’s meant for you.”
Caitlin marveled at its weight.
“How do you know?” Caitlin asked.
“You asked about the Fields of the Scholars. It could only be meant for you. I don’t know how this wil help you in your search, but I know that somehow it wil .”
As she spoke to, Caitlin felt it to be true.
“But there’s one thing I don’t understand,” Caitlin said. “My brother, Sam, he dreamt of the Notre Dame. I was thinking that was my next stop. But after reading the letter, and seeing this cross…it al seems to be pointing me to the Church of Saint Germain Des Pres. So how is that connected to the Notre Dame?”
“Maybe you are meant to go here first. And whatever you find there wil lead you to the Notre Dame. I don’t know. But I do know that this church is your next stop.”
That felt right to Caitlin, too. She turned and looked at Lily, and her eyes fil ed with gratitude.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
Caitlin reached out, and the two embraced, like long-lost sisters.
“Whatever I find may just lead me back in time,” Caitlin added, with worry. “If it does, I won’t see you again.”
Lily smiled back. “You’l see me. Humans have many lifetimes, too. And I’l tel you a secret: some of us know how to time travel, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Pol y stormed back into the room, pushing her way through the crowd, eager to be by Sergei’s side. She could not believe how rude and jealous Caitlin had been. She had thought she was a close friend. Now she saw that Caitlin, like everybody else, was just jealous. She had probably taken a liking to Sergei, too, and probably just wanted to steal him away.
Either that, or Caitlin just couldn’t stand the fact that Pol y had such a great man in her life.
Whatever her reasons, Pol y certainly didn’t need any advice from her. She knew, deep down, that Sergei was the one for her.
Pol y pushed her way through, and got close to Sergei. He was surrounded by a dozen admiring girls, and Pol y felt her jealousy rise. She shoved her way in, right in front of his face, forcing him to look at her.
Final y, he did. He looked somewhat resentful, though, as if she were interrupting him.
But Pol y felt that she knew the real Sergei, deep down, and that he was just putting on a show, for other people, that he was afraid to publicly show his true feelings for her.
“I loved your concert,” she gushed.
He merely raised an eyebrow and looked away, and began talking to someone else.
Pol y knew that, too, was just part of his act. She knew he was hopelessly in love with her, and that he was just trying his best not to show it.
It was okay. Pol y had staying power. She would wait until al these hangers-on disappeared, and then she would talk to him, one-on-one, and know how he truly felt.
*
Sergei final y left his backstage area, and Pol y positioned herself in the hal way so that when he walked out, he had to see her. He stopped, surprised.
“Have you been waiting for me al this time?” he asked.
Pol y nodded. “These are for you.”
She reached out and handed him a bunch of flowers.
He took them without a word, and began walking quickly away.
Pol y joined him, walking alongside him.
Final y, he broke the silence. “You can tel me again about my voice,”