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(Book #3 in the Vampire Journals)

Morgan Rice

Also by Morgan Rice

TURNED (Book #1 in the Vampire Journals)
LOVED (Book #2 in the Vampire Journals)

Copyright © 2011 by Morgan Rice
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or storedin a database or retrieval system, without
the prior permission of the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re
reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for youruse only, then please return it and purchase
your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely

60 miles northof Manhattan, there exists a small, obscure island in the Hudson River on which sits a
crumbling Scottish castle. This island is known as Pollepel, and was named after a young girl, Polly,
who hundreds of years ago, was stranded on the ice of the Hudson and ended up on its shores.
Legend has it she was romantically rescued by her sweetheart, who married her on the island.

“Threescore andten I can remember well,
Within the volume of which time I have seen
Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.”
--William Shakespeare, Macbeth


Pollepel Island, Hudson River, New York
(Present Day)

“Caitlin?” came the soft voice. “Caitlin?”
Caitlin Paine heard the voice, and struggled to open her eyes. They were so heavy, though; nomatter how much she tried, she could barely lift them. Finally, she managed to pry them open, just
for a brief second, to see where the voice was coming from.
He was kneeling by her side, holding her hand in both of his, concern etched across his face.
“Caitlin?” he asked again.
She tried to get her bearings, to lift the immense cobwebs from her head. Where was she? She
could see enoughto see that this room was bare, made of stone. It was nighttime, and a large
window let in the light of a full moon. Stone floors, stone walls, an arched, stone ceiling. The stone
looked smooth and ancient. Was she in a medieval cloister?
Aside from the moonlight, the room was lit only by a small torch, fixed to the far wall, and not
giving off much light. It was too dark to see more.
Shetried to focus on Caleb’s face, so close, only a foot away, staring at her hopefully. His eyes
seemed to light up, as he squeezed her hand tighter. His hands felt warm. Hers were so cold. She
couldn’t feel the life in them.

Despite her efforts, Caitlin couldn’t hold her eyes open a second longer. They were just too
heavy. She felt…sick was not the word. She felt…heavy. She felt free-floating,as if she were in limbo,
stuck between two worlds. She didn’t feel connected to her body, didn’t feel like a part of the earth
anymore. But she didn’t feel dead, either. She felt as if she were trying to awaken from a very, very
deep sleep.
She struggled to remember. Boston…the King’s Chapel…the sword. And then…getting
stabbed. Lying there, dying. And Caleb at her side. And then…his fangs.Approaching her.
Caitlin felt a dull, throbbing pain on the side of her throat. It must have been from where she’d
been bit. She had asked for it—had pleaded for it.
But the way she felt now, she was not sure she should have. She didn’t feel right. She felt an icy,
cold blood racing through her veins. She felt as if she had died, but had not taken the next step. As
if she were stuck.
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