TWELVE
“Caitlin!”
Even in Caitlin’s haze, even as she knelt there, choking Cain, there was something about that voice that snapped her out of it. Where had it come from?
A man stepped forward, cutting through the crowd, wearing a long robe and carrying a staff. With his long, silver hair and long beard to match, he looked like a prophet. He stood there, scowling down at Caitlin, disappointment in his voice.
“Release him!” he said firmly.
As Caitlin looked into his eyes, even in her haze, she could feel that there was something special about this man. She felt as if it were a reunion, as if she had known him for lifetimes. And she respected him.
She was helpless to refuse. Caitlin slowly loosened her grip, and as she did, Caitlin quickly scurried out from under her, gasping and chokin
