- “How Shall I Hold My Soul…”

A Story of “Beauty and the Beast”

By Judith Nolan

This story has been written for those who believe in the dream of “Beauty and the Beast.” Vincent and Catherine’s dream we will hold in our hearts…always…

A very heartfelt thanks to my friend and fellow Beastophile, Victoria Rudd, “Tic.” Without her encouragement and expertise in research, this story may never have been written. For Angie, your humour and skill is legendary, you RULE!

Thanks also to my Tunnel sister, Jean Pratt and to Jan Blunt for re-igniting my “obsession” with the Tunnel world. I will always be grateful. For Jo and Carole, thanks for saving a space for me at the gathering after all these years.

This story is dedicated to all the cast of  “Beauty and the Beast” but especially to Ron Perlman for having a great and beautiful soul…thank you.

(Please do not reproduce, by any means, this story)

“How Shall I Hold My Soul” is an amateur fiction fanzine and as such does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of RON KOSLOW FILMS, REPUBLIC PICTURES, CBS TELEVISION, WITT THOMAS PRODUCTIONS or any other holders of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights.

- LOVE SONG

How shall I hold my soul,

that it may not be touching yours?

How shall I lift it then above you

to where other things are waiting?

Ah, gladly would I lodge it, all forgot,

With some lost thing the dark is isolating

On some remote and silent spot that,

when your depths vibrate,

Is not itself vibrating.

You and me – all that lights upon us, though

Brings us together like a fiddle-bow

Drawing one voice from two strings it glides along.

Across what instrument have we been spanned?

And what violinist holds us in his hand?

Oh, sweetest song…

Rainer Maria Rilke

I was alone

You found me waiting and made me your own

I was afraid

That somehow I never could be

The man you wanted of me…

The story of my life

And every word is true

Each chapter sings your name

Each page begins with you…

Neil Diamond

Catherine crouched beside the bed, her head bowed in submission. The pain was worse this time. She felt weighed down with guilt and a deep sadness. She could sense her own life, and the life she carried within her, seeping slowly beyond her grasp.

“Oh, Vincent…where are you?” She began to weep silently, the tears unheeded in her dejection.

After a time she drew a steadying breath and brushed a tired hand across her cheek. She would not give in, she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her defeat. Vincent had taught her to be strong. She would survive, she had to survive, but the struggle was hard, very hard. Suddenly, she looked up and her heart leapt.

Vincent! Here at last!

The familiar cloaked figure stood in the corner, watching her with a look of fatalistic despair, his blue eyes clouded and pained. He watched her silently, unmoving. Catherine pushed her abused body to stand and she staggered towards him, longing to feel those strong arms around her once more. Needing his healing strength, now, more than ever.

But as she gathered him against her, Vincent vanished, for he had never been, leaving Catherine standing, sobbing, in the corner of the room. The blank walls mocked her frightened gaze with their coldness. She turned to look about the room, hunting for some sign, some trace of her love. Suddenly her breath caught in her throat.

Pipes! Why hadn’t she seen them before. Pipes that flowed through her prison and down…down to the bowels of the earth…to him…to Vincent…

Scrambling now, whimpering in her eagerness, Catherine grabbed one of her shoes from the floor beneath her cot and fell to her knees on the cold concrete, grasping the pipes in a desperate grip as she struggled to calm herself. Frantically she began to tap out her personal code…over and over again, feeling it echo down through the floor…

Far below an old man leaned towards the pipes that flowed past him in both directions. He listened intently, disbelievingly, as a message echoed to him. He pressed a withered hand to the cold metal.

Catherine! Vincent’s Catherine, alive!  The code was a very personal thing down here in the tunnels. No-one would use it deliberately to confuse or deceive. It had to be her. It just had to.

Desperately he hunted for the connection to the world Above before sending the message on to alert Vincent.

Far above, Catherine was nearing the end of her strength. She could hear someone coming, the guards who would break her tenuous connection with freedom and hope. They burst into the room, rushing her, dragging her back from her feeble attempts at fighting them off. “No…no!” she cried, as they dragged her out.

The door shut behind them and there was only the bare concrete corridor. Catherine felt the tears returning as they dragged her after them into a different, larger room. They hoisted her resisting body onto a hospital bed and strapped her limbs down.

Vincent! Her mind screamed silently as she struggled to be free, but the drugs and the abuse she had suffered in the past weeks had sapped her strength, leaving her weak and defenceless. The growing fog of disconnection broke her will to resist.

If only her message had gotten to Vincent.

She could picture him, running to her rescue, frantic in his desire to save her, even at the cost of his own life. Running through the tunnels, his mane and cloak flying about him…

Below, the old man went on tapping out the message. In the pipe chamber Zack listened intently to the coded message, his young face grim and determined. Raising his sticks, he sent out the distress call for Vincent.

“Let it go this time, Miss Chandler, please,” the doctor begged Catherine, in a pained voice, as he injected her with more drugs.

Catherine fought weakly, but she was powerless to drive off the numbing effects of the injection as it began to shatter her will and her very life.

“Vincent,” her mind whispered silently. “Oh, Vincent…”

Below, Vincent could feel the power of his dark side taking control as he raced through the tunnels. He could feel the blind rage filling him, consuming his rational mind, as he fled through the darkness to rescue his Catherine. But this time he welcomed the rage and the sheer, violent energy that powered through him.

Would he be too late? Forever, too late?

He surged to greater speed, the nagging thought too awful to contemplate. He

would need every ounce of his great strength and will if he was to reach Catherine in time. Her message had been urgent and a cold dread filled Vincent’s thoughts as he raced Above.

Forever, too late…through the darkened streets the thought pursued him, taunting him with cold, mocking laughter. Too late…too late…

Two men stood guard in the corridor leading to Catherine’s cell. Sounds came from the wall before them, sounds of some great animal screaming with pain and rage. The sound of hammering and destruction from beyond the wall.

“What the…?” One guard started forward, just as the wall exploded inwards and a tawny, elemental force descended upon him, breaking his neck with one great swipe of its clawed hand, killing him instantly. His last thoughts roiled in complete disbelieving confusion as Vincent ripped him apart.

The other guard was flung back against the wall. Raising his gun at this fiend from hell, he fired erratically, but Vincent turned from him and, ripping the steel door from its seating, used it as a shield against the bullets. The second guard gave one despairing cry as Vincent squashed him like a bug against the wall.

Catherine! Vincent’s mind gave a silent scream as he dashed into the cell, only to find it bare. Running forward to the barred window, he glared down into the street below. “Catherine!” His cry was ripped from the depths of his soul, as he saw his love being hustled into a car. With a scream of primeval rage he reached out and ripped away the grill that covered the window.

Then, not stopping for rational thought, he leapt through the window, showering glass down on the car as he landed on the roof, crouching, screaming his deep pain and blind rage.

“Get going, you fool!” The guard in the passenger seat shoved the driver violently, as the man gawped up at the roof. “They said we had to deliver this one right quick.”

He jerked an impatient thumb at Catherine, curled up into a ball of misery, moaning softly on the back seat. Sitting beside her, the doctor’s face was white with terror. “What is that?”

The driver pointed at the roof. “There’s something out there. Something damn big and mean.”

“It’ll be in here with us in a minute, if you don’t move!” the other guard shouted in fear, pulling out a switchblade.

Suddenly his window imploded and a great hairy hand snaked in, seeking his throat. With a cry of dread he slashed at it, drawing blood. With a deafening howl of impotent rage and pain the hand was snatched away.

“Get moving, for God’s sake! Before, whatever that is out there, comes back!”

As the frantic words left his lips, the great hand returned to grasp his chin and break his neck cleanly, with a sinister crack that made the driver’s eyes bulge in disbelief. He had seen men die violently many times, but this unseen menace broke his nerve. With a whimper of fear he tried to put the car in motion, hoping the jerky action would dislodge his unwelcome passenger.

But Vincent grasped the edge of the windscreen with his claws and hung on grimly. The car plunged forward, accelerating away and taking the corners at breakneck speed.

“Get us out of here!” Huddled in the back, the doctor held Catherine’s near unconscious form against him, watching the body of the dead guard fall about drunkenly.

It was an awful sight. He wished he had the courage to open his door and jump for his life. His contract didn’t say anything about dying violently at the hands of some great, howling animal.

In the next instant the driver screamed in abject terror as the face of a demon from his worst nightmare suddenly appeared at the top of the windscreen, staring at him through the glass with blue eyes that blazed with an unquenchable hatred.

Vincent had inched forward against the clutch of the wind, using his great strength to raise one fist and smash it through the windscreen, reaching for the driver’s throat. The man was now driving on sheer instinct, his bulging eyes fixed on twins pits of blazing sapphire hell. Vincent’s clawed hand closed around his throat, ripping and tearing at his flesh, crushing the life out of him without pity.

The car careened along, striking sparks from its bodywork as it bounced from impact to impact, throwing the occupants around violently. With one powerful wrench Vincent dragged the dying driver’s body through the windscreen intending to rip him apart in his all consuming rage, but the man made one last desperate attempt to escape. He slipped out of Vincent’s grasp to fall into the road before him. With one final, despairing scream he vanished beneath the wheels of the vehicle with a sickening thump.

The car slewed dangerously and Vincent was pitched headlong from the vehicle to the ground beside it, as it crashed into a wall with a screech of protesting metal. Scrambling to his feet, screaming in violent rage, Vincent tore the rear door away and flung it from him.

“Don’t hurt me…for pity’s sake, don’t hurt me…” the doctor begged, his frightened, white face staring out at Vincent as the man tried to scramble away.

But Vincent was beyond hearing, beyond all reason or compassion. These men had kidnapped and hurt his Catherine. The beast within had decreed there could be no mercy, no second chance. The doctor tried to scuttle sideways, out of the howling monster’s reach, but Vincent pounced on him, dragging him, babbling in fear, skywards to dangle in his great hands, as he crushed his ribcage. The man’s desperate screams filled the night with awful despair.

“Vincent…” The whisper was thin, almost non-existent. A tiny echo, more than a sound, but he heard it. He heard it through the firestorm of rage that consumed his rational mind, through the unstoppable desire to kill everything in his path so he could reach his beloved Catherine. “Vincent…”

With his next to last breath burning in his throat the doctor stared in horror as sanity suddenly returned to the sapphire eyes burning into his astonished gaze. In the next moment, he was tossed aside like a rag doll, to crash barely conscious and forgotten into the road. He could only lie there in blinding pain and disbelief, struggling to breathe as he watched the incredible scene unfolding before his eyes.

A small, trembling shape in a white hospital gown held out one shaking hand towards the ravening beast, and the animal didn’t hesitate, he leapt forward, his entire focus now fixed on the woman. But not to fall on her and savage her slender limbs in mad hatred. Instead, he ducked his great shaggy head into the car’s dark interior, his blood drenched hands reaching out with great care.

“Catherine…Catherine…” The huge beast’s voice was low and halting, filled with pain and anguish.

Catherine could not answer, with the last of her willpower she crawled into the safety of Vincent’s arms, her body exhausted beyond belief, needing now, more than ever, his great strength, his comforting warmth.

“Oh, Catherine…” Vincent folded her small body against his, feeling the slow, uncertain rhythm of her heart against the wall of his great chest.

His wrist was bleeding sluggishly, but he ignored the pain as he held Catherine. Her trembling communicated itself to him. He could feel the tears of her ordeal seeping through to his skin as he bowed his head over hers with a sigh wrenched from the depths of his being.

“Vincent…” The breath seemed to bleed out of her then and she became alarmingly limp and still in his clasp. Vincent pulled back to look down at her closed eyes.

“No! No, Catherine…no!” he cried despairingly as her whole body seemed to become lifeless in his arms. “No, not now…”

But she was beyond hearing. With one last desperate cry, Vincent gathered her in one arm, pulling the folds of his cloak from himself to drape them around her.

Ignoring the moaning doctor attempting to crawl away on all fours, Vincent surged to his feet. He began to run, running as if all the devils in his own private hell were pursuing him, taunting him, snapping at his heels.

Down into the bowels of the earth he carried his precious burden. Down to the one man who could possibly save her…if anyone could save her now…a cold hand gripped his great heart as he fled into the night.

“Don’t die, Catherine…” Vincent whispered against her cold lips. “For if you die, I must also. For there can be no life for me, without you…”

So are you to my thoughts as food to life

Or as sweet-season’d showers are to the ground

William Shakespeare

“She must live, Father…”

“She is very weak. The drugs that they have given her—”

“No! She will not die! I won’t allow it!”

The words echoed through Catherine’s mind, tugging at her memory. But her eyelids were too heavy to lift. They were weighted down by fatigue and pain. Surrendering to oblivion was much easier, so she drifted away again on a ghost of a broken sigh…

*******

The room was filled with strange tappings, echoes that found a willing companion in the headache that thundered brutally behind her closed lids. Weakly, Catherine moved her head, but the effort was too great and she settled into welcome stillness once more…

*******

There was the scent of candles. Candles and the faint tang of rosemary. Why did these sweet smells mean so much? Catherine’s wandering attention nibbled away at this question, without finding an answer.

She groaned then, a small, fractured sound, trying to ease the dull ache of her cramped limbs. She licked at her parched lips. Suddenly the stealthy sounds of footsteps stilled her breathing. Her heart leapt with fear.

Oh, no, not again! No more needles, please!  She wanted to shout, rage and scream her denial, but her voice was lost somewhere in the parched landscape of her throat. She turned her head from side to side, trying to find an escape. Her eyelids weighted heavy. Try as she might, she was unable to force them open to glare at her assailant.

Cool fingers were laid against the frenetic pulse leaping in her wrist. The light touch made her arch her back in desperation.

“No…no!” A deep shudder of revulsion rippled across her skin. She tried to escape, but there was an insurmountable pile of pillows and cushions blocking her path.

“No,” she managed to cry again, her fear giving her the strength to squirm away.

“You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

Catherine’s heart missed a beat. That voice, why did she know that voice?  There was a hitch in it, an undertone of deep emotion held tightly in check. None of her assailants had ever spoken to her so calmingly, as if her mental state mattered. Her struggles stilled as she tried once more to raise the eyelids that weighed so heavily.

Through her lashes she could see candlelight - candlelight and deep shadows that defied definition. They flickered and moved, painting patterns on the walls, which confused her eyes and mind. But she could discern no one, though she sensed someone was hovering nearby, just out of the line of her vision.

“Where are you? I…I can’t see you,” she whispered brokenly.

“I am here,” replied the voice, a man’s voice, deep and very beautiful. Sorrow underscored every syllable. “Don’t be afraid, sleep now…there is no one to hurt you here.”

Catherine rolled her head in search of him. But the voice echoed to her from the right, hidden in the deepest shadows. She could just make out a darker bulk of shadow against the rest. She surrendered with a discontented moan.

“I can’t see you,” she complained.

“No one will hurt you,” he repeated the reassurance. “You are safe with me…always.”

Again the catch of deep emotion in his beautiful voice. It soothed her shattered nerves, slowed the erratic pounding of her heart. The faint, distant tapping followed Catherine into her dreams.

“Please…don’t leave me…” she whispered to the watching shadow, as she drifted away. “I need you…”

*******

“How is she?” Father limped into Vincent’s chamber, leaning heavily on his stick.

The last five days had taken their toll on him as he and Vincent struggled to keep Catherine alive. They had taken few breaks from their vigil.

Vincent moved silently from the shadows to stand beside the bed, staring down at the small figure huddled so pathetically among it’s scattered cushions. His broad shoulders slumped, as if the whole weight of the world rested there.

“She is sleeping.” Vincent reached out one hand to brush back the length of hair that had fallen forward across Catherine’s pale cheek, but he halted the gesture halfway and let his hand fall again to his side.

“The drugs they gave her were very powerful.” Father sighed heavily, limping forward to place an arm around Vincent’s shoulders. “She has been through a violent and frightening ordeal,” he said softly, trying to ease the lines of strain and worry on his son’s face. “The human mind can only take so much and then it shuts down. It’s the only way it has to protect itself. The balance is such a delicate thing.”

He sighed again, shaking his greying head. “Who knows what they did to her. We can only watch and wait…and hope.”

He drew Vincent’s head down to kiss his forehead gently. “You should get some rest. Mary will sit with her.”

“No.” Vincent shook his head. “I will stay near. Mary can sit beside her, but I will never leave her again. I lost her once; I will not allow that fate to happen again. I…I don’t think I could bear the pain.”

“It is your love that will pull her through this, Vincent.” Father let his arm fall away. “Believe in your bond, it’s more powerful that all the medicines I could prescribe.”

“But our bond…” Vincent whispered raggedly. “Our connection…when Catherine needed me most…I failed her completely.”

“Yes, but how many times did you save her?” Father took his arm and gripped it tightly. “And you have saved her now. Against all the odds, you found her and brought her home. Remember that…always. Do not blame yourself.”

“But at what cost, Father? What has been the price?” Vincent questioned bleakly, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks. “She is lost to me, I can feel it. I feel nothing, but the pain of grief and loss.”

“Let her heal, Vincent.” Father blinked back his own tears. “Let her mind do its work and try to be patient. You will find each other again, of that I am certain. You must believe.”

“Believe, Father? I don’t know what I believe in any more. I wish I had your certainty.”

For a long time after Father had limped from the chamber, Vincent stood beside the bed, gazing down at Catherine’s sleeping form. His mind and body roiled with guilt and grief.

“Oh, Catherine,” he groaned softly. “Don’t leave me…not now…”

*******

Lie still, lie still my breaking heart

My silent heart, lie still and break

Life, and the world and mine ownself,

Are changed for a dream’s sake.

Christina Georgina Rosetti

Catherine came slowly to herself. Her body ached in every joint, every muscle. Her weakness chained her to where she lay, beneath a worn patchwork quilt on a bed that was soft and yielding.

Her headache had retreated to the recesses of her mind, but the rhythms of that constant metallic tapping still echoed to her from the far distance, plucking at her consciousness, teasing at the blank void that seemed to fill her head to exclusion of all rational thought.

She forced her eyes open against the sheer weight of their weariness. Her last memory was of a cold, bare cell with a hard cot and none of the echoing shadows surrounding her now. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth in consternation.

Why couldn’t she remember who she was, where she was? What is this strangely quaint place?

The faint rustle of cloth against leather drew her attention. Someone was standing in the shadows again, just beyond the small circle of light shed by a single candle on a writing table in the middle of the room. She could sense their presence, rather than see the person clearly.

Catherine tried to pierce the gloom, but all she could make out was the flash of a metal buckle and the gleam of a pair of eyes watching her from the depths of what appeared to be a hood over his hair. She knew instinctively the shape was that of a man. A big man, with broad shoulders and powerful thighs. The same man who had spoken to her before, comforted her in her fear. But who he was, or why he kept his distance, she had no idea. He seemed content to simply stand and watch her. The idea puzzled her.

Why doesn’t he speak? She wanted to hear his voice once more; those warm, soothing tones that banished her fear and relieved her pain. She turned her head against the softness of the cushions that were supporting her head, trying to see him more clearly.

“What is this place?” Her voice felt scratchy with disuse. She cleared her throat. “Who are you?”

He did not reply. The silence between them stretched into infinity. She could sense a growing tension in him and wondered why.

“This is a safe place,” he finally replied, almost as if the words had been forced out of him. “No one will hurt you here.”

But that voice was as gentle and beautiful as she last remembered it. So it hadn’t been a dream after all. But why did he continue to hide from her? “I…I don’t remember how I got here. Or how long I have been here. Do you know?”

“I carried you. You were injured…in an accident.” The man moved slightly then, half turning away from her, making him even more difficult to see in the faint candlelight.

His voice had sunk even lower. There was an overlaying sadness to the beauty of his voice now, a roughness that held a wealth of suppressed emotion and pain.

“Yes, an accident.” Catherine’s brows drew together in concentration, trying to force the memory. Of the accident and him. “I do remember some men.”

She raised one hand unsteadily to her forehead. “They…they wanted to know something…about someone. I can’t seem to remember what it was…” She shook her head. “I remember something about a car crash. Was that the accident I was in?”

“Rest now, it’s over. It was nothing but a dream, a very bad dream.” Vincent pushed back the wave of despair that threatened to engulf him.

It was better this way. Catherine didn’t remember anything. She was free now, free to live another life, a new life uncomplicated by their relationship. As long as she was alive and in the world he could be content. Or pretend to be so.

The thought gave him no comfort from the aching void that existed within his heart. He felt as if his very soul would break. But he would do it for her. For what they once had together.

“A dream,” Catherine echoed, puzzled. “But I feel so weak. And my head hurts.”

“Time. It will take time, but you will be well again…Catherine.”

“My name…is that my name?” Her head turned fitfully against the pillows.

“Yes, that is your name.”

“Catherine.” She drew a long breath, releasing it slowly. “ How do you know that is my name?”

“You told me…once.” Vincent fought for control now. He wanted to run, to escape - to nurse this new grief. To come to terms with it before it consumed him. But he could not bear to leave…not just yet.

“Catherine.” She turned the name over, considering it. “I remember now. Yes, I was so frightened I would not remember who I was. Thank you.”

Her soft sincerity nearly broke Vincent then. “Don’t worry, I won’t ever let you forget.”

Catherine had to strain to hear him. His voice had sunk so low as to be almost inaudible. “Thank you…for helping me. That was very kind of you. But, I don’t know your name. You’re always there, just out of reach. I wish you would come closer. What shall I call you?”

“My name is not important.” Vincent inhaled deeply. “I am a stranger to you.”

“But I would like to know your name…please.”

Vincent moved, stepping back into the deepest shadows. “Rest now. You need to regain your strength. We will talk again later. You should go back to sleep.”

He was already distancing himself from her, both physically and mentally. It was better this way. He would not see her again. At least, not with her having any knowledge of his presence.

“It feel as if I’ve been sleeping half my life,” Catherine complained, feeling the lassitude stealing over her limbs again. “I can’t…”

She paused, sensing he was already gone. The black emptiness of the shadows mocked her. She wanted him to come back, to talk to her again -- sooth her with the softness of his voice and the strength of his presence.

“I don’t want to feel so alone.” She felt a tear sliding down her cheek, but she was powerless to wipe it away. Another followed it, then another. Why couldn’t she remember anything more than her own name? There was more, much more, hovering at the edge of her vision. So much more that was locked away somewhere inside her mind.

And she knew instinctively that the man in the shadows was somehow a part of the whole. A large part of the puzzle she couldn’t solve.

She fell into a fitful sleep wrestling with the mental prison of her own making. In her sleep tears still ran down her cheeks and once she cried out for someone who wasn’t there…

*******

So must pure lover’s souls descend

To affections, and to faculties

Which sense may reach and apprehend

Else a great prince in prison lies.

John Donne

Vincent descended the short staircase into Father’s chamber, his movements heavy with despair. The familiar straight figure of the only parent he had ever known was seated at his desk reading an old worn volume of poetry. But he looked up the moment he heard Vincent come in.

“Vincent, please, come and sit down. You look deathly tired.”

“I…have been talking to Catherine…”

Father exhaled slowly. “Does she remember…anything?” he asked slowly, concern furrowing his brow. “Or you?”

“She couldn’t remember her own name.” Vincent slumped into a chair, his hands clenched before him on the table. “Not until I told her.”

“So she remembers nothing of this place?”

Father moved to lay his hand over Vincent’s as they twisted painfully together. Vincent looked up, his eyes filled with unbearable pain.

“Nothing,” he returned bleakly.

“Perhaps it is for the best.” Father sighed, after a long pause.

“But to lose her, Father…”

“You loved her, Vincent. And you saved her. But…I’m afraid yours was always a dream without a future. You can give that to her now. I have always dreaded this day from the first moment you two met. I knew it could only end in deep pain for you both.”

“Though lovers be lost, love shall not. And death shall have no dominion,” Vincent quoted the poem softly, the tears flowing unheeded down his cheeks.

He drew a breath so deeply into his lungs, it ached all the way to his soul. He shook his great head. “She saved me, Father. She saw me, all that I am, all that I will ever be, and she didn’t turn away.”

Father nodded. “You had the courage to love her, Vincent…now have the courage to let her go. It will be for the best…in the end.”

“And if she remembers…one day?” Vincent questioned bleakly.

“If she remembers, perhaps she will look on it as having happened in another lifetime. A distant memory of something you both once shared and lost.”

Vincent turned his head to consider him, to try and find some comfort in Father’s words. “But I will remember,” he said finally. “I will remember every day. Every thought…every word. I will remember for the both of us.”

“Then she will live for you, Vincent,” Father counselled, in a breaking voice. “She will live in you…always.”

“Yes…” Vincent returned on a sigh that broke Father’s heart. They sat together for a long time in brooding silence.

*******

Mary fussed about Vincent’s chamber, tidying, dusting, straightening whatever came to hand. All the while she watched Catherine, covertly, from the corner of her eye. The younger woman lay among the tumble of cushions and pillows, fretfully plucking at the edge of the quilt.

“Why doesn’t he come, Mary? It’s been four days now.” Catherine’s face was shadowed and pale, her eyes seemingly too large in its thinness. Mary pulled a scrap of cloth from her pocket and blew her nose determinedly.

“Why, Mary?” Catherine’s gaze was demanding.

Mary knew to whom Catherine was referring, but wisely she kept her own counsel. She and Father now shared Catherine’s ongoing care. The less she knew now, perhaps the better the break would be. At least that’s what Father said. Mary disagreed, but kept her silence.

She rearranged a stack of books on the mantelpiece and again dusted the same spot vigorously. “Perhaps he has other duties, other work to do.”

“What work? What duties?” Catherine questioned querulously, as she surveyed the other woman closely. “There is something you’re not telling me and I want to know what it is.”

“We…he…well, he’s away a lot.” Mary kept her eyes firmly on her duties. “Taking care of things.”

“Where, why?” Catherine sighed. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything. I try to remember, but it just won’t come. Help me, Mary, please.”

Mary straightened from her task and moved to the table in the centre of the room. She picked up a steaming bowl of soup from a tray, the true purpose of her visit. “You really do need to eat something. You need to regain your strength.”

“Only if you promise to tell me the truth.” The old familiar look of stubbornness flashed into Catherine’s eyes. Mary knew that look well. “Otherwise, I’m not hungry.”

Mary carried the bowl to her and sat down on the side of the bed. “It’s for your own good,” she hedged desperately.

She held out the bowl. Catherine ignored it.

“Regain my strength for what?” Catherine pushed herself into a sitting position. “I can’t even remember what I did…before.”

“The more you try, the harder it will be.” Mary shook her head. “You must not try and force it.”

“What else do I have to do, lying here a complete invalid.”  Catherine turned to thump a pillow into submission. “I see images…fragments of things I should be able to name, but I can’t. I see faces, faces of people I should know, but they slip away from me when I reach for them. One face…a man’s face. He is…different somehow. Beautiful, very beautiful in a way I cannot explain. He’s very close and yet…”

Her voice trailed off as Mary spooned some soup, holding it out hopefully towards her mouth. Catherine gasped. There was a flash of memory. A scrap of vivid imagery that laid itself over Mary’s work-worn hand.

Catherine saw another -- a hand with soft tan fur on it’s back and long curving nails, claws almost. The hand reached for her, palm uppermost, as if in supplication. There was no menace in the gesture, just a sense of incredible despair and loneliness.

Catherine jumped as the warmth of the soup spoon touched her lips. Instantly the image was gone, as if it had never been, leaving only Mary’s concerned eyes and wary look.

“Where is this place, Mary?” Catherine asked suddenly, after swallowing the soup without tasting it.

“In New York,” Mary returned guardedly, wishing Father would walk in and save her.

“He said this was a safe place.” Catherine took another mouthful of the soup with a puzzled frown.

“It is a safe place.” Mary nodded. “It’s our home.”

She dropped her eyes to the bowl of soup, stirring it absently.

“But, rock walls and candles.” Catherine looked about her. “No electricity.” She frowned. “No television or stereo.”

“We…um, prefer it that way.” Mary spooned more soup in the hope of forestalling more questions. “We like to keep things simple.”

“And your clothes.” Catherine studied the older woman with sudden interest. “They look almost…medieval.”

The word just flashed into her mind. She frowned over it. It fitted her thoughts exactly. Catherine remembered the man with his concealing hood and cloak, long boots on his feet and legs.

“We make our own clothes.” Mary stood with a troubled sigh. She glanced to the doorway, willing Father to appear. Let him find answers for these impossible questions.

She was too truthful a woman to evade Catherine for much longer.

She turned to watch her settle back among the cushions, curling up with a sigh. She wanted to encourage her to eat some more soup, but the task was becoming fraught with difficulty. If only Vincent were here, he would know what to do.

Catherine smoothed the fabric beneath her cheek. It was a soft cotton, well worn and mended, but there was also velvet and silk bordered with fine, dark leather. Like Mary’s clothing, a collection of pieces that shouldn’t be together, but somehow seemed to belong there in this candlelit room of flickering shadows and impossible secrets.

Like the fragments in my mind, Catherine mused wearily. She felt as if someone had taken a million jigsaw pieces and scattered them in a heap. It was up to her to fit those pieces together. To make them slot neatly into the black void of her memory.

“If you need anything else, I will be close by.” Mary picked up the tray. “Father will look in on you later.”

“I wish I knew what to believe.” Catherine watched her leave with resignation. Again the issues uppermost in her mind had been neatly avoided. Why were these people keeping things from her? And the man who said he had rescued her. He’d vanished without a trace.

No, that wasn’t strictly true, she decided then, glancing around her at the collection of books and objects that filled the room. This was his room -- she knew it instinctively. But why he had abandoned it, and her, she could only guess at.

Catherine shifted uncomfortably. There was a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach and her back ached. She eased it by arching forward, pressing her hands to the base of her spine.

As she did so her attention was caught by a small, slim volume on a small table near the head of the bed. Idly she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It fell open to reveal a pair of pressed roses, one white and the other blood red.

‘How shall I hold my soul

That it may not be touching yours

How shall I lift it then, above you,

To where other things are waiting…’

Catherine ran one fingertip over the words gently. They spoke to her in a way that she could not define. The faded fragrance of the roses filled her senses.

“Where are you?” she questioned the shadows. She closed the book carefully on the pair of dried blooms. “What have I done to drive you away?”

*******

‘I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I

Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?

John Donne

Far below her, Vincent sat at the edge of the waterfall watching the cascading torrent without seeing it. He had come here to think and to plan. He had been avoiding Catherine in these last days. Now that she would recover, he needed to keep his distance, no matter what it cost him. She could have the life she deserved now, free from the complications of loving him.

But the urgent problem remained that there would still be men who would be hunting for her. He’d managed only a temporary reprieve by bringing Catherine Below, but she couldn’t stay here indefinitely, no matter how much Vincent himself might desire it.

He allowed the sensations to flow over him, the memories of what they had once been to each other. They were bittersweet reflections that tore at his soul. But they were a part of him--they would remain with him…always.

Catherine had gone into the blackness of that cavern deep below where he now sat and faced him, in all his pain, in all his terrifying rage and terrible power. But his mind was as blank of those events as Catherine’s was now. He simply could not remember anything of that time, except that somewhere down there he had lost their connection, the precious bond that had bound him inexorably to her.

He shook his head. He felt adrift and alone without it.

Catherine had truly been lost to him when the men had taken her. He could not allow that to happen again. But now that he could no longer sense her fear of the dangers she might face Above, he was at a loss to know what course to take. The cold, black waters before him rushed on, uncaring of his dilemma.

*******

Father limped into Vincent’s chamber to find Catherine reading a volume of poetry. He recognised the binding. He had given the book to Vincent many years ago for his tenth birthday.

“How are you feeling?” He put aside his stick and rested his medical bag on the table.

He looked up to find her green eyes studying him intently. Nestled among the pillows of Vincent’s bed, she looked small and helpless. But Father felt a feather of dread move along his spine. Catherine’s lawyer mind had been razor sharp and probing.

How long could they maintain the pretence?

He thought back to the time when he had urged Vincent to get Catherine out the very first time she had come to them, before she could learn too much. But now…it was doubly important that she should leave and quickly. He loved the young woman dearly and in another life…but it was not to be, he had known that from the start. It was simply too dangerous now, it could never be. Everything he held dear was at stake.

“I feel as if someone has used me for a punching bag,” Catherine answered him now. “I hurt everywhere.”

“They were not…kind to you, whoever did this.” Father shook his head, taking out his instruments.

“There are many forms of torture, Father.” Catherine watched closely as the old man’s head jerked up and he stared at her. She sensed his surprise and consternation at the familiar form of address.

Catherine tilted her head with inquiry. “Why does Mary call you that?”

“Oh, it’s just a way she has.” Father shrugged uncomfortably as he took her pulse and tended to her healing lacerations.

“You don’t make a very good liar.” Catherine watched his averted face. “It makes you uncomfortable.”

Father looked up with a wry twist to his lips. “It is not a habit I would like to cultivate,” he admitted wryly.

“Why can’t I remember? Why is my mind so blank?”

Her pain and confusion tore at his crumbling resolve they were all doing what was best for his patient. Father looked away, shuffling his instruments in his bag for a moment as he sought to find the right words. “Sometimes, in moments of extreme trauma the mind simply shuts down. A kind of safety valve, if you like. You cannot force the memories.”

He came to sit on the edge of the bed and took Catherine’s hand gently between his own. “Time is a great healer. Let yourself drift with it. You cannot push your mind to suddenly remember something that it may be desperately trying to forget.”

“But the man in the shadows said it was only a car accident.” Catherine’s eyes widened with dismay. “There’s more than that, isn’t there?” She gripped Father’s hands. “More you don’t want me to remember. What did they do to me?”

“They drugged you.” Father soothed his hand over hers, before raising it briefly to touch her pale cheek. “We didn’t want to upset you more than we had to. You were very ill. But, I’m afraid, they used other forms of persuasion.”

Catherine raised her arm so that the simple cotton gown she wore fell back to reveal the discolorations on her forearms. “They tied me down,” she murmured. “They tied me to a bed and they tried to get me to tell them something. Give them something they wanted. A secret…I can’t remember, but I feel it was a very important secret.”

Father placed a reassuring hand over the bruising. “It’s in the past. Please think of it as nothing more than a bad dream.”

“That’s what he said.”

“Who?” Father watched her reaction warily.

“The other man, my man in the shadows. The one who was here…every time I woke up. He was over there, just watching me, always too far away to touch. I never saw his face.” Catherine took Father’s hand tightly between her own. “Why did he leave me? Where is he now? Mary wouldn’t tell me.”

“Perhaps he was simply a part of your dream too.” Father squeezed her hands, before standing up to repack his bag.

He knew his words were lame and transparent, but they were all that he could think of then. He felt like a man standing on the edge of a bottomless pit and the ground was crumbling under his feet.

“If that is so, then I am certainly dreaming now, Father.” Catherine leaned back against the pillows, her small store of strength easily exhausted. “For he was and is as real as you and I. Do not treat me like a child.”

“It’s late, you should sleep.” Father picked up his stick and slipped his arm through its loop.

“How can you tell day from night here? I haven’t seen the sun in days.”

“Rest now.” Father turned towards the chamber entrance. “You need to regain your strength. One day, very soon, you will be able to go home.”

The hearty encouragement of his words sounded hollow, even as he voiced them. He sighed bitterly. “I will see you again soon.”

“Thank you, Father.” Catherine watched him leave, nothing his heavy limp.

Curling up to ease her aching back and uneasy stomach, she pressed the book of poetry to her breast and lay for a long time contemplating the strangeness of it all. She found no answers as her eyes drifted closed and she slept.

*******

The dreams began then, as Catherine slipped over the edge of consciousness. Faces, both those she knew, but could not name, and other shadowy ones. These last seemed to menace her in a way that truly frightened her.

Curling ever tighter into a miserable ball, she whimpered in her sleep, crying for something…someone to come and save her. Someone who was always just beyond her reach, out there in the darkness, watching her suffering helplessly.

The book of poetry bit into her soft flesh as she struggled with the demons alive in her memory. She lashed out and encountered something warm and solid in the darkness.

“It’s all right, no one will hurt you here.” A cool, firm hand smoothed across her brow, brushing back the damp hair from her eyes.

He was back, at last! Catherine leaned into his touch, pressing her cheek into his palm. She feared she would never hear his voice again.

“You came back,” she whispered raggedly, pushing aside the chill of nightmare.

The chamber was filled with gloom beyond the single candle flame. But he was close this time, much closer than before. His warm, masculine scent was overlaid with leather and smoke. She could sense him kneeling beside the bed. But his face was still in deep shadow, hidden within the folds of his hood, almost impossible to discern clearly.

Catherine felt an almost overwhelming desire to reach out and push back the hood. Expose his face –- in her mind’s eye she could see her hands doing just that. It was a compelling vision. A sob caught in her throat.

“I thought I might never see you again.” She wondered what he would do if she slipped out of bed and into his arms. It would be heaven to feel secure. To just be held there, against his heart. Just to have human contact, to feel safe again, even for a moment.

“You were crying out in your dreams. It was a nightmare.”

Catherine let the soft tones of his voice flow over her. It was an incredibly tender sensation. Not the words, but the way they were spoken. Deeply and with love.

She responded without thinking. “I couldn’t find you. I looked everywhere.”

“I was always here. I will always be here.”

“I wanted you so badly. I needed to see you. Please tell me your name.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath then. Suddenly, she realised she was holding her own, as if the revelation of this one fact would open all the locked doors inside her mind.

“My name is not important,” he replied, drawing himself further back into his hood. “You must get some sleep.”

“I was so afraid.” Catherine’s fingers itched to reach out and push back that concealing cloth. But she feared he would leave her alone and frightened once more.

“Why won’t you tell me your name?” she begged, as the silence between them stretched unbearably.

“My name won’t help you sleep.” Movement in the darkness suggested he shrugged.

“Why are you all so secretive?” Catherine pulled back from him then, inexplicably angry and hurt. She knew then that this man knew more about her than he’d told her. He was keeping all her secrets deliberately.

“Everyone seems to be at great pains to keep me in ignorance,” she stated hardly, her voice choked with pain. “Am I that much of a threat to you and the others?”

“Oh, Catherine…” This was spoken on a long sigh, from the very depths of him. “You could never hurt us.” He stood and moved back beyond the tiny circle of candlelight.

“Don’t go!” Catherine threw out a restraining hand. “You can trust me. Who would I tell anyway? I couldn’t even remember my own name until you told me.”

“There are reasons…”

“What reasons?”

“This is a secret place.”

In the tiny circle of light she saw his hands clench. That was when Catherine suddenly noticed his hands. Long fingered and strong -- with soft fur on their backs and sharp, claw-like fingernails. Just like those in her vision.

She jerked her attention back to his unseen face. “Why is it secret? What have you to hide? Why are you here?”

The candlelight flickered and danced, deepening the shadows into which he had moved. There was no sound other than that strange distant tapping that was a constant of her life in this stone room.

“This is a place of safety where people can come to…to heal and to find themselves again.” He had been silent for so long Catherine was beginning to think he was not going to answer her.

“And you live here…you and Father and Mary?” Catherine probed carefully. “Why?”

“I have lived here all my life,” Vincent stated simply. “I have no other place to go.”

“So, do you have family here?”

He shrugged. “All who come here are my family.”

“Is this place run by the government? Some kind of halfway house?”

Catherine did her best to sift through the bare facts he was giving her, trying to make some sense of it all. Trying to remember.

“No, we have our own government here.” He’d moved again, closer to the door, as if he was about to disappear again.

Perhaps for good. “Why can’t any of you answer a straight question?” she railed then, her frustration boiling over. “I’m not a fool!”

It was all Vincent could do to stop himself returning to the bed and gathering her into his arms. He wanted so badly to comfort her. He sighed in deep anguish.

“It is just better this way,” he managed at last. “The less you know, the less you can tell anyone about us.”

“Better for who? You or me?” Catherine’s tone was bitter.

“For both of us.” He shook his great head. He turned to leave, abandon her all over again. Catherine surveyed his broad back view in frustration. Suddenly, the lines of the poem she had read flashed into her mind.

“How shall I hold my soul? That it may not be touching yours…?” She whispered the words, waiting for a reaction, any reaction to show that he had heard her.

Vincent jerked as if he had been stabbed through the heart. He turned back to look at her. Catherine could see the candlelight reflected in his eyes, deep inside his hood.

“She must have meant a lot to you,” Catherine observed quietly, opening the book to allow the two roses to fall onto the quilt.

“All that I am, all that I could ever be…I owe to her,” Vincent replied with deep conviction. “But she does not belong to me, only to herself.”

Pain clutched at Catherine’s heart, but she had to know. “Does she live here with you?”

“She lives only in my heart,” Vincent replied, not knowing if he could continue this conversation for one more heartbeat. “There she is safe from all harm.”

“And you can’t tell me…about here…about any of this?” Catherine indicated the rock walls, the collection of unlit candles around the room. “Or you.”

“You will leave soon, when you have healed enough to travel. Then this, all of this…and me…will only be a distant memory.”

“Why?” She sighed. “Why won’t you allow me to stay here, to help you?”

“No,” came the bald reply. “This is not the life…for you.”

“Then where will I go?” She drew a shaky breath. “I cannot remember what I was before.”

“Those men, the ones who…took you.” Vincent forced the words. “They hurt you. They will try again, given the opportunity. I think I can find someone you knew before. He will be able to protect you. Keep you safe from harm.”

“But what of you?” Catherine bit her lower lip. Her chest had tightened, making it difficult to breathe.

“Me?” Vincent withdrew into the doorway. “You will forget me in time.”

“I don’t think I will ever forget you,” Catherine replied with deep conviction. “You saved my life.”

“You must.” Vincent stepped backwards out of the room. “You will forget me in time. It heals every wound.” He would not come here again. He could not take the pain of seeing her again, so lost and alone.

Catherine puzzled over his parting words. New life? What was wrong with her old one? She frowned, trying to force her stubborn mind to reveal the truth. They were there, snatches of conversation, moments when she almost grasped the reality of ‘before’. And so many faces and images of people she was sure she once knew.

One face above all others stood out, but when she tried to focus on it, it vanished back into the blankness, leaving her frustrated and very much alone once more. That face was the one thing she wanted to remember above all else.

“It’s not fair!” She turned to rearrange her pillows with unnecessary force, but it didn’t help. Nothing seemed to help. Carefully, she gathered the fallen roses back into the book. Holding it as before, close against her breasts, she lay back and closed her eyes.

*******

“Joe Maxwell?” Father’s face was a study of concern and perplexity as he absorbed Vincent’s words.

“He can protect her,” Vincent countered evenly, his eyes bleak and despairing. “And he has no knowledge of our world, therefore Catherine will never learn the truth about us. I have been up to her apartment and removed all traces of this world…and myself.”

He placed a leather bag on the table between them. Father stared at it. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Vincent returned heavily. “It will be as if we never existed. Therefore she will not remember. As long as she is alive, I can be content with that.”

“I wish I knew what to say, Vincent. How to comfort you.”

“There is nothing to say, Father.” Vincent reached to grip the older man’s hand strongly, his voice blank now, devoid of the feelings that churned through him. “It has already been decided. Pascal and Jamie will escort her out by a route seldom used. I have sent Mouse to seal up the threshold beneath her building.”

“I once desired this parting with all my heart.” Father returned Vincent’s grip. “I could not bear to see you suffering such pain, such agony. But now…” He shrugged helplessly.

“I will hold her here.” Vincent laid the flat of his hand against his chest. “In here she will live forever.”

Father brushed a hand over his cheeks. “And we will all be here for you, Vincent, always.”

“I know.” Vincent sighed then, his body slumping into a chair. “I will send Geoffrey with a message for Maxwell. To warn him of the dangers and his need to be most careful with Catherine’s safety. He will wait for Maxwell’s reply.”

“And if Catherine’s assailants try again?”

“I will inform Maxwell of all I know. He will know what to do.” Vincent turned his gaze to Father’s, his eyes haunted. “She cannot stay here, we both know that. Joe Maxwell is our only option.”

“Yes, I know. I will alert Peter. He should know all about this. Catherine will need his care Above. He, at least, knew her before. He will be careful. I will make sure he understands he cannot tell her anything.”

“It is for the best, Father. Catherine now has a chance for a new life, a life without limits, or risks and complications of knowing about me or us.”

“All life is a risk, Vincent,” Father countered gruffly.

Vincent shook his shaggy head. “There can be no other way…for us.”

*******

Catherine stood unsteadily, clutching the edge of the table for support. Her legs felt as if they didn’t belong to her, they were rubbery and untrustworthy. But it felt good to be standing again after weeks of inactivity.

She had seen nothing of her man in the shadows for more than five days now. Mary and Father were her only companions in this strange half-world of neither day nor night. She sensed there were others, but she saw no-one else.

Mary had been in to inform her she would be leaving tomorrow. Their contact from her old life was waiting for her, somewhere. Mary had been deliberately vague when pressed, and had become completely uncommunicative when Catherine had probed her further. Now she was alone, had been so for hours. The silence was stretching her nerves to screaming point.

But the thought of leaving this place, this haven of safety plainly scared Catherine. Mary had tried to calm her fears, but she would not be comforted. She withdrew into herself, searching for her own answers. This man she was being taken to, he had known her before, Mary had told her this morning.

The thought of meeting some stranger, someone she had no memory of, was intimidating. This chamber, with its strange collection of books and unusual things had become a home to her. The distant tappings that Mary had explained as message on the pipes, soothed her and comforted her inexplicably. Her memory teased at her, tantalising her with glimpses, images that had no cohesion, no form that she could hold onto.

Walking carefully from table to mantelpiece, Catherine examined all that it held. A winged statuette took her attention, its form slender and graceful. She picked it up, gently smoothing the fine grain of its wood. It had been crafted with care and great attention to detail.

Everything in this chamber had been chosen for its beauty or its difference. There were books to tempt even the most jaded of minds. Shakespeare, Rilke and other, more contemporary novels, stacked to one side of the mantle.

Catherine looked back towards the bed with its odd collection of cushions and pillows, then beyond to the beautiful stained glass window with its soft apricot glow reflected from without.

Why did she feel so at peace here? By rights her confinement should irk her, force her to find some answers beyond its stark walls. A whisper of sound behind her made her turn hastily, nearly losing her balance. Mary stood in the doorway holding a collection of clothing in her arms.

“Oh, you’re up,” she remarked, stepping into the room. “I think these might fit you. That gown is not very suitable for going out in.”

“No, I suppose not.” Catherine glanced down at her simple cotton garment. It was all she had. Mary had leant her one of her own nightgowns when she needed to change, but everything else had been taken from her.

Mary held up an elegant woollen dress and a simple black coat. “A helper brought these for you,” she explained, laying them across the foot of the bed. There was underwear and matching shoes.

“A helper?” Catherine lifted a fold of the dress, admiring its deep blue colour. She discovered she liked blue.

“One of our people who help us with our work.”

Catherine sat down on the bed. “Is this man I am to meet tomorrow a helper too?”

“No.” Mary fussed about the room. “But he will do all he can to help you regain your memory.”

“Then I must meet him.” Catherine lifted her shoulders. “Will…will I see you again, Mary?”

“It’s better if you don’t, Catherine.” Mary sat down beside her, touching her fingertips to the younger woman’s cheek. “It will be better if you forget all about this place.”

“But I would like to help. You have done so much for me, and I—”

“You have another life to live, in another place.” Mary’s eyes were troubled. “You must forget us.”

“I won’t forget you.” Catherine took her hand. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Seeing you get well again is thanks enough,” Mary countered with a glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I…will miss you.”

Catherine slipped her arms around the other woman’s shoulders and hugged her. “I will miss you all, very much.”

*******

‘Her voice did quiver as we parted

You knew I not that heart was broken

From which it came, and I departed

Heeding not the words then spoken’

Percy B. Shelley

In the end Catherine’s reunion with Joe was simply accomplished. Pascal and Jamie guided her unsteady steps Above by little used routes, ones Catherine couldn’t know. Vincent had planned it this way, giving her nothing to remember, to perhaps find her way back. They took her out through the park to a path that skirted a stand of great, branching trees. A man paced impatiently up and down, now and then pausing to survey the darkness around him.

Once they could see the lonely figure, Pascal placed Catherine on a park bench and, stepping back, he melted out of sight. The shadows beneath the trees created pools of darkness where anything could hide and not be seen.

Vincent stood in the deepest shadows, watching. Pascal and Jamie touched his sleeve briefly in passing as they left him there, guarding his lost love one final time.

“Joe…?” Catherine called, as she’d been instructed.

The man spun around instantly. “Catherine! Oh, God!” He was beside her in four great strides, dragging her up into a bear-hug that threatened to smother her. “Where did you spring from? Where have you been?”

“And where the hell have you been?” Joe was angry and incredibly relieved at the same time. He blamed himself over and over for involving her with that damn book. “I’ve been tearing the entire city apart searching for you.”

“Have you?” Catherine pushed him away to look up into his face.

Memories, painful, tragic memories came flooding back. Her head throbbed with their sudden release. “Oh, Joe,” she sobbed, burying her face in his coat. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Welcome back, Radcliffe.” Joe sniffed, swiping at his eyes. “You gave us all a damn big fright. Don’t ever do that to me again. I think I’ve lost ten years in the last few weeks.”

He pulled her back into his arms, wrapping her tightly against him. Catherine submitted willingly, not noticing the shadows moving with unseen life.

In those shadows, Vincent voiced a final, silent goodbye and melted back into the darkness. There was nothing more he could do for Catherine now…

*******

“It’s too dangerous for you here. There’s every chance they could come back,” Joe protested in exasperation, pacing the carpet of Catherine’s lounge.

“It’s okay.” Joe nodded to the guards, opening the door enough to allow Jenny to slip through.

Jenny hurried to hug Catherine tightly. “I didn’t think we would ever find you again.” She kissed her cheek soundly. “I was lost without you.”

Catherine returned the kiss with a brittle smile. “Me, too.”

“Jenny has agreed to stay for a few days.” Joe put in.

“Oh, no, I—”

“No buts, no maybes.” Jenny sniffed with decision. “I’m staying. You need someone to look after you and if you think I’m letting you out of my sight again.” She shook her head.

“You gave us too great a scare,” Joe told her. “I’m not about to let it happen again. We will catch those guys if it takes the rest of eternity. Until then you’re not safe.”

“And in the meantime you need some fattening up.” Jenny took her arm. “I’ll get the boys outside to bring up my bags and then we’ll grab some lunch. I’m starving.”

“All right.” The thought of food made Catherine’s stomach churn, but she smiled through the discomfort. Jenny meant well. “It is good to be home.”

*******

“You are going to have to take it easy, young lady. You need to build up your strength.” Peter Alcott straightened from his examination. He placed vials of Catherine’s blood in a container.

“She still doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive,” Jenny commented from the bedroom doorway. “She’s feeing unwell all the time.”

“Eat, or I will have Joe demanding my head on a plate.” Peter surveyed Catherine closely, noting the dark smudges under her eyes.

He sighed sharply, thinking of Father’s detailed note and all it implied. Perhaps it was for the best, but deep down he nurtured a faint hope Catherine would remember. But why should she, he thought now. He repacked his bag. There was nothing to remind her of that other life, of Vincent and all that was Below.

“I’ll come and see you again in a couple of days.”

“Thanks, Peter…for being a good friend.” Catherine kissed his cheek.

The doctor smiled and hugged her. He frowned. She was slimmer than he remembered. He could feel the angles of her bones.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I met this woman?” He turned to Jenny, trying to mask his concerns with humour. “She was stark naked at the time and…”

The two of them left the bedroom, Peter going in to great detail in his embarrassing story. A sudden sound from beyond the balcony doors attracted her attention.

She waited, breathlessly anticipating…she didn’t know what. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she strained to hear anything further.

“That story would be a real party stopper,” Jenny commented, coming back into the room. “What is it?” she questioned, alerted by Catherine’s listening stillness.

“I thought I heard something…out there.” Catherine pointed to the closed doors.

“Stay here. Don’t move.” Jenny hurried out of the room. She was back in a moment, brandishing a very large carving knife. “He’ll be minus a few parts, if I get hold of him.” She moved noiselessly towards the doors.

Catherine opened the drawer of her nightstand. “My gun,” she whispered. “It’s gone. But I had it, I know I did.”

“Well, there’s no-one out there that I can see.” Jenny surveyed the balcony carefully, before opening one door and stepping through. “Must have been a cat or the wind.”

“But, who took my gun?’ Catherine shuffled through the contents of the drawer.

“Could have been anyone, I guess.” Jenny closed the door behind her, rattling it to check it was locked. “They went over this place pretty thoroughly. There must have been a hundred people through here after you disappeared. It was awful.”

Catherine dropped onto the side of the bed, feeling suddenly worn out.

“You okay, kid?” Jenny moved to sit beside her.

“I…yes, no, I’m not sure. I’ve been feeling so tired lately.”

“All the excitement of the last couple of days is catching up with you, I guess.” Jenny pushed her back gently, and Catherine stretched full length on the bed.

Jenny stood. “Rest a while. I’ll go and do some shopping and then I’ll fix us something tasty for dinner. That’s if those two gorillas at the door will let me back in again.”

“Be careful, Jen. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Hey I have this.” She waved the huge knife. “And I know how to use it.”

*******

It was dark. Catherine shivered in her thin white gown as she cowered in the blackness. Something was stalking her…something evil and malignant. She could feel it’s hot, fetid breath as it moved closer…ever closer to her hiding place.

She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t find her voice…she didn’t have a voice! She opened her mouth, but nothing issued from it. The thing in the darkness snarled at her, she scrambled backwards, coming up hard against a rock wall that scraped her skin and bruised her palms.

“You will tell us what we want to know, you will tell us…in the end.” The voice was disembodied, seeming to float in the air before her. Catherine ducked instinctively as a fist hurtled at her out of the void.

Then there was a blinding light and the impression of shapes moving beyond its shield. A syringe was thrust into the light, held by a gaunt hand and someone laughed as she flinched.

“You can make it so easy for yourself, Miss Chandler. Tell us what we want to know and then you can go home.”

“No…no!” Catherine fought the bonds that held her to a chair.

“You will tell us in the end,” the voice stated grimly.

“No!” Catherine fought for freedom as the needle advanced towards her outstretched arm. “Let me go!”

“You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

The light faded, leaving only one flickering candle. A sense of incredible peace stole over her then.

“You came,” she whispered against the solid warmth of his chest. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“You could never lose me, Catherine. I am a part of you, just as you are a part of me.”

“But, I couldn’t find you…”

“I’m here. I’ll be here…always.”

“Always…” Catherine sighed, nestling closer, turning her face into the hollow of his neck where a pulse beat strongly. “Always…”

She felt a feather-light kiss on her hair. Her relaxing body took her over the precipice into a peaceful sleep. Always…

*******

“You are sure about this?” Father sat in stunned disbelief. “I mean, there can be no mistake? No mix-up? It’s surely not possible.”

“It’s all here in my report.” Peter pushed the documents across the table. “Facts are facts, Jacob.”

The tappings of the pipes were the only sound in the room as Father read and then reread the document. Finally he looked up. “But, how did this happen? When did it happen?”

Peter shrugged. “You remember your biology? I was so wrapped up in Cathy’s disappearance, I didn’t give this a second glance. The hospital sent it over, after she gave blood for Joe. But once I got the results of her blood tests back…”

“But if Catherine is three months pregnant…” Father’s face was drawn and pale.

“Then this all happened before she was kidnapped.” Peter finished the other man’s unspoken thought.

Father sat back in his chair. “Have you told her yet?”

“No. Against my better judgement, I thought I’d better come to you with it first. I think the ramifications of all this are quite staggering.”

“You think Vincent is responsible for this.” Father thumped the report with an impatient hand. “How can he be?”

“Well, who else could it be?” Peter shook his head. “They were so completely in love. Cathy never looked at anyone else. Why is that such a hard thing to accept?”

“Impossible!” Father held up a denying hand. “ Vincent would never—”

“Vincent is a man, Jacob. However you try to get around that fact. He is a man, before anything else. With a man’s natural drives and urges. It’s seems quite simple to me. It’s the finest expression of what it means to be human, to love and be loved.”

“But…Good God.” Father clasped his hands. “I’m afraid this is beyond me. I can’t accept it. It’s impossible.”

“Well, you will just have to accept it. It is a fact, a very inescapable one. In six months or so, you’re going to be a grandfather.”

Father frowned at his friend’s flippancy. “You make it sound all so easy.”

“Well, we have to tell him. He has a right to know.”

“But, can we be sure?” Father opened the report again. “I mean, this is something…something…” His shoulders sagged.

“Unique,” Peter supplied, as he sat forward. “I agree with you there. Also special and quite wonderful.”

“After all that has happened. After all they have been through.” Father shook his head. “Why now?”

“That which does not kill us, only serves to make us stronger.” Peter shuffled the report into order. “It’s Cathy who worries me. She isn’t well. I thought, as you did, that it was best if she forget all this. Now I’m not so sure.”

He indicated the room. “There is always something at the back of her eyes; a haunted look. As if she’s constantly searching for something that is lost and she cannot find. She is struggling to find herself again, make all the pieces fit. But we both know there are some very large pieces still missing. One very large piece, indeed. I think, perhaps we were wrong, Jacob. Now, perhaps, this child is our redemption.”

“But the child?” Father shook his head. “It is…I mean, will it be normal, after all that has happened?”

“All the tests seem to indicate so. This baby is strong, incredibly so. It’s a survivor.”

“Just like it’s apparent father. If we could only be sure.”

“I still have to tell Catherine.” Peter’s brow furrowed with concern. “I truly do not know how she will react. Or what I am going to tell her. She will have to know the truth, Jacob.”

“It was all so simple,” Father opined bleakly. “Such are the plans of mice and men. She left and we got on with our lives.”

“Noble causes.” Peter grimaced. “Good intentions are never easy.”

Father nodded. “Vincent was not himself in those last days.”

“He remembers nothing of that time?”

“Nothing,” Father stated simply. “His mind is as blank of it all as Catherine’s is of her kidnapping.”

“I don’t envy you your task then.” Peter pushed the report across the table. “This is going to take some explaining.”

“But a child?” Father pushed his fingers through his hair. “What kind of child will this be?”

A child of infinite possibilities, Jacob. A true miracle.”

“I wish I had your certainties. Where will it all end?”

“In the happiness of two people who truly love each other. They belong together. If you could see how unhappy Cathy is right now, you would agree with me.”

“But the ending, Peter? How can there be a happy ending to all of this?”

“Only God can see the future, Jacob. And I’m afraid he hasn’t spoken to me in quite a few years.”

Father snorted at this piece of wry wit. “I can only hope their happiness will be enough. I truly do. I’m not sure Vincent is ready for this. I don’t think any of us are.”

“This child was conceived in love. There can be no greater truth than that.”

Father stood. “I’ll try to keep that in mind, when I go and tell Vincent he’s about to become a father. I doubt he will be any more ready for the news than I am.”

*******

Catherine slipped through the balcony doors, into the cool darkness of the night beyond. Jenny slept on as Catherine closed the door behind her with care.

The lights of the city gleamed against the dark velvet of the sky. Catherine felt a restlessness, an anxiety that wouldn’t allow her to eat or sleep.

The past week had been a tumultuous time ever since she had come home. The slightest thing made her jumpy. Joe and Jenny were great friends and excellent jailors, but they couldn’t help with her sense of displacement. Almost as if she didn’t belong in this life.

Joe had stayed for several hours this afternoon, making her aware of the dangers she still faced and his department’s inability to find any clues about her attackers. They had covered their tracks well.

He had been frustrated and forthright in his determination to leave no stone unturned. But Catherine knew her safety and security played on his mind, making him quick to flatly deny her request for some limited freedom. But he knew time was against them all. How long could Catherine remain a prisoner in her own apartment?

She inhaled the cool night air, flavoured with the scents of the city. The broad expanse of Central Park stretched before her wandering gaze. She leaned on the balcony wall, trying to pierce the depths of the shadowed places among the trees. Something out there was calling to her, asking her to simply believe in nights and their hidden magic.

“What, or who, are you, out there?” Voicing the thought made her start badly. Was she truly beginning to lose her grip on reality?

Above her, on the roof of her building, Vincent sat alone in the darkness. He had seen Catherine come out into the darkness and it was all he could do not to go down to her, reveal himself once more.

He kept watch. He had kept watch ever since she’d left the tunnels. He would stay until the breaking dawn drove him Below. But he would return with the night, every night.

The night wind tugged at his mane, teasing it out into a tawny cloud about his head. It whispered to him, all the sounds, all the scents of the night.

His loneliness engulfed him, his heart like a stone in his chest. But for Catherine’s sake, he would not seek her out. He had made a promise, he would keep it. No matter what it cost him. But it hurt, just the same. “I will remember,” he vowed softly. “I will remember for both of us.”

As he watched, Catherine turned away from the view. She stopped, frowning at the rose bush, looking neglected and forgotten. Its leaves had withered, the shrivelled remains of red and white blooms scattered petals across the patio. She reached to finger one of the thorns.

Vincent heard her groan. Saw her put one hand to her head. He almost went down to her then. Barely managing to hold himself in check, he crouched in the shadows, his thighs trembling with need, everything passionate and caged within him, screaming for the release of action.

Catherine moaned, her head suddenly full of pain, lights and sounds that clamoured to be noticed. The pain was so sharp she closed her eyes against it, fighting against a rising wave of nausea.

The rose bush, it had something to do with the rose bush. Suddenly pain shot up her arm as she snagged a fingertip on a thorn.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, snatching her hand away. A bright bead of blood bloomed on her torn flesh.

Suddenly her hand began to shake, her whole body began to tremble as an image imposed itself upon her vision. The image of a beautiful, tawny head bent over her hand, and the feathering touch of warm lips against her damaged skin. A face, when he drew back, a beloved, glorious face, unusual and unique. And yes…blue eyes that held a wealth of longing, a need greater than the universe itself. And Catherine could see her own hand reaching to cup that face, grasp hold of the chin when the owner would have turned it away, seemingly shameful of being seen to want…to need something from her she knew she was more than willing to give. He only had to ask…and then…and then…

Catherine’s whole body suddenly went icy cold, but her hand throbbed with sensual longing. She turned suddenly, as if expecting to discover someone standing in the shadows at the end of the balcony. But she was alone.

Memories of the candlelit stone chamber, the vision of the clawed hand over Mary’s, rose once more in her mind. Somehow her two visions meshed together, becoming one.

“Catherine…” The wind whispered to her inner ear, teasing at the door of her closed mind.  “I am here…”

“But where are you?” She looked back at the rose bush. Two blooms had been cut from it. The stems had been neatly severed. Two roses, one white…one blood red…there had been two roses there once…

Catherine fought with her memory, trying to pierce its blank curtain. The book of poetry had contained two roses. The lines of the poem began to repeat themselves endlessly in her head.

Somehow they held the answer, the key. If she could only—

“Catherine! What on earth are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death!” Jenny voice cut sharply across her reverie.

“I couldn’t sleep. I needed some fresh air.”

Jenny put one arm around Catherine’s shoulders. “You haven’t slept in days, girlfriend. You will kill yourself if you go on like this much longer.”

“Oh, Jen, what am I going to do?”

“Is it that bad?” Jenny peered into her friend’s troubled face.

“Every time I reach for answers, they slide away again. I know there is more I should remember, but when I try to remember, it just won’t come. It’s making me crazy.”

“So you make yourself sick with worry.” Jen shook her gently. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Put up with me and my craziness.” Catherine shrugged.

“Come inside.” Jenny turned her towards the doors. “We’ll grab a cup of coffee and talk about it. Someone needs to sort you out. Joe will have my head if anything happened to you.”

“A cup of coffee,” Catherine chided her. “Your universal cure-all.” She smiled as she allowed herself to be hustled back inside, but not before taking one final look back at the shadows that hung empty in the corners of the balcony. They remained silent, mocking her attempts to pierce their secrets.

Seated in the lounge, the coffee warmed the chill from her spirits. She huddled over it, staring into the dark depths.

“So, feel like talking?” Jenny prompted, after a long silence. “You’re very pale. Are you coming down with something?? Do I need to get Peter back in here?”

“I don’t know, Jen.” Catherine raised her eyes. “Sometimes I feel…lost, or that I have lost something. My life just seems so incomplete. It’s as if I have lost a whole part of myself and it’s waiting out there, somewhere. Just waiting and hoping I will remember it. Am I making any sense here?”

“Maybe there is not it, maybe it’s just a who.” Jenny’s mouth turned down at the corners. “What about Elliot Burch? He couldn’t keep his hands off you, not so long ago. Maybe you should call him.”

“Elliot?” Catherine frowned, picturing the billionaire property developer, but her heart rate didn’t alter. “No, I don’t think it’s him.”

“Well, you can’t go on like this,” Jenny told her roundly. “You will be a cot-case inside another week, and then Joe and Peter will want to know what I’ve been doing to you. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this and soon.”

“You are good for me.” Catherine sighed. “If only it was—” She stopped, staring at the bookcase behind her friend.

“What…?” Jenny swung around to look. “What’s there?”

“I don’t know…” Catherine felt as if she were moving in slow motion as she got to her feet, reaching to touch the books in the middle row. Jenny watched, her face alive with alarm and concern.

Catherine’s wandering finger stopped, trembled, then stroked along the spine of a book of poetry. Carefully she removed it, turning it over in her hands. Her breath jammed in her throat, her heart pounding against the cage of her ribs.

It was a plain blue book, nothing remarkable about it at all. The collected works of Dylan Thomas. She could even remember where she had bought it. An old bookstore down the the Village. A funny place full of old books and quiet corners where you could get lost for a day or two, if you had a mind to do so. Her hands trembled as she opened it slowly. She felt like Pandora as the pages fell apart easily. There was a folded page of notepaper tucked into the spine. Catherine removed it carefully.

“What is that?” Jenny puzzled question made Catherine start violently.

“Something precious that I’ve misplaced…” Her hand shook as she unfolded the note.

Her vision began to sparkle and swim with tears. She already knew what was written there. One line and a signature in a beautiful, flowing script.

‘Love is the truth beyond all knowledge…’

Vincent

“Vincent…” Catherine felt the room sway about her, the pain in her head a brilliance that threatened to take her sanity and her vision. She clutched at the table for support.

“Catherine!” Jenny sprang to her feet, just managing to catch her friend’s falling body before she slid to the floor, her tortured mind finally surrendering to the inexorable flood of shattered memories.

*******

‘The loneliest place we have among the clouds

And she who dwells with me, whom I have loved

With such communion, that no place on earth

Can be a solitude to me’

William Wordsworth

The sound of voices intruded into Catherine’s unconscious mind. Angry voices, discussing her. She held her breath, listening, hunting for any clues to why everyone had deceived her so terribly. Peering cautiously through her lashes, she could see Peter and Jenny standing at the foot of her bed.

“If she goes on like this she will kill herself.” Peter’s tone was low and angry. “This has to stop.”

“It was this note.” Jenny unfolded it. “It’s from someone named Vincent. She took one look at it and just collapsed. Do you have any idea who this guy is? It’s only one line, why’d she get so upset?”

“I…don’t know.” Peter took the note and read it. He tucked it away in his shirt pocket. “Perhaps it’s better if we don’t mention it until she brings it up herself.”

Catherine frowned, watching Peter pass a distracted hand over his hair. She guessed he was part of the plot to keep her in ignorance. She wanted to shout and scream her despair and disappointment that even Vincent didn’t feel he could trust her with their secret any more.

Her heart contracted sharply. Vincent had been the man of the shadows. Back in the chamber, in the tunnels. How could she not have known? Not guessed his identity?

She searched vainly for any sense of their shared connection. Any clue to his whereabouts, but nothing came to her, beyond the pain of her headache and the aching of her dry throat.

Perhaps the fault lay with her, perhaps she had told her abductors more than she had been aware, after all. Had she, in fact, jeopardised everything and everyone she loved? Tears forced their way through her meshed lashes.

When first we practice to deceive…

“Peter…” She sighed, her throat tight with unshed tears.

“Catherine!” Peter was beside her in an instant, taking her wrist, checking her pulse, his gaze wary and warning. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“Why, Peter?” Catherine whispered, ever mindful of Jenny’s watching presence.

Peter sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to her. “Out of some sense of misguided loyalty and honour.” He stroked her pale cheek. “Out of a great love.”

“So…I didn’t betray anyone?” Catherine stirred uneasily. “I worried that perhaps I had--”

“No, no, never that. Everyone is safe,” Peter whispered a swift assurance. “I guess the idea was that you could live your life. A life without limits.” His throat worked. “You could never betray anyone.”

“Oh, Peter. What are we going to do…?”

“I don’t know.” Peter glanced at Jenny, who had been watching their whispered exchange with intense curiosity.

She held up both hands defensively. “Hey, I can tell when three’s a crowd.” She lifted a denying shoulder. “I think I can hear some dishes calling me.”

“Thanks, Jenny.” Catherine grimaced. “It’s better this way.”

“Hey, I can take a hint.” Jenny looked back as she left the bedroom. “But, maybe one day I’ll get to meet this mystery man of yours, this Vincent. He sure can write a great pick-up line.”

Peter closed the door behind her, before returning to sit on the side of Catherine’s bed. He took her hand. “How much do you remember?”

“Everything. I…I am pregnant, Peter.”

“I know. The blood tests I took the other day were positive.” Peter squeezed her hand.

“They…were keeping me alive for the baby.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “They wanted to steal my child.”

“Vincent’s child?” Peter prompted carefully, his face stricken.

“Yes.” Catherine inhaled shakily, releasing a gusty sigh. “He would have died, Peter. He was dead. I…had no other way of bringing him back to me. I couldn’t lose him. He is everything I am.”

“But what about Vincent?” Peter’s brow creased. “He remembers nothing, nothing at all about that time?”

“I wanted to tell him. I was going to tell him, but…” Catherine scrubbed at her tears.

“I’m afraid Jacob knows,” Peter confessed on a sigh. “I really didn’t know what else to do. How to even tell you. You would want to know who the father was and what could I say?”

“I’m sorry, Peter.” Catherine squeezed his hand. “And Vincent? What does he know?”

Peter covered her hand with his. “So far, he knows nothing. Working out how to tell him was going to be the hardest thing Jacob and I would ever have to do. It was all so neat, so tidy. I suppose when you look back now, we were all trying to do the right thing. Especially for you.” Peter shook his head. “Noble causes. We have all been such fools.”

“No, Peter, just misguided.” Catherine pushed herself up against her pillows. “The life was my choice. I would have it no other way.”

“I think there is someone else you should be convincing of that. I’m just an old fool.” He shrugged. “He was doing this for all the right reasons, you know.”

Catherine nodded. “Even if it broke his heart.”

“Even then he would do it again. He loves you that much.”

“Noble causes,” Catherine whispered. “ I know.”

Peter heaved a deep sigh. “Jacob is going to take some convincing. The poor old boy is totally shattered. All his plans just evaporated before his eyes and he has no idea what to do for the best.”

“This child…” Catherine laid a protecting hand over her abdomen.

“Is a gift created out of pure love,” Peter finished for her. “Make sure you tell Vincent that before anything else.”

“I will.” Catherine reached to hug him tightly.

“I wish that things could be different…for the two of you.” Peter kissed her cheek.

“He is the man I love,” Catherine replied simply. “There could never be anyone else. He is beautiful.”

“And so are you.” Peter stood. “You will go Below?”

“This child will cause too many questions. Questions for which I do not have any answers. And if my kidnappers try again…” she left the rest unsaid, her horror at this thought, plain in her eyes. “Joe cannot protect me forever. But he’s going to be upset. I hate to do this to him, but it’s the only thing we can do.”

“Then go, Catherine. You will be safe Below. Vincent can protect you there. Joe will naturally be against the idea. But it is your life and your decision.”

The door opened slowly, Jenny peered around its edge. “Sorry, but the dishes are all done. Is there anything I can do?”

“Thanks, Jen.” Catherine pushed her legs over the edge of the bed. “But there is something I need to do alone.”

“You’re leaving, I just knew it. Joe isn’t going to like this,” Jen warned, as Catherine crossed the room to her wardrobe. “I’m going to catch the blame for letting you go. I just hope this Vincent of yours is worth it.”

Hearing her love’s name spoken aloud made Cartherine’s heart leap with joy. “He is everything. Without him there is truly nothing. But, we will just have to try and make Joe understand.” Catherine spread her hands. “But I cannot stay here.”

“Okay, Peter...” Jenny rounded on the doctor. “Help me out here. Tell her this isn’t a good idea. Those guys outside will never let her through.”

“Once I have spoken with Joe, Peter will take me where I need to go.” Catherine gathered an armful of clothes. “Please don’t worry. I am going to be fine.”

“I know you will.” Peter took Jenny’s arm to restrain her from interfering further. “You are the bravest woman I know.”

“It took courage for him to walk away.” Catherine’s voice was husky with emotion. “He gave everything up for me. Our whole dream.”

“Come on, let me in, guys,” Jenny huffed angrily. “I know you’re talking about this Vincent of yours.” She balled her fists on her hips. “What exactly is going on here? Where do you think you’re going? To him?”

Catherine smiled mistily. “I’m going home, Jenny. Where I’ve always belonged.”

“‘Love is the truth beyond all knowledge,’” Peter quoted softly, as he bent to kiss her cheek. “Let me know how he takes the news. I wish I could be there to see his face.”

*******

“You can’t be serious about this!” Joe’s tone was low and angry, as he faced Catherine in the early morning light.

He looked tired and careworn, and decidedly unhappy. He rubbed at his stubbled cheeks. He hadn’t bothered to shave, but had hurried to Catherine’s apartment, the moment she telephoned him with her news.

“I have never been more serious, Joe.” Catherine faced him calmly.

“Just when I think we’re getting somewhere. You want to up and leave. And you can’t even tell me where you’re going.”

“No, won’t, Joe. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you anything. I made a promise years ago, never to tell.” Catherine spread her hands helplessly.

“It’s something to do with this Vincent guy, Jenny’s been talking about. She says you’re crazy, too. Who’s he then? Why don’t I know him?”

“As I said, I can’t tell you, Joe.”

“Secrets!” Joe snorted his derision. “I don’t believe this!” He took an agitated turn about the room. “What if those guys still get to you? What then? I won’t be able to help you, if I don’t know where the heck you’re disappearing to this time!” He thrust his fingers through his already disordered hair.

“They won’t find me, Joe.” Catherine tried to calm his agitation. “I still need you, Joe. I will keep in contact with you. As often as I can.”

“What, more grubby notes like the last one?” Joe turned back to her angrily. “A note with some scruffy, half starved kid attached to it. He looked like an escapee from some medieval pantomime. You gotta get a better class of friends, Radcliffe.”

“Yes.” Catherine smiled at the accurate description. “But, I will be safe.”

“Oh, I’m glad you find this situation funny,” Joe snapped, coming to stand before her. “You aren’t in any sort of new trouble, are you?”

“No, no more trouble than the problems we already have. I will be all right, Joe, you just have to believe me.”

“Believe you…” he snorted. “Trouble always seemed to have a way of finding you, Radcliffe. You worry me and you scare me.” He took another turn around the room. “If anything was to happen to you again…” He left the rest unsaid, his face tired and drawn. “You’ll be the death of me one day.”

“Please don’t worry about me, Joe.” Catherine stood and went to him. “I am going to a place where no-one will find me, not if I don’t want them to. A safe place, among good friends who care about me.” She reached to slide her arms around his neck, hugging him close.

“Caves and candles?” Joe returned the embrace, squeezing her tightly. “I wonder which of us is the bigger fool.” He heaved a deep sigh and kissed her cheek. “Don’t go too far away, Radcliffe. I don’t know what I would do without you to keep me grounded.”

“I won’t, I promise. I know my return has been a closely guarded secret.” Catherine pulled away and picked up a folded note from the table beside the couch. “But, I want you to give this to Elliot Burch for me. Please, Joe.” She held the note out.

Joe stared at it with deep suspicion clear on his face. “You’re suddenly very sure of the man.”

“He would never hurt me, Joe. Despite what you might think.” She took his hand and closed his fingers around the note. “Elliot is a good man. He deserves to know I’m all right.”

“I wish you would tell me what you are up to. Where you are going.” He crushed the note, shaking it in his closed fist. “It’s gonna drive me crazy not knowing where you are and how you are. That I can’t help you.”

“You could say I’m at last finding the missing pieces of the jigsaw and finally making them fit.” Catherine laid a comforting hand against his lean cheek.

“You had better keep in touch, Radcliffe.” Joe grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “Or I won’t be responsible for what I might do. I would tear this whole city apart brick by brick if I needed to, just to find you.”

Catherine smiled. “I will keep in touch, Joe. As often as I can.”

“And how long will this new mystery of yours last? When will I see you again?”

“I don’t honestly know.” Catherine dropped her eyes. “Perhaps it may never end. Perhaps this place is where I was always meant to be.”

*******

Jenny had been harder to convince, but once she’d accepted the inevitable, she helped Catherine pack what she needed to take Below. Peter had promised to deliver her things, sight unseen, as soon as the coast was clear. Catherine would travel alone to see Vincent. The prospect sent shivers racing up and down her spine, but in turn, also an incredible sense of peace.

“This Vincent of yours,” Jenny asked as the two friends parted the next day. “Do you love him? Does he love you?”

Catherine’s smile lit up her whole face. “With all my heart. There never could be anyone else now.”

Jen sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Then I wish you all the happiness in the world, kiddo. You owe it to yourself. Make me proud.”

“Thanks, Jen.” Catherine hugged her tightly.

“Now don’t you disappear completely on me, woman.” Jenny pulled a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “I want regular reports from you. And an invitation to the wedding.”

“I am truly going to miss you. I can’t thank you enough for all you have done.”

“Just give this Vincent of yours a hug from me and tell him he better be good to you. He must be quite something.”

“He is everything to me.” Catherine sighed. “Without him I am nothing.”

“You really are a case, do you know that?” Jenny wiped her eyes a second time. “Now look what you made me do,” she chided mistily. “I will have to get myself all made up again.”

“Oh, don’t change, Jen.” Catherine laughed freely for the first time in a very long time. “Don’t ever change.”

*******

Catherine took the drainage tunnel route down into the secret world below Manhattan. She waited impatiently for full darkness, before daring to leave her apartment building. She took extreme care not to be seen leaving. Apart from the ever-present danger of being discovered by her recent assailants, she knew Joe was quite capable of trailing her to discover her destination.

He was extremely unhappy about the turn of events. That he was no longer in control of her whereabouts. If someone could be kidnapped out of the car park of the Justice Building, then Central Park would be a far easier hunting ground.

But Catherine couldn’t have been in safer hands now. Peter had warned Father, and Catherine knew her underworld guardians had been sent Above to closely shadow her progress. She could feel unseen eyes watching her every move, guarding her safety on her way Below.

The night air was chilly, but Catherine moved along the moonlit paths oblivious to the cold. Those moments in the darkness of the cavern deep beneath her feet where she brought Vincent back to her, back to the reality of their love, in the only way she knew how, warmed her blood now.

She knew Vincent retained no memory of the intense passion that had flared between them. His conscious mind had locked the memory away as surely as hers had done with the most important part of her life.

But now that fact had to be faced and the results discussed. Catherine’s heart whispered with the precious memories as she walked on through the night, her whole being singing a lullaby to the new life she carried within her. They were going home together.

*******

“She remembers…everything?” Vincent sat in the leather-backed chair in his chamber. He had recently returned from his nightly vigil above Catherine’s apartment.

Alarmed to find her apartment dark and empty he had searched for clues to her whereabouts, but found nothing. He had climbed down and peered through the balcony windows. No longer being able to sense her every thought, every feeling, was tearing out his great heart.

Now he didn’t know what to feel. Elation and confusion warred with his desperate need to see her once more. To hold her, make sure she was safe from harm. To never let her go again.

Father limped across the floor. “Peter said she found a note, in a book of poetry. A note from you.” He eased himself into the other chair. “Love is the truth beyond all knowledge.”

“Dylan Thomas.” Vincent grimaced. “I missed that one.” He sighed. “And now she is coming Below?”

“She is coming to see you, Vincent.”

His great chest heaved. “She had a chance, Father. A chance at a new life. A life without limits.” He raised a clenched fist. “And now, what do we do?”

“She loves you, Vincent.” Father leaned forward to grasp his hand. “What you tried to do for her, what we all tried to do. It was noble and selfless, more than anyone could have done for her. But circumstances have changed.”

“I blame myself—”

“No, Vincent, there is no blame here. You could only do what your heart thought was right. Now you must let it guide you again. You must allow yourself to love her, to be there for her. It’s all she wants now.”

“To have a life together.” Vincent’s eyes filled with pain. “But what do I have to offer her, Father?”

“Only yourself and your love,” Father told him quietly. “It is everything.”

He sat back to watch his son. He would not speak of the baby; that was for Catherine alone to do. But his old heart wept for these two lovers whom fate had decreed must live apart.

What would become of them, what would become of them all in this secret place? How much danger did Catherine’s presence Below, pose to their fragile world?

The thought of the child had been a difficult thing for him to accept. The frightening possibilities raised by the presence of the baby caused him many sleepless nights.

Vincent’s own life had been a difficult, painful struggle for him to come to terms with what and who he was. To wish such a struggle on his child in its turn…Father’s blood ran cold at the thought.

What had Catherine been thinking?

*******

The heavy metal door closed behind Catherine with a dull thud. She breathed a sigh of relief. This was where she belonged. The soft tapping of the pipes soothed her strained nerves. Already the pace and the harmony of the place began to seep into her consciousness. Catherine closed her eyes, just listening to the quiet. It was all so different from her frantic world.

A staccato message suddenly clattered along the pipes beside her. Catherine recognised her personal alert code, an urgent summons for the man she loved. Vincent was now aware of her return to his world. But would be accept her decision?

He could remove himself from her reach; retreat far below to the deepest tunnels that only he knew well. She laid a hand over her abdomen, her heartbeat quickening. Father had given his word Vincent would wait for her.

Vincent raised his great head as the pipes echoed their message. Catherine had returned. He felt an unaccustomed flare of panic. Why was he suddenly so afraid? This was his Catherine, the other half of his soul. She could never willingly harm him. She had almost died for him.

He pressed a hand to the pain deep in his chest. But sometimes love can hurt more than any other emotion. He turned his head, listening for the sound of her footsteps.

Father got to his feet. Leaning on his stick he reached to grip his son’s broad shoulder. “I’ll be close by, if you need me. It will be all right, Vincent. She will understand why you sent her away.”

Vincent gripped his hand without answering. His eyes remained fixed on the chamber entrance.

*******

Catherine knew that Vincent would not come to meet her. As hard as it was for her to accept, she knew he would wait for her, meet her on his own terms. He had tried to redirect the course of her life, tried to place himself beyond her reach forever. But he’d reckoned without the sheer strength of her love for him, and she had found her way back.

Now she would have to fight for that love with everything at her command. There was a tiny fluttering in the pit of her stomach and Catherine smiled as she moved along the tunnel. This undeniable new life was the most powerful weapon of all.

*******

Vincent sat staring at his hands. He surveyed them critically. The long, curving nails that could tear a man apart in an instant; the soft covering of fine, tawny fur that extended up his wrists to vanish beneath the cuffs of his shirt.

The pain in his chest was making it difficult to breathe. How could she love him, even bear to be near him with all his black rages and killing strength?

He folded his nails into the softness of his palms and tightened his grip, letting he pain bite into his senses without flinching. She was coming to him. This beautiful woman whom other, more deserving men desired, she was coming for him. To be with him in this dark, deep place far below the world of sunlight and happiness she deserved.

The thought deepened his sense of depression. He had given Father his word he would see her. But he knew he had no right to ask anything of her…

*******

Catherine halted a few steps from Vincent’s chamber. A deep sense of despair suddenly overwhelmed her. An intense sadness pervaded her very soul. But the despair, the sadness was not hers.

Her heart had been buoyed up by the knowledge that Vincent could not reject her once he knew the truth, once he understood. The child within her moved again, a tiny flutter of comfort. It was so small, so fragile and yet she felt somehow that its spirit understood everything. The thought stole her breath.

The deep sadness, the disquiet returned, weighting her down, dragging at her footsteps. Suddenly, she knew the feelings were not hers, but Vincent’s.

Somehow, in some way she did not begin to understand, their bond had been reversed. Now she could feel what he was feeling. Only in a rudimentary way, it was not the depth of connection that Vincent had shared with her. But it was there, tightening her senses, rippling across her skin. She could sense he wanted to run, to escape her return. But by the sheer force of his iron will, he stayed…to face her, to try and convince her of his unworthiness to love her.

“Oh, Vincent…” she whispered. “I love you…”

She moved nearer. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and rapid above her own. And another tiny murmur of sound that was their child. Catherine pressed a hand to her chest and stepped into the doorway of Vincent’s chamber.

*******

‘I gave myself to him,

And took himself in pay.

The solemn contract of a life

Was ratified this way…’

Emily Dickinson

Vincent knew she was there the moment she entered. The sound of her breathing, the subtle perfume that was hers alone, the clean, fresh scent of her hair. All these things flowed through his heightened senses. He could not look at her; he looked instead at his clenched fists, the pain of his grip a numbness that seeped into his very soul.

He could sense everything about her, everything vital and true. But he could no longer find the inner woman he had come to know so well.

“Hello, Vincent.” Catherine moved to his side, looking down at his bent head.

The candlelight struck golden lights in the thickness of his mane. Reaching out, she ran her hand down its silken length. Slumped in his chair, he didn’t move. But his breathing changed pace, becoming rapid and uneven. She easily sensed all the great muscles within him screaming for the release of explosive action. But she was not afraid.

Vincent fought to remain seated. To feel her touch once more, to have her so near, so close. He fought to prevent himself from jumping to his feet, taking her into his arms and loving her, as she deserved to be loved. Instead he sat beneath her questing hand, allowing her to sooth him, comfort him with her softness and love.

“Why, Vincent?” Catherine placed a hand over one of his closed fists.

The knuckles were white, starkly outlined beneath their mantle of soft fur. Gently, firmly she gripped his hand, raising it slowly to her lips to kiss each knuckle in turn, feeling the growing tension ripple through Vincent’s entire body.

Vincent shuddered then. A great wave of emotion roared through him, demanding, howling for release. He would have died for her. But could he live for her?

Catherine’s soft lips brushed his skin, evoking sensations that threatened to unman him. All the poetry of his life had never prepared him for such a naked and untrammelled emotional flood scorching through him. He sensed his emotional armour beginning to shatter. He dragged air deep into his starving lungs, the pain hot and searing.

He watched, fascinated, as she kissed each of his fingers in turn, unfurling one at a time like some precious gift. She smoothed her fingertips over the red crescents marking his palm where his nails had taken their toll of his flesh.

His trembling became more violent when Catherine finally raised her eyes to his. She looked deep, showing nothing but love and concern.

“‘For thy sweet love remembered…’” she quoted softly. Leaning forward as she spoke, she placed her mouth softly over his, letting the sensations she evoked within him sweep through her as she parted her lips, drawing his whole body upright, pulling him towards her by this most intimate and fragile of contacts.

Vincent held himself there, poised and utterly still as she raised her head slowly to smile at him. The touch of her lips against his was both a pain and a joy. But he was still afraid. For himself and Catherine, if he let himself feel again, allowed himself to believe in the possibility of hope.

But those same needs were no longer listening to his rational mind. They clamoured to be break free, forcing their way through all the barriers he had erected to seal himself off from the realities of their love. The hands he had so recently despised, reached for her. They closed on her shoulders, sliding up her neck to thread their way through her hair. He needed to hold her, to feel her body against his once more, more than anything now.

To know that she was his, alone. For all time.

“‘That then I scorn to change my state, with kings,’” he whispered, on a tortured moan.

He finally surrendered, caressing her slender body, sliding his arms around Catherine’s waist and burying his face against her hair. Whatever happens, whatever comes, she was his once more. That was all that mattered now…

Catherine rested her cheek against his hair as she held him, rocking Vincent gently, letting him begin to heal beneath the sureness of her touch. Together they had a long road to travel and this was only the beginning. She could only pray for his acceptance of all she had to tell him now.

*******

A long time later Catherine curled her legs beneath her. She rested her head on Vincent’s shoulder as they sat together on his bed.

“It was an opportunity for you to return to the life you had before.” Vincent shook his head. “A life uncomplicated by so many secrets and dangers.”

“All I love, all I could possibly ever need, is right here, Vincent. You must believe that now.”

He kissed her forehead gently. “But I cannot give you—”

“There is nothing you cannot give me. Nothing,” Catherine interrupted, sitting up to take his face between her hands. “You need to believe that, above all things.”

“I want nothing more than to believe you,” he replied simply.

“You are the one who deserves so much more, Vincent.” She traced the lines of his forehead with her fingertips. “You believe that of me, but you do not realise how much you give of yourself. I could ask for nothing else.”

Vincent sighed sharply. The candlelight reflected the sapphire gleam of his eyes as he bent to kiss her gently. “You are everything that I am.”

“And I love you. I will always love you.” Catherine held him close. She could feel his heartbeat, beneath her hand and within her, tuned so finely to hers they beat as one. This new knowledge gave her the strength to continue.

“Vincent…” She sat up again, taking his strong hand in hers.

“What is it that you find so hard to say?” He watched her, nothing the bruises beneath her eyes, the thinness of her face. Her steady gaze was unfaltering, but he could sense her unease. He returned the warmth of her grasp, giving her the courage to tell him what it was she found so difficult to say.

“When you went down to that cavern, beneath the catacombs, you went there because you could not bear to hurt those you love. The ones who loved you.”

“I felt I could no longer protect them…from myself.” Vincent’s voice was filled with raw pain and anguish.

“And I went in to you because…because life without you, Vincent, would have been more than I could bear. You were my everything.” Catherine battled to speak through the wave of raw pain and emotion she was sensing from her love.

She took his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her. “There are dark places in us all, Vincent. In every one of us. You were no different.”

“But I could have killed you,” he whispered. “I was so afraid.”

Catherine drew him close, nestling her face into the warmth of his neck. Vincent caressed the length of her slim frame, as if trying to reassure himself of her reality. He felt her shudder against him.

“You were in such pain, such agony...”

“I was losing the struggle, just when I had so much to fight for. I didn’t think I could survive.”

“But you did win the struggle, Vincent. Despite everything, you came back to us.”

Vincent took her face between his hands, looking down into the beauty of her eyes. “You won it for me, Catherine,” he said then, with complete honesty. “You found where I was hiding and brought me back.”

“When you collapsed…when you…” Catherine fought for the words to tell him.

“When I kissed you, I sensed you were leaving me, you were dying. Vincent, I didn’t know what to do to save you. How to keep you with me.”

Vincent rested his forehead against hers, their shared breath mingling in the heated space between them. He drew a long shuddering sigh, releasing it slowly. “I have no memory of that dark time,” he replied simply, his eyes deeply troubled.

“You opened your eyes and saw me,” Catherine said carefully. “There was such need in the look you gave me, such longing. You clung to me, as if you were afraid that if you let me go…”

“I would have truly lost the best part of myself.” Vincent bowed his head and Catherine had to strain to hear his words. “I couldn’t let you leave me. But I couldn’t let you stay, to see me like that.”

“I know.” She laid a hand against his cheek. “But, you needed to be healed. To be released from all that pain. To find a new way of assuaging all the agonies that gripped you. There was only one way I knew to do that. One last precious gift I could share with you in that dark place, Vincent.”

He stared at her. There was no disgust, only a deepening look of despair. Catherine could sense he understood all the implications of her words.

“You sacrificed yourself, to save me.”

“There was no sacrifice,” she denied swiftly. “Only love, and a need to understand your pain. It became my pain too. Together we found a way.”

“Together…” Vincent stood, walking away from her, his shame a palpable thing. He turned back with the safety of distance between them and held out his hands. “How could I love you honestly, in all truth…with these!”

“Oh, Vincent…” Catherine stood and would have gone to him, but he evaded her. She stopped in the middle of the room and watched him helplessly as he paced back and forth. “There is no shame in our having loved, Vincent.”

He halted his pacing to stare at her. “You sound so sure.”

“I would do it all again…if you needed me, as you did then.” She faced him squarely, ready to battle his uncertainties, his deep, crippling fears.

“Love is akin to hate, Catherine.” His voice was low, strained. “So rage is akin to passion. In my need for you, in my desire I saw only the darkest kind of hell. If I hurt you in that desire, that need, I would…surely have destroyed our love and myself.”

Catherine went to him then, before he could deny her a second time. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tightly against her until his struggles ceased and he accepted her touch.

“We loved, Vincent.” She lifted her head to look up into his eyes. “And all that you are, you gave to me. There can be no more precious gift than that.”

Vincent looked down at her, at the soft trembling of her lips and the tears drowning her green eyes and he felt humbled. That Catherine, his Catherine, could love him was beyond all rational thought or logic.

“All that I am, all that I could ever become, I owe to you,” he said then, as carefully, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with incredible tenderness. He could taste the salt of her tears on her mouth.

Catherine pulled back gently. She reached up to trace the shape of his lips with her fingertip, probing between to touch one of his long canine teeth. Vincent gasped, startled by the intimate invasion.

Catherine smiled. “All that you are, you gave to me,” she repeated softly, the words, her confession, suddenly so easy to say. “I carry, our child, Vincent. You are going to be a father.”

*******

‘Let me confess that we two must be twain,

Although our undivided loves are one:

So shall those blots that do with me remain,

Without thy help, by me be borne alone.’

William Shakespeare

Vincent stood in the entrance to the drainage tunnel, watching the night dissolve into the dawn. He’d stood there for hours now, trying to come to terms with the truth that Catherine had told him. She slept Below, curled up among the cushions and pillows of his bed, exhausted by all that had passed between them.

Vincent watched the stars wink out one by one. Soon it would be time for him to retreat Below, but not just yet…Oh, Catherine…what kind of a child did we create in the blackness of that cavern?

He knew all the blame for the child’s conception lay with him. What she’d done, had been out of desperation and love. But his child…?

He shook his head, a sigh echoing from the very depths of his soul. Slowly he turned his back on the lightening world. Whatever else happened now, he would be there for Catherine.

Going Below, Vincent sought Father out in his chamber. He found him, pushing his breakfast around his plate without any real interest. He looked up as Vincent came in.

“You have spoken with Catherine?” It was more a statement than a question.

“I have.” Vincent nodded as he sat down opposite him.

“How is she now?” Father watched his son’s expression closely, not sure how much he knew.

“She is sleeping. The journey has sapped her strength.” Vincent looked deep into his father’s eyes. “She has told me of the child.”

“Thank heavens.” Father exhaled slowly. “I don’t think I could have kept quiet for much longer.”

“So, you knew already?” Vincent questioned, without rancour. “I should have guessed. You have been talking to Peter, I gather.”

“I’m sorry, Vincent.” Father spread his hands wide. “Peter brought me the news after he checked Catherine’s blood results. But it was not my secret to tell, and with Catherine’s memory loss, we didn’t know how to proceed.” He pushed his plate aside. “I was afraid you would be unable to accept such a truth.”

“The child is mine, Father,” Vincent growled. “How could I not accept responsibility?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, Vincent. I should have known better.” Father studied his hands. “And now?”

“Now, we take care of Catherine. She will never be alone again.”

“She…” Father pursed his lips. ‘She will stay here?”

“She will stay,” Vincent acknowledged. “Until the baby is born. I have promised her that. There would be too much interest, too many questions. I cannot protect her in the world Above. Here she will be safe. I would gladly give my life for her.”

Father nodded. “But what of Maxwell and Elliot Burch? They are not men who will be denied easily.”

“Catherine has promised to keep in touch with Joe Maxwell. He has promised not to search for her; we must take his word on that. As for Elliot Burch…I don’t know.”

“He can be a dangerous man, Vincent. A ruthless one, if he cannot get his own way.” Father frowned in concentration at all the difficulties he could see on their shared road ahead. “He is a powerful man with great resources. He will not give up the search so easily.”

“I know.” Vincent spread his hands. “Catherine has sent him a note. We must hope he takes it at face value.”

“I will place extra sentries, just in case,” Father replied. “We cannot be too careful in a situation like this. I honestly don’t think that it would ever come to this.”

“Catherine brought me back from the edge of death, Father. She gave of herself, willingly and freely. What else would you have me do?”

“I wish you both well with all my heart, truly.” Father sighed heavily. “But this child…”

“Will be loved, Father. As all children deserve to be loved. No matter what comes to them.”

Father sat for a long time after Vincent had left, praying that his son would be proved right.

*******

Catherine stirred sleepily. The sound of the pipes had lulled her to sleep, now they teased her awake with their gentle rhythms. She opened her eyes to find Vincent watching her from his chair beside the table. He sat relaxed, but his eyes were watchful.

Catherine became aware of the slow, steady beat of his heart above her own. She smiled at him tenderly. “Did you sleep at all last night?” she asked, as he continued to watch her.

“No,” he confessed slowly. “I needed to think…about all you have told me.”

Catherine slid her feet to the floor and went to him, to kneel beside his chair. “Tell me,” she invited softly, laying a hand on his forearm.

“I was thinking that, until I found you in the park, that first night, I didn’t even know I was merely existing,” Vincent began, his beautiful voice, low and hoarse. “I watched others live, love…create the laughter of children and I knew that for always I must be apart from that. I gave and received love from all who came here, from all those who accepted me for what I was, for who I am. But I was still apart from them. I was too different.”

Catherine watched him steadily, feeling with him, all the pain of those long years of self-denial.

“I dreamed the dreams other boys turned into realities. They could stay or go; the choice was theirs. But for me there could be no other choice. I had no place to go, this is my home and my prison.” Vincent dropped his eyes to Catherine, nestled beside him, openly sharing his own particular tragedy, flooding the deepest, darkest recesses of his soul with the light of her unconditional love.

“I was never truly alive until the night I found you, Catherine. You looked at me and you were not afraid. In that moment I believe I truly began to live.”

“You shared your strength with me, Vincent.” Catherine placed her hand against his cheek. “Without it, I don’t think I would have survived what those men did to me.”

Vincent turned his lips into her palm, caressing the warmth of her soft skin. “And you gave of yourself…for me.” He took her hand and pressed it over his heart. “I will never forget. But a child, Catherine…?”

“Our child will be beautiful, Vincent. Please believe that.” Catherine moved her hand across his chest to grasp his broad shoulder. “Because you are beautiful.”

Vincent got to his feet and moved away a few steps, his voice strained when he finally spoke. Catherine remained kneeling beside his chair, watching his inner struggle.

“I…went down to the cavern last night.” He glanced back at her. “I tried to remember, to find some scrap of reality…that…” He couldn’t finish; only shake his head in despair. Vincent lifted the pouch that held Catherine’s rose from his chest and opened it.

“I found this, in the dust, on the cavern floor.” He drew out her crystal.

It hung from his fingers, turning slowly, winking colours in the reflection of the candles. They both stared at it.

“The clasp was broken.” He turned to her. “I had Mouse repair it for you.” He moved to her side, looping the gold chain through his fingers and placing the crystal where it belonged, around her neck.

“You didn’t hurt me, Vincent,” she told him then, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his clawed fingertips. “You could never hurt me, don’t you know that?”

“You make it so easy to love you.” Vincent lifted her to her feet, turning to sit in the chair, her slim body draped across his thighs. “And yet…” He looked away.

“Vincent,” Catherine spoke against the steady beat of his heart. “I knew about the baby…before I was kidnapped. I went to see Joe, in hospital. I gave blood for him and that was when I knew.”

“And you came to tell me that night,” he continued for her.

“You blamed yourself for our lack of connection. You still blame yourself for what happened afterwards. You couldn’t come to terms with that loss. I could not add to your pain.”

“You spoke of gifts, of our love being our connection,” Vincent remembered.

“All I had to do was open my arms and they were mine.”

“There are so many gifts, Vincent. But our love is the greatest gift of all. The most precious.”

She looked into the sapphire beauty of his eyes, seeing herself reflected there. Poised and ready to fight for what she knew to be true. “I don’t know how to explain it, but our connection isn’t lost, it’s only changed somehow, rearranged. When I came Below, when I came near to you, I could feel all your doubts and fears. I could feel them, Vincent. Right here.” She laid a hand over her heart. “I can feel all your doubts now, your fears and uncertainties. All of them.”

“As I could once feel yours.” Vincent frowned. “Your joys and worries. When you were coming to me, I could feel such beauty radiating from you, that I felt, sometimes, perhaps I was only dreaming. But I had no wish to ever wake from such a dream.”

Catherine traced the line of her body, finally coming to rest on her abdomen. “Now the connection is here, Vincent. This baby is our strongest bond of all.”

“I would not have believed it to be possible.” Vincent’s eyes followed her hand, resting now against the slight swell of her lower body, cradling this new life that filled him with equal measures of awe and fear.

“Believe it, Vincent. As this child grows, so will our bond. I know that now. I can feel its spirit.” She took his hand, pressing it against her. “Our child is a very wise, very old soul. And it has such a capacity for loving and giving.”

“That is your gift, Catherine,” Vincent whispered against her hair, with a profound sense of wonder.

Catherine turned her face into his neck. “You only have to believe, Vincent. This baby and I will do the rest.”

*******

“I got this note today, Cleon. From Catherine Chandler.” Elliot Burch stood looking out over the city, the scrap of paper held tightly in his clenched hand.

Cleon Manning sat back on the couch, watching his employer. “Then the mystery is solved. She is safe, I take it?”

“Alive and well, she says.” Elliot held the note aloof. “And I am not to worry about her. It came through Joe Maxwell. The man gives nothing away, but we seem to share an equal measure of frustration.”

“So, then the note is genuine.”

“Oh, it’s genuine, all right. I know her handwriting.” Elliot came to drop onto the couch next to his investigator. “But I try and telephone her and I get some woman who’s renting her apartment for an indefinite period. She said Catherine’s out of town. Can’t be contacted.”

“Then, I would say then that the lady doesn’t want to know.” Cleon watched Elliot’s expression closely for a few moments. “But you just can’t accept that, can you?”

Elliot shook his head. “Someone out there tried to kill her. Someone is putting the squeeze on me and I want to know why. And I want to know why Catherine Chandler has to be so damn secretive. I don’t like mysteries, Cleon.”

“You just hate not being in the know,” Cleon told him roundly. “Anyway, are you sure that’s all it is? Or is it that you just can’t stand the thought of her being in love with someone else.”

Elliot shrugged. “I like to feel things, see things, hold them in my hands and know that they are real. How much they cost and what they’re worth.”

He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between. “But around Cathy Chandler there were always shadows, hidden things that seemed to somehow flit away when I tried to reach for them. I always had the idea we were being watched. It drove me nuts!”

He grinned, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“Oh, great sense, for a man who really wants something he can’t have.” Cleon grimaced. “Since I’ve been investigating her disappearance, I’ve had those same feelings,” he conceded. “Miss Chandler’s life is so full of holes and discrepancies you could drive a truck through. All I could ever pin down is some guy’s name…Vincent. It ain’t much.”

He scratched his head. “And nobody has even seen the guy, or heard her speak of him. He exists in those shadows of yours. Like the guy is some sort of ghost.”

“Oh, he’s real enough.” Elliot rolled his shoulders. “But, I want answers, Cleon, not ghost stories. I want some cold, hard facts. And soon. Joe Maxwell is keeping all his cards close to his chest. He won’t take my calls.”

Cleon sighed. “But, boss, if we couldn’t find the woman last time, how to do think we can do it now? She’s up and gone away of her own free will this time. And I don’t think she has any intention of being found.”

Elliot returned to the window to stare out over the city. His city. “Put your best men onto it. I’ve already doubled your retainer, don’t make me think I’m wasting my money.”

“You’re the boss.” Cleon threw his hands wide. “But I still say you’re crazy.”

*******

The weeks passed in gentle rhythms, slowly turning into months and Catherine blossomed under all the loving care she received. The whole underground community welcomed her, made her feel at home, as she and Vincent wandered the tunnels and chambers. Peter came regularly, to keep an eye on her progress, as well as bring down her possessions.

Catherine had moved into the guest chamber, though she spent nearly all her time with Vincent, truly sharing in his life for the first time. It was a magical time for them both.

Father watched them closely, his doubts and fears still troubling him, but he had pushed them firmly to the back of his mind. He loved them both, for they truly were his children, but he hoped fervently it wouldn’t all end in tragedy.

*******

‘Or what is that, that makes us seem

To patch up fragments of a dream,

Part of which comes true, and part

Beats and trembles in the heart?’

Percy B Shelley

It had been a wonderful night. Winterfest had come again. Catherine had danced with Vincent, laughed at Peter’s worst medical jokes, but most of all she had enjoyed watching the children's simple pleasure in all the festivities. She was dressed now in tunnel costume. Her own clothes seemed out of place in this secret world, apart from the fact that nothing fitted her now. Her pregnancy was well advanced.

Tonight she wore a collection of white silk and cream velvet that whispered softly around her as she moved. Peter had offered to buy her what she needed in the world Above, but she had gently refused his kindness. Now she was here Below, she was a part of it. Also, apart from her regular updates from Joe, it was as if that world no longer existed. It was another place and time.

Now she leaned back into the warm shelter if Vincent’s arms, with his chin resting on her hair. His nearness and warmth surrounded her as they watched Father attempting to best one of his star pupils at chess.

“Happy?” Vincent whispered in her ear.

“Very.” Catherine pressed a kiss to his wrist.

“Checkmate!” James yelled, pouncing on Father’s king.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Father complained, morosely watching the boy reset the board. “I didn’t even see that move.”

“Or is it more that those who now beat you are getting younger?” Vincent smiled.

“That is a truly terrifying thought.” Father frowned over his opening move.

All around them swirled music and happy faces in the bright candlelight. No-one spoke of Paracelcus, he had no place at this gathering. His memory had been left in the dark shadows of the great hall.

Catherine marvelled at how many faces she knew and how many had changed in the year since the last gathering. But everyone was happy, having left their cares behind them in a much harsher world.

Much later, Catherine caught herself drooping suddenly as she sat talking to Father and Peter. A tiredness stole over here and she found it increasingly hard to concentrate on the conversation.

“You should be in bed, young lady,” Peter told her severely, noticing her sudden pallor.

“I must be getting old, like Jacob.” Catherine smiled wearily.

“Jacob is not pregnant, you are.” Peter took her arm.

Suddenly Vincent was beside her, his strong arm a safe harbour around her shoulders. He lifted her to her feet.

“Put her to bed, Vincent,” Peter instructed, seeing Catherine’s head sink onto Vincent’s shoulder.

“I’m all right,” she protested. “I only need to rest for a moment.”

“You can rest in your chamber,” Vincent told her, gathering her up in his arms.

She was still light and Vincent could carry her easily. He turned to the door, followed by some good-natured advice from several of the helpers on what to do with women who don’t obey. Then the music started again and they were forgotten as everyone returned to the evening’s entertainment.

*******

Carried high in his arms, Catherine settled her face into Vincent’s neck, content to let him carry her. She hadn’t realised just how tired she really was until now. Once in her chamber Vincent laid her gently on the bed. Catherine could sense his own fatigue as he drew back.

“I will be near, if you need me tonight,” he said softly, drawing the covers over her. “Sleep well, Catherine.”

He drew back, but Catherine caught his hand. Entwining her fingers through his, she raised them to her lips. Vincent’s breath caught in his throat as she drew him to sit beside her on the bed. She could sense the rapid acceleration of his heartbeat.

“You don’t always have to leave, you know.”

“Catherine, I—” He tried to stand, but Catherine put her free hand on his shoulder and he found he couldn’t pull away. He lifted his eyes to hers, silently begging her to release him. To understand his fears.

“It is all right, Vincent.” Catherine sensed his need. “Just hold me.”

For a long moment their gazes locked and Catherine could feel the battle raging within him. She took his face between her hands and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Vincent sat passive beneath her touch, but his breathing sounded ragged as she drew back.

“I love you,” she whispered, as she let her fingers trail from his face, down over his neck and across his shoulders. With a wrenching sigh Vincent leaned down to her, scooping her into his arms, letting the vitality of her warmth seep into him.

Gently, Catherine drew back the covers and held them up in blind invitation. For a long moment Vincent hesitated, then he slipped off his boots and moved beneath the covers.

Catherine drew his great head down onto her breast and waited until his heartbeat slowed to match hers. A secret smile curved her mouth. She had won a small victory; there would be many others in her long journey to Vincent’s full acceptance of the depth of their love.

Suddenly, she felt a movement within her. A fluttering kick as her baby moved, turning over to settle itself into a more comfortable position. It nestled between them, now lying against Vincent’s lower chest. Catherine lifted his hand and laid it gently over her swollen belly.

“Your son wants to say hello,” she told him with a tender smile.

Vincent’s hand trembled, as he spread his fingers wide against her and almost immediately felt a strong kick against his palm.

“See.” Catherine laughed softly. “He wants to play.”

The wonder in Vincent’s face then, stole Catherine’s breath. Joy, fear, puzzlement, all these emotions Catherine could sense vividly as Vincent moved his hand slowly, carefully, as if she was made of the finest porcelain. The baby followed him, striking out against his questing touch.

Vincent looked up at her then and for once she could see in his eyes that he had lowered all the barriers, all the walls he had so patiently erected to protect his innermost feelings and thoughts. His eyes dropped to the softness of her mouth and Catherine caught her breath at the feelings Vincent allowed to surge through their bond.

He raised himself on one elbow, bringing his hand up over her body as he did so. But as he moved it to cup her face, it brushed lightly over the tip of her breast. Catherine couldn’t suppress the groan of pleasure that escaped her then and Vincent found himself unable to deny the urging of that one tiny sound.

His long fingers, with their curving claws, trailed fire across the tender skin of Catherine’s throat then up into her hair, to tangle there as he moved to plant tentative kisses to each of her closed eyes, gently kissing away the tears that gathered there. He found they were both trembling as he moved lower to caress the planes of her cheeks, then the fine skin of her temples.

Catherine’s hands moved restlessly over him, smoothing the knotted muscles of his shoulders where they tensed against her touch. She slid her fingers up into his mane to pull his mouth down to hers. Her lips parted beneath his and Vincent found himself drowning in heightened sensation.

Desire licked through him like an unquenchable flame and he could feel his iron control slipping from him. Catherine moaned deep in her throat as she urged his body closer, deepening their kiss, drawing him after her into a hidden world of undeniable pleasures.

By the sheer strength of his will, Vincent dragged himself back from the brink. He drew away from her, going up onto his elbows, Catherine held between. She lay there smiling up at him, as if she had just unearthed some great secret and was very pleased with her discovery.

“You are my everything,” he murmured, when he could finally catch his breath. “I would die for you.”  He closed his eyes -- his great chest shuddering as he inhaled deeply.

Catherine lay still, contented to just watch him, sensing his drive to regain some measure of self-control. His heartbeat thundered against hers.

Finally, he looked down at her, with shadows in the depths of his sapphire eyes. But when he saw her complete acceptance of him, in the tender light in her eyes and the sureness of her touch, his pain melted away and he drew her close again, cradling her against his heart.

Catherine smiled into the warmth of his throat as she lightly kissed Vincent’s moist skin. He had accepted he could be close to her, without hurting her in his need for her.

Another barrier down, another small victory won.

Their child moved, settling itself comfortably between them, and Catherine took Vincent’s unresisting hand and laid it there. Holding it beneath hers, she drifted off to sleep and Vincent kept watch over them both, as the world Above turned slowly towards the light of a new day.

*******

Catherine woke alone. She had not felt Vincent leave, she had slept too deeply. She smiled at the memory of the previous night and murmured his name softly.

The pipes chattered in the distance, the sound like a heartbeat of this hidden world. Catherine stretched and settled deeper into the covers…but the echo of the tapping intruded into her half conscious mind and she sat up suddenly, hearing the intruder alert signal.

Then came two words, “Danger! Fire!”

Catherine slid hurriedly to her feet. Still dressed in her Winterfest outfit she ran to the door, searching for Vincent in the hallways beyond. People were running, not in panic, but orderly chaos, as they battled the threat to their very existence. But still there was no sign of Vincent. Turning a corner, Catherine nearly fell over Mouse as he hurried along, his face working with deep concern.

“Mouse!” Catherine caught his arm. “What’s happening?”

“Intruders.” Mouse jumped with impatience to be gone. “Set fire, burning old, wooden tunnels. Smoke gets down here, kills us all.”

He tried to pull away from her, but Catherine held on. “Vincent! Mouse, where is Vincent?”

“Down there.” Mouse waved vaguely behind him, as he escaped her grip. “Down at the fire. Got to go, get help.”

He was gone in a muttering swirl of rags, leaving Catherine in a turmoil. Should she go on and risk getting in the way, or stay and not know what was happening? The thought of Vincent in danger pushed her forward.

Moving further along the tunnel, the smell of smoke intensified. It was acrid and stung her eyes. There were more people, tunnel dwellers, moving across her path now, with wet rags tied to their lower faces. They were carrying buckets and any old clothing and sheets they could grab in passing. Most were covered in soot and some had burns.

“How bad is it?” Catherine caught at one of the older men as he hurried past.

“Bad enough.” He coughed. “It’ll get worse if we don’t manage to contain it.”

“Where is Vincent?” Catherine was truly frightened now.

“He’s down at the fire. Some damn fools came Below and tore up some of the old tunnels to make themselves a fire.”

“Is he all right? Is Vincent all right?” Catherine shook his arm.

“Last time I saw him.” The man pulled himself free of her grasp. “Gotta go and get this water down to it. Best you can do is keep out of the way.”

He hurried away into the smoke. It swirled up, catching Catherine unaware and making her cough. Pushing through the press of people she found a pocket of untainted air in a small alcove.

“Catherine, for pity’s sake, what are you doing here! This is no place for you.” Father loomed up out of the smoke.

“How could I stay back there, we’re all in danger. Vincent—”

“Is safe…for now.” Father sighed, combing cinders from his beard. “He has enough to worry about, without having to make sure you’re safe. I’ll take you to my chamber, you’ll be safe there. We’re trying to contain the fire to the upper levels.”

“Father, please…” Catherine pulled back, as he attempted to lead her away.

Father looked at her in exasperation. “We still don’t know if we can contain it.” He shook his head. “It has a hold on timbers that have been down here for more than a hundred years.”

“But where can we go, if it reaches the living areas?” Catherine forced herself to remain calm.

“Even if it reaches here, it will burn out.” Father waved a hand at the rock walls surrounding them. “But everything else, our food stores, our winter supplies could be lost. We would have to retreat deep underground. And how long we could remain down there, I don’t know. Only Vincent and a handful of others have ever gone that far down.”

“Then we cannot allow that to happen.” Catherine shook her head. This world, her new world, was suddenly so fragile, when it had appeared to be so secure.

“I can help—” she moved forward, but Father held her back.

“No, Catherine. Vincent asked me to come back for you. To make sure you were safe. You cannot go up there, it’s far too dangerous. Come away with me, now.”

He drew her after him, down the tunnel. The smoke eddied and rose like a ghost, smothering the light of the candles and lanterns that lined the walls. They moved through a strange half world that glowed a rusty orange.

Like the pits of hell, Catherine thought, smothering the sob that rose in her throat. The pipes began to clatter a message. Father paused to listen intently, his face suddenly contorting with anguish.

“What is it?” Catherine shook his arm as they emerged into the clearer air of the lower tunnels. “Tell me!”

“The fire, they’ve managed to turn it back.” Father avoided her eyes as the pipes clattered on. “It’s contained in one of the more inaccessible sections. Mouse thinks we can block it off, choke off its air supply.”

“Then we are safe.” Catherine held the older man’s eyes. “But you’re not telling me the whole story, are you?”

“No.” Father’s shoulders slumped. “It’s Vincent.” He swiped a hand across his eyes. “He and another man are trapped by the fire. It turned so fast; they didn’t have time to get clear. Now, there’s no way out.”

“No!” Catherine pulled back from him in horror, her face deadly pale. For a moment the walls swayed around here, then she turned and dived back into the smoke before Father could prevent her.

“Catherine, don’t go there. Please!” But he was too late.

Catherine caught up an old blanket as she ran, wrapping it around her head and neck. It filtered out the worst of the smoke and allowed her to breathe.

The tunnel snaked and curved away into the gloom, but there was the sound of raised voices to guide her. She had no sense of Vincent apart from the feel of his heartbeat above hers. It gave her some small comfort as she fought her way forward through the murk. At least he was still alive.

There was also no fear on Vincent’s part. She remembered back to the time when Paracelcus had kidnapped her and taken her far below. She had not allowed herself to feel fear, for she knew that would imperil Vincent’s life and ability to think clearly. She realised now he was doing the same for her.

He could not allow himself to fear his own death, for he knew this would surely draw he to his side. He wouldn’t draw her near to share his fate. Catherine pressed a hand to her face, and sent her unconditional love back across the bond, praying Vincent would use her strength and resolve to escape.

A crowd had gathered in the mouth of the tunnel as she fought her way to the front. Beyond, flames painted a lurid picture on the walls. Mouse was crouched on the floor, bent over a map with several other men. Catherine fell to her knees beside him.

“Tell me what’s happening.”

“No air, fire dies.” Mouse rolled up his maps, jumping to his feet.

“Where is Vincent?” Catherine shouted over the confusion of shouted commands and questions.

“Down there.” Mouse indicated the tunnel. His face was covered in soot, his hair matted and filthy. “Can’t reach him from here. Have to go round. Don’t know if we can.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Vincent said, we must leave him. If it’s too dangerous.”

“That is not an option.” Catherine fought back her sense of panic. “There must be another way in. Think, Mouse, how can we do this?”

“Cavern above. Air shafts. Could lower ropes.” Mouse unrolled his maps to show her. “But don’t know where Vincent and Richard are. Don’t know, can’t find.”

“But I know.” Catherine shook his arm fiercely. “I know, Mouse. I can feel him here.” She laid a hand over her heart. “Just like Vincent could sense me. Take me there, now!”

Mouse gaped at her. “Vincent not like this.”

“Then we won’t tell him.” Catherine urged the boy down the tunnel.

“Okay, good. Okay, fine!” Mouse shouted. “Come on, bring ropes,” he called back to the others. “We’re gonna save Vincent!”

They climbed quickly upwards, a stream of people trailing after them laden with equipment. The upper chamber was clear of smoke and they all gasped in great drafts of clean air as Mouse hurried back and forth across the floor like a hunting dog on a scent.

“Here.” He fell to his knees over a long shaft that snaked down into the rock.

“Air shaft, good. Must be blocked to kill the fire.” He looked up at Catherine. “Okay, where Vincent?”

Catherine closed her eyes, concentrating on the steady heartbeat beside her own. Vincent, where are you?

She opened her mind, letting go of all conscious thought, probing forward into the darkness beyond. She took a faltering step forward and then another. The sound of Vincent’s heartbeat increased in tempo and she felt a fluttering of awareness.

He sensed her! Catherine gasped as she heard Vincent’s voice in her mind, calling her forward. “This way!”

With Mouse and the others trailing after her, Catherine ran to a shaft about halfway down the chamber. Smoke wafted lazily out of its depths like a questing finger.

“Down there.” Catherine leaned over the hole, but Mouse took her arm and pulled her back. “Not you,” he told her.

Father appeared at her side. “Leave the men to do their work.” He threw a restraining arm around her shoulders. “You have given us all hope.”

“He knows I’m here, Jacob,” Catherine whispered. “He knows we’re all here to save him.”

Father kissed her cheek. “Thanks to you.”

The other men gathered above the hole, slinging ropes from their shoulders. Mouse grabbed one end and tied it around his waist. Taking up the slack, the others lowered him down into the depths.

Catherine held Father’s hand. Vincent’s heart beat comfortingly above hers and the tiny pattering that was their child lulled her fears. Putting a hand to her lower body, Catherine closed her eyes and let the three pulses blend together through her. Again the flicker of Vincent’s awareness feathered along her senses.

The ropes jerked and an unconscious body was dragged forth from the smoking hole. It was Richard and he’d been burnt. Immediately, two of the men picked him up and carried him away.

Breathlessly they all turned back to the hole. The rope lay still and a feeling of impending doom crept into Catherine’s soul.

Vincent, her heart cried, don’t leave me now…not now, when we have so much…

The rope moved again and Mouse’s head appeared. He was hauled bodily away from the hole by the other men.

“Vincent…?” Catherine fell to her knees beside him.

“Behind me,” Mouse wheezed through blistered lips.

Catherine turned back to stare at the hole. The fire was taking hold; they only had moments now, before the hole had to be sealed to snuff out the flames.

Suddenly, the rope jerked and Catherine held her breath as the men strained back, taking the weight and dragging Vincent clear of the hole. A lick of flame followed him, before falling back into the pit.

Vincent lay on the floor, dragging in great lungfuls of air, his entire body covered in grime and soot. His mane was blackened and singed, his hands bleeding from where he had torn at the wooden walls, trying to force the fire back. Men scrambled forward, blocking off the fire’s access to fuel and air with anything that came to hand. A chain of water carriers sloshed their burden across the floor, pouring the dousing liquid into the hole.

Catherine sank to her knees at Vincent’s side, shocked and saddened to see his face was burned and filthy. “Oh, Vincent,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. They were bloodshot and red rimmed from the smoke and flames, but it was the most wonderful sight she had ever seen. He was alive; nothing else mattered now.

“Catherine…” Vincent struggled to sit up. “I felt you. I sensed you calling to me.”

“I know.” Catherine helped him struggle to his feet. He swayed, putting one hand to his head and Catherine supported him with an arm around his waist.

Father watched them closely as he and Mouse directed the men throwing buckets of sand into the hole. Catherine couldn’t watch, knowing that the tunnel could have easily become Vincent’s tomb. His fingers under her chin brought her attention back to him.

“I could not allow myself to acknowledge my fears for my safety,” he said softly, his hand moving to cradle her cheek.

“I know,” Catherine whispered, nestling her face into his burned palm.

“I wanted to cry out, I wanted to say so much…so many things that until that moment, I couldn’t say. I couldn’t even think them for fear you might hear me and risk yourself once more for me.”

Catherine turned into him, sliding her arms up around his neck. “You saved me so many times with your remarkable powers, Vincent. I couldn’t leave you down there and not try to save you.” She reached up to gently kiss the damage to his face. “I think I would have died then as well.”

Vincent rested his forehead against hers. “Then I would have died too.”

Mouse appeared beside them, clearing his throat noisily. “You okay, Vincent?”

“I am now.” Vincent laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mouse.”

“Hey, I’m your friend. It’s what friends do.”

He began to dance from foot to foot. “Fire hoses, we need fire hoses. Own fire department. Just like Up Top. Could fix it?” He looked up at Vincent hopefully.

“Father is over there. Go and tell him your plans.” Vincent gripped his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll listen.”

“Okay, good! Okay, fine!” Mouse bounced happily. Several of the men coiling the ropes exchanged doubting glances. They had been on the receiving end of more than one of Mouse’s plans and not all of them worked.

*******

Vincent moved with difficulty along the tunnel towards home. His body had been bruised and battered, his back scraped when he was dragged free of the flames. But he refused to rest until he knew all was secure.

He had sent Catherine back to her chamber with one of the tunnel women, with assurances he would join her as soon as he could. She had gone very reluctantly, her disgust evident in every beautiful line of her body. She never liked being told what to do.

Vincent eased his shoulder muscles. He reeked of smoke and streaked with soot and grime. Father had wanted to confine him to the sick room; concerned he was pushing even his great reserves of strength too far. But Vincent was determined not to give in until he knew there was no longer any danger.

The tunnel angled away out of sight and Vincent was almost to the corner when a scream rent the air. Then the sound of voices raised in anger. Vincent accelerated instantly, taking the corner at a full run. He saw Catherine and her companion struggling in the arms of strangers. They were filthy, unkempt men and Vincent recognised one of them as the intruder who’d started the fire.

He roared, the black, killing rage consuming him utterly in an instant. The men fell back in horror before this great demon streaked with blood and grime, dragging the two women with them.

“Vincent!” Catherine fought against her attackers.

“Let’s get out of here!” one man screamed as he turned to run, but Vincent was upon him, before he’d gone two steps and he dragged him down.

There were five others, but they were no match for Vincent as he plunged among them, striking with blinding speed and deadly accuracy. All, but one, were dragged down, screaming in fear as Vincent fought on, terrible in his rage.

Catherine kicked out at the last man as he held her slackly, frozen to the spot with fear. He fell away from her to scramble away into the safety of a side tunnel and the sounds of his flight became muffled in the distance.

Tunnel men came running from all directions. The intruders were soon secured, too traumatised to put up any fight as they were hustled away. Vincent leaned back against the tunnel wall, his chest heaving with exertion. Slowly the red light faded from his vision and he could see Catherine’s face before him.

“They were waiting.” Catherine inhaled deeply. “They said they were looking for some hidden treasure. Someone told them there was gold in the tunnels, they just had to go deep enough to find it.”

“There is treasure here, more precious than gold.” Vincent gathered into his arms, allowing her beauty to sooth his fractured composure. “They will be taken far from here. I doubt they will ever find their way back. We must increase our patrols.”

“Let’s go home, Vincent,” Catherine whispered, taking his bloodied hand. “I don’t need anyone but you.”

*******

“I have something that just might interest you.” Cleon Manning eased himself down onto Elliot’s couch and opened the file he held in his hand.

“About Catherine Chandler?” Elliot got to his feet behind his desk.

“Could be.”

“Well it is or it isn’t,” Elliot snapped. “Tell me, man!”

“Seems one of my informants came across a drunk a few nights ago. My guy was showing Miss Chandler’s picture around downtown.”

“Somebody recognised it?” Elliot crossed the office eagerly.

“This drunk said he’d seen her no more than three weeks ago.” Cleon sat back with a satisfied look.

“Where?” Elliot shouted. “Tell me!”

“He was down in some old steam tunnels way under Central Park looking for some lost treasure. He was too drunk to remember exactly where. But he saw her all right, all dressed in white rags.”

Cleon shrugged when Elliot shot him a look of disbelief. “That’s what I said. But the guy swears it was her. He said they caught her, but before they could question her, they were attacked by some ten foot monster with fangs and claws. Said he had blood and flames coming out of him.”

“Do you expect me to take this seriously, Cleon?” Elliot strode back to his desk. “Come back when you have some real proof, not some wino’s bottle fantasy.”

“The drunk said Miss Chandler attacked him and fought him off.” Cleon looked smug. “Here’s the thing.” He tapped the folder. “Seems the guy who attacked our drunk had a name. Catherine called him Vincent.”

Elliot’s head shot up. “Vincent…” he whispered.

“Yeah, thought that might grab your attention.” Cleon smirked. “Still think it’s some drunk’s fantasy?”

“You said the tunnels were below the city?” Elliot mused slowly.

“Yeah, apparently the whole place is riddled with them. Man made and natural. Though what your Catherine is doing down there dressed in rags, is beyond me.”

“A good place to hole up, out of danger. I know what’s below the city, you have to in my line of work.” He remembered his aborted tower. And Catherine pleading with him not to build it. The clinical nature of his mind tried to make some sense of it all. There was a pattern emerging here. He just had to analyse it.

Cleon nodded. “Yeah, but the guys hunting for her could get hold of this information too. They’d pay a great deal to get their hands on Miss Chandler again.”

“Then we must make sure that doesn’t happen.” Elliot stood. “Thanks, Cleon, you’ve earned the large bonus I’m going to pay you. And I’ll pay a great deal more to keep our drunk quiet, see to that for me.”

He handed over a large envelope. “Make sure he leaves town tonight and never comes back. But I’ll take it from here.”

“Of course.” Cleon considered him for a long moment. “If you say so, but I’d be watching out for ten foot monsters with flames and blood,” he replied. “Sounds like your Miss Chandler can take care of herself. And whoever is looking out for her, obviously doesn’t like intruders.”

He got to his feet. “Be careful you don’t find more than you expect. The lady went to great lengths not to be found. I don’t think she will take too kindly to you disturbing her secrets.”

“You said there were others with this man in those tunnels,” Elliot questioned. “What happened to them?”

“According to my drunk, the monster nearly tore them apart. They were lucky to escape alive. They haven’t been seen since. Watch yourself, Mr Burch. This Vincent guy sure likes to protect what’s his.”

Elliot’s mouth thinned. “So do I, Cleon, so do I.”

*******

Elliot stood looking down at the manhole down which he and Catherine had escaped from the death squad sent to kill him. The waters of the harbour lapped sullenly against the wharf. Elliot huddled deeper onto his heavy woollen jacket, wondering if he was indeed going mad. Mad for a woman he couldn’t have. The cold bit at his cheeks and he shivered violently.

More likely I am just a damn fool, he thought as he crouched and pulled the cover to one side. The shaft beneath yawned black and uninviting. Elliot eased himself down onto the ladder inside and descended slowly, pulling the cover across to rest above him, plunging him into darkness.

Groping his way down he found the floor at last and pulled his flashlight from his pocket. The small circle of light it cast did nothing to banish his feeling of utter aloneness.

“A damn lovesick fool,” he muttered, as he groped his way further into the black depths…

*******

In the weeks that followed the fire, Vincent had healed well. With Mary’s help, Catherine had attended to his wounds lovingly, and for once Vincent didn’t refuse her touch. He sat passive on the edge of his bed as she cleaned the burns on his face. His eyes followed her every movement as if he was afraid to look away, afraid she might disappear.

“Catherine…” Vincent spoke finally, after Mary had left the chamber. “Last night, when we—”

Catherine laid her fingers over his lips, silencing his words. “Last night was very beautiful, Vincent,” she told him softly, putting aside the cloth she had used to clean his wounds. “This child is yours, Vincent, as much as mine. It’s just so sad that you don’t remember anything of his conception.”

She was kneeling at his feet, now she rose to her knees, nudging her way in between his thighs, taking his hand to place it against her lower body. Of its own will, his hand spread wide, encompassing the soft mound, his other hand joining in the delicate exploration. Wonder and awe stood out clearly in his expression. The baby wriggled around as before, poking at his fingers.

Catherine slid her arms around Vincent’s waist and held him close. He buried his face in the softness of her hair, his hands sliding around to her lower back, drawing her in close to him.

A stickiness against her palms made Catherine pull back in alarm. “Vincent, your back! You’re hurt--why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s nothing,” he denied swiftly. “Father will—”

“Father is busy and I am here.” She took his chin in her hand. “Don’t you trust me enough yet?”

He stared at her, his breathing uneven.

“I love you,” she whispered, letting her hand travel down to caress his throat. “There can be no greater truth than that.”

For the space of a heartbeat Vincent hesitated and then in one fluid movement he stripped off his shirt and dropped it to the floor. Catherine sat back on her heels, letting her eyes travel slowly over all he had revealed.

Soft, fine golden hair clothed his chest, narrowing down over the hard flatness of his abdomen to the waistband of his pants. This was echoed on his forearms, but his upper arms had only a fine covering and Catherine could see the powerful muscles outlined clearly beneath his skin. They were moving, flexing with nervous tension as Vincent sat gripping the edge of the bed. He remained quiet under her gaze, but Catherine could feel his anxieties reaching out to her.

But she had no intention of allowing him to escape. She took her time, closely studying every part of him, before following the path of her eyes with her fingers, gently defining each quivering muscle. “Vincent,” she said finally, rising to her knees again and placing her hands flat against the great wall of his chest. “You really are beautiful.”

He looked down into her eyes then, releasing a long pent up breath in a gusting sigh. Catherine felt the tremor that ran through him, his heart thudding against her palms. She leaned forward with infinite slowness to plant a trail of kisses from his chest, up the long column of his throat to the corner of his mouth. Vincent didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe, as she brought her hands up to cup his face.

She leaned into him, gently teasing his mouth with hers. For all his tight control, Vincent was not proof against this exquisite torture and he returned her kisses with a groan torn from his very soul.

He lifted his hands, enclosing her neck, his thumbs massaging little paths of torture across the base of her throat. He smiled against her mouth as he felt her shudder under his touch.

“You make me beautiful,” he murmured against her mouth.

He pulled back to trace the curve of her mouth with one fingertip. “I love you. There truly is no greater truth than that.”

Catherine took his hand to kiss his palm, her tongue flicking a sensuous path across his skin, before resting her cheek there. Vincent gasped at the sensations this simple gesture caused within him.

“Yes, Vincent,” she agreed softly. “Our love is everything. Now I will go and fetch Mary and we will tend to the burns on your back. And don’t even think of putting your shirt back on while I’m gone.”

She glanced up at him sternly through her lashes, witchfire glowing in the depths of her eyes, and he didn’t have the strength or the will to deny their message or their warning.

*******

‘To the desert of my soul

Your beauty brought life.

To the constant toil of my world

Your voice brought peace.

To the tears in my heart

Your love brought reprieve.

And to the sadness of parting

Your wonder brought hope…’

Judith Nolan

Elliot moved cautiously forward into the darkness of the tunnel. He’d been walking for hours now and he was hopelessly lost. He was so sure he had remembered the route Catherine had taken that night. She acted as if she had been walking down some of the familiar streets far above him. She had known when to turn, which tunnels to take, while always ignoring his suggestions.

“Give me a break!” Elliot snapped in frustration, his temper wearing very thin.

Ten foot monsters of blood and fire, he thought hardly, shaking his head. He was convinced now he had been lied to. But the one haunting fact remained. Catherine had called the monster Vincent. Elliot’s skin crawled at the implications.

What exactly was Catherine doing down here in this dark and awful place? Living with a man like that?

He pulled his backpack off his shoulders and took several long sips from a water bottle, before consuming an energy bar. He cast a frustrated glare right, then left at the silent rock walls dripping with moisture.

Somewhere down here, for whatever crazy reasons, Catherine had chosen to hide herself away. Well, he was going to find her, finally pierce the veil of all her secrets. Even if he died in the attempt.

This last thought brought a wry twist to his lips. That, at this moment, seemed to be a very real possibility.

“I should’ve updated my Will.” He shrugged, laughing at his own foolishness in coming down here at all. He hefted the pack onto his back and started forward again with grim determination.

*******

Catherine and Vincent were sitting before the waterfall, talking, when Mouse came hurrying in, waving his arms. They both looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion.

“Matthew saw a man,” Mouse shouted over the noise of the water. “Up in Bishop’s Gallery! He’s moving down. Down here!”

“Show me.” Vincent was on his feet and moving before Mouse had finished speaking.

Catherine jumped to her feet to run and tell Father the news. Messages rang out along the pipes, alerts and instructions. Then they fell silent as Father ordered the all quiet on the pipes. Now the hunt for the intruder would continue in silence.

*******

Elliot tapped on one of the pipes with his flashlight, listening to the echoes as they rang along the metal into the distance. He remembered these strange tappings from before, but now the complete silence grated on his nerves. He tapped again and waited for a response, but the pipes remained stubbornly silent.

He could feel eyes on him, boring into his back. But when he turned there was no-one there. “Ghosts,” he muttered to himself, his skin crawling. “I’m chasing damn ghosts and spooks.”

Vincent watched him, as he passed his position beside Matthew. A chill crept up his spine as he recognised the intruder. “Elliot Burch,” he breathed, straightening out of sight when Elliot turned to look in his direction. “What is he doing here?”

The look-out was cunningly constructed, but Vincent was taking no chances of being seen. Mouse tried to peer around him.

“Could trap him,” the boy said eagerly. “Got something new. Real fast trip. Catch him. Tie him up. Take him out.” He looked up at Vincent for encouragement.

“I don’t know if this one is going to be so easy to throw back,” Vincent growled. “And he’s come this far. He’s no rat for our trapping. He’s far too dangerous. How did he get in?”

“Don’t know.” Mouse frowned his disappointment. He tried again. “Knock him on the head, drag him out.”

“We need to draw him away, divert him from the lower chambers.” Vincent clasped the boy’s shoulder. “Last time, Catherine led him out by the junction door. So we will do the same. He cannot be allowed to find out anything more about our world than he already knows. Do you think you can do it, Mouse?”

“False walls, rock falls.” Mouse bounced with glee. “Push him where we want him to go. Easy.”

“Just do not kill him,” Vincent warned, as Mouse scurried away happily. “Catherine would not want him hurt.”

“Okay, will be fine.” Mouse nodded. “For Catherine.”

Vincent turned to look out the spy-hole again, but Elliot had disappeared by this time. His footfalls rang hollowly back to Vincent’s ears. They echoed into the fear in his heart.

Elliot had come for Catherine. To take her back Above. Vincent could not allow that to happen. Not now, after all they had shared together.

*******

“Elliot?” Catherine was sitting with Father, waiting for Vincent’s return. “How did he find his way down here?”

Vincent shook his head. “We have no idea.”

“He’s still looking for you,” Father said heavily, looking from one to the other.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Mouse is leading him away, taking him back up to the junction door. We felt that was the safest way.” Vincent looked at Catherine. “He cannot know you are here, it would be too dangerous.”

“I know that, Vincent. But Elliot was a good friend to me, I don’t wish to see him hurt.”

Vincent folded his arms. “Mouse has his orders not to do him any harm.”

“But how do we know he won’t decide to come back looking for Catherine?” Father voiced the fear in all their minds. “If he has come Below, he could bring others.”

“Then I must talk to him.” Catherine got to her feet. “Please take me to him, Vincent.”

“No! You can’t, Catherine.” Father jumped to his feet. “Talk to her, Vincent, tell her, it’s much too dangerous. He will be even more suspicious if he sees you in your condition.”

Catherine placed a protective hand over her abdomen. “Elliot trusts me. I must see him. He will not betray me.”

Vincent grasped her upper arms. “Can he be trusted enough to be allowed to leave this place?”

Catherine nodded. “He came alone this time. He is not a man who gives up easily. Somehow, he has discovered I am down here. If he doesn’t get some answers, he is likely to come back with more men and make a more detailed search. What will happen then?”

“Then we must trust your instincts.” Vincent looked across at Father. “We cannot risk any more exposure.”

Catherine placed a hand on his arm. “I must do this. There is no other way.”

Vincent clasped her hand. “Then so be it. I will take you to him. But if he will not co-operate, then he cannot be allowed to return to the world Above. I hope he will listen to you, for all our sakes.”

*******

Elliot stumbled back as rocks crashed down from above, narrowly missing him again. He cursed as a splinter of stone cut a shallow slash in his cheek. From somewhere above came mocking childish laughter. He swept his flashlight beam upwards, but the gloom defied its light. The laughter faded into distant echoes.

An edge of fear tempered his anger now, as he moved forward once more. He remembered the fight on the waterfront when he and Catherine had crouched below, listening to the raging battle and the screams of dying men.

Ten foot monsters took on a more horrible aspect as Elliot probed cautiously forward down the tunnel, his torch beam erratic as he searched for more hazards and hidden dangers both above and below. The whole place could be a death trap and he was very likely to be its next victim, he though grimly.

Mouse watched him from his vantage point. The rock fall had badly shaken the intruder, but Mouse was determined to unhinge him even more. He would make certain that Elliot Burch never came this way again to endanger his friends and family.

*******

Vincent took Catherine up through the tunnels towards the junction door. She would confront Elliot there on neutral ground that would give away nothing, but Catherine’s presence. Vincent would be nearby, he would not let Elliot see him, but he would be close enough to protect Catherine if she needed him.

Catherine didn’t argue when she saw his set expression. She knew he hated the whole idea of her meeting a man who wanted her for himself.

*******

Mouse dodged into the tunnel before Elliot’s startled gaze. He capered, gibbering and shrieking, as he danced backwards, beckoning his prey onwards. He was now dressed in a bizarre arrangement of cast off clothing that defied the eye and confused the mind.

Some ten foot monster, Elliot shook his head as he followed the fool. He wished he’d brought his gun now--maybe shooting something would ease his frayed temper. Or someone!

He was being harassed by some poor lunatic who hadn’t been locked up for his own protection. Mouse turned at bay as he and Elliot entered a crossroads where four tunnels converged. Elliot ignored the fool, as he stood in the centre of the intersection trying to decide which tunnel to take. Mouse capered and hooted, beckoning him to follow.

“Oh, no, my friend.” Elliot shook his head. “Whatever your game is, I’m not playing it.” He tried to ignore the idiot as he struggled to get his bearings. He was sure now he had come through here, that night with Catherine. He turned slowly, full circle, trying to make some sense of it. It looked familiar.

“Come on, follow me!” Mouse postured and poked out his tongue.

“No deal.” Elliot ignored his invitation. He made to start down a tunnel, but it was a bad choice.

Mouse had no intention of allowing him to go anywhere other than the way he wanted. He slipped his hand inside his sleeve and grinned with delight. Elliot was nearly blinded by the fireball Mouse threw at his feet. The boy chuckled with glee. He had seen the act at a carnival and had designed his own, more volatile fire bombs.

“Why, you—!” Elliot crushed out the flames flaring on his trouser legs. Mouse threw another one for good measure, narrowly missing Elliot’s left ear.

“Come here, you little demon!” Elliot lunged for the boy, but he scuttled away, crowing gleefully.

Mouse capered in comical dismay just out of reach. He was swift and could easily outdistance Elliot, who was nowhere near as fit. But Elliot’s rage spurred him on, long before his legs began to ache. He would kill the little runt if he could just get his hands on him.

It gave an outlet for his exacerbated temper and battered ego. “I’m a billionaire, for Pete’s sake! And I’m being chased down and damn near killed by a half-wit!” he yelled, in his disgust. “He’s going to be sorry!”

Catherine stood on the threshold of the junction. The steel door had been rolled back, so that when Elliot came around the corner he would see her. Vincent melted back into the shadows of one of the other tunnels and stood watchful, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Elliot leaned against the tunnel wall, his lungs burning as he gasped for breath. Mouse disappeared into the distance, still laughing and taunting his prey with spiteful glee. Elliot didn’t have the strength to chase him any more. He pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled on, his legs aching and his chest feeling as if it was being squeezed in a vice.

“So much for the gym,” he laughed. If Cleon could see him now, he thought, as he turned the corner and came to a dead halt, staring in disbelief.

Catherine saw him coming, looking beat up and exhausted. He looked nothing like the usually immaculate business tycoon. Mouse had run the legs off him.

She wanted to go and help him, but she forced herself to remain where she was, letting Elliot come to her. She watched him advance slowly, staring in amazement.

“Now I am seeing ghosts.” Elliot brushed a tired hand over his eyes. He reached the threshold and leaned on the wall beside her. “Are you going to disappear in a puff of smoke as well?”

“Why did you come here, Elliot?” Catherine asked coolly, trying to keep her concern from showing.

“To find you.” Elliot frowned at her tone.

“And if I don’t wish to be found?”

“Why all the hiding, the secrecy?” His eyes moved over her. “You aren’t some kind of prisoner down here?”

“I am here of my own free will, Elliot. No one forced me to come.”

Catherine had been standing with her hands held protectively in front of her, the loosely fitting tunnel costume she was wearing concealing her swollen belly. Elliot’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed her. She looked well cared for and very beautiful. But why she had chosen such a dank, dark place to hole up in was beyond him. He tried a different approach.

“Is that lunatic boy who tried to bury me and then burn me, part of the reason you’re down here? Are you on some kind of crusade to save the demented and poor?”

“I told you once before that I can’t answer your questions, Elliot. You are to forget all you have seen down here.”

“What have I seen, but near-death and gibbering fools?” Elliot tried to take her hand, but she eluded him. “You’re not making any sense. I can protect you--keep you safe. If you will only listen to me. Come back here!”

He tried to grab her arm, but she swung away from him. But in that movement she revealed her secret to Elliot’s stunned gaze.

“You’re pregnant!” There was mingled pain and disbelief in his voice as he stared at her. “How? I mean, who—?”

Catherine backed away out of reach. “I cannot tell you, Elliot.” She stood proudly, meeting his gaze calmly and with pride.

“More secrets!” He darted forward, grabbing her arm in a hard grip, startling a gasp of pain from her.

He felt like shaking the truth from her, wanting to make her pay somehow for the hours of torment he had been through. But he never got the chance to put the thought into action.

Vincent came at him in a terrifying tawny blur, his roar of anger reverberating off the walls. Elliot dropped Catherine’s arm, his face blank with shock and disbelief. Vincent swatted him aside, claws extended, catching the sleeve of Elliot’s heavy jacket and ripping it to shreds. Elliot scrambled back, his stunned mind trying to assimilate the raging fury battering at him, as Vincent came after him, obviously intent on destroying him.

“No, Vincent, please!” Catherine stepped in between the two men, facing down Vincent’s anger and begging him to stop. “Don’t do this. He didn’t hurt me.”

Vincent growled deep in his throat. His hands flexed as if he already had the other man’s neck in his grasp.

“Vincent?” Elliot dragged himself to his feet, pressing back against the tunnel wall. He watched Catherine sooth his attacker. This ravening monster was the mysterious man he had sought to find for so long?

He felt his grip on reality slipping away. His mind plunged back and forth like a runaway horse. Had he died somewhere back there and sunk to some new level of hell?

Vincent threw back his head, fighting for control. Catherine held him lovingly until the rage faded from his eyes and he calmed enough for Catherine to release him without fear for Elliot’s safety. Vincent’s eyes fell on the other man who stood rigid with shock and he growled in warning, his canines gleaming.

“Okay, I’m not gonna move. If you stay right there.” Elliot drew a shaky breath and released it in a rush. “I don’t believe any of this.”

“Vincent won’t hurt you.” Catherine faced him, Vincent behind her with one hand resting possessively on her shoulder. This proprietorial gesture was not lost on Elliot as he pushed away from the wall on legs that were decidedly shaky.

“So I finally get to meet your mystery man.” Elliot watched them both. He fingered the tatters of his sleeve. “I can’t say the meeting has gone very well…so far.”

“You shouldn’t have come here, Elliot,” Catherine told him quietly. “You have no right to interfere.”

“I needed to see you, Cathy. Just once more.” Elliot’s smile was crooked and painful. “I needed to know you’re okay.”

He rubbed his head where Vincent had hit him. “I guess I needed to be hit over the head to finally understand there is no hope for us…”

His eyes dropped to her abdomen and then skimmed aside hurriedly. Catherine’s chin lifted and she raised her hand to draw Vincent’s arm down across her breasts. He drew her back, dropping a kiss into her hair. He could understand her pain at Elliot’s embarrassment.

“I can see now I was only living a dream,” Elliot finished in a bitter tone.

“You chose to hope, Elliot,” Catherine replied. “I told you there could never be anything between us.”

“Because of this guy?” Elliot glared at the silent man who watched his every move like a great cat waiting to pounce on its prey. He didn’t fancy being his next meal.

“I would not have stood in your way,” Vincent growled. “If Catherine had chosen to go with you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t say the same.” Elliot stared at him, unable to relate this softly spoken man with the raging fury that had nearly torn him in half. He shook his head. “I wish it could have been different.” He smiled then, with a great deal of sadness. “I have gained so much, to lose everything I held dear.”

“We can offer our friendship…if you will accept it,” Vincent said, watching the other man with compassion.

Elliot laughed as he shook his head. “Maybe I’ve had enough of your kind of friendship with that maniac back in the tunnels.”

Vincent laughed appreciatively. “I’m afraid Mouse is inclined to overstep his orders,” he admitted ruefully. “But we had to make sure you found your way out.”

“The way out?” Elliot looked up the tunnel that led to the drainage entrance to Central Park.

“The way out,” Vincent agreed.

“But you cannot tell anyone of what you have seen here, Elliot.” Catherine moved forward to take his hand. “You must keep our secret, always. I must ask you to do this for my sake.”

“You are remarkable,” he said, softly. “I would have bought the world for you…everything. If only you’d chosen me.”

“Then we would have been unhappy together, Elliot. What I wanted, what I needed, you could never buy.”

“Oh, Catherine, are you so sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said simply, looking back at Vincent with such love in her face that Elliot felt cold and alone. “I’m very sure.”

“Then I wish you every happiness.” Elliot leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Catherine lifted a hand to his face. “I never meant to hurt you, Elliot.”

“I haven’t exactly made things easy for you, have I?” he laughed. “I will keep your secrets.” His eyes dropped to her belly. “All of them.” He looked back at Vincent standing quietly watching them together. “Though I doubt anyone would believe me if I did tell them.”

Catherine gripped his arm. “Many people depend on this place, as a refuge, a safe place to rest and heal. No-one, Elliot, no-one must ever know.”

“My tower.” Elliot blinked. “That’s why you came to me and asked me to halt the construction. I always wondered why.”

“You would have broken through.” Vincent nodded. “You would have exposed our world with your excavations.”

“You were prepared to come to me.” Elliot looked down at Catherine. “To marry me, to save all this? You are remarkable, I just didn’t realise until now, how remarkable.”

“To save Vincent, yes.” Catherine stepped back to his side. “He is my life. There is nowhere else for him to go.”

“Could I exist in your world, Elliot Burch?” Vincent snarled, showing his teeth.

“Would I be allowed to live the life I chose without let or hindrance?”

Elliot considered the other man’s face with its lion’s nose and muzzle and the gleaming teeth that were at such odds with the very human expression in his sapphire eyes. Pleading to be understood and accepted, as Catherine had already accepted him. And obviously loved him without conditions.

“No,” he admitted at last, ashamed for his fellow man. “There would be no place for you…out there. But we are diminished by our ignorance.”

Vincent nodded. “So here is where I must live. This is my home. I have no other. Catherine is safe here with me. Safer than with you Above where men, who hunt us both, want to destroy everything we have built down here.”

“And Catherine?” Elliot had to know.

“Is free to come and go as she chooses. I have never put any conditions on our love, Elliot.”

“Meaning that I have.” Elliot shook his head, knowing it to be the truth.

“You are what your world made you, as I am a product of mine. They cannot exist together. They must always be apart. There is no other way to survive. Your world is diseased, we cannot allow it to contaminate ours.”

Elliot looked around him at the rock walls and the twisting tunnels. The pipes echoed their messages in the distance, restored now that Elliot was no longer seen as a threat. “You have chosen well, Vincent,” he said, turning back to them. “I wish, you both, every happiness.”

“You are welcome to return, any time you wish to do so.” Catherine told him, as he considered her with regret, as if he was saying a final goodbye to a cherished dream.

“Maybe one day, but not yet.” He smiled painfully. “Some wounds take more time to heal than others.” He grimaced at the tatters of his jacket and gave a short laugh. He glanced up the drainage tunnel. “I think I can find my way from here, as long as Mouse doesn’t decide to throw any more of his fireballs. I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

Vincent reached out a hand, gripping the other man’s shoulder. “Find someone to love, Elliot. For your own sake.”

“I thought I had.” Elliot looked back at Catherine, Mouse now at her side watching him with distrust. “But I was too blind and I let her slip away. So I will keep your secrets. Trust me on that, at least. And I will try to get word to you, if there are any developments on your kidnappers. I’ll put my best people on to finding out the truth.”

Without a backward glance he turned and walked away out of sight. Going back to his world, alone.

“Make sure he’s all gone.” Mouse slipped into the tunnel after him. “Follow him to Up Top.”

“Don’t hurt him, Mouse,” Catherine called after the boy.

“He truly loves you, Catherine.” Vincent shook his head, taking her by the shoulders and drawing her back to rest against his chest.

“I know.” Catherine sighed. “That’s what makes it all so tragic.”

*******

‘I don’t know what it is about you

that opens and closes,

Only something in me understands.

The voice of your eyes

Is deeper than all roses.

Nobody, not even the rain,

Has such small hands…’

e.e. cummings

Catherine settled comfortably into Vincent’s arms, her head resting in the curve of his shoulder. She had been unable to sleep and she had come to him, sensing that he too was awake.

They settled in among the cushions and pillows of Vincent’s bed and Catherine drowsed as he read to her from his book of e.e.cummings poetry. Catherine sighed with deep contentment.

Their child kicked and wriggled and Catherine laughed softly. Her time was near.

“He’s getting impatient,” she said, taking Vincent’s hand and kissing it before placing it against her. “He wants to meet you.”

“A gift of love,” Vincent murmured, tracing the outline of her face with one fingertip. “All that I am, I give to you.”

There was a catch in his voice as he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her with such tenderness that Catherine couldn’t check the tears that ran down her cheeks. Vincent kissed them away gently.

“All you have to do it let me in, Vincent. Let me love you, as you deserve to be loved. My soul is your soul, it always has been.”

“And you knew that long before I did.” Vincent teased her lips with his touch and Catherine bit his fingertip gently.

“Love is truly the truth beyond all knowledge,” she whispered, as she took his hand to lay it against their child. “Your words were so true. They brought me back to you.”

“I wanted so badly to reach out, to hold you, to love you.” Vincent sighed, shaking his head. “But how could I bring you back from the chance to live the life you were always meant to live?”

‘For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

that then I scorn to change my state with kings.’

Catherine quoted the sonnet softly holding Vincent’s gaze with her own.

“I was never truly lost to you. I felt an emptiness; a void that no-one in my world could fill. I would have found my way back here in the end.”

“I know that now.” Vincent kissed her. “But then—”

“This is the reality of our love,” Catherine pressed his hand to her body. “This is the greatest truth of all.”

“Yes…” Vincent agreed on a sigh, gathering her in his arms and they lay together, listening to their baby’s heartbeat and making plans for the future.

*******

The pain caught Catherine unaware. She sat up with a startled cry.

“What is it?” Vincent held her close.

“The baby,” she gasped. “I think he’s finally decided it’s time to meet you.” She doubled into the pain on a soft moan.

Vincent didn’t hesitate. Gathering her in his arms, he carried Catherine to her chamber before running to find Father and Mary.

*******

Catherine lay on her side, breathing as Peter had taught her over the months. Rising with the pain, conquering it and then sliding back down to smile at Vincent as he crouched beside the bed, holding her hand tightly.

“It’s okay, Vincent.” She smiled. “Everything is going to be all right.”

Vincent smoothed the hair from her face without answering her, but his look said he didn’t believe her. Father and Mary stood at the bottom of the bed talking in low tones.

The pain built again and Catherine concentrated on it, her breathing fast and shallow. Suddenly, it came pounding through Vincent’s conscious mind, blurring his vision as it roared through his mind. He shook his head, trying to clear it. His whole body clenched in vital pain.

“Are you all right, Vincent?” Father’s question swam to his hearing on a wave of sound.

“Yes…I…” He shook his head again and his vision cleared.

Catherine’s breathing had returned to normal, her hand still gripped in Vincent’s as she lay with closed eyes. Her heartbeat, slow and regular, Vincent could sense it there once more above his own. But there was another also beating there now. A swift pattering that whispered to him, welcoming him into the child’s world. The bond was reopening into a three-way connection that linked them all.

The pains began to come more swiftly now, closer together. Vincent knelt beside the bed, silently encouraging Catherine as they moved together upwards, to crest the peak and slide down the other side, into the brief oasis of peace, before the pain built again. Vincent gave his strength to his love, letting her draw on his deep reserves as time spun away.

“Now, push now,” Mary encouraged her. “You can do it…”

Catherine leaned into the pain, bearing down with all her strength, forcing the child along its path into her world. Vincent came behind her, supporting her as she strained forward.

“One more, just one more,” Father encouraged, as the child dark head slid into his waiting hands.

The cry that suddenly filled the chamber was loud and indignant. Tiny fists flailed at the world, as Father gathered the child into the blanket Mary held out. They stood together, just looking down at the child, so perfectly formed and very beautiful. Mary began to cry and Father felt his eyes filling with tears of joy.

“You have a son.” He turned to the baby’s watching parents. He walked slowly to where Vincent stood, his eyes reflecting a mixture of joy and trepidation.

“Take him, Vincent. It’s going to be all right.”

Vincent sighed as he held out his hands, Catherine watching him calmly. Father gently placed the tiny bundle within those powerful hands, watching his son’s expression as he looked down at his newborn child.

It was a tableau he would never forget. A fearsome looking man, whose only failing was the fear he could never be loved for the man he truly was, holding this tiny baby who was prove that love does truly conquer everything. With love, anything was possible. Father wiped fresh tears from his eyes and hugged Mary, who was laughing and crying in turn.

Dark sapphire eyes blinked back at Vincent, considering him solemnly as he stared in awed wonder at the beauty he had unknowingly helped to create. The child yawned, waving a tiny fist in the air, as he made loud sucking noises with his lips.

“He’s hungry already.” Father laughed, as he watched the two, just staring at each other. “What he wants, I afraid you can’t give him, Vincent.”

“He has your nose.” Vincent turned to the bed where Catherine lay exhausted, watching him lovingly. Going down on his knees, Vincent placed the baby in the shelter of her arms.

“Is he beautiful?” she asked, knowing the answer already. It was there in Vincent’s eyes.

“Yes, Catherine, he is beautiful,” Vincent whispered, leaning forward to kiss her with deep tenderness and care.

*******

‘And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flame are in-folded

Into the crowned head of fire

And the fire and the rose are one…’

T.S. Elliot

Catherine arranged the candles carefully, giving Vincent’s chamber a soft, intimate glow. She moved about the room, humming softly to herself.

In the eight weeks since their son had been born she had regained her trim figure and she glowed with happiness and health. They had named the baby Jacob, in Father’s honour, and the patriarch had been overcome with joy when they had given it in the naming ceremony.

But tonight, their baby son would be sleeping in Mary’s chamber. Tonight Catherine had made certain plans that did not include him.

She sensed Vincent’s arrival long before he appeared in the doorway. She had become used to the two heartbeats above her own. One deep and regular, the other light and pattering. She had never understood the depth of Vincent’s connection to her until now. She smiled secretly as she waited for him to come to her.

Tonight, all the barriers would finally come down.

Tonight there would be no escape.

Tonight Vincent would finally be hers, in body as well as soul.

Vincent stepped into the chamber, aware Catherine was there. He was also aware his son was not in the cradle at the foot of his bed. Catherine turned to him as he halted just inside the door. She was wearing one of her own dresses, a gown of deep peacock blue that was cut low across her breasts. She looked beautiful and very desirable.

Catherine was well aware of the stirrings of longing that rippled through Vincent at the sight of her. She had been well aware of them for days now, even though he did his best to hide them from her, even when he knew it was no longer possible to keep anything from her. She had chosen this gown with great care.

“Do you like it?” She turned before him, letting the velvet whisper about her slender limbs.

“Very nice.” Vincent watched her, his need to touch her threatening to overwhelm him. He fought to control it, suppress the steadily building desire that struggled to be set free.

Catherine took his hand as he came slowly up to her, linking her fingers through his. Carrying them to her lips she pressed a soft kiss against each lethal fingertip.

“I thought we could be alone tonight,” she smiled. “Mary is looking after Jacob.”

She moved to the doorway, untying the leather privacy curtain and letting it fall. No-one would intrude on them until the morning. She turned to watch Vincent’s reaction.

“Catherine, I—” he tried to deny the appeal in her eyes.

But she came forward and reached out to silence his words with her lips. He stood passive beneath her touch, but didn’t respond. He clenched his fists.

“Oh, Vincent.” Catherine breathed, threading her fingers through his hair, glorying in the feel of the silken strands. “If only you could know how easy you are to love.”

He looked down into her eyes, drowning in their green depths as they beckoned to his soul. Feeling the hoarseness of his breathing beneath her fingers as she traced the line of his parted lips. With a groan torn from the depths of his being, he slid his arms around her, drawing her in against him, absorbing the sensation of her soft body against his.

Catherine pressed soft kisses to the base of his throat, feeling the raggedness of his breathing beneath her mouth. Vincent dropped his head back, closing his eyes to allow the sensations her touch was invoking in him pound through his senses.

This is madness…

“This was always meant to be,” Catherine answered his unspoken thought, as she moved slowly down, loosening the laces of his shirt, caressing the angles of his collarbones, then moving lower still.

Vincent growled low in his throat, grasping her shoulders, holding her back from him, from what she was doing to him. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his chest heaving with his efforts to keep himself in check.

Catherine watched him struggle, feeling his heart racing with hers. She was not afraid, and she so desperately wanted to show him he could love her, without limits. Her body ached to be close to him once more, as completely as they were when Jacob had been conceived.

She raised a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “I love you, Vincent. There can be no shame in that.”

“I know.” Vincent swallowed convulsively, fighting a losing battle with himself. Fighting against giving in to the path that led to beauties beyond his imaginings. If only he had the courage to do as Catherine asked.  But what of the consequences?

Catherine took his hand. “Come here.” She led him, unresisting to the bed. She sat on the edge, drawing him down beside her.

“We created a child, Vincent, a very beautiful child.” Catherine moved within the circle of his arms. “But the act of creation is also a very beautiful thing. I would like to share that with you also,” she said honestly.

“There are moments when I would wish nothing more.” Vincent held her. “But in that desire, I can see only pain.”

Catherine slipped to the floor to kneel in front of him. She slid her hands beneath the hem of his shirt, moving up to mould the warmth of his chest, pushing the shirt up with her arms. Vincent shuddered in her loving hold as she pushed forward into him, letting her hands slide down his body again to clasp his thighs. She turned her lips against his neck as she caressed the taut muscles beneath her hands, moving steadying upwards.

His heartbeat pounding through his head, Vincent brought his hands up to hold her away, to gain some advantage against this erotic teasing, but he found he didn’t have the strength, as Catherine moved against him, probing his flesh with her tongue as her seeking hands encountered the heat of his arousal.

Vincent moaned, losing the battle with himself and his ability to fight in her beauty. Lifting her easily from the floor, he turned to move onto the bed with her. He leaned over her, to trace the line of her jaw, down into the valley between her breasts.

“Don’t stop now,” Catherine whispered urgently, deep in her throat, rising against his hand, encouraging his questing exploration. She was his rose, his creation and as such, undeniable…

The soft velvet of her dress was no barrier as he pushed it gently aside to expose the creamy, rose tipped swell of one perfect breast. Though Catherine fed their child herself, Vincent had always avoided these times, disturbed by the feelings that rose within him at the thought he could be jealous of his own child.

“It’s all right, Vincent.” Catherine could sense his pain.

She rose against him, gently caressing his throat with her lips, teasing a low, warning growl from him. He watched, fascinated, as his hand rose of its own volition to cup her soft flesh, smoothing across the swollen tip with his thumb, and then back again, glorying in the shudder his touch invoked in her.

The gentle rake of his claws against her skin jammed the breath in his throat. But her skin was so soft, velvet smooth against his palm. He looked down into her eyes as she lay there, open and loving. Her warmth surrounded him, making him bold beyond anything he had ever dreamed possible, until this precious moment of suspended time.

Catherine sat up, allowing her dress to slip to her waist. Her skin glowed pale cream in the candlelight.

“Love me, Vincent…please…” She lifted her arms to him and Vincent no longer had the strength to deny her. She was his, for now and all eternity.

He lowered his mouth to hers, taking her lips in a deep, drugging kiss, that sent his senses reeling into uncharted lands. He probed deeper, tasting the moist sweetness within and Catherine welcomed his invasion. Her tongue licked softly across his teeth, touching gently on the long canines.

Her hands moved to pull up his shirt, to roam freely over the warmth of his naked back. Insistent now, she had him right where she wanted him, she pulled his shirt upwards, murmuring soft encouragement deep in her throat as she leaned forward, the tips of her breasts now brushing against the soft fur that clothed his chest.

Without hesitation Vincent reared up to strip off his shirt, tossing it aside as Catherine moved into his arms again, running her hands over him, teasing, tempting him, tasting his moist skin with her lips and tongue.

With a soft growl, Vincent suppressed her subtle torture. Capturing her hands, he drew her backwards on the bed, his hands at her waist, drawing down her gown. Catherine raised her hips, allowing him to strip her dress away. Her only remaining clothing was a pair of silk panties and the soft shadows of her body beneath made Vincent’s breath jam in his throat.

Catherine smiled at the sensations rocketing back and forth along their heightened connection. Vincent was deeply affected by the beauty of her body and his desire to touch her intimately a tangible thing in the heated air between them.

She traced the line of his ribs, moving lower to caress the taut skin of his hips. Leaning down she trailed kisses across his flat stomach. She could feel his trembling as she loosened the buckle of his belt.

Vincent caught her then, lifting her in his arms to roll over and pin her to the bed beneath him, as he tested the warm moistness of her skin with his tongue. His hands sought the curves of her body with growing boldness.

“Vincent…” Catherine writhed beneath his tormenting touch, knowing that he was punishing her for her teasing and she gloried in the feel of him. Vincent threaded his fingers through her hair, planting kisses on the skin of her neck and shoulders before moving down to the ripe thrust of her breast.

The sensations were so different, Catherine marvelled then, as Vincent tugged gently at her nipple, running it against the roughness of his tongue. Jacob invoked a soft tenderness when he suckled her, but this…oh, this was a different kind of torture beyond all rapture…

Her hands moved again, to tug urgently at his belt, needing to feel him, needing to know all of him as she once had…so long ago…and Vincent could no longer deny her. He reared back to strip off his boots and the last of his clothing, before turning back to Catherine who was watching him with such love and acceptance in her eyes that he wanted to weep then…

Catherine lifted her hips mutely, watching his every move, and Vincent tugged off the tiny scrap of silk that clothed her beauty. The sigh that escaped him then, came from the very depths of his being.

“Catherine…” he breathed, moving into her as her hands slipped below the level of his hips to gently enclose the hot, satiny strength of him. His body surged powerfully against her palm, overtaking his control.

A primeval growl was torn from the depths of his soul. He felt as if his heart would stop, the incredible sensation of his Catherine, touching him so intimately after all they had been together, was beyond description. In that moment, he was finally set free to explore to fully explore and understand this incredible bond between them.

Beneath him, Catherine smiled. A secret woman’s smile older than time. He was finally, irrevocably, hers.

Vincent’s claws dug deeply into the fabric of the quilt beneath them as she continued to explore him, moulding and teasing, knowing once more the sheer power of his beautiful body. And he was beautiful. Vincent had refused to believe her, until the moment he had held their child in his hands.

Vincent groaned now, his head thrown back, the pulse in his throat a living thing as it kept pace with his thundering heartbeat. Sensation crowded into sensation, reflecting from one to the other until their minds were drowning in the headiness of it all.

His questing hand found its way to the softness of Catherine’s inner thigh. With unsteady fingers, his touch travelled upwards to finally touch against the heat of her, against the moistness that welcomed his questing exploration. His claws whispered their own unique music along her skin as he moved to explore the very heart of her, to bring Catherine to trembling submission as she arched back to press up against his hand.

“Vincent…” Her moan was an aching invocation, as he found the silkiness within, his heart almost stopping as he caressed her.

“I’m here.” This time he would remember. He closed his eyes, revelling in the sensations crashing through his consciousness.

She was the light to his darkness. She surrounded him, filling his soul with the beauty of her being. He would die now, if she ever left him, he could not survive without her. They truly were the two halves of one incredible soul. He turned his mouth against her skin, moulding her body to his, bringing her warmth against him…all of him.

All barriers had crumbled before her sensuous assault. Catherine had won her battle. Vincent allowed her into his innermost feelings, his darkest places where he had lived alone. She moved against him now, pushing him forward into the light that was their love…

Catherine raised her hips to encounter the scorching heat of his lower body. Vincent sucked air deep into his starving lungs as he watched her, letting the erotic feel of her move through him.

“Vincent, please…” Catherine voiced their mutual agony. Her legs closed around his waist, holding him intimately. “End it, end it now.”

Vincent looked down into her eyes, swimming with unshed tears. They were dark and unfocussed with passion and desire.

“All that I am, Catherine…always,” he whispered against her mouth as he moved into her, burying himself deep within the burning satin glory that was his Catherine…

Her hips rose to meet him, moving with him as his body took over from his conscious mind and he was driven onwards by a need so far beyond his control he had no power to stop. They blended together, rising into the light, becoming one being in their mutual desire to understand this union that bound them together.

Vincent’s heart nearly stopped. This was a pleasure for which he had not been prepared. His rhythms increased as Catherine drew him on with her voice and hands, breathy cries of encouragement that drove him beyond the limits of all control, taking him into a world where nothing, but pure sensation existed, a world where he could feel his souls being finally set free from all fears and doubts.

His release, when it finally came, was a shuddering explosion that rocked him to the very core of his being. Catherine travelled before him, her muffled cries blending with his as Vincent arched forward one final time, deep within her, their connection a free flowing thing of dancing light and colours beyond description.

“I love you!” was the cry torn from him, as the world turned and fell away beneath him and he floated free of all earthly chains, Catherine cradled safely in his strong arms…

*******

“I never knew…I never dreamed…” Vincent whispered against Catherine’s mouth an eternity later as they floated back down into the candlelit quiet of his chamber.

The pipes murmured softly in the distance and a train rattled overhead. Catherine took his face between her hands and smiled into his bemused eyes.

“It can be like that every time…for us,” she murmured, planting a soft kiss on the frenetic pulse that beat in his throat.

“The poets didn’t tell me about any of this.” He smiled, closing his eyes to allow the sensation of her touch to drift through him. Catherine gasped as his feelings were reflected back to her. She moved her lips across his moist skin, travelling down onto his chest as her hands began to play over the corded muscles of his back.

“Woman, you are insatiable…” Vincent growled without heat.

The tempo of their bond quickened once more as raw awareness flared and Vincent had no will to resist this time as he reached for her, needing to lose himself once more in the beauty and sheer wonder of their love…

*******

Catherine leaned back in the warmth of Vincent’s embrace. They stood together in the drainage tunnel entrance watching the stars overhead as they wheeled down towards the dawn.

“You have given me so much,” Vincent whispered into her hair. “I cannot ask for anything more.”

The shared intensity of their loving had left them both exhausted, but content with a deep feeling of mutual peace. Catherine turned within his arms to look up at him.

“We will find a way, Vincent. We will,” she told him. “My life is in both worlds, you yourself said that. I could not bear to lose you again.”

“To lose you would be to lose everything I could ever become…now,” he said simply, placing a kiss into her hair.

“Then we will find the path together, Vincent. Together we can conquer anything.”

She raised a hand to place it against his cheek, studying the uniqueness of his face with deep love. “Our dream will endure, Vincent…for all eternity…and beyond.”

“Always,” Vincent agreed softly, his heart echoing her love as he took her lips in a kiss that promised her everything, everything her heart could ever desire…

*******

Oh, this is the animal that never was.

They hadn’t seen one; but just the same, they loved

It’s graceful movements and the way it stood

Looking at them calmly, with clear eyes.

It had not been. But for them, it appeared

in all its purity. They left space enough.

And in that place hollowed out by their love

It stood up all at once and didn’t need

existence. They nourished it, not with grain,

but with the mere possibility of being.

And finally this gave so much power

That from its forehead a horn grew.

One horn. It drew near to a virgin, white, gleaming—

And was, inside the mirror, and in her…

Rainer Maria Rilke

“With love all things are possible…”

Forever, Catherine…

*******

LITERARY REFERENCES

Rainer Maria Rilke   “Love Song”  “Possibility of Being”

Neil Diamond  “The Story Of My Life”

William Shakespeare  Sonnet No. 75

Christina Georgina Rossetti  “Mirage”

John Donne  “The Extasy”

Dylan Thomas  “And Death Shall Have No Dominion”

Rainer Maria Rilke   “Love Song”

John Donne  “The Good Morrow”

Percy B Shelley  “On Fanny Godwin”

William Wordsworth  “There is an Eminence of These Our Hills.”

Emily Dickinson  Poem 22  “I Gave Myself To Him”

William Shakespeare   Sonnet No. 36

Percy B Shelley  “Is It That In Some Brighter Sphere”

Judith Nolan   “Vincent”

e.e.cummings   “Somewhere I Have Never Travelled”

William Shakespeare  Sonnet No. 29

T. S. Elliot   “Little Gidding.”

Rainer Maria Rilke  “Oh, This Is The Animal”

“With Love All Things Are Possible…forever, Catherine”

Taken from “Though Lovers Be Lost” written by Ron Koslow

*******

- “To Dream a Dream”

A Story of “Beauty and the Beast”

By Judith Nolan ©

This story is the sequel to “How Shall I Hold My Soul…” It was written in response to the dream created by the cast and crew of “Beauty and the Beast.” We have a dream, let’s light the candles and make it a reality.

A very warm “thank you” to all my Beastie buddies who pushed me into writing this sequel, I couldn’t have done it without you. Let’s keep the flame burning around the world…always.

This story is dedicated to all the cast of  “Beauty and the Beast”, but especially to my friend Ritch Brinkley for being such a beautiful human being. I promised him I would save him a place him in this fanzine, I have kept my promise…

(Please do not reproduce, by any means, this story)

“To Dream a Dream” is an amateur fiction fanzine and as such does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of RON KOSLOW FILMS, REPUBLIC PICTURES, CBS TELEVISION, WITT THOMAS PRODUCTIONS or any other holders of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights.

- To Dream a Dream

Hold a tender dream

Enclose it in your soul

Fragile crystal beauty

To break if touched

By an uncaring hand

Candlelit splendour

Of golden, cascading hair

Against your heart

Shield all you hold dear

Too easily could she slip away

A woman of another world

Unsought by one bound

Within the depths of his aloneness

Take his hand gently in yours

Lead him into the realm of love’s sweet light

Matched as none before

Down through ageless time

The Beast and his Beauty

Their love is our story

And in its telling

A link between two worlds

A bridge of dancing light

In death there is life

We shall endure

For the sake of all we carry within.

Judith Nolan

Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view

Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend

All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due

Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.

William Shakespeare

They watched as the morning light crept slowly across the dew wet grass, lighting the world for a new day, a day full of promise after the night before. Catherine, nestled in Vincent’s strong arms, sighed as the light found its way to her feet, casting barred shadows through the surrounding trees.

“Time to go Below,” Vincent whispered against her hair, his tone holding a wealth of sadness. He wanted so desperately to share this world of sunlight and laughter with his love, but this one simple pleasure was forever denied to them.

Catherine turned within his embrace and laid her hands against his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. She could feel his disappointment through the connecting rhythms of their bond. “I belong with you, Vincent. Wherever you are, wherever you go, that is where I want to be. Now and for always.”

Vincent looked down at her, leaning so easily against him. Reigniting desire rippled through his body. She was so easy to love. He trailed his claws lightly down her back, cupping her bottom and bringing her slim body close in against his.

“Always, Catherine…” he breathed, bending his head to trace the shape and curve of her lips with his tongue. “You have given me the whole world with your love, your understanding. But to ask you to share this world with me forever, I—”

“Don’t have a choice.” She slid her fingers up through his mane, as he drew back, bringing his lips again to hers, kissing him with slow, torturous deliberation.

Vincent was no longer proof against her sensuality. Their bond hummed with awareness, raw desire neither wished to hide. Catherine felt his great body tremble in her arms as she moved from his mouth, infinitely slowly down the side of his neck to the laced opening at the front of his shirt. She bit him lightly, instantly soothing the spot with her tongue, well satisfied with his warning growl not to push his fragile control too far.

Not when they were already out of time.

“Never doubt where I want to be, Vincent,” she told him finally, as their hearts slowed to an even pace. “I have known that far longer than you.”

Vincent watched the sunlight playing through the strands of her hair, threading it with golden lights. All his unease, all his doubts over what had come to be, Catherine could feel them battling with the need for her that he could not deny. She tilted her head and the sunlight played, sparkling, in her eyes.

“Vincent, there is nothing out there that I could ever want, or need. Not now, not any more.” These words brought his eyes back to her face, to the beauty of her beloved smile.

“All you are, all you could ever be, you gave to me.” Catherine reached up to kiss the uniqueness of his cheek. “How could I want for anything more?”

“Many times I have wished, as Elliot did, to give you the whole world and not count the cost. All its riches, all its beauties. Just to be able to bring them to you and place them at your feet. It would only be a small part of what you have done for me, given me.”

“And when the riches have all gone and the beauties faded?” Catherine threaded her fingers through the lacings of his shirt, caressing the warm skin beneath.

Vincent looked down at her without speaking. Finally he said, “We would be alone in a world that contained nothing, and no-one, but us and Jacob,” he admitted finally, as Catherine’s touch tantalized and tormented him anew. “Sufficient to ourselves.” His mouth quirked. “And here I was trying to be noble. Trying to do the right thing.”

“The only wealth that could ever mean anything to me, is your love.”

“A happy life…” Vincent murmured into her hair, as he bent his head and gathered Catherine’s slim length against him, moulding her to every heated contour of his burgeoning need. Fire licked through his veins as he—

“I swear to God, if I find that damn dog, I’m going to strangle it!” An exasperated male voice broke into Vincent’s reverie. Daylight filtered through the trees, outlining them both starkly with its new brightness.

Catherine turned swiftly in his slackened embrace and, shielding him from view as she pushed him behind her, into the depths of the tunnel.

“Go on!” she ordered fiercely, moving after him hastily into the sheltering darkness.

Footsteps sounded outside as they hurried towards the safety of the junction door. “Maybe he went in here,” a woman’s floated after them.

“Damn fool dog!” the man’s voice answered. “Looks like nothing in there, but cobwebs and rats. You can go in there, if you want.”

“No, thanks!” The footsteps retreated hurriedly into the distance. “Let’s look over there.”

The couple could still be heard arguing. “I swear that dog is more trouble than your mother…”

Catherine leaned back against the curve of the tunnel listening to the complaints as the pair moved off in the other direction. Vincent shook his head at their own foolhardiness. “If they had seen us…”

“I think his mother-in-law and the dog would have been forgotten in a hurry.” Catherine stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry, Vincent. It was my fault for delaying our return Below.”

“No, I was at fault, I should have heard them approaching. But I was…”

“Preoccupied?” Catherine supplied with a saucy smile when he paused, searching for the words. “I know what you are feeling. I also know that this journey of ours will never be easy. But with you beside me…” She took his hand. “Let’s go home, Vincent.”

*******

Joe Maxwell stood at the window of his new office looking out over the city sprawled before him. He hadn’t heard from Catherine for three weeks and it worried him, but what worried him more was the phone call he’d just had.

He turned from the view with a frustrated sigh and moved to slump into the chair behind his desk. Why hasn’t Cathy contacted me by now? He picked up the darts lying beside the telephone and flung them, one at a time, at the battered dart board, that looked so out of place in the office of the new District Attorney of Manhattan.

If he didn’t hear from her soon, he would have to institute another search for her. He knew that this would probably prove as fruitless as the first time he’s looked for her, but he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. He glared at the phone. John Moreno had been murdered in his prison cell, his throat slashed by an unknown assailant. Greg Hughes had no suspects and no witnesses, it was a professional job. Moreno had become a loose end and a liability for his master.

“This is getting me nowhere.” Joe threw the last dart without looking to see where it landed and stood with a growl of disgust.

The whole situation was getting messier by the hour and he knew, deep down in his innermost heart, that it was going to get a whole lot messier before they managed to nail Cathy’s kidnapper and Moreno’s boss. “And his killer.” Joe thumped the desk, before he headed for the door.

*******

“Catherine, I have something here that I think you should see.” Father limped into Vincent’s chamber where Catherine and Samantha were playing with baby Jacob. Vincent was away helping to construct new emergency chambers deep beneath their feet.

“What is it?” Catherine looked up. In Father’s hand was a newspaper. His face was furrowed with concern and trepidation as he spread it out on the table.

“Samantha, why don’t you take Jacob and find Mary,” he instructed the girl, as Catherine got to her feet and moved to his side.

“What is the news, Jacob?” She laid a hand on the old man’s arm.

Father glanced after Samantha as she disappeared through the door, the baby slung expertly on her young hip. Jacob gurgled and pulled at her face and hair playfully, enjoying the sound of his nursemaid’s laughter.

“A helper brought this down to me a short time ago.” He smoothed the page with a troubled sigh. “I knew you would want to see it immediately. It’s three days old, I’m afraid.”

Catherine’s gaze travelled from his worried face to the banner headline that posed the stark question WHO DID THIS? She read the article swiftly in shocked silence.

“Joe Moreno, murdered?” Catherine looked up with dismay.

“I had hoped that, after all this time, this whole sorry affair would have been over and down with. I see now that I couldn’t be more wrong.” Father’s grip on his cane tightened, until his knuckles showed white with the strain.

“I can’t believe it.” Catherine read the article again, shocked at the brutality with which the man had been dispatched. “Oh, my God. Joe! I haven’t been in touch with him for weeks! He will be frantic after hearing this news. It just seemed somehow that…”

Father raised his hand and caressed the smooth plane of her cheek. “Like all that up there is another world, another time,” he supplied on a sigh, shaking his head. “But it always seems to have a brutal way of intruding itself upon us all, none the less.”

“Yes,” Catherine agreed slowly, reading the article once more with a visible shudder. “When will it all end, Jacob? When will we be left in peace?”

“I wish I knew. I wish I had the words to make the danger disappear. I want to keep you all safe, but until this madness is finally over we must be vigilant.”

“I will send Geoffrey with another message for Joe. I will need to meet with him to discuss this new development.”

“You can’t go alone, Catherine.” Both of them looked up in surprise as Vincent spoke from the chamber entrance, his face and voice more than usually sombre. His chest heaved with exertion, as if he’d run all the way up from below as soon as he felt Catherine’s rising disquiet.

He entered the room. “The dangers to you increase a thousandfold, the moment you set eyes on Joe Maxwell.”

“I can’t leave him alone in this mess, Vincent.” Catherine moved to his side, taking his work soiled hand in hers. “This is my personal battle too. I was the one that Moreno betrayed the most. But he didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“You will have to be very circumspect about seeing Maxwell.” Father picked up the paper and carried it to Vincent for him to read. “His office is completely out of the question. If this man is powerful enough to kill someone like Moreno in his prison cell, then this is a man who would have no scruples about eliminating the new District Attorney, if it suited his purposes.”

“There is more than just murder here.” Vincent looked up from the article.

“This is a warning.” He looked from Father to Catherine’s determined face. “It’s also a blatant attempt to flush you out of hiding. This man is laying down his rules about how this game of life and death is to be played.”

“Then we shall have to invent some rules of our own, Vincent. I have to see Joe. If I don’t, he’s quite capable of tearing this city apart to make sure I’m still safe and unharmed.”

“Catherine is right.” Father sighed. “We can’t risk the threat of exposure now. For the moment, we must play the game according to the rules that have already been set down for us.”

“But we can chose the arena,” Vincent stated, his eyes still on the newspaper in his hand. “The carousel in the park. We will post sentries all around it so that, if anyone other than Joe Maxwell appears, they will be dealt with. And I will be there, close enough to snatch you away, if there is any trouble.”

“I will go and send Geoffrey to you straight away.” Father limped out, the pain of his hip accompanying the nagging doubts that plagued his mind and heart.

Catherine took the newspaper from Vincent. “I must do this, Vincent. There is no other way. I need to talk to Joe.”

“Yes, I know.” Vincent gathered her against him, running his hands over her body, as if to reassure himself he could keep her safe. “I wish there was some other way, but I know there is not. It would be too dangerous to bring Joe Below to see you.”

“I will be safe with you to watch over me.” Catherine smoothed the material of his vest beneath her cheek. “Until this man is caught, we can never rest easy, not even down here.”

*******

Joe glared suspiciously at the young boy standing before his desk. Geoffrey smiled his best winning smile, but Joe was unmoved by the boy’s impish grin. An escapee from a pantomime was an apt title for this small messenger, he decided, as he unfolded the note the boy had just handed him.

Privately, he did admit that he nearly leaped out of his chair and hugged the child when his very suspicious secretary ushered him into his office. He had been going out of his mind with worry over Catherine’s lack of communication. It wasn’t like Radcliffe to forget.

“Is this it?” he demanded now. “This is all she wrote?”

“It’s all I was given.” Geoffrey shifted from foot to foot as Joe read the note several more times.

Joe turned the paper over to inspect the back for hidden answers to the million and one questions that buzzed endlessly in his brain.

Geoffrey wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffed. Joe glared at him with distaste. Who exactly is Radcliffe living with?

“The carousel at midnight?” he echoed Catherine’s message in baffled frustration. “I haven’t met anyone there since I was your age.” He eyed the boy. “So where is it again that you live with Catherine? Any place I might know?”

“I was told to wait for any reply to the message.” Geoffrey looked at the ceiling, then the floor, anywhere except at Joe. He had been grilled by this man before. Father had given him strict instructions. He was just the messenger, he was not to divulge any extra information.

“Talkative fellow, aren’t you?” Joe commented with heavy sarcasm as he read the note for the tenth time.

Geoffrey tried his smile again, and got a ferocious frown for his pains. He dropped his gaze to his boots.

“Can you at least tell me if Catherine is well and being looked after?” Joe tried a different approach, after a long silence.

Geoffrey’s eyes rose to meet his and Joe was surprised at the sudden change in them. Gone were the boyish candour and the impish grin, to be replaced by a very wise, very old fashioned look of distain. “She is with people who love and care for her,” the boy said quietly. He remembered his own days of homelessness and street living, until he was found and taken Below by a helper. “No one can hurt her.”

“I love her too, you know.” Joe folded the note with exaggerated care. “She’s more than a friend to me.” He retrieved a lighter from his desk drawer and set the note alight as he had been instructed. He crushed the remains into the ashtray, taking great care to dispose of it completely. He looked back at the boy. “Until midnight then. I will be waiting…and tell Radcliffe that I miss her more than I can say.”

“I’ll tell her,” Geoffrey promised, as he turned to leave.

*******

“There isn’t one solitary clue?” Joe took a turn around his office later that day, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers. Greg Hughes watched him with resignation.

“The killer was a professional, Joe.” He raised his hands helplessly. “No trace, no witnesses. It’s like he’s some sort of ghost.”

“Oh, he’s real enough,” Joe snapped. “Moreno was about to turn state’s evidence after months of silence and suddenly he turns up dead. That was a closely guarded secret, only a handful of people knew. Try and tell me it was just an unfortunate coincidence and I’ll call you a liar.”

“I wish I could. But we’re getting no closer to solving this, than we did the Chandler kidnapping.” Greg shifted in his seat. “That’s why I’ve been ordered to call in some serious professional help.”

“What kind of professional help?” Joe demanded suspiciously.

Before Greg could answer, the intercom on Joe’s desk sounded. “Yes,” Joe asked shortly, thumbing the control button, as he moved to his chair.

“A Miss Diana Bennett is here to see you.” The secretary’s voice came over the speaker.

Joe looked across at Greg, who nodded slowly. “Fine. Send her in.” Joe instructed, before cutting the connection.

The door opened and a young woman walked in, a very attractive young woman. Joe frowned in perplexity as she walked up to his desk.

“The professional help.” Greg grinned at Joe’s expression.

“Hello, I’m Diana Bennett.”

“Hi.” Joe stood and took her outstretched hand, feeling the smooth, cool grip that seemed to match the young woman’s personality. She moved back the moment he released her.

Rich red hair, caught at the nape of her neck, complimented Diana’s clear, pale skin and dark blue eyes. But there was a quality about her, an air of aloofness that irritated Joe irrationally. He glared at Greg, who seemed to be enjoying the encounter immensely.

“Before you rip my throat out, just remember that this wasn’t my idea.” The detective defended himself with upraised hands. “I’m only following orders. We need results. Whoever killed Moreno went to great lengths to cover his tracks. It will take months to solve and we simply don’t have the manpower to sustain a continued investigation. Besides Diana comes highly recommended and she has access to resources we can only dream about.”

Diana turned away from Joe’s desk and sat down in the vacant chair next to Greg’s. “And I only work on one case at a time. In the end I always get a result.”

Joe considered her for a moment. She had made the statement very matter of fact, very calmly. Her blue eyes returned his stare without blinking.

The thought of being asked to accept this woman’s help stuck in Joe’s throat more than a little, but he knew that far more than his own pride was riding on this case. “This man, whoever he is, kidnapped Catherine Chandler right out of this very building. Subverts, then murders, a man I thought I could trust with my very life, and obviously expects to get away with those crimes and anything else he’s planning. I want him, Miss Bennett, I want his scalp very badly.”

“Catherine Chandler has officially been missing for more than eight months,” Diana questioned then. “Are you so sure she’s safe or even alive?”

“As far as I know.” Joe studied her expression carefully. “I get notes, from time to time. Delivered to me by some homeless waif who—”

“You get notes!” Diana sat forward. “Why haven’t you made any effort to discover where these notes originate from?”

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea that Cathy goes swanning off and disappear again.” Joe defended himself with raised hands. “She said she has her reasons, there are things she cannot tell me. I respect her space.”

“Or she won’t tell you,” Diana guessed shrewdly. “I would want to know what those reasons are and what she’s holding back from a guy who’s supposed to be her friend.”

“Look, lady,” Joe fumed. “If Catherine has her own reasons for not telling anyone where she has gone, then I, for one, will respect her decision.”

Diana tilted her head. “Even though it’s driving you crazy nuts wondering where she is and exactly who she’s with now?”

Joe inhaled, opened his mouth to shout her down, but then shut it again with a snap. He turned to glare at Greg with a disgusted expression.

“Very professional help.” Was all the detective had to offer his exasperated friend. He shrugged as if it was nothing to do with him at all.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business what Miss Chandler does with her personal life,” Diana put in then, both hands raised in apology.

“You’re right there,” Joe snapped, sitting forward to lean his elbows on the desk. After a moment his expression softened and he looked rueful. “But you are right, it’s driving me crazy, not knowing. It has done for months.”

“When she’s ready, she will tell you.” Diana relaxed back in her seat. “It’s a shame I won’t get to meet your Miss Chandler. She seems quite an intriguing woman. She has Elliot Burch still dangling on a string, I hear. That’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Elliot Burch is a dangerous man.” Joe’s lips curled. “Keep him in the dark. He’s not to know anything.”

“He already has his own investigators in the field.” Diana shrugged. “Cleon Manning is almost as good as me. Almost. I’m still a few steps ahead of him and his team right now.”

“Catherine was the best investigator I ever had,” Joe conceded then. “When she disappeared…” He shook his head. “Still, this discussion is getting us nowhere. I want John Moreno’s killer and I want the man who controls him. I hope you’re as good as you say you are.”

He leaned forward, picking up the case file and handing it to his new investigator. “Cathy is a hard act to follow. See what you make of this. No clues, no witnesses, nothing, but smoke and mirrors.”

“Then we will have to start from the beginning.” Diana opened the file and began to read. “I will find our elusive game player. I don’t like mysteries. Everything ultimately has an explanation. However unpleasant it might turn out to be.”

*******

Hours later, Joe stood and stretched wearily. Diana looked as cool and collected as ever, but both men had begun to feel the pressure of the concentrated work. Papers were strewn across Joe’s desk and Diana was now seated behind it, engrossed in her work. Joe glanced at his watch and swore softly.

“I have to be somewhere, right away,” he said, snatching up his jacket.

“At this time of night?” Greg was startled.

“Very important meeting with an informant. Can’t wait.” Joe thrust his fingers through his hair, trying to restore some order.

“Well, I guess I can continue this at home.” Diana gathered the pages she’d been working on and pushed them into a big hold-all she had brought with her.

“And I’d better get home before I get served with divorce papers.” Greg yawned widely. “Want to share a cab, Bennett?”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll walk. The night air clears my thinking.”

“It’s a dangerous enough city in daylight. Walking alone after dark is just asking for trouble,” the detective commented, as Joe ushered them both from his office and into the hallway.

“I’m a big girl now,” Diana shot back briskly.

“So I’ve noticed.” Greg grinned. “Night all.”

There was silence between Joe and Diana as they travelled down in the elevator together and out into the street. Busy New Yorkers bustled by them, as unconcerned as always, despite the late hour.

“Until tomorrow then.” Joe extended his hand, still unsure of Diana’s air of complete composure.

“See you then.” She nodded, clasping his hand briefly before turning away.

Joe watched her into the distance, before hailing a passing cab. He didn’t entirely trust Miss Bennett to contain her curiosity about his midnight appointment. He had an uneasy feeling about her, which he couldn’t shake.

*******

Catherine paced the shadows between two of the carousel’s painted horses. Vincent stood behind her in the deepest shadows, where the fitful moonlight couldn’t reach. His eyes gleamed faintly with reflected light and Catherine took comfort from his proximity.

Their bond hummed with his deepening sense of disquiet. She knew he hated to expose her in this way. But, if there was trouble, then he would defend her as before, and Catherine knew how much such drastic action distressed him. But they had no choice, she had to speak to Joe.

All around the carousel, hidden in the bushes and trees that dotted the park, many of the tunnel dwellers lurked, armed and ready for action. They were the outer guards. Anyone, other than Joe, passing through their ranks would find themselves dragged down and trussed.

“It’s after midnight.” Catherine breathed deeply, trying to slow the racing of her heartbeat. She felt Vincent reaching out to her, soothing her through their shared bond with the strength of his love. Catherine turned and smiled in his direction. Footsteps on the path outside alerted her, she turned her attention back to the open doorway.

“Radcliffe?” Joe questioned the darkness, scanning the shadows that hung on all sides. He closed the door behind him.

Catherine drew a deep breath, switching on her flashlight as she stepped forward. “I’m here.”

Joe stood looking stunned by her sudden appearance. Then he rushed forward to gather her into his arms. “God! I’ve missed you,” he said into her hair. “You’ve shaved years off my life.”

“I’m sorry I let you down, Joe.” Catherine drew back to look up at him. “I don’t have any explanation I can give you.”

“That’s okay, kiddo.” Joe held her at arm’s length as he studied her face. “Just as long as I know you’re safe.”

He absorbed her fresh beauty. Her soft fragrance teased at his senses. She had changed in the time since he had last seen her. Then, she’d been thin and without memory of what had happened to her. There was an air about her now, he’d never seen before. A serenity that was bewitching, a quality of stillness and inner peace, a sense of profound happiness. Wherever she was hiding was good for her. Almost too good. He felt a stab of envy that she could appear so calm and collected, while he felt himself unravelling beneath the stress of his workload and the stalled investigation.

“Cathy, I—” he began, but Catherine reached up to place her fingers over his lips, stilling his words.

“One day, Joe, one day I will tell you all I can. But for now, you need to trust me.”

Joe looked at her with resignation in his eyes and something else, a weariness that touched her heart. “You and your secrets,” he whispered raggedly, cupping her cheek in his palm. “They might be the death of me.” He smiled crookedly.

A sudden commotion outside startled them both. Sounds of a struggle and several voices raised in anger. Joe pushed Catherine behind him to shield her from any impending attack. He pulled his gun from its holster, sensing movement in the shadows behind him. An almost inaudible growl, like some great beast waiting to pounce from the darkness, made him swivel to look behind.

“No, Joe.” Catherine grabbed his wrist, impelling the gun downwards. “There are only friends here, my guardians.”

“Then what the hell was that back there?” Joe wasn’t convinced.

“A friend, Joe, believe me.” Catherine wrenched the gun from his hand. “No one can hurt me here.”

The door suddenly burst open and three figures were propelled inside, two men and red-haired woman.

“Diana!” Joe shouted in disbelief.

“Who is she, Joe and why did she follow you?” Catherine demanded to know, Sensing Vincent’s growing disquiet at the renewed danger. She needed to defuse it fast.

“She works for me.” Joe strode forward, as the two men kept hold of his new investigator. “You know, curiosity killed the cat, Miss Bennett. Why are you here?”

“For that very reason, curiosity.” Diana stood boldly in her captors’ hold. She assessed Catherine with clinical detachment. “I wanted to know who the District Attorney of Manhattan could be meeting secretly at midnight in Central Park. I had a hunch, so I followed it up.”

“Well, now you know,” Joe growled unhappily. “Diana Bennett, this is Cathy Chandler, the woman you were so keen to meet earlier.”

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?” Catherine demanded.

“Miss Bennett has been hired to investigate John Moreno’s murder,” Joe told her, as he studied the two men holding his investigator. More refugees from a pantomime, he decided wryly, taking in their odd assortment of leather and rag clothing. He wanted to shake the truth from them.

Catherine, on the other hand, was dressed in conventional street attire that made the contrast seem even more bizarre. Joe’s brain itched to finally know the facts behind these strange people that Cathy chose to surround herself with.

“Matthew, James, thank you.” Catherine nodded to the two guards. “I don’t think Miss Bennett intends me any harm.”

The two men dropped their captive’s arms reluctantly. “We’ll be outside,” one man commented grimly. “In case you need us.” He glared at Diana. “Don’t make us hurt you.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Diana nodded, rubbing her wrists, as the men left, closing the door behind them. “Charming company you keep, Miss Chandler.”

“Tell her your theories,” Joe instructed, his eyes still scanning the shadows. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling they were not alone. Something was back there, something big and powerful that made that hair on the back of his neck rise with unease. He strained to see better, wishing Cathy would give him back his gun.

“John Moreno was silenced because he had agreed to turn state’s evidence.” Diana watched Joe, frowning at his disquiet. “He was about to expose the whole rotten affair. You okay, Joe?”

“Guess I’m just jumpy from lack of sleep.” Joe rolled his shoulders. “But I could have sworn I saw something, or someone, back in there.” He looked at Catherine. “You got more friends we don’t know about?”

“Leave it, Joe, there’s no-one there.” Catherine moved away from him, hoping he would follow. “But why did Moreno get a conscience now? After all this time?”

She could sense Vincent becoming deeply unsettled, eager for this meeting to be over. She shared his rising misgivings. If Diana Bennett found them, then there could be others who followed as well.

“Maybe his conscience got the better of him.” Diana shrugged. “After all, he was basically a decent man who got caught up in events that grew far beyond his control. Maybe what he did finally got to him.”

“Once he’d assisted in my kidnapping, there was no way he could afford for me to resurface.” Catherine had come to terms with that bitter fact a long time ago. “But this still gets us no closer to his master. Or his reason for kidnapping me.”

“I agree. And your kidnapping has always puzzled me about your case.” Diana scanned the shadows closely, seeming to understand more than Catherine felt comfortable with. “Just how did you escape from your kidnappers?”

She looked back at her. “Armed men who were shredded by some great beast and the doctor who escaped had a complete mental breakdown. He was found hanged in his cell over at Bellevue five months ago. Suicide was the verdict, but now, perhaps he was just another loose end to be disposed of, like John Moreno.”

She watched Catherine closely. “By all reports, he kept screaming in his nightmares about a terrible, clawed monster with fangs. He swore you were carried off by demons who could fly.”

“Pure fantasy.” Catherine shrugged, sensing that an outright lie would be disbelieved instantly. Diana appeared to be a woman with an uncanny capacity for finding out the ultimate truth of a case. “But the man was one of my kidnappers. He treated me brutally. I’m afraid any sympathy for his fate is limited.”

“So how did you escape?” Diana’s eyebrows rose.

Catherine decided to tell her a partial truth. “I had help to escape from some close friends. They discovered where I was being held and rescued me.”

“Friends like those outside?” Joe demanded.

“Good friends, Joe, who love and care for me,” Catherine unknowingly echoed Geoffrey’s words to Joe earlier in the day. “They protect me and in turn I protect them.”

“And the man back there in the shadows?” Diana pointed. “What about him? Where does he fit into all of this?”

Catherine frowned at her in consternation, but gave no answer.

“I wish I knew what was going on here, Radcliffe,” Joe opined. “I’m not sure you’re safe at all.”

“I would say it’s fairly obvious what’s going on here,” Diana replied cryptically, watching Catherine with a dawning look of understanding. “It’s called life, Maxwell. We all have to make the best of the hand we are dealt. Miss Chandler appears to be a very good card player. Maybe one day, she and I will play a hand or two.”

“Women! I’ll never understand them.” Joe surveyed the shadows with disgust.

“So, Diana is officially on the case. Let’s hope she can get some results before I develop an ulcer.”

“Joe, if I—” Catherine began, only to stop abruptly in mid-sentence. She felt sudden ripples of alarm coursing through her bond with Vincent and she knew instantly that he was gone from the shadows behind her.

“Trouble?” Diana questioned softly. “Has he gone out?”

“Yes.” Catherine nodded quickly. She didn’t stop to question the other woman’s keen instincts.

Diana reached beneath her coat and drew a very serviceable looking hand gun. She took a stand, the gun cocked and pointed at the ceiling, cupping the butt with both hands. “How many?” she demanded softly.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell…” Catherine was distracted by the gun. Diana was just as capable of shooting Vincent if she didn’t immediately understand the situation.

“Well, I’m not standing around here all naked and exposed.” Joe reached to take his gun from Catherine’s slackened grasp. “Get behind me, Catherine, and for once in your life, don’t damn well argue.”

“Don’t shoot,” Catherine begged. “Just leave it to the others. They know the park like the backs of their hands. You could shoot one of our own.”

“If anyone tries to get in here, I’m not going to ask for any ID,” Joe muttered. “I don’t like this, Radcliffe. Not one bit.”

A sudden roar filled the night outside, a primeval scream of rage and terrible anger. Catherine felt it go right through her and her knees buckled. She clutched at a nearby horse for support, before Joe caught her arm and held her upright. He pulled her close to his side.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded in shocked dismay.

Images flashed through Catherine’s mind. Blood and the white frightened faces of men who had just been confronted with their worst nightmare. The roaring filled the night, drumming at both her heart and mind as Vincent was forced to defend her once more with his awesome power.

“I know who you are…” she whispered brokenly, uncaring that both Joe and Diana were staring at her incredulously. “There is no shame…”

The roaring stopped as abruptly as it had begun and a deathly silence fell that was equally as deafening. Diana edged towards the door, her gun held at the ready as she reached for the handle.

Suddenly the door opened to reveal James, his bulk filling the opening so Diana could not see beyond him. His eyes went immediately to Catherine.

“Three men with automatic weapons,” he reportedly shortly. “They have been dealt with.” He scowled at Joe. “They must have followed you too, Mr Maxwell.”

“Dealt with is an understatement.” Diana surveyed her former captor suspiciously. “What did you use on them, some of the zoo’s big cats?”

“I have to go,” Catherine said then. Her bond with Vincent hummed with distress and regret. “It looks as if none of us are safe now.”

“I’m sorry, Cathy, for all this.” Joe slid his hand down her arm to clasp her fingers tightly. “Whatever just went on out there was justified. Unconventional, but those men would have killed all of us, you know that.”

“We had to meet, Joe.” Catherine nodded jerkily. “But next time we will have to be a great deal more careful.”

“I seem to have caused you nothing, but trouble tonight.” Diana shook her head. “But those men would have reported to someone once they’d completed their mission. They’ll be missed in a day or so. And when word gets back, someone is going to come looking for them, sooner or later.”

She glanced at James. “You convinced we’re on the same team now?”

“If Catherine trusts you, then I will trust you.” James eyed her gun bleakly. “But that doesn’t mean I like you.”

“Mutual admiration.” Diana nodded. “I can live with that.” She glanced back to Catherine who was looking deeply distressed.

“I can’t stay here.” Catherine could sense Vincent becoming more and more distressed that he couldn’t reach her. His self-castigation was becoming a dark cloud filling her mind to exclusion. “I will contact you when I can.”

“More messages by grubby urchins?” Joe sighed. “Make sure you take good care of you, Radcliffe. My life was never so interesting before I first met you.”

“I will.” Catherine kissed his cheek. She turned to leave.

“If it’s all the same to you.” Diana extended a restraining hand. “I would like to borrow James and Matthew. For a little stakeout work. I’ll pay them the going rate…for amateurs.”

James looked offended. “We caught you, didn’t we?”

“Who says I didn’t let you?” Diana flashed back.

“They are free to make their own decisions.” Catherine backed away. “If you think it will help end this nightmare, do what you must.”

“I can bring as many men as you need.” James shrugged. “Feels good to finally be fighting back.”

“I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.” Catherine touched Joe’s arm in passing before she disappeared into the shadows, hurrying to be with Vincent.

Joe and Diana looked at each other. Diana holstered her gun. “Do we have the bodies to examine?” she demanded of James.

“You are a cool customer, I’ll give you that,” James muttered. “Outside. We dragged them into the trees. There’ll be no trace of them, come morning.”

“This night is going to turn into a very long day.” Joe eased his tired shoulder muscles. “I take it I’m not gonna see paperwork on those guys?”

Diana shook her head. “Nothing that will leave a trail that can be followed.”

They both walked outside into the cold night air. “Verbal, face to face only from now on,” she said. “I’ll keep Greg at arm’s length too, we don’t want any more slip-ups.”

Diana looked at James. “I take it you already have a disposal site in mind?”

“I know a few places.” James shrugged noncommittally. “Where they’ll never be found.”

“Good.” Diana glanced at Joe, unsure of how much room he was going to allow her to do her job. “You fine with that, boss?”

Joe held up both hands in surrender. “Fine, I don’t want to know anything. Just get me results, Bennett and fast. I have a feeling we’re running out of time. They’ll be after all of us now, to silence the investigation for good.”

He looked around. “This place give me the creeps. Come on, let’s get going before anyone else shows up.”

Diana nodded in silent agreement, her eyes scanning the trees and their secrets. Whoever, or whatever, Catherine Chandler was protecting, they seemed to have an incredibly powerful hold over her. Another mystery she was determined to solve.

*******

Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are seal’d

I strove against the stream and all in vain;

Let the great river take me to the main.

No more, my love, for at a touch I yield;

Ask me no more.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Catherine made her way swiftly Below, using the drainage tunnel entrance. Matthew and James remained Above, closely watching Joe and Diana, who made no attempt to follow. Behind her the park brooded with silence and whispering shadows.

The chill of the upper tunnels struck through Catherine’s clothing as she hurried along, sensing all of Vincent’s anguish over the night’s events. He had been against the meeting and the dangers it represented to Catherine. But he had respected her desire to go Above and face the perils that waited her there.

The trembling didn’t entirely leave Catherine as she entered the home tunnels far below the park. It was warmer here, but reaction made her teeth chatter and she huddled deeper into her cashmere coat as she stepped into Vincent’s chamber.

He was seated in the leather chair before the small writing table, staring at his hands lying open before him. A bowl of bloodied water and a rag spoke mutely of his desire to erase the events of the night. He didn’t move as she hurried to his side, sliding her arms around his slumped shoulders.

Slowly Vincent closed his hands, folding the lethal nails into his palms and clenching his fists, until the pain flashed through their bond into Catherine. She gasped as the agony pounded through her consciousness. In the distance a baby’s startled cry suddenly rent the air.

In her chamber, Mary jumped to her feet and bent over Jacob’s cradle. The baby had folded himself into a tight ball, whimpering in his sleep and rocking slowly from side to side. She ran for Father.

“No, Vincent, none of this is your fault. It is all mine!” Catherine covered Vincent’s hands with her own and raising them against her breasts. “If I had listened to you and not gone Above…”

Vincent’s head snapped up as his son’s distress flooded into him. He stared at Catherine, trying to force down the self-loathing that was causing the two people he loved most in the world, so much distress. Tears flowed unheeded from Catherine’s green eyes, tears, he saw that were accusing him of selfishness.

“I’m sorry.” His hands unfurled beneath hers, until his fingers lay passive over the rapid beating of her heart. Sensations pulsed slowly through him, the rise and fall of Catherine’s breathing, the unsteady beat of her heart as it slowed to normal pace once more, the relaxing of the torment of three souls inextricably linked, one to the other.

“There is no shame, Vincent,” Catherine murmured, caressing the backs of his hands with her palms. “We would have died tonight, if you hadn’t been there to save us. Those men would not have hesitated to kill us all.”

Vincent withdrew his hands from beneath hers, he contemplated them bleakly. “That men should have to die, however wrong their mission, so we are able to live in peace…” He shook his head slowly in despair.

“There was no other way, Vincent. If there was we would have discovered it a long time ago.” Catherine sank to her knees beside him, wrapping her hands around the corded muscles of his forearm. “I’m sorry you are in such pain, because of me.”

Vincent gathered a deep breath and then released it in a long, shuddering sigh. “The fault can never be yours, Catherine.”

“Then, please let it go, Vincent. For all our sakes.”

The pain was still there, dull and aching, but it could be absorbed now, soothed away by the strength of their love for each other and their son. The fear of the Beast within him had always been a powerful force in shaping Vincent’s view of himself.

“Jacob needs us now.” Catherine cupped his cheek in her hand. “Let’s go to him.” She took his hand and drew him up to stand beside her.

Vincent looked down at the slim, seemingly fragile woman who had given him everything he could ever hope or dream for. He raised her chin slowly on the back of his hand and kissed her lingeringly, tasting the salt of her tears on her soft mouth. “I love you more than life itself,” he avowed softly, drawing back only fractionally from such sweet temptation.

“Always…” Catherine breathed, as she gazed up into the jewel bright depths of his loving eyes.

*******

Cleon Manning entered Elliot’s office. It was well after midnight and he looked rumpled and dog-tired. He threw himself down onto the couch and waited to be acknowledged.

Elliot was standing at the window once more, staring out at the cityscape without really seeing it. Cleon took a small measure of comfort. His boss looked even more beat than he was.  He stretched his long legs out before him, crossing them at the ankle. “I finally have a lead. There’s a whisper of a name.”

Elliot’s head snapped around. “Who is it?” he demanded to know.

“Justin Cole.” Cleon looked uneasy. “Some high-flying European industrialist. It seems he may have some kind of financial stake in this whole affair.”

“I know who he is,” Elliot replied shortly. “He’s undercut me on more than one project in the last few years. He also cuts too many corners with his construction companies.” He blew a frustrated sigh. “If Cole is involved, then we are playing for greater stakes than we ever imagined possible. The man has no morals and even less humanity. Be careful, Cleon.” His eyes narrowed. “How credible is the information?”

Cleon shrugged. “Seems Moreno had a sister no one knew about, living in a trailer park down in Tampa. He mailed some papers to her before he was caught. Trying to set up some insurance, I guess. She was very willing to part with them and leave the country for a good chunk of the money you’ve outlaid.”

Elliot balled his fists. “But, at least we’re getting somewhere.” He pounded one fist against the desktop. “What did you find?”

“Bank documents mostly, and some letters. But the bank accounts had these regular monthly payments from a Cayman Island slush fund, that I finally traced back to Cole’s head office. Seems he was supplying the funds for Moreno’s legal bills as well. So what else did he pay for, when Moreno turned on his boss?”

“I want information, Cleon,” Elliot snapped. “And I want it fast! Pay whatever it takes, I want to know how and where he’s involved in all this.”

“What do we tell Maxwell? He’s not gonna be happy if he finds out we’ve been keeping stuff from him. Moreno was his boss, after all.”

“Let me deal with Joe.” Elliot grimaced. “I’ll slip him something to keep him in the loop, without giving away our source. I want the satisfaction of seeing Cole’s face when we finally expose him and his dirty dealings. The man has been a thorn in my side for far too long. And Cathy won’t be safe until we put him away for good.”

*******

When the voices of children are heard on the green

And laughing is heard on the hill,

My heart is at rest in my breast

And everything else is still.

Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,

And the dews of night arise;

Come, come, leave off play, and let us away

Till the morning appears in the skies.

William Blake

The rhythms of the world Below were slow and unhurried, days seemed to blend, one into the next, slowly turning into weeks. Catherine kept in touch with Joe and the investigation by secret and sometimes, for Joe, startling means.

An old black musician in the street, a note in the middle of Joe’s hastily snatched sandwich. A bag lady, who accused him of upsetting her ancient trolley full of jumbled treasures. Joe had been called names in the past, but some of those the old lady used were very inventive, as Joe scrambled around on the sidewalk, returning her lost property to her cart while a small crowd formed, drawn by her screams of abuse.

Joe found the note later, in his pocket. Catherine seemed to have leagued herself with half the homeless people of New York. Not a bad spy force and communication unit, Joe had to concede, as he scanned Catherine’s latest note. He knew she was trying to be as involved in this investigation as he would allow and she had come up with several promising clues from her imprisonment. He carefully destroyed the note as before.

Diana was working day and night on the case. Joe wasn’t sure the woman even slept more than an hour or two. She sent him weekly reports on her progress, but no mention of any leads she may have found from the three men Catherine’s guardians had eliminated in the park at the carousel. Joe tried not to dwell on that night’s events.

But the sounds haunted him. It unnerved him that those men screamed as if they had been torn apart, in the same way John Moreno had been killed. Brutally and without mercy. This fact disturbed Joe the most. That Catherine could associate with people capable of such wholesale destruction would be unthinkable.

But what exactly had gone on in the park that night? And why and how was Radcliffe involved? Joe tossed and turned far into the night, trying to make sense of it all.

*******

“Father, there is someone up at the old entrance under the Connor’s Building, using the code of the pipes.”

Zach burst into Father’s chamber where the old man and Catherine were enjoying their daily tussle over a game of chess. Jacob kicked and squealed on the floor with his usual retinue of small child retainers.

“What does the message say?” Father looked up from the intense consternation of watching Catherine stalk his queen.

“Whither, O whither, love, shall we go.” Zach quoted the message with a puzzled frown. “What does it mean, Father?”

Catherine reached for the old man’s hand, as he slumped back into his chair. “Are you all right, Jacob?”

“After all this time.” Father shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”

“What should I do, Father?” Zach questioned.

“Go and find Vincent,” Father commanded the boy. “Tell him the message and the source. He will know what to do.” He shooed Zach with his hand. “Go on now, it’s all right. It’s just that after all these years…”

Zach hurried away to find Vincent, leaving Catherine to pour Father a cup of fresh tea. “You know the message, Father?” Catherine asked, as the old man sat staring at his cup.

He started at the sound of her voice. He looked surprised fro an instant and then he smiled at her, absorbing her beauty. He reached to clasp her hand in apology for his inattention. “You had me beaten in three moves anyway.” He indicated the chess pieces. “I guess I am fast running out of people I can beat. Even Vincent refuses to play with me now.”

He laughed. “About 25 years ago,” he began slowly. “A young couple were scavenging for the means to live in one of the subway tunnels above us. It had been a hard, cruel winter and they were starving.” He shook his head. “They had two children to support and they both worked alongside their parents. A boy, aged about seven and a little girl, a beautiful, raven-haired girl, who was about three years old.”

“There are too many people living like that.” Catherine could see Father was looking through her into the past, but his grip on her hand remained strong as he wove his story.

The children on the floor gathered at his feet, Samantha, as always, holding Jacob firmly in her small lap. Their eyes shone with the knowledge that they were in for one of Father’s talks about their parents and grandparents.

Catherine found herself as entranced as the youngsters, as Father picked up the thread of his story once more.

“We never really knew the full story of the tragedy. The little girl wouldn’t speak for weeks afterwards and when she did finally talk, she would only cry and rock herself, calling out for her parents and brother.”

Father sighed and lowered his eyes to his grasp on Catherine’s hand. “We found…evidence of what had happened in the subway tunnel. Pascal’s father pieced it together, we can only assume that they never heard the train coming, so intent were they on their hunt for the means to survive. The little girl’s escape was a miracle.”

“Who was she, Father?” Samantha piped up curiously, when Father paused in his narrative.

“She told us eventually that her name was Shannon O’Neill,” Father answered her question absently. “She must have wandered the tunnels and lower passages for days until someone found her. And when we did find her, we didn’t think she would live.”

“Who found her, Jacob?” Catherine asked curiously, caught up entirely by the story of the child’s tragedy.

“Vincent.” Father’s attention came back to her face. “He was on one of his endless rambles through the tunnels and Above. Like the night he found you, Catherine, in the park. He heard crying, like a small animal in mortal agony, soft and low. He found Shannon curled up in an abandoned water main, nearly blue with cold and very sick. She was closer to death than to life.”

“He saved her,” Samantha breathed happily, her hero in firm control of her gentle daydream.

“If it hadn’t been for Vincent, I doubt the child would have survived the next few weeks.” Father nodded slowly. “He tended to her like a mother hen, he wouldn’t let anyone near her, without his being present at all times.”

“But, I don’t know anyone called Shannon,” a small boy piped up from the back of the group. “Beside, girls are always getting lost and Vincent has to go find them.”

“So, Erik, who got lost in the maze last week and had to have Vincent and Mouse track him down?” Samantha shot over her shoulder, before turning her attention back to Father. “Go on with the story, please. It’s good.”

Father laughed and shook his head. “What it is to be young and innocent.” He smiled, taking Samantha’s chin in his hand and squeezing it lightly.

“So, it’s Shannon O’Neill up at entrance now, Father?” Catherine asked. “Is that why you sent Vincent?”

Father nodded, then said, “Shannon was in a very bad way when Vincent carried her to me. I could get virtually no response from her. I didn’t hold out much hope, but I did what I could. Peter came down and administered the latest drugs, then all we could do was to wait and let nature take her course. But Vincent wasn’t prepared to be idle, he was convinced the child would live, he said he could sense the life force was strong in her.”

Father patted her hand. “Just like you, Catherine. He wasn’t about to give up, when he was so sure he could save you. It’s his true gift, to find the slightest flicker of life in someone and nurture it back into a flame.”

Father smiled at her. “Yes, even then, his powers were extraordinary. He sat with her day and night, as he did with you. He just sat there stroking her hand and taking to her. Talking about anything and everything. From Shakespeare to Rilke, to what they would do together when she was well again.”

“I remember those talks.” Catherine nodded. “He read Dickens to me, Great Expectations. The pure beauty of his voice, when I couldn’t see for the bandages, was my earliest memory.”

“Yes.” Father patted her hand. “I was there the very day Shannon finally woke up. It was a day I will never forget.” His eyes because misty with memory. “Vincent had been talking for over six days by then and his voice was giving out on him. I’d attempted to put a stop to it all, before he became ill as well, but he refused to leave her side. In fact, he flew at me, kicking and screaming that we couldn’t make him rest, if he didn’t want to.”

Catherine smiled at the image of a very small Vincent throwing a tantrum to get his own way, however noble the cause. Father contemplated her smile.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Vincent was not the easiest person to control as a child. He always had a way of turning things to his advantage. Sometimes he coerced people shamelessly, but he was such a beautifully-natured child, one couldn’t hold a grudge for long.”

“But, what happened to the girl?” several of the children demanded at once.

“I’m sorry, children, you must forgive an old man his wanderings from the point of his story,” he chided them gently. “Shannon had been unconscious for nearly a week when one day, she just simply woke up. I was about to administer more drugs when she opened her eyes and looked at me.”

“Just like in the fairy tales,” Samantha cooed blissfully and Jacob gurgled with pleasure as she hugged him gleefully.

“Just like the fairy tales.” Father nodded. “Vincent was the only one who wasn’t completely astounded by the event. He just smiled at her and said ‘hello.’ I will never forget her reaction.”

“She wasn’t too frightened of him?” Catherine asked anxiously, dreading the reply, the words that said a small, very unusual boy had been hurt yet again by rejection.

“She fell in love with him?” Samantha supplied hopefully.

“Better than that.” Father looked at Catherine and she knew his words were for her alone. “She reached out one hand and laid it against his cheek. They just stared at each other, smiling.”

“She wasn’t afraid.” Catherine felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from her spirit. “She accepted him as he was.”

“Just as you did, Catherine.” Father raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips with old-fashioned style. “She too could see the beauty in him.”

“But, what happened to her, Father?” Samantha demanded to know.

“She lived Below with us, for many years.” Father grimaced. “And then she went away one day, with a man she met Above.”

“Without saying goodbye?” Erik frowned.

“Oh, she said goodbye, she didn’t want to leave,” Father assured him. “But there was a life waiting for her Above. A very good life. The man told her, he would take very good care of her, he would show her the whole world.”

“Did you ever see her again?” a small girl asked.

“One or two letters and then nothing, but silence. You see, she had a very busy life to lead.” Father attempted to brighten the mood, but Catherine could sense his pain.

“And now she’s back,” she said thoughtfully, remembering another woman who wanted to come Below after an absence of many years. She had brought so much pain to Vincent and the others, now it appeared to be happening again. Catherine felt an anger rising within her.

“Yes, and now she has come back.” Father sighed slowly.

*******

Vincent walked slowly up the sloping tunnel, heading towards the intruder who knew the language of the pipes. The line of poetry that had summoned him echoed through his mind as he walked.

“For a score of sweet summers or so? The sweet little wife of the singer said.” Vincent repeated the next two lines of the Tennyson poem under his breath.

Only one person in the world would use those lines as a message, knowing that Vincent would instantly guess who was waiting at the entrance.

He could sense Catherine’s concern at the intrusion and he could feel the trend of her thoughts. But this was not Lisa. This was someone far different, someone who could never hurt him with her thoughtlessness. Vincent marvelled at himself as he remembered that far-off day when Shannon had first opened her eyes and looked at him.

Her eyes were a deep green. She merely looked at him, taking in the uniqueness of his face without a word, accepting all she saw before her without fear. Vincent remembered speaking one word, but afterwards he could not have said what it was. Then she touched him.

Vincent raised a hand to his cheek and felt again that questing touch, the gentle smoothing of his skin by soft fingertips. With their eyes locked together, neither seemed capable of looking away, and it was only Father’s voice that finally broke the spell.

The tunnel up which he was moving ended in an old, rusty gate that gave the impression it had been cemented in place many years ago and hadn’t been opened for a lifetime. It was one of Mouse’s more ingenious devices.

Reaching up, Vincent pushed against a brick protruding from the wall inside the gate and the whole contraption swung silently outwards. Cobwebs and discarded rubbish added to the illusion of abandonment. It was a very good disguise for one of the less frequently used entrances to the world Below.

His keen eyes pierced the darkness as he stepped around the piles of refuse. There was a faint movement in the deep shadows of the tunnel. The glint of light on a row of buttons down the front of a coat, and the hasty flash of a wristwatch when a hand moved suddenly.

“Shannon?” Vincent called softly, hearing a sudden change in the tone of the intruder’s breathing, an in-drawn breath and then a sob of relief.

“Thank God, you came.” A woman’s voice spoke from the shadows, before she moved into the weak light from the stairwell behind her. “I had begun to think that no-one would hear me. That no-one is living down here anymore.”

“We had to be careful.” Vincent watched her walking towards him.

The woman before him, he could have passed by and not recognised. She had changed. Now tall and slender, painfully so, he could see that she moved with difficulty.

Shannon came right up to him and stood, just looking up at him, looking into that unforgettable, unique face she didn’t think she would ever see again in this lifetime…and she began to cry.

*******

Catherine could sense all the compassion, all the memories that came flooding back to Vincent at the sight of his old playmate. She sat with Father, with Jacob on her knee, while the children had been dismissed to their afternoon duties.

She sent all her love and support back to Vincent and the child on her knee played happily with her face, giving her his own reassurance that all would be well. Catherine kissed the chubby little fingers that tugged at her mouth.

“Why did she chose to leave, Father?” she asked, after Jacob had been silent for a long time.

“Shannon had one of life’s rarest gifts, a perfectly pitched singing voice.” Father turned his attention to the baby in her lap and tickled his ear, making him squirm with glee. “She would go Above for lessons. One day, when she was seventeen, a man heard her singing and he was captivated by her incredible voice.”

“And she went away with him?” Catherine probed gently.

“At first he came only to hear her sing. He tried to find out where she lived, but of course Shannon couldn’t tell him. So he came at the same time every day and he just sat there, she said, listening.”

“And what of Vincent?” Catherine asked, as Jacob snatched a pawn from the chess board and stuffed it in his mouth. Catherine extracted it, wiping it on Jacob’s bib before replacing it.

“Shannon is no Lisa, Catherine, please believe that. I can see now that I was wrong to force Vincent to suppress his sensual nature, his innate ability to connect with others on so many levels. But I had nothing to guide me in his development. When the incident with Lisa happened, I was frightened that if I allowed Vincent—”

“I understand, Father.” Catherine laid a hand on his, stilling his words. “I know how hard it must have been for the two of you coping alone. There mustn’t be any blame.”

Father sighed. “If only we could call back the past.” He was silent for several minutes, then he roused himself from his reverie to say. “Shannon filled a gap in Vincent’s young life. Together they made all sorts of outrageous plans and dreams. She was an odd child.” Father played with the reading glasses hanging around his neck. “She could be so still sometimes you would literally fall over her, before you saw her. But she was always one for rough and tumble. Lisa was afraid to get her clothes dirty. Shannon acted like one of the boys, up for anything dangerous or hair-raising.”

He laughed, tugging at his greying hair. “I think several of these I owe to her and Vincent, and the scrapes they used to get into.”

He sighed. “Then she went away. We heard of her success from time to time. Press cuttings and snippets about famous European opera houses, great concerts. The man who came to listen to her sing, Justin Cole, I believe his name was. He married my little songbird and carried her off to a life of position and wealth.”

“But this Justin Cole never knew anything of her life before and this place?”

Father shook his head. “As far as I know Shannon never told him anything of her life before. She knew how fragile our world could be. She would never betray our trust.”

*******

“I’m sorry, I don’t usually fall apart at the sight of an old friend,” Shannon spoke into the folds of Vincent’s vest as he held her.

She smoothed the soft fabric beneath her cheek with one hand. The steady, reassuring beat of his heart echoed against her ear. How she had missed him and the strength of his embrace. It was good to be home again…to feel safe at last.

Safe…Shannon leaned back in Vincent’s arms and scanned the shadows. There could be no safety here, not yet. She needed to get Below.

“What is it?” Vincent questioned, his eyes questing the gloom. “What has made you so frightened?”

“Ghosts.” Shannon quivered in his slackened hold. “Too many ghosts.”

She swallowed convulsively, reaching up to place her hand against his cheek as she once did so long ago. Vincent could see the shadows that flitted through her green eyes and her disquiet was a tangible thing between them.

“I’m in trouble, Vincent, serious trouble. It isn’t safe here, I might have been followed.”

“Followed? By whom?” Vincent moved as he spoke, stepping back into the deepest shadows, taking Shannon with him.

He operated the counter lever and the portal to the upper world closed silently. He watched and waited, straining to hear any signs Shannon had been followed.

“My husband has men who will stop at nothing to get me back. I don’t want to go back, never again.” She clung to his side, her breathing erratic and uneven. “What can you see?”

“Nothing.” Vincent shook his head. “There is no-one there.” The clattering of distant pipes was all the sound he heard. But the familiar sound didn’t lessen his alertness.

“Come.” He took Shannon’s hand. “I must take you to see Father. You must tell him everything.”

*******

Pain has an element of blank,

It cannot collect

When it begun or if there were

A time when it was not.

It has no future but itself;

Its infinite contain

Its past, enlightened to perceive

New periods of pain.

Emily Dickinson

Vincent brought Shannon down to Father’s chamber. She had tired noticeably by the time they reached the lower levels and Vincent supported her along the last of the tunnels with his strong arm around her waist.

“I used to race you all the way down here.” Shannon spoke against her frailty in bitter words, but she was grateful for the support.

“And you even managed to beat me sometimes.” Vincent acknowledged, as they arrived at Father’s chamber.

“Welcome home, Shannon.” Father kissed her cheek, fussing over her and treating her as if she was still the 17-year old girl she’d been years ago. She sat silent beneath his administrations, just watching and absorbing all the sights and sounds of the world around her. A world she’d missed so much.

Catherine could see that quality of stillness that Father had spoken of. Shannon was an incredibly restful person and Catherine felt all her conflicting emotions and thoughts about this woman easing slowly.

Jacob squirmed on her lap, as curious as ever about someone new in his world and Catherine was surprised at the fleeting look of anguish in Shannon’s eyes as Vincent gathered his son into his arms, holding him high in the air, much to the baby’s squealing delight.

“He’s a beautiful baby.” Shannon’s curious gaze ran from Vincent with the baby, to Catherine and back again.

“You look worn out.” Father placed a cup of herbal tea beside her and Shannon enclosed the warmth of the brew between her cold palms.

Again she looked at Catherine. The pain in her expression was more evident now and Catherine instinctively knew that Jacob was the innocent cause of that haunted look.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Vincent said easily, turning Jacob in his arms, so the boy could see the new arrival. “This is my son, Jacob.”

“You are so lucky.” Shannon reached to fondle the baby’s hand. “Hello, Jacob.”

“And this is Catherine, Jacob’s mother.” Vincent moved to her side, placing Jacob in her lap.

Shannon could see and hear the love that Vincent had for this slender woman, as he spoke her name. She smiled tentatively at them both and Catherine felt the rest of her reserve melting away. Shannon laughed when Vincent attempted to pry his son’s fingers loose from his mane.

“Jacob has his father’s determination,” Catherine remarked, as her son released his grip and made another dive for the chess pieces instead.

“I’m going to teach him to play,” Father interposed, removing the board to safety. “But, I’m afraid, for now, he would rather eat the pieces than learn the game.”

“You’re teaching another champion who may beat you one day.” Shannon laughed. “You are a glutton for punishment.”

“That’s what grandfathers are for.” The old man chuckled indulgently. “Where do you think all these new grey hairs came from?”

Shannon watched them all, as they laughed at this and Jacob bounced on his mother’s knee. It was good to be home again, but she hoped against hope that, in her need for a safe place to hide, she hadn’t brought imminent destruction down upon this fragile world of theirs.

“Vincent, Father.” She shook her head, her face losing all colour. “I have something I must tell you. I’m afraid, by my coming back here, I have put you all in terrible danger.”

*******

“My life was everything I could wish for,” Shannon told them later that night, after the children had gone to bed.

The council had gathered to hear her story and to decide how best to handle her return. Shannon had asked for the meeting, wanting there to be no illusions about her need to return to their world.

“Justin Cole is a man of immense power and vast wealth,” she continued, surveying each face in turn, as they all sat around the table in Father’s chamber. “I was so young and blind when I married him. I soon discovered I could have anything I wanted, except my freedom.”

“But he was such a nice man,” Mary spoke then. “Ellen had always talked of his charming manner and generosity. He worshiped you.”

Ellen Ford had been Shannon’s music teacher Above. She had died three years after Shannon left for Europe. Her death had severed the only link between the two worlds. If she had been alive still, Shannon knew that Justin would force the old lady to reveal what she knew and that would have had fatal consequences. She could not have returned under those circumstances.

“He was charming, witty and very, very persuasive when it came to getting his own way,” Shannon conceded then, her eyes falling to the thinness of her wrists. “But I was never allowed to return to New York after we left for Europe and he put a stop to any communications with everyone I knew. He wanted to keep me all for himself, possess me utterly.”

“So that is why we haven’t heard from you for so long,” Father exclaimed then, his eyes deeply troubled over Shannon’s revelations. “And we thought you were just too happy and busy to remember us.”

“How could I ever forget any of you?” Shannon swallowed convulsively. “But, to Justin, I was just another possession, another priceless ornament for his collection of rare and beautiful things. He liked to display them as often as possible. He liked other men to be deeply jealous of what he owned.”

This last was spoken in a flat tone, devoid of emotion. Catherine felt a deep empathy for her then. She too had known what it was to be prized for her beauty, for her ornamental value and not her mind or opinions. Until she met Vincent…

“But you managed to get away?” William’s deep voice cut across the ensuing silence.

“I had a singing engagement in Los Angeles,” Shannon replied. “We had to touch down briefly in New York. Justin said he had some private business to conduct here. He’s been on edge ever since we landed. It took longer than expected, so as much as he disliked the inconvenience, we were forced to stay over for a few more days.” She looked around the room.

“Tonight, we went alone to a very select event, in a penthouse overlooking Central Park. Justin has been in a foul mood for days and we argued at the hotel.” Shannon half raised a hand to her cheek, before letting it fall again.

“It seems I’d been commanded to sing for Justin’s business associate. It was not a request.” She lifted a denying shoulder.

“When we arrived at the penthouse, Justin was summoned to a closed-door meeting, so I was left alone in the main room. Without his guards watching my every move, I took the heaven-sent opportunity to escape. It was my only chance for freedom.”

“So, by now, he will be turning the city inside out looking for you,” William spoke for all of them, as they digested her words. “He’s that determined to get you back?”

“Yes, and he won’t stop. But, I didn’t know what else to do, where else to go.” Shannon raised her hands helplessly. “I would never willingly endanger all of you. But I had to escape or go insane.” She glanced at Catherine. “Last year I fell pregnant. I thought Justin would be pleased.” Tears gathered in her eyes, to spill unheeded down her pale cheeks.

That same look of intense pain that Catherine had seen earlier contorted the other woman’s features now, as she fought to keep her voice steady. “But he was horrified. The pregnancy would interfere with his plans for my singing career. He…forced me to have an abortion.”

This shocking revelation was spoken in the same flat, bleak tone and Catherine felt a shiver run through her at such callousness. She sought Vincent’s hand and felt his warm fingers entwine through hers. “What will you do now?” she asked.

“I haven’t sung in over a year. This trip was supposed to be a new beginning for me. Justin demanded I perform as before.” Shannon looked around the room. “I wanted you all to hear my story and decide. If you think I should leave, then I will go. I will not risk you all, for my sake. My husband is in trouble; he can’t stay here in New York. But he won’t leave without me.”

Truly, she did not want to bring danger to these people who were her only family, but she had nowhere else to go. She waited silently for their decision.

*******

Vincent ran the tip of one curved nail slowly down Catherine’s naked body, from the delicate hollow at the base of her throat to the soft skin of her inner thigh. He watched, fascinated, as she shivered with delight and softly, achingly, cried his name. This woman was an eternal source of wondrous delight and infinite possibilities. He would need a dozen lifetimes to explore every facet of her compelling beauty and sensuous nature. But, for now, he was content to watch and learn.

He followed the path of his fingertip with his lips, evoking further responses that tore at the edges of his rigid control. He wanted to give back to his love some small measure of the pleasure and deep emotions that she had given him, but with her fragrant softness so closely wound around him, it was a difficult task to hold onto his resolve and not spoil his tentative exploration.

Mary had taken Jacob of the night. Privacy was a valued commodity in the world Below and it was Catherine who usually engineered their shared time together to the best advantage. But tonight, it had been Vincent who asked Mary to take the baby until morning and then organised with William, an intimate supper for two in Vincent’s chamber.

The whole tunnel world delighted in these small tokens of their affection for the pair of lovers who, for so long, had been denied the indulgence of the passionate side of their twin natures.

Catherine lay beside him now, excitingly mysterious with the scented shadows and curves of her slender body only half revealed in the light of the single candle that burned at the bedside. To be able to hold her against him, within him, was a sweetness that brought an ache to Vincent’s chest, as he cupped the fullness of one gleaming breast in the palm of his hand and gently massaged its rose-coloured tip with the ball of his thumb.

Catherine turned her face into his neck and nipped at the moistness of his corded throat. Her hands played over him, testing, molding, sliding through the rough silk of his mane to pull his mouth up to hers, breathing her warmth into him as their kiss deepened and became suspended in time.

“Catherine…” Vincent whispered raggedly, as her hands moved to enclose him.

Rigid between her palms, his desire was a tangible thing of satin and fire, a yearning that only this slender woman could assuage. Catherine smiled, watching his reaction with appreciative knowing of what exactly she was doing to him, driving him to forget all about trying to remain in control and simply surrender to the truth.

Blazing sapphire heat meet smiling emerald in the reflected glow of the candlelight and she could see the aching need that plucked at her heart. There could only ever be, one for the other. Throughout all eternity, they were inextricably bound together.

She closed her eyes then, her breath in-drawn on a gasp of spiralling need as Vincent moved over her, gathering her fully against him, moulding every curve to his, as he sought her inner depths and drew her onwards, wanting the share with her all the delights that he had discovered in that magical realm that Catherine had first shown to him all those months ago. A realm filled with all the light and wonders that lay beyond his world of shadows and eternal night.

“Always…!” was the impassioned cry that broke from his control as they rose together, united on every level of their being. The universe around them swayed and dissolved into a swirl of dancing light as Catherine buried her face in the sweat soaked splendour of Vincent’s mane and let him take her where he willed, knowing he would always keep her safe.

Gradually their collective heart rate slowed, as they fell over the edge and Vincent brought her back to the candlelit quiet of his chamber. Down into the tumble of cushions and quilts that supported them as they both drew long steadying breaths of appeasement.

The fall of Vincent’s hair across Catherine’s cheeks effectively closed them into their own private world as he surveyed the soft fullness of her mouth, coloured by his lovemaking and infinitely desirable. He shook his head in wonder and the long feathers of silken mane caressed Catherine’s bare skin, evoking tiny shivers of pleasure.

Reaching down, Vincent dragged the warm folds of a quilt over them both and then he lay back, Catherine cradled against his shoulder. He trapped her exploring fingers against the warmth of his chest, before lifting her hand to kiss her palm.

“You catch on fast, Mr Wells.” Catherine teased as Vincent ran the sensual moistness of his tongue against the pulse in her inner wrist.

“I have a great teacher.” Vincent smiled as he continued his exploration up to her shoulder. The delicate skin quivered beneath his touch.

“I think the pupil has outstripped the teacher long ago,” Catherine murmured, a shudder running through her, as Vincent brought his mouth up to the edge of her lips and played across them with a touch as light as air.

This evoked a soft chuckle as he drew back to cradle her, entwining his fingers with hers. He sighed in deep contentment, her softness surrounding his every sense.

“Vincent…” Catherine spoke after a long silence in which they both drifted on the edge of sleep. “What can we do for Shannon?”

“Give her a sense of safety, of belonging somewhere again,” Vincent replied. “A place to heal.”

“But her husband. He doesn’t sound like a man who will give up easily.”

“No.” Vincent sighed. “I’m afraid for her.” His heart was troubled over all that Shannon had revealed at the meeting earlier in the evening. “I’m afraid he is going to cause a great deal of trouble, until he finds her.”

Catherine traced the outline of hard muscle of Vincent’s bare chest as she considered his words. The council had agreed to let Shannon stay. They couldn’t turn her way, even though she had stressed again the dangers they could face by granting her sanctuary. The simple fact that she had nowhere else to go weighted heavily on Vincent’s mind.

“At least I can help her by asking Joe to start a discreet investigation of Cole.” Catherine propped herself up on one elbow. “That will give us some information on his movements. Perhaps, even impel him to give up his search and go home.”

The soft glow of the candle behind her, played over Catherine’s features, light and shadow. Vincent reached to tuck stray tendrils of hair behind her ear, his touch a sensual caress, as he continued on to trace the line of her jaw to her chin and back again to cup her face.

“Shannon was right about the need for extreme care,” he said softly, his eyes shadowed and wary. “We cannot risk again, what happened at the carousel.”

“I know, Vincent.” Catherine lowered her mouth to his in a lingering kiss. “I will be careful.”

Vincent was not proof against this type of subtle torture as Catherine moved from his lips to trail soft caresses down the strong column of his throat and beyond. The tempo of his breathing increased, as her hands moved across him, softly feathering along the edges of his reawakening desire to possess her body and soul once more.

But a tiny part of his mind still worried at the problem that was Justin Cole. Was the fragile peace that he and Catherine had fought so hard to achieve destined to be forever out of reach…?

*******

He never found her, though he looked

Everywhere,

And he asked at her mother’s house

Was she there?

Sudden and swift and light as that

The ties gave,

And he learned of finalities

Besides the grave.

Robert Frost

“Do you know anything about a Justin Cole?” Joe demanded bluntly, three days later, when Diana brought him her latest report.

“Now, why do you want to know about him?” She considered him for a long moment, before turning away to take one of the chairs before his desk.

Joe pursed his lips. “His name has come up. Catherine has made some inquiries about him, and I got a really cryptic note from Burch today. Seems Cole may have some involvement in John Moreno’s murder. Financially, anyway.”

“Justin Cole, interesting.” Diana sat forward. “European industrialist, blatant opportunist, collector of anything considered extremely rare or unique. Owner of one of the finest fine arts collections in the world. Internationally, his building projects are suspect, to say the least. He’s cut too many corners and buried innocent people with shoddy workmanship and kickbacks. He has a dozen lawsuits pending in about ten different countries.”

Diana shook her head. “Charming, extremely handsome, overwhelmingly possessive, with all the morals, cunning and disposition of the meanest alley cat. Not a man to cross lightly.”

“You’ve certainly done your homework.” Joe was startled by her last statement, for it was voiced with a totally neutral expression. “That was straight out of left field.” He laughed grimly.

“I’ve been contracted to do some initial investigation work for one of the foreign governments trying to sue him for damages. Once the Moreno case is closed, I intend to pursue the man. But his companies are a maze of blinds and paper fronts. He’s extremely good at hiding what he doesn’t want found.”

“So, we’ll get a bigger shovel. I want the real dirt on this guy. And if he’s not the top of the food chain, then I want the man who pulls his strings. Very badly.”

“Well, Mr Cole possessed a wife, an opera singer of the rarest quality.” Diana continued dispassionately, though her gaze narrowed. “Apparently, she’s been kidnapped, according to the newspapers. I hear Mr Cole is making a lot of noise over at City Hall. He wants her found urgently, he’ll pay any price.”

Joe tapped one fingernail on the cover of a report on his desk. “According to the police, who interviewed the staff at Cole’s hotel, they both went out for a select dinner party at some Central Park penthouse three nights ago. But only Cole came back. He was in a towering rage and threatened all kinds of legal and not so legal actions. The hotel staff said that Mrs Cole was a virtual prisoner in their suite. She never went anywhere, unless accompanied by three or more bodyguards. They were heard arguing that night. The staff told the police, they think she simply ran away. Or he’s silenced her for good.”

“Well, I hear Cleon Manning’s agency has taken the case. I can see Elliot Burch’s hand in this. It’s a little too neat. He’s up to something.”

Diana stared levelly at Joe. “But, I’m not sure about our Mr Cole. He seems extremely nervous, for some reason. Like he’s got something to hide and he don’t want it discovered while he’s in New York. There’s more to this case than meets the eye. But, I doubt he knows who Manning really works for.”

“Isn’t there always more?” Joe sighed heavily. “I want to know if you hear anything about this elusive opera singer. I don’t need this case to spiral into another Cathy Chandler situation with no leads and no suspects. And I don’t need to find I’ve got another homicide, if Cole turns out to be lying.”

“I’ll see what I can uncover.” Diana nodded. “He has a couple of large scale projects here in New York. Good places to dispose of a body you don’t want found.”

“So, what do you have for me on the Moreno case?” Joe stretched tiredly, before opening Diana’s file.

“There are still no clues as to how the murderer got to the man in the first place. I still say there had to have been at least three prison guards implicated in this. But they’re all covering for each other. If Cole is paying for their silence, he must have emptied the coffers.”

“Greg and his team have interviewed everyone at least a dozen times.” Joe shook his head. “Their stories check out each time. No one has tripped up yet. They would have to be impossibly good liars to keep up the pretense all this time. It’s just all too neat. I’ve asked Edie over at the Data Centre to put a rush on anything she can dig up with her new machine. It works faster than anyone with a typewriter. Not sure I like it, but she seems to know what she’s doing. Cathy trusted her instincts, so I guess it’s all good.”

“We can use all the help we can get.” Diana shrugged. “But I prefer old-fashioned leg work, always got me the results. But if you were someone who had sold a piece of his soul to the devil to gain power or wealth, who would you be more afraid of? The police, or the owner of your destiny? What if Cole is only a front for someone far bigger? ”

Joe grimaced. “What is this, philosophy class?”

“Think about it, Joe.” Diana spread her hands wide. “What if our elusive game player is so powerful that he can own an entire city prison, kidnap an Assistant D.A. right out of her own building. What if he’s so powerful that even a man like Moreno isn’t necessary to him once he’d served his purpose?”

She gave a short laugh. “No wonder Cole is nervous. He knows he could very well be next, unless he gets control of the situation and fast. It takes an awful lot of heat to make that man sweat. You better tell this Edie of yours to be very careful about who she talks to and where, about anything.”

“I will, thanks for the warning. But surely, it isn’t possible to be that powerful.” Joe frowned, shaking his head. “No one could do all that and get away with it.”

“Are you so sure?” Diana asked abruptly, her gaze level and demanding. “Are you so absolutely sure you’re right?”

“And I was just beginning to like you. To tell the truth, I’m not sure of anything, any more.” Joe felt a cold wind blow through his innermost being as he considered the implication of Diana’s words.

Was he sure of what he said, he asked himself silently. Suddenly he knew that for a long time now, he hadn’t been sure of anything anymore.

He shook his head. “And what about your stake-out on those guys in the park? Come up with anything we could use?”

Diana pulled a face. “We hung out there for a whole week, just watching and waiting, but no-one came. I guess they must have had a code for reporting back to their handler. No code, no contact. Whoever hired them covered their tracks well. And can afford to cut their losses.”

Joe threw up his hands in frustrated defeat. “And your helpers, the escapees from the funny farm? What about them? Did you get any clues as to where Radcliffe is holed up?”

“They wouldn’t even cough up their last names, so I could run a check on them. They came and went like ghosts,” Diana complained. “Wherever and whoever your Cathy Chandler hangs out with, they sure know how to keep themselves secret. All I can tell you, if I can’t find her, then I very much doubt our mystery master player could either.” She narrowed her gaze on Joe. “But it still bugs me.”

“What, only one thing?” Joe snorted. “The whole damn thing puts up my blood pressure on a daily basis. I have this case and a dozen other fires to try and put out and I’m fast running out of resources. Edie had better come through with something, and fast. You too, I need your very best on this.”

“Whoever is protecting Chandler sure doesn’t like her being messed with. You should have seen what was done to those three guys. They were shredded. She keeps some very peculiar company.”

“As long as she’s safe, then she can hang out with the man in the moon as far as I’m concerned,” Joe grumped unhappily. “I hate all this mysterious stuff.”

But it needled him as well. Just what did happen that night at the carousel? And who are these odd people who seem to have no fixed abode and no way of supporting themselves?

And the ultimate question that had bugged him from the get go. Just why was Radcliffe targeted for kidnapping in the first place? What secret did she know that was so vital, their mystery player would risk everything to secure it?

He pushed his fingers through his hair. He hated secrets, he hated not knowing what Cathy was up to and why wouldn’t she allow him to help her. He needed some answers and he needed them soon.

*******

“So, what do you have for me, Cleon?” Elliot Burch sat forward eagerly in his seat, his elbows leaning on the desktop.

“This game is getting a little crowded.” Cleon grimaced sourly. “Our Mr Cole has been a very busy man. He’s shelling out some serious money all over the city.”

“I think it ceased to be a game when John Moreno was murdered.” Elliot sighed grimly. “I want you to dig some more, find out what he’s hiding and where.”

“It’s your money. You can still get out, you know.” The black investigator frowned at his employer. “You’re being squeezed from all sides. Give it up, Elliot, before it’s too late.”

“The day Cathy Chandler came to me for help, it was too late.” Elliot shook his head. “I should have known better than to trust in something so ethereal as hope. But when she smiled at me, I wanted to buy her the whole world.”

“Love has a way of blinding you to the truth of the matter.” Cleon shrugged. “You can’t buy everything you want.”

“Oh, I know the truth…now.” Elliot laughed bleakly. “But Cathy had to beat my head against it several times, before I got the message.”

“Ten foot monsters of blood and fire?” Cleon chuckled over the old joke.

Elliot’s expression became bleak and haunted as he studied the other man. “No, just a man, a very good man, who can give her all that I could not.”

“So, you have decided on this course of self-destruction instead,” Cleon stated grimly. “Cole’s head on a plate or you buried six feet under some cheap cement floor on one of his dodgy projects.”

Cleon threw his arms wide. “Well, don’t expect me to cry at your funeral. But, you won’t be satisfied with anything less now, will you?”

“Okay, when I’m down to my last dollar, I’m sure you’ll take great pleasure in saying ‘I told you so.’” Elliot laughed grimly. “Until then I want you to get as close as possible to him and find out how deeply involved Justin Cole is in all of this. I want to know if he can lead us to the man who pulls his strings. So stir him up. Let’s rattle his cage and see what jumps out.”

“You’re the boss,” Cleon replied unhappily. “But he’s already rattled. Seems the man can’t even keep track of his own wife. It’s in all the papers, she disappeared a couple of days ago.”

“I saw that.” Elliot nodded. “A very pretty woman. I saw her perform once. Cole wouldn’t like to let anything so beautiful escape him.” Elliot stared at his investigator. “Is there any way we can we turn that to our advantage?”

“Funny you should ask that.” Cleon smirked. “I made some calls, cashed in some big favours to put my firm’s name in his way, so he would think of me when he needed a discreet investigator to hunt her down. I’ve got a four o’clock with him today. To discuss the case. It should be interesting.”

“Results are something I can buy, Cleon. I’ll make it worth your while to become that man’s shadow. I don’t want him to find what he’s looking for without you there, holding his hand, and leading him right to her.”

*******

Shannon awakened slowly, drifting in that world between waking and sleeping, lulled by the distant tapping of the pipes and the scent of the candles beside her bed. Until she had relived the sights and sounds of the world she had been brought up in, she had forgotten how much she missed it.

“Awake at last,” came a deep voice from the doorway of her chamber and she raised herself on one elbow to see William standing there, his hands filled with a breakfast tray. “Hungry?” he asked, bustling into the room.

Steam curled up from the food to wreath his head as he set the tray down at the bedside. Shannon felt an unaccustomed hunger at the sight of the array of dishes.

“Your favourite, blueberry pancakes.” William uncovered a dish with a flourish.

“I won’t be able to move if I eat all this,” Shannon protested, on a groan.

“Put some meat back on those skinny bones of yours.” William smiled, circling her thin wrist with two fingers, before clasping her hand between his.

“What’s this?” He frowned at her face, now devoid of its concealing make-up.

“Who did this?” He touched a finger to the dark, swelling bruise on her left cheek.

Shannon grimaced. “I’m afraid my husband doesn’t like disobedience.”

“Well, he won’t get the chance to do that again,” William promised. “Or I’ll break his back with these.” He raised his large hands. “We’ll keep you safe, girl, don’t you worry. That’s what we do best down here.”

“I know, William and I love you for that.” Shannon wiped away tears.

“I’ll be back in half an hour and I want to see all those plates licked clean,” William rumbled gruffly, as he headed for the door.

*******

“I want results, Manning, not excuses!” Justin Cole bit out, his dark eyes cold and angry.

Cleon sat passively, continuing to read the file on Shannon Cole as if nothing had been said. “You stand to lose a lot of money if your wife doesn’t go through with her performances in L.A,” he stated with satisfaction, after a fraught silence.

“To hell with the money! I want my wife back!” Cole took a turn around the room. His anger was obviously fast getting out of control.

Cleon studied him dispassionately. Tall, lean and darkly handsome, he could see why the women chased the man. For someone with such a wide choice of willing female companionship, he was putting a great deal of money and resources into finding a woman who obviously didn’t want to be around him anymore. Perhaps she knew things he didn’t want to come out into the open. Things Elliot Burch would pay dearly to know.

“Have you had any ransom notes, any communication whatsoever from your wife or anyone connected with her disappearance?” Cleon returned his gaze to the file. “It’s unusual not to have been contacted by now.”

“I told you, nothing. It’s like she’s just dropped off the face of the earth.” Cole thumped his fist into his open palm. “I have to be in London in three days, and I want my wife with me when I fly out. I went to see that singing teacher of hers, but the old bat is dead.”

“What about the party you both went to?” Cleon dangled the bait. “If you would just give us the address, then we could start the investigation from the proper angle. It’s no use to us, if we can’t question those who would have been the last to see her before she disappeared.”

“I can’t give out that sort of information,” Cole snapped, twisting the ring on the third finger of his right hand. “The owner of the penthouse is a recluse who values his privacy. He won’t appreciate anyone poking their noses into his affairs. You’ll have to work with what you’ve already got.”

“Well then, we can only continue to search for your wife throughout the city and wait for a ransom demand. If one is going to be made.” Cleon watched him turning the ring in agitation.

He’d already noted its exquisite beauty. He appreciated fine craftsmanship and the ring appeared to be of great antiquity. A gold band set with gleaming black stones, it was light years beyond anything Cleon could afford, even on what Elliot was paying him.

“What do you mean, if one is going to be made?” Cole snapped, his face flushing with suppressed rage. “Of course there will be a demand.”

“The hotel staff are of the opinion your wife left of her own free will. If that’s the case, then there is no reason to search for her. She’s a grown woman who can go where she pleases.” Cleon was curious to see the other man’s reaction.

“My wife was kidnapped!” Cole twisted the ring faster in unconscious agitation. “She has some knowledge of my business affairs, my projects here and overseas. She could be forced to give details that could ruin me overnight. They know I will pay any sum of money for her safe return.”

“Your wife has a very beautiful voice.” Cleon drove the knife deeper. “I have several of her tapes at home. But they say her recent performances are not up to her usual standards. She hasn’t sung publicly for more than a year.”

“She is as good as she ever was!” Cole glared at him. “She has the best voice in the business.”

“A rare and costly treasure, Mr Cole,” Cleon murmured smoothly. “A shame you seem to have mislaid her. Or maybe you’ve lost her on purpose.”

“Shut up!” Cole glared at him, obviously unsure of his exact meaning. “I’m not paying you a fortune for your opinions, just results. Find her, Manning, or I will make you wish you’d never met me.”

“You’re in no position to threaten me,” Cleon replied dismissively. “I’m not the one in trouble here. You look like you’re drowning.”

“Just find her.” Cole blew out a breath. “And soon. I don’t care what it costs, who you have to hurt. Tear this city apart and find my wife before it’s too late.”

Cole closed his hand around the ring. Cleon could see his knuckles whitening to the point where the industrialist flinched. But his furious expression told a different story. He looked ready to do serious bodily harm to someone. Cleon exhaled sharply; grateful he was seen as being useful.

“I’ll be in touch.” He stood to leave, making for the door in record time.

He could only pray that he and Elliot could escape with their lives. Cleon had no intention of being used as industrial cement filler any time soon.

*******

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all.

Emily Dickinson

Jacob cooed happily, patting chubby fingers against his mother’s cheek. The sapphire eyes, that were so like Vincent’s, offered silent messages of love and the bond that linked parent to child hummed with the echoes.

Catherine marvelled again that someone so young and small could be so knowledgeable about life. Her son twisted his fingers through her hair and gurgled at her, smiling in contented baby happiness.

“Catherine…?” came the tentative inquiry from the doorway to Vincent’s chamber. “May I come in?”

Catherine looked up to find Shannon watching them uncertainly. Dressed in tunnel costume, with her long black hair divided into two simple plaits, she looked no older than 20.

“Come in please,” Catherine invited. “Sit down here with us.”

Shannon moved to the chair opposite Catherine’s. Jacob waved a hand at her, which set her laughing. “He is such a sweet baby, you must feel very lucky.” Shannon reached to take Jacob’s hand and he bounced happily at the encouragement.

“Would you like to hold him?” Catherine offered, gathering up her son and depositing him into Shannon’s lap. “Be careful, he’s developed quite a passion for pulling hair, especially long hair like yours.”

As she spoke, Catherine felt Vincent’s gratitude over her acceptance of Shannon flow through to her along their mutual bond. He had gone with Mouse to oversee one of the boy’s projects and to ensure that he didn’t get carried away with his latest idea.

“I’m glad Vincent has found someone,” Shannon said quietly, as she played with Jacob’s small fingers. “He deserves every happiness. I always felt he would find love one day. He was always very special in my life.”

“Father told me of your early days in the tunnels. It’s so sad that you lost everyone when you were so young.”

“I don’t really remember my parents or Sam now.” Shannon shook her head. “Father, Vincent and the others became my family. At one time I couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t contain them and the world Below.”

Catherine considered the young woman for a moment, unsure of how to continue without upsetting her. Her bruised cheek was a grim reminder of her unstable marriage and her fears for her own safety. Catherine didn’t want to add to her already heavy burden of guilt, but she had no choice.

Jacob blew bubbles and tilted his head. Catherine could feel his trust in her judgment whispering softly to her, and Vincent, in the distance, giving her the encouragement to speak her mind.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Catherine began slowly. “But when I lived Above, I was an investigator for the D.A.’s office. I…have sent up a note, asking my old boss, Joe Maxwell, to start an investigation into your husband’s activities. Discreetly, of course. Joe is the new District Attorney.”

“Oh, no…” Shannon’s face paled, making her bruised cheek stark in the candlelight. “If you care for Joe as a friend, then you must warn him to be extremely careful. My husband is a very dangerous man. And his master is ruthless. He will stop at nothing to achieve his aims.”

Catherine’s heartbeat quickened. “Thank you, I will warn him. But the newspapers say your husband would have everyone believe you’ve been kidnapped. He has gone to a private investigator to have you tracked down. Even for a possessive man, he seems to be going to extraordinary lengths to find you.”

Shannon’s clear green eyes met Catherine’s and she sighed sharply. “Life was so easy and uncomplicated once. How I wish I’d never meet Justin.”

“There is more you haven’t told us, isn’t there?” Catherine caught her wrist, as Shannon fiddled nervously with the lacing of Jacob’s shirt.

Shannon swallowed. “So much more that I wonder sometimes if I could ever get anyone to believe me.”

“I would believe you.”

“That is what I’m most afraid of.” Shannon’s brow furrowed with worry. “Once I tell you, then you are a party to knowledge that could get us all killed.”

“A problem shared.” Catherine’s grip slipped to take her hand. “And I have resources that can help you. There have been too many secrets, too many people hurt or murdered. I think it’s finally time to bring these people to account. And you are going to help me do that.”

“I’ll try.” Shannon’s voice quavered. “I’ll do anything to make things right again. For all of you.”

“Good girl.” Catherine reached for a yellow legal pad. “Now, we’ll start by you telling me everything you know about Justin Cole and his activities.”

*******

Joe dropped into his seat on the subway car with a ragged sigh. The note tucked inside his sandwich had instructed him to take this train at four o’clock.

He would be met by someone who would take him to Catherine. He felt as if he hadn’t slept for a week and his eyes were gritty from the long hours he’d been putting into the Moreno case. If only he could find a decent break in the case, anything, no matter how small, to give him that final lead on the killer.

The train rumbled out of the station and into the blackness of the tunnel. Apart from a couple of tramps and an old lady, Joe was alone in the car. He wondered where his contact was hiding or if any of his fellow passengers were connected to Catherine. He leaned his head back against the window behind him and tried to rest. But his mind kept running over and over the case’s frustrating stalemate condition, not allowing him any respite.

Suddenly the lights went out and the old woman screamed in the darkness as the train lurched to a halt. Rough hands grabbed at Joe and he felt himself being lifted bodily off the seat. A bag was pulled over his head. He lashed out blindly and connected solidly with one of his assailants.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Mr Maxwell,” a voice said in his ear, as he felt the cold air of the tunnel strike his face. “But this is the only way. Catherine sent us to fetch you. Your world is no longer safe for her.”

“Cathy?” Joe managed, as he heard a metal door being opened. He ceased to struggle and was set on his feet as the door closed behind him and his assailants. The sound of the train starting again came distantly to his ears.

“What is this place?” Joe reached to lift the hood, but his hands were knocked away. He could sense people moving near him.

There was a muttered conversation he struggled to hear and he was hustled forward, turning right, then left down a long tunnel until he had lost all sense of direction and time. Suddenly he had the impression of an echoing space.

More whispered conversation, then there was a flare as a match was struck and Joe could see light through the material of the hood. He jumped as it was pulled from his head. He immediately recognised the two men from the carousel who had been protecting Catherine. They held up a lantern, watching his every move.

“What the…!” Joe swayed, clutching for the rail beside him, alarmed to find himself standing at the head of an enormous spiralling, iron staircase that seemed to go down for miles into an echoing chasm, illuminated by glowing lights from the distant depths.

There were odd noises and sounds all around. Someone talking, a series of tapping sounds against metal pipes, the distant rumble of passing trains. “What is this place?”

Four men ranged themselves behind him, another two stood off to one side. No one answered his question.

“Where’s Cathy?” he demanded, swiftly losing what little patience he had left.

“I’m here, Joe.” Catherine came through a small doorway and moved into the light of the lantern.

“Well, this is an interesting change of venue.” Joe waved his hands in agitation. “I’ve never walked the tracks before. Where are we?”

“I’m sorry, Joe. But after the last time, I—”

“Which you still haven’t explained to me,” Joe put in, stepping forward to hug her tightly. “It’s good to see you again, Radcliffe. But we must stop meeting like this. You keep taking years off my life.”

“I have information, Joe. Information so dangerous, there was no other way for us to meet.” The tone of her voice made him pull back to scan her face closely. “Tell me,” he demanded sharply.

“Justin Cole has links with the man who controlled John Moreno. With the man who ordered his execution.”

“What?” Joe grabbed her arm. “I know you’re good, Radcliffe, but how can you be sure of what you’re implying? Where’d you get the information from?”

“From his wife.” Catherine took a small, tattered leather bag from one of her guards and held it out. “Everything she has told me is in here. Everything. But this information is extremely dangerous, it could get you killed. So please, Joe, be very careful who you show this to.”

“If this is genuine, I owe you everything, Radcliffe.” A thousand questions buzzed like bees in Joe’s tired brain.

Questions that demanded answers, though he knew well enough by now he wasn’t going to get any. He opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind about what he wanted to say. Cathy’s closed expression told him it was useless to make any demands.

“Where is she?” he finally asked.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.” Catherine shrugged. “But she is safer where she is now, than in any sort of protective custody. If Cole finds out she’s alive and willing to testify against him, he’ll move heaven and earth to get to her.”

“She’s his wife, for Pete’s sake!” Joe wanted to pace, but the yawning chasm before him changed his mind. “If he knew we were onto him, he wouldn’t dare touch her. We would keep her secluded until the trial.”

“Like Moreno thought he was protected?” Catherine watched him with concern. “Look, Joe, I know this whole business is unbelievably complicated, but until we nail the man who controlled Moreno, then no one is safe. No one, Joe. I can’t come back to work; I can’t even show my face in the city, see any of my friends. It has to end, and soon. Otherwise, Shannon Cole and I will have to stay in hiding for the rest of our lives and he will have won. Despite all our efforts to bring him down, Moreno’s killer will have won. Do you want that Joe? I don’t.”

Joe sighed, turning back to her. His expression was weary beyond belief. He shook his head slowly. “Sometimes I wonder where you get the guts, Chandler, to chew out your boss like that. It could get you fired.”

“You can fire me when this is all over, Joe.” Catherine smiled.

“What, and lose my best investigator? No chance, Radcliffe. We’re stuck with each other.”

“All this, so I can sit and watch you eat chocolate cheese nuggets again.” Catherine stepped up to him, to slide her arms around his neck. “I must be crazy.”

Joe pulled her against him, hugging her warmly. “All this, so you can perhaps, at last, explain the odd company you keep.” He scowled at the men surrounding them. “It’s eating me up, this not knowing.”

“Perhaps even that, Joe.” Catherine kissed his cheek. “Maybe one day I will be able to tell you everything.”

He grunted his disbelief. “Let’s make that a promise. And I am going to make sure you keep to it, Radcliffe. Because not knowing where you are and what you are doing, is driving me crazy!” He looked at her with tired eyes. “Jen sends her best. She haunted my office for weeks after you disappeared. You need to get in touch with her, Cathy. She has a right to know something. What can I tell her?”

Catherine shook her head. “Not much for now, Joe. Only that I am well and being looked after. I don’t want her to worry, but she cannot become entangled in this mess. It is not safe, the less she knows, the better it will be.”

“Fair enough, I’ll tell her.” Joe passed a hand over his eyes. “I’ve got Edie working day and night down at the Data Centre. She is making some progress. I just wish this mess was done and behind us.”

“Then we will get somewhere, Joe. Edie is great at what she does. Have faith that one day this will all be over. And then we can begin again.”

“That day can’t come soon enough, Radcliffe. I am getting more than sick of shadows and boxing in the dark.”

“Me too, Joe, me too.” Catherine nodded, her expression resigned, clearly saying that she feared the worst may yet be to come for all of them.

*******

Elliot sat behind his desk looking out over the city sprawled before him beyond the window. It was once again late at night and he was alone, except for the city that he’d tried so hard to make his own. Ever bustling, it never ceased to fascinate him, never ceased to draw him into its frenetic heart.

A smile played across his mouth as he thought of the time when all he’d wanted to do was construct buildings and leave his mark indelibly printed on this most material of cities. But that was before Catherine Chandler, before she walked into his life and changed him forever. Wearily, Elliot dropped his head into his hands and told himself to stop being a fool. Cathy was lost to him, lost in the arms of a man…is he a man?

Elliot drew a long, shuddering breath as he remembered that face. That beautiful, awesome face. And those eyes that looked at him with such humanity and compassion, he’d felt humbled and contrite. He’d wanted to stay down there, explore everything about Cathy’s world and understand. Understand everything about this unique man who loved her so deeply.

“I must be getting senile.” He gave a short, bitter laugh, as he turned the day’s events over in his mind. “Why does it all matter so much?”

Cleon had warned him, his own advisors had clamoured day and night to be heard. But he hadn’t listened to any of them and now he was paying the price.

The vice was slowly being tightened to the point where, soon, very soon, it would all become unbearable. Elliot knew how to play hardball. He’d done that all his adult life. But he’d always played by the rules. His unseen opponent had no such scruples.

Fifty people burned to death in one of his hotels. Fifty innocent lives taken, just to make a point. Elliot picked up the book from his desk, the diary Cathy had brought to him so long ago. Meaningless words and symbols that had caused so many deaths and so much misery. Elliot turned it over and over in his hands and sighed heavily.

“Where are you, you heartless bastard! Why don’t you show yourself and face me like a man?” Beyond the windows of his office, the city hurried on about its business; uncaring, brash. Elliot pondered that which could never be and discovered he cared too much to simply let go and sink into the tide that threatened to engulf him and all those he loved…

*******

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws,

And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;

Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger’s jaws,

And burn the long-loved phoenix in her brood;

William Shakespeare

After her meeting with Joe, Catherine stepped back through the door, straight into Vincent’s waiting arms. She laid her head against the padded warmth of his vest and let the slow rhythms of his heartbeat sooth her troubled mind.

“I pray that I haven’t sent Joe to his death.” She slid her arms around his waist beneath his mantle, to draw him closer, trying to lose herself in his solid presence. “I feel I could do more.”

“You have done all you can, Catherine.” Vincent laid his cheek against the fragrance of her hair and rocked her gently. “Joe can look after himself.”

The other tunnel dwellers moved past them silently and descended the spiral staircase, leaving Vincent and Catherine alone. Slowly the chill of foreboding was warmed from Catherine’s bones.

With his head covered once more with the hood, Joe had been led back the way he came, moving up through the tunnels in a confusing series of bends and twists to the next station towards his destination. He’d resisted being hustled away; openly voicing his opinion that Catherine’s protection was woefully inadequate in the face of the threat posed by Cole and his overlord.

Only Catherine’s continued assurances, that no-one could find her unless she wanted them to, had finally persuaded Joe to accompany his guides back to the upper levels. His concern touched her heart, but she also knew that many times the D.A.’s protection programme had proven that it was by no means as secure as Joe would like to think, in the face of a determined enemy. She was very glad Jen wasn’t involve in any of it and Edie, she hoped, would know enough to be careful.

Vincent slid his arm around her waist. “I know what is in your heart, Catherine. But you cannot protect everyone.”

“I know.” Catherine nodded. “We can only hope this nightmare will end soon.”

She knew that all she had given Joe was a lethal time bomb that could explode at any moment. But to go Above again was to put them all in danger, all those she had sworn to protect. But the restraints that had been put upon her by the present situation, irked her just the same.

“You have done all you can.” Vincent could divine her thoughts by the turmoil of her mind. He knew what it was costing her to stay safe and protected while others fought the battle for her. It wasn’t in his love’s nature to sit idly by, but there was no other way.

“I feel so helpless, Vincent.” Catherine followed him down the staircase. “I feel as if I’m just marking time until something dreadful happens to Joe or Elliot…or you. I couldn’t bear that.”

“I know, my love, I know.” Vincent gripped her shoulder. “I wish there was something more I could do.”

Catherine gripped his fingers, feeling all the power and gentleness of his touch. “But you are doing something, Vincent. You are always here when I need you. I couldn’t exist without you to guide me…and to love me.”

She turned to him as the reached the lower levels. Moving into him, she reached up to caress the soft curves of his mouth with hers. Vincent felt his heart contract with the precious contact, his love and need for her as powerful as Catherine’s and the gift of being able to express that love, a treasure beyond price.

He gathered her slender body against his, seeking to mould her to him so closely that nothing, and no-one, could ever separate them again. Catherine buried her face in the thick silk of his mane, her need for him coursing through her innermost being.

“I love you,” she whispered, as the warmth of Vincent’s almost crushing hold seeped into her soul.

“You are my life,” he replied simply, as he bent to gather her up into his arms, holding her high against his chest. “Without you I would cease to exist.”

Catherine tucked her face into the warmth of Vincent’s neck and released a long sigh, as he carried her into the darkness that led towards the lights of home.

*******

“From next to nothing to this.” Greg Hughes scanned Catherine’s neat handwriting with a disbelieving shake of his head. “I get the feeling that we’ve just been strapped to a runaway roller-coaster and we’re going to crash and burn at the end of the ride.” He whistled through his teeth. “Justin Cole controls the entire European side of the operation and John Moreno’s killer controls him.”

He returned his gaze to the beginning and began again. As if he couldn’t truly grasp what he was reading. “This could get us killed.”

“I know.” Joe stood with his hips leaning back against the edge of his desk, throwing darts at his board. He appeared relaxed, but his face was a study of anger and grim determination. “They’re choking Elliot Burch to death with labour disputes and cost over-runs. I don’t know how long he can hold out. Without his money to keep pushing Cole, we’re next to sunk.”

“I know all that. But, come on, Joe!” Greg burst out. “The scope of it! How could one man gain control of so much?”

“By throwing away the rule book and working on sheer gut instinct.” Joe hurled his last dart, missing the board completely and burying the projectile in the door frame. “Cold, calculating and completely ruthless.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “And that’s what we have to be, if we have any hope of catching him this side of eternity. If Cole’s wife is right in everything she told Cathy, and we have no reason to doubt her, then we are going to use her husband against his master. Make the bastard squirm.”

“I wish I had your faith.” Greg closed the file and laid it on the corner of Joe’s desk carefully, as if he was afraid it might explode in his face any moment.

He meet Joe’s gaze levelly. “It looks like Cole’s just a minnow compared to the man who controls him. And Cole has incalculable power and wealth. Putting it all into perspective, the killing of Moreno was like the swatting of an irritating fly.”

“Well, we’re not going to be squashed like bugs.” Joe stood and moved around his desk, taking the report with him.

He sat in the large leather chair and began to swing slowly from side to side. “Cole will be crushed like a bug too, if he’s seen to be falling apart over his wife’s disappearance. His master won’t be too pleased that so much has been found out about his empire by a mere woman. And the fact that Cole hasn’t managed to find her yet, won’t count in his favour when he is called to task. I want men on Cole ‘round the clock. Every time he so much as sneezes I want to know.”

“What about Diana?” Greg asked, as Joe stared into the middle distance.

“What’re you gonna tell her?”

“With this information we could take Cole down.” Joe laid his hand flat on the report. “But, I don’t want to risk everything this early in our play.”

He stood to take a turn around the room. “Diana will continue on her line of inquiry, she’s getting some results. Edie is making headway, we can only hope it’s in time. The less who know about this report, the better. If we can manage to cut off the head, then the rest will fall into our laps. I doubt our master player allows anyone to know exactly what he is up to. Once he takes Burch down, I guess he’ll feel a lot safer.”

He turned to stare at the detective. “I can’t risk Cathy or her source of information. The dangers are just too great. Cole is like a snake, looking for somewhere to hide. If he’s discovers what we know, he won’t hesitate to strike at anyone who gets in his way.”

“Including you.” Greg sat forward in his chair. “Be careful, Joe. This isn’t the kindergarten league anymore. These guys play for keeps.”

“But we’ve rattled him.” Joe grimaced. “With Cole sweating blood over his wife’s disappearance, his control over the European side of his master’s empire must be slipping badly. A few more cracks in the armour should shake things up a bit. Maybe Moreno’s killer will over extend himself to compensate for Cole’s lack of attention.”

“A cold fish like that surely will just cut his losses and cover up the whole affair.” Greg joined Joe in his pacing. “He can’t risk showing his hand now. Not when he doesn’t know how much we know.”

“And that is precisely when he’s liable to make a mistake.” Joe pounded his fist into his opposite palm. “And I want to be breathing down his neck when he does. Turn up the heat on Cole and see what a little too much close official attention will do to his temperament.”

Greg nodded. “We only have his say so, that he didn’t harm his wife.”

“Good start.” Joe returned to his desk. “Let’s get a court order and make some noise at his construction sites. Get some manpower and start digging.”

“If only we had more to go on.” Greg took another turn around the office. “If Cole’s wife could remember the address of that penthouse.”

“In the dark, in an enclosed car.” Joe shook his head. “She was a terrified woman intent on escaping from an intolerable situation. She’s given us a start, now we have to close the gap.”

Greg turned to him. “Are you sure she is safe? That Cathy’s safe? I don’t like this not knowing.”

“If the combined forces of the D.A.’s office, the NYPD and Cleon Manning’s crew can’t find them.” Joe huffed his discontent. “Then all we have left is the hope that they’ll be safe until this is over.”

“And if they’re not…?”

“Then, you and I, my friend, had better remember how to pray.”

*******

The bitter wind flailed at Elliot’s coat, whipping its folds against his legs with stinging force. He stood in the deepest shadows beneath the line of ancient trees, standing and watching the drainage tunnel entrance to the world Below.

He knew he shouldn’t have come. He knew he was endangering everything by even being anywhere near Catherine’s secret hiding place, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to have some sense of her proximity. Even if she was not aware he was close.

A sad, self-derisive smile curved his mouth as he contemplated his first meeting with the man who had taken Cathy away from him. Taken her…? No, if he was being honest with himself, he had given her away, allowing Vincent to take her because he could love her for who she was, not what she represented.

Elliot blew a discontented sigh. “Lord, I have been such a fool!”

Then, there was the child…Elliot thought again of that incredibly beautiful, but awesome face of Catherine’s lover and he wondered anew what kind of child could result from their union. The baby would be almost five months old now, and suddenly Elliot had an urgent need to see the child, touch it, to somehow share in its future. He wondered if it was a boy or a girl.

He would be welcome, Catherine had said that night, welcome to share in their happiness. Elliot pushed his fingers through his hair as he gazed at the tunnel entrance. Welcome, it called softly to him, but he remained irresolute in the shadows of the trees and simply watched and speculated.

*******

Mouse threaded his way through the park, dodging from shadow to shadow, heading for the drainage entrance to his home, while chuckling to himself over his latest prize. Father called it stealing, but Mouse only knew taking and the world Above had many incredible things just lying around waiting for Mouse to pick them up and discover their potential.

He was so intent on admiring his new-found toy that he didn’t see or sense Elliot in the darkness, until he nearly bumped into him. Startled, Mouse jumped back and prepared to flee, but for once Elliot was quicker and he managed to grab the boy’s arm before he could slip away.

“You!” Elliot snapped, as he dragged him closer to discover what he’d caught.

“Not yours!” Mouse gasped, recognising his assailant. With one hand he defended his prize close to his chest, as he struggled to be free. “Found it somewhere else. Your stuff, Catherine said, I’m not to take.”

“And I suppose I’m to be grateful for that.” Elliot laughed hardly.

“Your stuff is good. Not rubbish,” Mouse wheedled desperately. “Sorry I can’t take it anymore.”

“I suppose it was my ‘stuff’ that went into those firebombs you tried to incinerate me with, the last time we met.”

“Had to push you, get you to go where Vincent wanted. He told me not to hurt you. Didn’t hurt you.”

“Vincent…” Elliot spoke the name reflectively. “Vincent and Catherine…”

“That’s right. Catherine is my friend.” Mouse pulled himself up to his full height, ceasing to struggle, even though Elliot’s hold on him slackened suddenly. “Catherine is your friend too. She said so.”

“Can you take me to her?” Elliot demanded abruptly, his need to see her pushing through all thoughts of caution.

“Can take you anywhere Below. Mouse knows everything, everywhere.” The boy puffed out his chest importantly. “Anyone get lost, Mouse can find.”

“I wish it was that easy, boy, I really do.” Elliot ruffled Mouse’s unruly mop of blond hair. “I have a feeling I lost my way some years ago.”

“Mouse good at finding.” The little engineer hopped from foot to foot happily, as Elliot watched him in open amusement.

Both were so intent on each other that neither noticed the shadowy figure of a man beyond them, moving up stealthily. It was only when the moonlight glinted on the barrel of his rifle that Elliot saw him.

“Oh, God, no!” he gasped, at the last possible moment, just as the killer took aim and Mouse danced into his line of fire.

Elliot dived for the boy, knocking him off his feet as the first shot rang out. Mouse cried out, in pain and fear, as his body cart-wheeled down the hill.

Elliot spun around, blocking the gunman’s view, as Mouse tumbled into the stream at the tunnel entrance. A second shot sounded and something hit Elliot hard in the chest, spinning him around to crash face down on the grassy bank. He barely had time to register that Mouse was gone from the stream, before blackness crashed in on him and he sank into a blessed pit of unconsciousness.

*******

“Vincent, it’s on the pipes! Come quickly, an emergency!” Pascal managed to gasp out, as he rushed into Father’s chamber.

“Where?” Vincent was on his feet, grabbing his mantle from the arm of a chair, swinging it around his shoulders.

“Junction door. It’s a single tap code.” Pascal waved his sticks in agitation. “Mouse, danger, hurt.”

Vincent nodded once, cast a horrified glance at Catherine and Father before taking the steps in a single bound.

“That boy…” Father began, then sighed sharply. “I’ll go and organise the hospital chamber. Pascal, send word for James and Mark to go after Vincent and do what they can.”

“I’ll find Mary.” Catherine hurried away, her heart with Vincent as he raced upwards.

*******

Vincent found Mouse curled below the beginning of the pipes behind the closed door of the junction entrance. Barely conscious, he’d been shot through the right shoulder and his clothes were covered in blood.

As Vincent bent over him, Mouse’s eyes opened and he sighed with relief as he saw his mentor and friend. Suddenly a coughing fit took his breath and leaned gratefully against Vincent’s shoulder until he could draw breath again.

“Knew you would come.” Mouse struggled to stand, but his legs wouldn’t work how he wanted. “Feel all funny,” he complained. “Something hit me. Knocked me down.”

“You’ve been shot.” Vincent laid him on the floor of the tunnel, making a swift examination of the hole in the boy’s shoulder. High up, the bullet had passed clean through, luckily doing no serious damage.

Ripping pieces of cloth from Mouse’s shirt, Vincent compressed the wound and tied it off with the scarf Mouse was wearing. He breathed a sigh of relief that it was no worse than a deep flesh wound.

Behind him, James and Mark appeared out of the shadows as Vincent gathered Mouse’s small frame and lifted him from the floor. The boy groaned in pain.

“Been stealing again.” Mark bent to pick up Mouse’s new gadget from the floor.

“Not stealing, taking,” Mouse protested weakly. His eyes met Vincent’s and suddenly he was struggling to get down, as Vincent started down the tunnel.

“Elliot Burch…” he muttered, as Vincent subdued his struggles with ease.

“Shot too. Saved me. Maybe wounded, maybe dead. Find him, Vincent. Out by the trees.”

“Elliot Burch!” Vincent halted abruptly.

“Out there. Man with gun.” Mouse began to struggle again. “Help Elliot, Vincent.”

“Take him to Father.” Vincent moved the boy into Mark’s arms, before he turned back to the steel door of the junction.

The park was shadowed and silent as he eased his way to the end of the drainage tunnel and surveyed the night beyond, looking for movement. The trees waved in the cold night wind, casting distorted shapes across the grass, but Vincent could make out the huddled form of a man lying in the pool of moonlight high up on the right bank.

Vincent rose slowly and glided forward, his night visioned eyes scanning constantly for Mouse’s attacker. He dropped again into the shadows of the bushes at the end of the concrete pad that ran out before the tunnel, its little stream masking any sound of his movements. He crouched again and listened for any sign the gunman was still around. Every shadow seemed tranquil and uninhabited.

But, just as he was about to edge his way forward towards the body on the hill, a man appeared from beyond the trees, carrying a telescopic rifle with its barrel pointed directly at the body on the grass. Vincent sank back to his haunches, a growl barely suppressed, as the gunman halted beside his victim.

“Where’d the runt crawl off to?” Using the gun’s barrel as a lever, he turned Elliot over and prodded him roughly in the stomach. “I plugged him good.”

“There’s only me. Kill me and it’ll all be over.” Elliot groaned at the rough treatment and the man laughed coarsely. Vincent’s eyes narrowed in anger as he drew himself up, ready to spring from cover as soon as the man’s back was turned.

“No matter, I got him for sure anyway. He won’t live to tell any tales.” The hired killer placed the end of his rifle barrel against Elliot’s forehead, tightening his finger on the trigger. “Compliments of Gabriel. He wanted you to know his name before I sent you to Hell.”

“I won’t say it’s been a pleasure,” Elliot gasped.

The gunman laughed again and tightened his finger on the trigger. A roar of primeval rage froze him for the precious seconds it took Vincent to close the gap between them, then suddenly the man was in the grip of something terrible, straight out of his nightmares.

Huge, hairy hands swatted aside his weapon, then claws that gleamed in the moonlight dug into his throat and face as Vincent broke his neck cleanly, with one swift twist. He dropped the body to the ground, falling to his knees beside Elliot. He drew him up to cradle him in his arms, quickly checking the gravity of his wounds.

Elliot opened his eyes and smiled crookedly, as he looked up into Vincent’s face. “We meet again…” A shudder ran through him and blood seeped slowly from the corner of his mouth.  “The boy…” He coughed. “He got away. He found you.”

“Yes, we found him.” Vincent assured him, as James came running up, his eyes quickly taking in the scene. “Don’t try to talk. You’re safe now.”

“You shouldn’t have risked your life for me,” Elliot managed. “Catherine needs you.” He laughed hollowly. “She would kill me if anything happened to you. Leave me here, I’m dead already, anyway.”

“You would have done the same for me,” Vincent told him, as he tore fabric from the lining of Elliot’s coat and bound up the bullet wounds in his chest and back. “And you’re not dead yet.”

“Hey, this is an expensive coat,” Elliot muttered.

“It’s the coat or your life.” Vincent worked swiftly, unsure how much longer Elliot would last. He was amazed he survived at all. A small hole had been punched in his chest, but the exit wound was a ragged mess. Blood stained the grass black where he had been lying.

“I’ll get Mark and we’ll clean up here, before anyone reports the shots,” James told Vincent, as he worked. “We’ll drop the body down the abyss. You take him down to Father.”

Agony etched deeply into the whiteness of Elliot’s face as Vincent lifted him into his arms, but he didn’t cry out. Clenching his teeth, he rode the waves of blackness and pain that threatened to overwhelm him.

The strength of Vincent’s arms amazed him, as the other man carried him like a rag doll through the steel door, followed by James with the body of the gunman slung over his shoulder and the rifle in his hand. The door rolled shut and the echoing quiet of the tunnels surrounded them all in half darkness.

Elliot let his head drop forward to rest against Vincent’s broad shoulder. He felt weary beyond belief, tired in both body and soul, but the thought of finally seeing Catherine again, even if she now belonged to someone else, kept him clinging grimly to the thin thread of life…

*******

Joe knew that he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this particular morning; the omens had not been good. It was only eleven in the morning and already he’d been told that two major cases were, at best, on shaky ground, three of his investigators were down with the ‘flu and the coffee machine was broken…again.

He stood in the frenetic swirl of the bullpen and looked with fondness at Cathy’s old desk. Lord, what he wouldn’t give to see her sitting there again, wearing that same pained smile as he snacked on chocolate-covered cheese nuggets, feigning enjoyment. No-one had been allowed to touch her desk, it was just as she left it all those months ago. And it would remain that way until she returned, even though some of his staff thought he was nuts.

Joe ran a hand up around the back of his neck as he entered his office. He just knew his visitors were bristling with bad news; further compounding the notion he should’ve stayed at home behind locked doors and disconnected the phones. He grabbed up the darts and began hurling them at the battered board beside the door.

“So, what do you have for me?” He glared at Cleon Manning.

Diana Bennett sat in one of the chairs, her normally cool manner unusually distracted, as she watched Burch’s investigator. Joe hurled the last of the darts and slumped into his desk chair.

“It’s not good news,” Cleon complained. “In fact I think it’s the worst of my career.”

“I never expected it to be anything else,” Joe grumped bitterly. “Somewhere in this city there must be some kind of black hole and people are slowly, but surely being sucked into it. Better be careful none of us are next.”

“Elliot Burch has been missing now for five days.” Cleon leaned his large hands on Joe’s desk. “And I want to know what you intend to do about it!”

Joe picked up Shannon Cole’s deposition from his desk and held it out. He was loath to involve the other man, but he could see no other way. “It makes interesting reading. I can’t tell you the source, that’s a closely guarded secret.”

“I hate mysteries.” Cleon took the file and opened it on the desk. Diana looked closely at Joe, who shrugged his shoulders helplessly. She got to her feet and moved to read the file, around Cleon’s shoulder.

“The information in that report is potentially lethal to us all,” Joe addressed Cleon’s incredulous look after he had skimmed the first few pages. “Because, as a private investigator, I have no control over your actions, as long as they’re legal, means I’m not bound to tell you anything. But I want this man so badly I can taste it. But, what I don’t need to someone going off half-cocked and ruining the investigation before we get a chance to nail him for good.”

“If this information pans out, I’ll gift wrap Cole and his cronies and deliver them personally.” Cleon turned back to the pages of the deposition, scanning the rest swiftly. “I’ll add murder too, if I find he’s harmed his wife.”

“If this is on the level, then we have him.” Diana took the file from Cleon and sat down to read it again. “I want in on the interviews. I have clients who would pay well for this information. His boss must be sweating blood about now.”

“Not a hint of this leaves the office.” Joe retrieved the file, locking it in his safe. “I want your word on that, both of you.”

“I’ve got enough on my plate.” Cleon shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’ve got a missing boss to find and Cole is ready to lynch someone if his wife doesn’t turn up and soon. I don’t want to be around when he comes looking for fresh victims.”

“I’m already halfway there,” Diana replied. “I just need to join a few more dots. Soon Cole will have nowhere to run or hide.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” Joe growled.

He pressed a hand to his aching head. He was aware his day was sinking deeper into the mire. He felt he could kill for a cup of the questionable brew that passed for coffee in the D.A.’s office, but the machine was still broken. And it was now only eleven thirty in the morning.

*******

Elliot felt as if he was swimming in treacle. Every thought, every attempted movement was thwarted by some clinging, sticky ooze that refused to give way around him. The inside of his mouth was a grainy pit that tasted indescribably foul and his tongue was glued to the roof.

But the world around him wasn’t silent. Soft echoes of distant tapping echoed the constant pounding inside his head. Misted, dark shapes held whispered conversations over his still form. Their outlines periodically blocked the light behind Elliot’s closed lids, but he didn’t have the strength to lift them to see what they were.

A great weight on his chest pinned him to the bed, a weight that made breathing, at best, laboured and difficult, at worst, nearly impossible. Several times he’d wondered why he struggled to continue, when it would be so much easier to simply let go and drift away into the welcoming blackness that beckoned so closely in his mind.

It was the image of Cathy’s smiling face that kept him clinging to life. But he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on, for her...

“Keep a close watch. He is stronger, God knows how, though.” Another of those whispered conversations penetrated Elliot’s misty world. “…will be here, if he needs…” the voices kept drifting in and out, frustrating his attempts to focus on them. “Will he live…?”

Something touched him, then...a hand…perhaps? The lightest of contact, soothing and questing, brushing over his forehead, across and then back again. That touch pulled his wandering soul back from the brink of oblivion, suddenly making him want to remain connected with the world of the living. He wanted to cry out when it lifted away…don’t leave me here, in the dark…

“The life in him…I can feel it, it is very strong…he has a chance to survive…but he must wish it to be so…”

“If you think there is a chance, then we will remain hopeful. You have never been wrong before…miracles can happen…” The first voice spoke again from a distance, then faded altogether as Elliot sank beneath the surface of the treacle sea once more.

*******

“It’s been 10 days now and we haven’t found a trace.” Greg Hughes threw up his hands in disgust. “The press are having a field day with this one. The Great Burch Disappearance Mystery. They’re taking a poll on how he’ll finally turn up, alive or dead. My money’s on dead.”

“It isn’t every day you lose an extremely wealthy man like Burch.” Joe threw darts at his board with extra force. “But he does have nine lives like a cat. We know damn well what has probably happened to the man, and yet here we sit, on our hands.”

Greg shook his head on a grim sigh. “And Cole’s running around the city bleating about police inefficiency and demanding an investigation. He’s getting on my nerves. Him I can’t wait to arrest.”

“Five will get you ten that his master won’t be too pleased with the noise Cole’s making.” Joe threw another dart and scored a bulls-eye, much to his amazement. “The man is fast becoming a liability. His life now depends on how much he’s worth to his boss, to keep him alive.”

“We’re gonna have to move and soon, Joe,” Greg frowned. “The press won’t let us pretend we don’t know anything. They smell something really big and when they start pushing their noses in, there won’t be any room for fancy footwork. With Burch gone awol, they’re looking for blood.”

Joe was about to reply when his office door opened and Diana walked calmly in. She acknowledged Greg with a quick nod and then placed the folder she held before Joe.

“What’s this?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I’ve been pulling some all nighters and I have uncovered some very interesting facts.” Diana sat in a chair to watch them.

The two men exchanged glances before Joe opened the file and glanced through it quickly. “What’s your point?”

“Burch Properties Group was nearly bankrupted. Elliot held out for as long as he could, but he was being squeezed from all sides at once. The hotel fire that cost 50 lives punched a hole right through his holdings.” She leaned forward to tap the file with her fingertip. “No-one’s talking, but a lot of people are doing a great deal of listening and they’ve been deserting the sinking Burch ship in droves. Then Elliot disappears and suddenly things are looking up.”

Greg reached to turn the file so he could read it. Diana smiled grimly as the two men craned to see the report at once. “Vast injections of capital, projects that had been hung up in the labour courts for months suddenly working again at top speed. Everyone is smiling and being paid on time and on budget. Very neat, very efficient. It’s amazing how a healthy dose of fresh money can settle the dust.”

“I think I love you, Diana Bennett,” Joe grinned as he went back to the beginning of the report and started again. “So we’ve finally pushed Cole’s mysterious master into making the first move. He’s overreached himself and gotten too greedy. Burch’s outfit was a very ripe plum indeed and he grabbed it all for a song. He must be congratulating himself right now.”

He pounded a fist on the report. “No way can they cover themselves with blinds and shell companies when they’ve moved this fast. We’re gonna nail them.”

“I know I love you.” Greg dragged her out of her chair into a bear hug. “Will you marry me and have my children?”

“Manning Investigations was paid this morning, all outstanding fees.” Diana’s cheeks flushed with colour, as Greg deposited her back onto her feet. “They were thanked very politely for their services and shown the door by the new management of the Burch Group. More loose ends tied up.”

“I bet Cleon is hopping mad about that.” Joe rubbed his hands with glee. “He’ll want in on the kill.” This day was looking better all the time. “And the paper trail will lead us right to the top and a name. Finally, a name.” He shook his fist in the air and hooted.

Diana grinned. “I’m going to head over to Edie at Data and both of us are going to work around the clock to see how much dirt we can dig up on the companies that now own Burch’s empire. It should pay dividends.”

“And we are going to see how much of that dirt sticks.” Joe threw his last dart at the board and scored another bull’s eye. He shook his head in total disbelief.

*******

My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim

Upon the liquid waves of thy sweet singing,

Far, far away into the regions dim

Percy Bysshe Shelley

“I can’t do any more for him.” Peter Alcott stood back from Elliot’s bed and shook his head. “The rest is up to him. But, I think he is out of the woods now. I think he has a chance. At least his fever has finally broken. The wound is clean and will heal with time.”

Peter rechecked the lines snaking from the bags of intravenous drip hanging beside the bed down to the back of Elliot’s hand. He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll change these out tomorrow.”

“I’m amazed he has made it this far.” Father helped his friend repack his bag. “When Vincent carried him in…”

“If he hadn’t been young and fit, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Peter cast a worried look back at the still form in the bed. “But if he doesn’t come around soon, it could be a different story. He may never recover consciousness.”

“He speaks of Catherine in his nightmares.” Father passed a worried hand over his brow. “At least that’s what I have taken them for. He cries out in pain and calls for her, but he never seems to get any relief from the dreams.”

“Love is a strange and powerful force.” Peter placed his hand on Father’s shoulder. “Elliot loved Catherine and lost her. His unconscious mind still probably can’t accept that fact.”

“Catherine spends hours sitting with him, talking to him, but he still calls out for her.”

“We can only watch and wait, Jacob. Time is the greatest healer.”

“How is he, Father?” Vincent appeared in the curtained doorway to the hospital chamber.

“There’s no change, I’m afraid.”

“Please go and rest then. I will stay with him for a while.” Vincent placed his arm around his father’s stooped shoulders and pushed him gently forth. “Go and allow Peter to try and beat you at chess. Then you must rest. I will call for you, if there is any change.”

“That brandy you had last time was excellent.” Peter linked arms with Jacob. “Call us if you need us.”

“I just feel so helpless,” Jacob complained. “Elliot is a good man, despite his faults.”

“He loves Catherine.” Vincent glanced at the bed. “I can understand that feeling all too well.”

Father considered his son for a long moment. Then he placed both hands on either side of his golden head and kissed his cheek gently. “Yes, I know you do. Goodnight, Vincent.”

“Goodnight, Father,” Vincent responded, watching the two men out of sight, before moving to the chair beside Elliot’s bed and lowering himself into it with a deep sigh.

He studied the other man with compassion, not unmixed with sadness. He put himself into Elliot’s shoes for a moment and knew that winds of despair would howl through his soul if he ever lost Catherine to another man. Yes, he could understand Elliot’s pain all too well.

*******

Elliot stirred and groaned aloud in his agony. Rolling his head from side to side, he tried to escape from the torment that weighted him in place.

Cool fingers were placed against his brow and a deep voice like molten honey spoke reassuring words to him in the darkness. “You have nothing to fear. You are among friends here. Rest now.”

That voice stirred his memory, plucking at him, forced Elliot to drag open his reluctant lids and look upwards. Unfocused at first, all he could make out was a misty golden head surrounded by glowing light that shimmered and danced.

“Heaven…?” he tried to ask, through dry and sticky lips, but the word became slurred. Elliot closed one eye in an attempt to focus better.

“No, not yet.”  Vincent smiled with relief, as he grasped the intent behind that one garbled word. He moved to raise Elliot’s head, so he could trickle cool water into the corner of his mouth.

It tasted like the very best champagne. Elliot gulped at the precious liquid, but Vincent was sparing in what he gave him.

Lowering him back onto the pillow, Vincent picked up a cloth and bathed Elliot’s face and moistened his lips. He smiled down into the one half closed grey eye that tried to convey all Elliot was trying to say.

“You are Below. With people who care about you.” Vincent sat back and clasped Elliot’s hand.

“Below…?” Elliot managed, after a long pause. He forced his mind to concentrate. “How long?” He raised his hand to stare at the drip line taped to the back.

“Fifteen days. I’ll explain everything to you, when you are stronger.” Vincent assured him. “Rest now. You need to gather your strength.”

“Vincent…” Elliot opened both eyes to try and focus better on the man beside his bed. “Vincent and Catherine…” he mused, as he drifted away again. “Catherine…”

“Catherine…” Vincent agreed softly, as he tucked the other man’s hand back beneath the covers.

Catherine…his heart whispered, with deep love, as he sat through the night, keeping vigil over Elliot’s troubled sleep.

*******

Catherine stole quietly into the hospital chamber, her eyes going to Vincent where he was seated, leaning his shoulder against the rock wall beside Elliot’s bed. Their bond murmured with a sense of such deep peace and contentment that Catherine was loath to break the spell with words. She could see Vincent was awake, but his attention seemed to be elsewhere.

Catherine crept to his side and slid her arms around his neck from behind, bringing her chin to rest on the top of his head. Vincent’s hands moved to cover hers, where they lay, crossed against his chest, and he turned one up to carry it to his lips, planting a lingering kiss against her palm.

Catherine closed her eyes and let her thoughts and desires drift with Vincent’s, feeling all his love and emotional connection envelope her. She nuzzled her way into the depths of his mane to plant a kiss against his skin. Ripples of awareness, like tongues of fire, danced and shimmered through their bond, making her smile.

Elliot watched this silent communication and found, to his surprise, that he could only envy the obvious depth of their love. He’d been watching Vincent through half-closed lids for some time before Catherine appeared, trying to decide his feelings about this man that Catherine loved.

Catherine moved away from Vincent and came to kneel beside the bed, her face soft and beautiful in the candlelight, her eyes full of concern for Elliot. She smoothed back the hair that had fallen over his brow and gasped as he smiled at her wistfully.

“Elliot…?” she questioned, as he struggled to speak.

Vincent was beside her in an instant, his mane cascading over Catherine’s shoulder as he checked his patient.

Elliot licked his lips and tried again. “Good…to see you,” he whispered, with a crooked twist to his lips. “I…I feel as if someone has…dropped my tower on my chest.”

A shaky laugh ended on a gasp of pain as he struggled to sit up. Vincent held him down effortlessly and Elliot soon gave up the unequal fight. Vincent lifted his head, once again dripping precious liquid into Elliot’s mouth that he sipped eagerly.

“How long now?” he asked, as Vincent lowered him back again.

“Twenty-one days since you were shot,” Catherine told him.

“Twenty-one days…” Elliot mused slowly, then, “The boy…?”

“Mouse is fine,” Vincent reassured him, as he checked the medication drips.

“He’s more bruised in pride than body, after Father finished dressing his wound and him down. He’s been wanting to come and see you, he wants to thank you for saving his life.”

“I’m glad he’s okay.” Elliot’s mouth twitched for a moment. “If only for the pleasure of strangling him myself.” His laugh turned to a cough of pain. “Mouse…it’s a good name for him. I’ve always promised myself that treat, since he tried to burn me alive…if I ever got hold of him…again.”

“Not being able to take your ‘stuff’ anymore, is a greater punishment in Mouse’s eyes than mere death.” Vincent smiled, as he rearranged Elliot’s pillows.

“Probably cost…me millions over the years…” Elliot’s voice trailed off on the ghost of a laugh, as his eyes drifted shut. “Not that I have anything left now. The great Elliot Burch…” He grimaced.

Catherine continued to watch him as Elliot’s breathing smoothed out and became deep and regular. He looked like a lost child, his face in repose, youthful, yet tragic. There wasn’t a trace of the dynamic man she had come to know so well. Or thought she knew, her heart whispered softly.

Vincent drew her up into the warmth of his embrace and Catherine leaned back against his chest and rubbed her cheek against the softness of his shirt. They both stood watching this man who had risked everything in the search for a dream that eluded him always.

“He will live now.” Vincent nodded.

“He has come so far, risked so much.” Catherine looked up into his face.

“He has discovered what it is to love at all costs.” Vincent laid his cheek against hers. “He has never known the joy of giving completely of one’s self, holding nothing back. Until now. I think in many ways Mouse may have saved him. He finally did something instinctive, without weighing or measuring the consequences.”

“I hope he finds the happiness he seeks.” Catherine kissed Vincent’s cheek. “For his own sake.”

“With love, anything is possible, Catherine.” His arms curved around her body, bringing her completely against him and Catherine smiled.

*******

“You have disappointed me, Cole.”

Justin Cole shivered, despite the warmth of his heavy camelhair coat. That soft, emotionless voice never failed to unnerve him. His hands fluttered nervously in the chill night air. “I…I was only doing what needed to be done.”

“What needed to be done...” Gabriel shook his head in mock despair. “What you should have done was precisely what I told you to do. Get out of the country and let me handle the situation.”

“She is my wife!” Cole’s head snapped up at that. “She will not defy me!”

“She is only a woman, a possession that you have so carelessly lost. A woman who knows far more than she should, because you told her! Your need to impress her was your undoing. You’re a bigger fool that I took you for!”

“She won’t go to the police, she’s running scared.” Cole’s hands fluttered in agitation. “She’s more afraid of me than she wants to admit. She’s somewhere in this city and I will find her. And when I do—”

“I wish I could believe you.” Gabriel stared out at the deserted expanse of open scrubland, the only sign of life his own car parked in the depths of stand of ancient oak trees. “I really do.”

“I only need some time, more time.” Cole watched his master nervously, clinging to the remains of his confidence. He licked at his dry lips and waited.

“I made you, Cole.” Gabriel turned his attention back to his henchman, after what seemed like an eternity. “I crafted you out of base clay and I set you up to be a prince among men.” His thin lips curled into a sneer. “The envy of the world. That took a great deal of time and endless patience, but I am a patient man. But when my patience runs out, I can destroy you in an instant.”

He inclined his head. “Elliot Burch thought he was above me. That he could challenge me. But I brought him down and I buried him.”

“He deserved it.” Cole’s lips twitched nervously and his face lost all remaining colour. “You know you can trust me. I will do as you say. I’ll return to London tomorrow. Tonight, if you think it’s best.”

He reached to lay a pleading hand on Gabriel’s sleeve. Too late, he realised his mistake.

Gabriel turned his head and looked at him, his dark eyes flat and unblinking.

“I buried him, Cole. And now it’s your turn.”

*******

Joe scrambled into the taxi and directed the driver to take him downtown. Sitting back, he opened the newspaper he carried, folded up, beneath his arm. He cast a perfunctory glance over the headlines. His mouth sagged open in disbelief.

JOHN MORENO’S KILLER UNMASKED

“33rd precinct and step on it!” he ordered the driver. He read and reread the article in stunned silence. Someone was going to have a lot of explaining to do, he thought grimly.

*******

“Look, if I knew where it came from, I would’ve told you, okay?” Greg Hughes raised his hands defensively as Joe pounded the newspaper article for the tenth time.

“Oh, I have a fair idea where it’s come from.” Joe stalked the confines of Greg’s office. “It’s all very neat, very easy to swallow. Justin Cole, underworld crime boss, falls out with his dues-paying member, John Moreno, and has him bumped off, to stop him giving evidence to a grand jury. Then Cole is very conveniently assassinated in a gangland hit and everybody breathes a collective sigh of relief. Case solved, case closed. No courtroom scenes, no muck-raking. Gift wrapped for the elections.”

“We pushed, so our opposition gives everything a good shove and it all falls back in our lap. Now we have to smile and swallow it, or look like total fools.”

“They say a little raw egg is good for the complexion,” Joe stated grimly. “I want everything you can dig up on Cole’s murder. Starting with the man himself. I want his body examined again; leave nothing unexplained. And I want it done yesterday!”

*******

Elliot woke again the same day to find a stranger sitting in Vincent’s place. She was a young woman with long dark braids that shone in the candlelight. With her attention centred on the needlework in her lap, she didn’t immediately notice that Elliot was awake.

He frowned at the faint remnants of a bruise that marked her left cheek. He wondered how and where she came by it. “Now I know I am in heaven,” he remarked, his dry throat fracturing his words.

Shannon’s head jerked up at this and green eyes encountered grey. Elliot didn’t think he had seen anyone with such a haunted look, underscored by the mark on her pale cheek. She dropped her gaze and folded her work neatly before placing it in the basket at her feet. Elliot had the impression she was stalling for time.

“You must be thirsty,” she commented, getting to her feet and helping him take sips of water from the glass beside the bed. “I’ll go and fetch Father.” Shannon laid Elliot’s head back onto the pillow. “He wanted to know the moment you were conscious.”

“Wait!” Elliot extended a restraining hand. “I’m sure I know you.”

“I don’t think so.” Shannon sidestepped his clutch and disappeared through the curtained doorway.

A slow walk and the tapping of a cane heralded the arrival of a man with grizzled hair and beard moments after the woman had gone. Elliot turned his head to watch him, as Father placed his bag on the bedside table and looked down at him.

“How are you feeling?” Father scanned Elliot’s drawn features closely.

“Weak as a kitten.” Elliot gave him a discontented look. “I hate it.”

“You had lost a considerable amount of blood. You are a very lucky man. I wasn’t sure you would live when Vincent carried you in to us.”

“Sometimes it felt as if it would have been easier to give up,” Elliot said honestly, as Father began to examine him.

Father sat on the side of the bed and raised Elliot’s wrist in his fingers to take his pulse. “Because of Catherine?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“I want only her happiness. I have only ever wanted that.” Elliot nodded. “I have nothing else I can give her now.”

“She would settle for your friendship,” Father told him. “So would Vincent.”

“Vincent…?” Elliot thought of Catherine’s lover, a man with an alien face and claws, and an incredible capacity for giving, for understanding his pain. He looked back at Father’s worried frown.

“I think I would like to be Vincent’s friend,” he nodded and was rewarded with a grateful smile.

“My name is Jacob.” Father extended his hand to grasp Elliot’s, before moving to check his medication. “But most of the people Below call me Father.”

“So you are in charge down here?”

“I founded this community long ago. So, as far as any one of us is in charge, I will admit to doing my best.” Father smiled. “Not always successfully. Vincent is my son.”

“Your son…?” Elliot frowned, unsure of the connection between the two who looked so different.

“That’s where he was found, many years ago. Outside St Vincent’s hospital. It is a fitting name.”

“And…Catherine’s child?” Elliot had to know.

“My namesake,” Father replied. “Another Jacob. When you are stronger, I’ll introduce you to him. He is everything a grandfather could wish for and more.” His eyes filled with pride. “He is truly his father’s son.”

He placed a hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “Rest now and we’ll talk again soon. There are so many things we need to discuss. But you must get stronger first.”

There were so many more questions Elliot wanted to ask, but his small store of strength was easily exhausted. He lay back to watch the old man bustle about the room and to speculate on this unusual and intriguing world into which he had stumbled, more dead than alive.

He needed answers and he needed them soon. What was happening up there is his own world? What was left of everything he had worked his whole life to build? The nagging thoughts and doubts followed him into sleep and beyond.

*******

Diana didn’t notice the dawn light beginning to creep through the skylights of her loft apartment. Bent forward over the computer keyboard, she worked on, as she had all night. The pattern of blind alleys and shell companies was beginning to fall into place and she didn’t want to lose the thread…not now, not when she was so close.

The whole case had become a very personal affair for her. Immersing herself in a case was nothing new for her, but this one affected her more deeply that she had thought possible. Many lives hung in the balance, suspended in time until the murderer of John Moreno and Catherine Chandler’s kidnapper had been brought down.

Diana sat up, remembering Catherine and her strange group of friends. And her unusual protector, who had hung back in the shadows. She stared, unseeing, at the computer screen, thinking back to the odd events at the carousel. Many things needed explaining, many things that surrounded Cathy Chandler and her hiding place.

Once this case was over, she was going to open a new line of inquiry and finally discover the truth.

*******

Elliot turned his head on the pillow as Catherine came through the door of his chamber, carrying a child in her arms. Elliot had been moved a week ago, to a small chamber near Father’s and closer to the central life of the community.

Five weeks after he had been shot, he was still weak and could only take short walks before becoming exhausted. But he’d already seen enough of Vincent’s world to be completely fascinated by its wonder. But Catherine was the greatest wonder of all.

Five weeks…Elliot shook his head as he watched Catherine come to sit in the chair beside his bed. Five weeks in which Justin Cole had been murdered by persons unknown, and implicated in the death of John Moreno.

Five weeks and it was beginning to seem as if the world in which he’d carved out his whole life didn’t really exist anymore. A wry twist came to his lips as he considered he was probably already forgotten by a city that thought he was dead and buried.

The child in Catherine’s arms brought his attention back to the present, as he chatted his baby talk and smiled at Elliot. To Elliot’s inexperienced eye, he didn’t look very old, but he was a beautiful child.

His most striking feature was his deep sapphire eyes that considered Elliot closely, with more than a trace of amusement. It was disconcerting to say the least, to see someone so young, look so knowing and aware.

Elliot’s lifted his gaze to Catherine’s. She smiled at him. “This is Jacob.”

“Hi, Jacob.” Elliot toyed with the baby’s small hand. He looked back to the baby’s clear blue gaze. The eyes, they look so familiar, they are—

“This is your child?” he said abruptly, looking back to Catherine, dawning wonder on his face. “Yours and Vincent’s.”

“This is our son.” Catherine nodded, her smile widening into a look of love and wondrous happiness. Elliot felt suddenly very much alone. But he couldn’t detract from her obvious joy, so he pushed those feelings of envy and regret back into the deepest recess of his soul. But he couldn’t stop himself from marvelling at the child’s perfection. Though he knew now that Catherine would have been very content with a child that reflected its father’s face and form.

Jacob reached out trustingly and Elliot raised one finger for the boy to grasp. His grip was strong and Elliot felt his heart turn over.

“When you get out his buildings blocks, let me know.” He blinked away tears and smiled at his visitors. “We can build towers together.”

“Elliot…” Catherine inhaled, releasing a long sigh. “The newspapers have said that your companies have been taken over. Even the name has been changed. You have nothing left up there.”

“Taken over…” Elliot echoed blankly, then his eyes became thoughtful. “So, another prince of Manhattan has been truly brought down to earth…or in this case, below it.” He laughed bleakly.

“Oh, Elliot, I am so sorry.” Catherine took his hand.

“Don’t be sorry for me, Cathy. I’m a survivor, remember?” Elliot returned the warm pressure of her grasp. “I can always rise again.”

“But it’s all linked, don’t you see?” Catherine urged him. “Moreno, Cole, you and my kidnapping. It’s all coming from the same source. Justin Cole’s master.”

“That isn’t possible…” Elliot’s eyes narrowed, as he considered Catherine’s words. One man, could one man have so much power?

Suddenly the words spoken by his would-be killer burst into his mind. He had thought nothing of them before, only considering them as a product of a fevered mind and broken body during his recovery. “Gabriel…” His grip tightened on Catherine’s hand. “His name is Gabriel…”

*******

“Gabriel, what kind of a name is that?” Joe demanded of Diana three days later, after he’d arrived at her loft to study the progress she had made.

“Gabriel…” Diana mused. “One of the archangels. A messenger of God. The man thinks very highly of himself.”

Joe shrugged. “Cathy got the name from Elliot Burch.”

“Elliot Burch!” Diana was stunned. “He’s still alive?”

“Apparently.” Joe frowned. “Though how he managed to link up with Catherine is beyond me. She seems to be collecting liabilities. This Gabriel ordered Burch killed and obviously he thinks he’s succeeded. Burch has been in hiding with Catherine ever since. But only you and I know he’s alive. His life wouldn’t be worth a brass nickel if he was discovered.”

“So Gabriel is getting careless,” Diana noted, with satisfaction. “He appears to think he is immune from prosecution. But I have come a lot closer to him in the last few days. Look at this. Edie and I found this last night. That girl sure has the right touch with data files. These were buried so deep it would have taken me months to dig them out the old-fashioned way.”

Joe bent over her shoulder, as she led him through the complicated maze on her new computer screen. At once, he was amazed at the sheer scope of it all and at Diana’s uncanny ability to follow the torturous path of companies and cover-ups.

“He over-reached himself when he grabbed control of Burch’s empire.” Diana pointed to a part of the screen. “Until then he was hidden behind a multitude of fake companies that would have taken anyone years to work through. But Burch Property Group was such a prize, that he couldn’t resist making an acquisition order for the lot. It’s all here, you just gotta follow the crumbs.”

“So the man is fallible after all.” Joe smiled thinly. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Fallible, maybe, greedy for more power, certainly. But he’s still extremely dangerous.” Diana sat back to purse her lips thoughtfully. “He will know by now that we’re after him in earnest. He won’t hesitate to turn on us as he did on Cole. He thought we would accept that Cole was the killer and not hunt any further. I’ve set Edie up with an armed guard just in case, can’t afford lose her now.”

What about you?” Joe sat back to stare at her. “Can’t afford to lose you either.”

Diana patted the hand-gun her hip. “Come after me and I’ll make this greedy guy very sorry. I can take care of myself.”

“Then find that man for me, that’s all I ask,” Joe demanded grimly. “Then I might have a message or two myself for our elusive Mr. Gabriel.”

*******

Shannon looked up from the book open in her lap to find Elliot leaning in the doorway of the chamber, watching her. She was teaching a group of the younger children, a task she had always enjoyed in the past. Their minds we so open and inquiring, so alert that it helped her to remember when she was so young and alive.

The news of her husband’s untimely death had lifted a great weight from her heart, but she also knew no-one was safe yet. She wished there was more she could do to end the need for isolation. She was happy Below, but she could see that the inaction was irking Elliot, who was so used to the cut and thrust of the world Above.

Now, she smiled tentatively at him as he lounged in the doorway, watching her class, as they studied geography. After a time, he eased himself into the chamber and sat in a vacant chair. In no time, he was drawn into the lesson and gave a very good account of himself as a teacher.

“I always gave my teachers a hard time,” he commented to Shannon later, after the class had been released for the evening chores. “But these kids seem to have a great thirst for knowledge.”

“A lot of the children here have come through a great deal in their young lives. They welcome the chance to grow and learn.”

“Growing up on the docks was hard enough,” Elliot replied, as he helped her stack the lesson books. “But it didn’t instill in me the attitude these kids have.”

“You grew up on the docks?” Shannon’s expression mirrored her disbelief.

“That was before Elliot Burch rose to fame and fortune,” Elliot grimaced. “My father found me a summer job on the docks. Being the son of a sanitation worker, with the name of Kasmarek, didn’t impress the men who wielded power in this city, so I remade myself.”

“And lost something in the process.” Shannon stacked the last of the books.

“You sound as though you speak from experience.” Elliot prompted her gently. “And it made you feel unhappy.”

He remembered her bruised cheek. Had some man marred her beauty with his carelessness? The unacceptable thought intensified his sense of frustration.

Shannon looked at him then, her green eyes troubled and pain-filled. Dressed in tunnel costume, with his hair and beard longer and not as neatly trimmed as she had first seen him, Elliot had come a lot further from the billionaire developer than even he realised. As far as Shannon herself had come, in fact. Her life of wealth and position Above was slowly taking on the qualities of a bad dream.

“I understand you more than you think.” Shannon met his gaze for a long moment. “My husband was Justin Cole.”

“I knew I was right when I said I knew you when we first met.” Elliot nodded quickly. “I heard you sing once when I was in London. You have a truly beautiful voice. I…I am sorry, about your husband.”

“Don’t be.” Shannon raised a denying hand. “Our marriage was a sham at best, at worst a nightmare that’s finally over. I have a new life now and the past is dead.”

“No wonder you were able to disappear so completely.” Elliot turned his head to survey the chamber. “Cole tore the city apart looking for you. I even put my best man onto him, hoping he would lead me to your husband’s master. We never thought to look down here.”

“I had to disappear.” Shannon shuddered. “Justin could no more afford to let me live, than his master could turn a blind eye to your probing of his business dealings.”

“Gabriel, his name is Gabriel.” Elliot had turned the name over in his head many times, wondering just who this man could be. Had he ever met him?

“Gabriel…” Shannon mused. “Yes, that suits him.”

“He has taken everything, all I owned, all that I have built over the years. He has left me with nothing, not even a name.”

Shannon tilted her head and considered Elliot for so long, he became uncomfortable under her gaze.

“He cannot take the name Kasmarek from you. That will always be yours.”

Long after they’d parted company, Elliot considered Shannon’s words. The truth of them was very clear, and more than a little frightening. Was Elliot Burch truly dead and buried and only Stosh Kasmarek remained? He didn’t honestly know.

*******

Diana hurried along the crowded street, slipping in and out of the flow of people with practiced ease. In her pocket she carried the ring that had been taken from Justin Cole’s dead finger.

The jeweller who appraised it, could not begin to guess at its antique value, but the intrinsic price was considerable. Even though it was another dead end, Diana was intrigued none the less by the ring’s significance in the case and why Gabriel had chosen to leave it with the body. If she could find its mate, then she knew she would have their elusive Gabriel at last.

She was so intent on her thoughts, she didn’t even see the black limousine gliding up beside her, until two men jumped out and she was bundled into the back seat. The door slammed and they were off again into the traffic before Diana could gather her wits.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bennett,” The man in the back seat greeted her in a conversational tone, as if they were discussing the weather. “My employer is very anxious to meet you.”

“He has a way with invitations.” Diana pulled her coat back onto her shoulders as she looked for a way to escape. “Maybe, I have somewhere else I need to be right now.”

“I’m afraid it’s useless to look for a way out.” Her companion indicated the men in the front seat. “Try anything and I will be forced to ask one of my associates to dispose of you. Painlessly, of course.”

“Of course,” Diana bit back. “We wouldn’t want to get any blood on such expensive upholstery. Think of the cleaning bill.”

“Precisely, Miss Bennett, precisely.” He chuckled, as if enjoying an excellent joke.

*******

Diana submitted to having a hood pulled over her head for the remainder of the journey. She was bundled from the car the moment it came to a halt. There were no sounds she could discern clearly enough to pinpoint their location. The trip had been long and complicated, making her think her captors had gone out of their way to confuse her.

She was led down a long hall and into a room, where finally, she was stripped of her mask and the tape over her mouth. Left alone in the darkness, she could only ponder what was likely to be her fate at the hands of a man who killed without compunction.

“Ah, Miss Bennett. I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” The door finally opened again and a man walked in. The door closed immediately behind him, allowing Diana no time to memorise his features before the room was plunged back into darkness.

“A small precaution of preventing you from seeing my face. You will allow me my secrets,” Gabriel continued. “You are far too good a detective for me to give you the opportunity of identifying me in the future.”

Diana shrugged. “It’s comforting to know that there will be another meeting.”

“Very good, Miss Bennett. I am glad to discover I have an opponent worthy of me.”

Diana didn’t answer him. She waited to hear what the man wanted from her. And how much it was going to cost her to escape with her life.

“What? Lost for words, Miss Bennett? You disappoint me,” Gabriel mocked her. “You are such a resourceful woman.”

“What do you want with me?” Diana was goaded into asking.

“Ah, that is a question indeed. What I want, Miss Bennett, or should I call you Diana? I feel I know you very well by now. I have been watching you work for some considerable time, and expense. Diana, what I want is to simply be left alone. I have my business interests to attend to, and you have yours. Let us go our separate ways.”

“You expect me to drop the investigation, just because you requested it?” Diana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Out of the question.”

“Believe me, I can make life very difficult for you, or perhaps even impossible.” Gabriel walked towards her, his manner menacing.

“As you made life ‘difficult’ for John Moreno and Justin Cole?” Diana refused to back away, as Gabriel came ever closer.

“All I ask is for the investigation to be dropped. You have your murderer, delivered free of charge and without strings. There is no more to be said. I know you are a confirmed realist. Even you must know when you have been defeated.”

“I don’t believe you!” Diana fumed. “You expect me to walk into Joe Maxwell’s office and say, ‘Gabriel asked me to drop the investigation and I agreed.’ Just walk away and call it quits.”

“Say what you like to Maxwell. But, if you value your life, and his, you will see that my request is quite reasonable. I am allowing you all to live.” Gabriel seized her upper arm. “Remember Elliot Burch? He defied me and paid the price for his arrogance. Now he is dead and I own everything he spent his whole life building.”

“And if I don’t agree to your terms?” Diana jerked her arm from his hold.

“Then I’m afraid, Miss Bennett, that you are in for a very short trip.”

Diana stalled for time. “I must be getting close to you, for you to take such a drastic step in kidnapping me.”

Gabriel’s indrawn breath hissed between his teeth. “Just making certain of your cooperation, Diana. I wouldn’t want to see someone as beautiful as you being disfigured by an unfortunate circumstance. I will not allow you to tear down that which I have spent my lifetime building up.”

Diana’s blood ran cold at the emotionless way he spoke. He didn’t really care whether she lived or died, as long as it didn’t affect him or his need for total dominance. She had never encountered someone so ruthlessly cold and focused.

“I own this city, Diana, never forget that. This time I am asking, next time I will demand and then you will wish you had listened to me.” He took her chin in a hard grip, forcing her head back. “It would be a great pity to destroy such beauty. Acid can do such terrible damage to the skin and flesh.”

“Let me go!” Diana jerked her face away.

The ring Gabriel was wearing stung, as it scraped painfully along her jaw-line. It felt exactly like Cole’s ring. Diana could picture the match.

“Give me an answer, Miss Bennett. I am not a patient man.”

The silence was long and painful as Diana considered her options. Her first priority was to escape alive from the trap she was in. She let her shoulders slump in defeat and injected a weary, beaten tone into her voice. “Very well, I don’t seem to have a lot of choice in the matter. I want to live more than anything. I’m a realist.”

“A very wise decision,” Gabriel purred with satisfaction. “I will see to it that you don’t regret your decision. A compensatory sum will, of course, be deposited into any bank account you choose to nominate.”

“Thanks for calling this meeting.” Diana inhaled sharply. “I’m sure you have other matters that require your full attention. I won’t keep you. I’ll see myself out.”

“Very good, Miss Bennett. Once, I thought I could have a use for your considerable talents. But, perhaps it is better if we don’t meet again. The circumstances next time may not be so cordial. You do possess a painful streak of brutal honesty that is not at all to my liking.”

Gabriel moved away towards the door, opened it and left the room. Light from the hall beyond spilled into the room, but all Diana could see was his back and the shadow of a guard beyond the door. Her eyes dropped to the floor and she gasped as she noticed the uniqueness of the room’s tiling. Stylised exotic birds in flight graced every square, making a vivid and memorable pattern of colours and movement.

Then the door shut and Diana was left alone in the darkness, her mind’s eye picturing the pattern over and over again, until it was engrained in her memory. It was a small clue, but it would have to be enough.

The trip back to the city was even longer and more involved than before. Diana was emotionally and physically exhausted by the time she was pushed from the limo, which didn’t even bother to come to a halt. It pulled away into the traffic immediately and was lost from view before she regained her feet. Diana huddled into her coat, shivering with reaction at how close she had come to imminent annihilation.

*******

I took my power in my hand

And went against the world;

‘Twas not so much as David had,

But I was twice as bold.

I aimed my pebble, but myself

Was all the one that fell.

Was it Goliath was too large?

Or was myself too small?

Emily Dickinson

Diana drew the pattern from memory and then spent the rest of the night simply sitting and staring at it. Could she go through with it? Could she further risk her life, and Joe’s, by pursuing this course of almost certain destruction?

With the daylight came resolution. She knew she would never feel safe again, unless she took this case to its conclusion. Gabriel had underestimated her, but then self-respect was a human failing he just wouldn’t understand.

*******

Joe couldn’t believe their luck of Gabriel’s effrontery. Copies of Diana’s drawing went out across the city and Diana had to be content with two burly New York policemen as a permanent 24-hour guard.

Joe shrugged it off when she protested against the need for them to follow her everywhere. “So sue me,” he told her. “I don’t want to fish you out of the East River, when we’re finally so close on this one.”

Diana retreated to her loft with her guards in tow, to sulk in offended silence as the investigation wound into high gear. Her part in it had been curtailed at Joe’s insistence, until they had something concrete to work on.

So she spent her time on her computer and trying to ignore the men who clumped noisily around the sanctuary of her apartment. By nature, a solitary person, the invasion of her private domain was deeply irritating.

In his office, Joe was yelling down the telephone. “I don’t care if the man is on his honeymoon, they have phones in Italy! Fax him the drawing. I want an answer immediately!”

“Tile manufacturers, real estate agents who deal in the million dollar plus bracket.” Greg handed out more drawings to his team. “I want to know who sold it and when. And I want to know today, people, not next week.”

Slowly the replies came trickling in. Joe had Diana’s description of the trip she took to the house and, with Greg, he narrowed the field to a half dozen locations.

“It will have to be a co-ordinated strike. Otherwise he’ll get wind of it and simply disappear.” Greg spread the map of New York before his men.

“The world is a big place to hide in.”

“I want to call Diana and get her opinion on the list we’ve compiled.” Joe picked up the phone.

What he was told by a very apologetic police officer in Diana’s loft, made him wish he had his hands around her lovely neck instead of the receiver. “Find her!” he snarled. “Before she does something stupid that’ll get her killed.”

*******

Diana scouted the walls of the property. Dusk was just falling and all seemed still and silent. Giving her guards the slip had been relatively easy, in the end. They hadn’t expected her to be able to scale the walls of her balcony and escape across the roof of the adjoining building.

She had a number of bruises and scrapes to prove it. They ached dully, but she ignored the pain, as she concentrated on the task before her.

She had tracked Gabriel through the maze of companies that he had hidden behind for so long. This was his last known address. She knew Joe and Greg would not be far behind her, since they had the drawing to work with. But she didn’t want to give Gabriel the chance to escape in the confusion. Grasping the top of the wall, she pulled herself up and over, dropping silently into the shrubbery beyond.

*******

“What is it, Vincent?” Catherine lifted her upper body onto one elbow beside Vincent to look down at him. He lay on his back, staring into the middle distance, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I feel a coldness, as if some great evil is hovering nearby. As if we’re being watched.”

“But, there is no-one here but us.” Catherine glanced into every corner of the chamber. “We are safe here, Vincent.”

“Not down here, Above.” Vincent looked to the ceiling and Catherine could feel the tension gathering within him. “Something is about to happen tonight. Something that is going to affect us all.”

“But you have no idea what it is?” Catherine smoothed her hand over his naked chest. “Where it will come from?”

“No.” Vincent breathed out roughly. He tightened his arm around her, bringing her down to lie close against him.

She buried her face in his neck and tried to sooth away his disquiet with whispered words of endearment. But Vincent couldn’t escape the growing unease of the night.

After Catherine had finally drifted back to sleep, he eased himself from the bed and dressed, going out to patrol the outer limits of his world. He felt the disquiet growing deeper and more sinister with every hour that passed. It was becoming a physical pain inside him.

He paced the tunnels and growled softly, watching, waiting for something to happen. Something tangible he could defeat, rather than this intolerable state of unease.

“Vincent. Why?” Mouse appeared out of the shadows of a side tunnel, heading in the opposite direction. “Should be asleep.”

“Do you feel it too, my friend?” Vincent laid a clawed hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Something moving out there in the darkness.”

“Been Above. Bad moon tonight.” Mouse scowled fiercely. “Narcissa told Mouse all about the moon.”

“Father will not be happy that you have gone out again so soon.” Vincent shook the boy gently.

“Stuff,” Mouse mumbled. “Can’t work without stuff from Up Top.”

“Well, no more tonight.” Vincent pushed him towards home. “Go and get some rest.”

“Come with you?” Mouse offered, staring seriously up into his friend’s face. “Need Mouse?”

“Go and sleep.” Vincent ruffled the boy’s mop of unruly hair. “I will be all right. But, thank you for the offer.”

“Okay good, okay fine.” Mouse bobbed his head, as he retreated slowly into the darkness. Vincent watched him, until he had disappeared, before resuming his restless wandering.

But, he failed to notice the hunched figure, which kept pace with him throughout the long night. Mouse was worried for his friend and his concern would not allow him to rest. Not when Vincent needed him.

*******

“Well, Miss Bennett, I warned you our next meeting would not be as productive as our last.” Gabriel’s tone was clipped as he surveyed his captive.

Diana stood between two guards, silently berating herself for getting caught. Now the man had ample warning and could easily escape. She could only pray that Joe got her note and would arrive in time. But it was a forlorn hope at best.

She stared at the man she had done so much to find. He looked average, someone she would pass in the street and not give a second glance. He didn’t have the appearance of a ruthless tycoon or deranged killer. But his eyes were as dark and cold as obsidian. They glared at her now, filled with a bleak fire that stripped his face of any pretense at humanity.

“You are a very astute woman,” Gabriel snarled. “It’s almost a pity to have to silence you…almost a pity. You should have accepted my offer. It was more than reasonable.”

“I’m sure you won’t lose too much sleep over me,” Diana bit back.

“Such a touching concern for my welfare.” Gabriel shrugged. “When it’s your own state of health you should be concerned with.” He signed to his men.

“Take her away, far away and see to it she will never be found.”

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Men shouting and the sound of gunfire filled the room. Diana’s heart leapt. Joe! She began to struggle with her captors.

“It seems we are to be interrupted.” Gabriel stared at Diana. “Bring her,” he ordered, as he stormed out of the room.

The man from the limousine came hurrying up, his face alive with fear. “The helicopter is standing by, sir. But we must hurry.”

“Take her, Pope.” Gabriel pushed Diana forward. “A little insurance policy.”

Pope grabbed at Diana’s arm, but she stumbled deliberately over the foot of one of her guards and all three went down in a heap on the floor.

“Idiots!” Gabriel screamed, his usually icy manner slipping badly. “Get up!”

Loud banging was now coming from all directions as the police sought entry. Pope scrambled quickly to his feet and found himself facing his own gun. “What the —” He thrust a hand inside his coat, blanching when it came out empty.

“Don’t move.” Diana walked backwards slowly, so she could cover all four men at once. Gabriel started forward, his face a contorted mask of hatred.

“They won’t convict me, you know,” he said, almost reflectively. “Jurists have families. And even if I did go to prison, you can rule the world from a cell block. I own nations, Diana. Do you think someone as small and insignificant as you, is going to stop me?”

Behind him Pope and the two guards melted away and disappeared quietly, as the front door began to cave in under the concentrated assault. Diana continued to point the gun unwaveringly at Gabriel’s chest.

“I will destroy you and all you hold dear. Do you hear me, Diana? I will bury you, as I have buried all the rest who stood in my way.”

“I hear you.” Diana looked him in the eye and found nothing there, but monumental greed and intense hatred. “I hear you only too well.”

“Then you know you cannot escape me.” Gabriel started forward. “You are just a woman. You don’t have the courage or the backbone to pull that trigger. Get the hell out of my way.”

Diana didn’t move. She studied the man advancing on her with murderous intent evident on his face. “For Catherine Chandler and John Moreno, who was a decent man, once,” she said then, as she calmly pulled the trigger.

*******

“So, it’s finally over.” Elliot sighed, almost with regret.

“Yes, it’s over.” Catherine sat with Vincent in Father’s chamber, watching the other man with concern.

“You can have a life down here, if you wish it.” Vincent placed his hand on Elliot’s shoulder.

Elliot looked from Catherine to Vincent and he smiled as he placed his own hand over Vincent’s. “You have given me back my life. Now I have to go and see what is left of the old one Above. I want to discover if Elliot Burch still exists.”

“You are welcome any time, you know that,” Father spoke seriously. His liking for the younger man had grown in their time together. Truly, he had changed from the man he had once been.

“It will be Winterfest again soon.” Catherine smiled at the thought. “You must come Below for the celebrations.”

“That I can promise.” Elliot nodded. He got to his feet. “But for now, I have to say some goodbyes. Has anyone seen that Mouse recently?”

*******

Catherine lay in Vincent’s arms that night, lazily sated with their loving. She turned her head to nuzzle the salty dampness of his skin. “A penny for them?” she prompted gently, when he didn’t respond to her gentle teasing.

“I was wondering about Gabriel, and what drives a man like that to do so much evil. When he had so much ability to do a great deal of good in the world.”

“I have seen many evil men in my work, Vincent. And I still don’t have any answers.”

Vincent turned his head to look down at her, curled so trustingly in his arms. Her eyes reflected the candlelight and the unquenchable light of her love for him. Tonight he had felt truly free, free from the disquiet of the past months, free from the outside influences, that always seemed to determine the course of their shared fate.

Jacob stirred in his cot and mumbled in his sleep. Vincent returned Catherine’s smile, as their bond reflected their son’s happy dreams.

“We have all our tomorrows, Vincent,” she avowed softly, tracing with one fingertip, the shape of the muscles in his upper arm.

“Yes…” Vincent agreed softly, as he lowered his mouth to hers and took her lips in a gentle kiss that soon deepened once again into a passion that swept them both away into their own private world of light and colou. There would always be a tomorrow now…always…

*******

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,

Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon;

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

“You’re safe, you’re safe now. Sleep, my love”…Vincent.

LITERARY REFERENCES

“To Dream a Dream”    Judith Nolan

“Ask Me No More”   Alfred, Lord Tennyson

“Nurse’s Song” (Songs of Innocence)  William Blake

“Whither, O Whither”  The Islet  Alfred, Lord Tennyson

“Pain Has An Element of Blank”  Emily Dickinson

“The Impulse”  Robert Frost

“Hope is the Thing With Feathers”   Emily Dickinson

Sonnet # 19   William Shakespeare

“To One Singing”   Poetical Works   Percy B Shelley

“I Took my Power in my Hand”  Emily Dickinson

“Sweet and Low” (Songs from the Princess)

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

- All Things

- Are

- Possible

- “All Things Are Possible”

A Story of “Beauty and the Beast”

By Judith Nolan

Artwork by Kathy Fidge

This story is the sequel to “To Dream a Dream” It was written for all those who love the continuing story of Vincent and Catherine. A love that transcends the laws of time and space. It is truly a love for all seasons.

Again, a very warm ‘thank you’ to all those who have joined me on this journey, I couldn’t have done it without you guys. But especial love and ‘Vincent’ hugs to Victoria Rudd, my chief editor and sounding board when I worried I had strayed too far from the path I have set myself. Once again for Jean, my Tunnel sister and good friend. Great to be back Below once more…

This story is dedicated to all the cast of  “Beauty and the Beast” – to Ron and Linda, for giving our favourite characters flesh and dreams, and also to Roy, Jay, Ritch, David, Edward, Armin, Ellen, and Jo for adding another wonderful dimension to their story.

(Please do not reproduce, by any means, this story)

“All Things Are Possible” is an amateur fiction fanzine and as such does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of RON KOSLOW FILMS, REPUBLIC PICTURES, CBS TELEVISION, WITT THOMAS PRODUCTIONS or any other holders of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights.

“But I could have told you, Vincent,

this world was never meant for one as

beautiful as you…”

If a picture paints a thousand words

Then why can't I paint you?

The words will never show

The you I've come to know

If a face could launch a thousand ships

Then where am I to go?

There's no one home but you

You're all that's left me too

And when my love for life is running dry

You come and pour yourself on me

If a man could be two places at one time

I'd be with you

Tomorrow and today

Beside you all the way

If the world should stop revolving

Spinning slowly down to die

I'd spend the end with you

And when the world was through

Then one by one the stars would all go out

Then you and I would simply fly away

Bread

*******

They say that ‘Time assuages’

Time never did assuage

An actual suffering strengths

As sinews do, with age.

Time is a test of trouble

But not a remedy.

If such it prove, it prove too

There was no malady.

Emily Dickinson

Elliot moved through the tunnel community slowly, making his farewells and quietly assessing the needs of these people who had given of themselves so unstintingly. He found he was torn between the two worlds, each with their own measure of pain for him, but the pull of the world Above was stronger. He had chosen its path too long ago to change now, no matter how many times he’d wished it to be otherwise.

He spent time with Pascal in his pipe chamber, simply talking and gathering strength from the unceasing routine of question and answer, as Pascal and his young assistant, Zach, scurried from pipe to pipe, keeping the life blood of the underground world flowing. Elliot could see where improvements could be made, and he mentally added the requirements to his list. When he was re-established again in the world Above, he hoped to be able to make Pascal’s job a little easier.

He visited William in his kitchen and found himself partaking of one of the cook’s small breakfasts, as William bustled from stove to the long gallery, with his group of willing helpers, serving the community as they rose to face the new day. Elliot smiled wryly as he thought of the many breakfasts he’d eaten in nearly every corner of the world – expensive breakfasts served by haughty waiters -- and he knew that none had tasted as good as William’s repast.

The world Below was coming to life around him as he made his way towards the chamber where he had been told he could find Shannon Cole. Or O’Neill, he reminded himself mentally. With the death of her husband, Shannon had reverted to the name the tunnel dwellers had first known her by. For her, the choice of worlds was easy to make. Elliot’s head was bowed in thought as he moved through the pools of shadows between torches that lit the tunnel before him.

But he was only halfway to his destination when a tousled-headed figure burst out of a side tunnel and narrowly missed colliding with him. Elliot put out one hand to steady them both as Mouse jumped back in surprise.

The boy had been juggling what looked like plastic explosive from one hand to the other, and Elliot sighed in exasperation as Mouse swiftly made the block disappear into one of the many pockets of his patched jacket. His look of guilt at being caught didn’t ease Elliot’s mind.

“Elliot, early,” Mouse muttered his usual form of morning greeting. “Why?”

“And you don’t appear to have slept at all.” Elliot knew the boy well enough by now to know that he’d been Above, foraging again.

“Not your stuff.” Mouse shuffled his feet as he watched Elliot cautiously. “Vincent said I’m to leave your stuff alone. Said, ‘it’s not polite to take from friends.’ Mouse knows.” He intoned the last few words solemnly, injecting just the right amount of Vincent’s quiet manner.

Elliot grinned as he laid a hand on the boy’s hunched shoulder. “Since it isn’t my ‘stuff’ anymore, you have my permission to take whatever you want. But…” He paused as Mouse’s head shot up at this and he looked ready to scurry away immediately. “But, I have a far better suggestion for you.”

“What?” Mouse demanded suspiciously.

“When I have re-established myself Above, get in touch with me, and I will endeavour to supply you with whatever you need. Within reason,” he answered the widening gleam in Mouse’s eyes. “Catherine knows how to contact me. I don’t want to find that you have been caught ‘taking’ someone else's stuff and paying the price. I might not be able to help you next time.”

It took a long moment for the words to sink into Mouse’s stunned mind. Then his innocent blue eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Any stuff, whatever I want, you will find?” He couldn’t believe his luck. “Good that I saved you then.” He grinned. “Okay, good, okay fine!” He jumped from foot to foot in glee.

“Anything…within reason,” Elliot added hastily, picturing the block of explosive the boy had been playing with. “And yes, it was good that you saved me.”

“Okay, good! Okay, fine!” Mouse continued to bounce on the spot. “Better than better, better than great! Better than…than William’s apple pie!” he finished triumphantly, giving Elliot’s offer the greatest of accolades.

“On the condition that you give up taking other people's stuff.” Elliot held him down to try and make sure he got his message across. “You worry Catherine, Vincent, and Father with your constant pilfering. You could get caught so easily.”

“Not pilfering, taking,” Mouse exclaimed indignantly. “Always leave plenty. Up Top got plenty. Mouse not greedy.”

“Promise me,” Elliot said sternly. “I can’t help you if you are going to continue as you are. It’s far too dangerous, Mouse. You will get yourself caught one day and even I might not be able to save you.”

“Anything I want?” Mouse peered up into Elliot’s face, making sure he was not being deceived. “Best Elliot stuff? No junk? No broken things?”

“Anything, and they will all be brand spanking new.” Elliot sighed, hoping against hope that the little engineer wasn’t planning on doing any major bridge construction or nuclear power plant work in the near future.

“Okay, deal.” Mouse thrust out a grubby hand and shook Elliot’s vigorously.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m going to regret this decision?” Elliot remarked to himself, shaking his head in despair, as he watched Mouse dancing away down the tunnel. Again the boy was tossing the block of explosive from hand to hand, gleefully.

“Any such decisions where Mouse is concerned is bound to cause some misgivings,” said a quiet voice behind Elliot. A large hand descended onto his shoulder companionably. “Do not let the boy abuse your generosity. He has no limits where ‘stuff’ is concerned.”

“Vincent.” Elliot turned his head with a rueful smile, as the larger man leaned back against the tunnel wall, surveying his new friend quizzically.

“But whatever you have offered Mouse, it seems to have made him extremely contented,” Vincent continued softly.

“I was trying to keep him out of trouble.” Elliot’s smile became wry. “To keep him out of the hands of developers and their construction workers who would dearly love to toss him into prison and throw away the key.”

“So you have given him sole right to your ‘stuff.’ And no one else’s,” Vincent guessed shrewdly. “You are too generous.”

“Seems only fair, after the boy saved my life,” Elliot offered, as he watched the other man’s reaction. “And if I can save you and Catherine a lot of worry…”

“I will admit to a few grey hairs over Mouse’s escapades in the world Up Top.”

Vincent straightened away from the wall and placed his hand on Elliot’s shoulder once more. “But you must not allow him to take advantage of you, especially now, when you have a long way to climb to reach the top again.” He smiled ruefully. “Mouse will probably bankrupt you in the first week.”

“It’s been done by experts. I don’t think Mouse will make too much of a dent in my balance sheets. I want to do this, Vincent, for Mouse, for you, for…Catherine. For all the people down here who have helped me, simply because I was a man in trouble. They couldn’t care if I was a king or a beggar and that’s important to me…to the new me.”

“But Elliot Burch still lives…” Vincent probed gently, tightening his grip on the other man’s shoulder sympathetically.

“In the world Above the name Elliot Burch had power,” Elliot explained softly, his face set and hard. “But Stosh Kasmarec has to find a place for himself in that world now. I am remembering who I used to be, a long time ago.”

“Well, whatever you decide, both Stosh and Elliot will always have a place here as well.” Vincent smiled. “Catherine worried about you after our first meeting. She had never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” Elliot sighed, placing his hand over Vincent’s on his shoulder. “Taking no for an answer was never my style. But I am learning.”

The two men turned together and walked side by side down the tunnel, pausing to allow a stream of children to pass and acknowledge their greetings as they vied with each other for attention. It was still a novelty for Elliot to find himself surrounded by a mass of young, eager faces and he struggled to remember all the names that came so easily to Vincent’s lips.

“Are you going to come and teach us again?” An eager young boy tugged at Elliot’s sleeve.

“Elliot has to go Above soon, Richard,” Vincent supplied, before Elliot could answer. “But I’m sure he will return to your classroom one day soon.”

“Oh, good, because you tell such neat stories.” Richard gazed up at Elliot for a moment before he dashed off, chatting animatedly with his companions as they ran.

“You seem to have found a new profession.” Vincent looked after the children as they disappeared around a bend in the tunnel.

“A whistle stop tour of the world’s greatest construction sites is hardly the right sort of background for a geography teacher.” Elliot laughed. “Which reminds me…” he paused suddenly.

“Shannon will be getting ready for class.” Vincent faced the other man with an understanding look in his sapphire eyes. “I will be waiting for you in Father’s chamber, when you are ready to leave.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be truly ready,” Elliot admitted brusquely. “But I have to do this. Thanks, Vincent…for everything.”

“We owe you more than we can ever repay,” Vincent acknowledged his words, as he shook his head. “Someday we may be able to find a way to repay you.”

“You already have, Vincent.” Elliot met his eyes squarely. “You have repaid me with your trust.”

Vincent considered him for a long moment, then he nodded slowly in agreement. “Shannon will waiting,” he said finally, a small smile playing over his mouth as he turned away. Elliot stood looking after him, admiring the grace and power of the man and his directness.

*******

“When will you leave?” Shannon placed the last of the books on the children’s seats and looked across at Elliot.

“I have a meeting scheduled with Joe Maxwell this afternoon. Catherine arranged it. Then, undoubtedly, I will have to face the press and get them off my back. We cannot afford them to have them snooping into my disappearance and magical resurrection. Then I need to attack Gabriel’s hold on my companies and get them back.”

“You are looking forward to going…Above again.” Shannon smoothed her skirt nervously, as if voicing that word still worried her.

“I have a world up there that I created with my bare hands, Shannon. I can’t stand idly by and just let it all fall apart without making some attempt to rescue what is left after the vultures have picked the carcass.”

“I understand.” Shannon looked away from him to the confines of the small chamber.

“And I understand more than you think,” Elliot replied softly, quoting Shannon’s own words from their first conversation in this room. “There are good men, as well as bad, up there.”

Shannon looked back at him, her eyes dark and troubled. “I know…” she whispered, as the first of the children hurried into the room, contesting noisily for the best seats.

*******

“You are worried about Elliot?” Catherine placed her hand against Vincent’s chest as she looked up into his eyes, as they waited for Elliot in Father’s chamber.

Vincent sighed deeply, placing his hand over hers and carrying it to his lips to kiss her palm lingeringly. “I worry that the man he has become hasn’t the sheer tenacity of old. Has he still the will to succeed, despite everything?”

“He has the courage you gave him, Vincent. But I think the new Elliot Burch will do very well for himself. He will have to, if he hopes to keep up with Mouse’s demands.”

“Very true.” Vincent shared Catherine’s quiet laughter at this thought, and the tension of their bond eased slowly.

Vincent still held fears, for Catherine, and Elliot, and also for himself. This life of love and commitment was still very new and precious. He still had grave doubts about its ability to survive in the light of the world Above, now that the spectre of Gabriel and his menace had finally been removed.

The world up there was once again open to Catherine; she could choose many different paths. But all of them, except the one they could share, were permanently barred to Vincent himself. A chill wind whispered through the deep, hidden corners of his soul as he contemplated this knowledge.

Catherine leaned against him, drawing his attention down to her by stroking the curve of his bottom lip with her fingertip. Slowly, deliberately, she reached up to place her lips against his as she whispered, “Though the sound overpowers, sing again, with your dear voice revealing, a tone, of some world far from ours, where music and moonlight and feeling, are one.”

The lines she whispered brought a glint of deepening awareness to Vincent’s eyes and they darkened perceptibly. The words were a part of a Shelley poem he’d taught her after their first night together, when their mutual world of passion was so bright and new, he could deny her nothing.

“Woman, you are a temptation beyond all reason,” Vincent growled, as he feasted on her soft mouth.

Catherine smiled against his lips and their kiss, which had begun so lightly, full of teasing, deepened into a mutual, aching need. She found herself clinging to handfuls of Vincent’s mane as the world tilted beneath her feet.

Vincent could feel her heart beating against his, the many rhythms of their bond blazing into life beneath the sensual assault. His hands slid the length of her back, coming to rest on the curve of her hips as he drew her up and into him and all sense of the world around them dissolved into extinction.

“Ahem, I do hope I’m not interrupting too much…” came a somewhat embarrassed voice from behind them. “But this is my chamber.”

They fell apart immediately, to find Father watching them quizzically from the top of the steps leading down into his chamber. Utterly involved in each other, they had not heard him enter.

“Not that I wouldn’t happily give up my chamber at any time,” Father continued, as he descended the steps, his eyes carrying more than a trace of spry amusement as he surveyed his son’s embarrassment. He turned away to make a pot of tea with the jug of hot water he carried in his hand.

“The conversation did get a little carried away,” Catherine agreed somewhat shakily, as she moved to kiss the old man’s cheek and hug his arm.

“That is what I most enjoy about you, Catherine,” Father murmured, touching his fingertips to her cheek. “Your wonderful gift for understatement.”

“We were discussing Elliot, Father.” Vincent joined them as Catherine helped Jacob carry the cups to the table. He avoided the look in his parent’s eyes, that questioned their topic of conversation, as the three sat together.

“He is ready to leave?” Father asked after a pause, as he poured the tea.

“He has a meeting with Joe, and the press, this afternoon.” Catherine took her cup with a nod of thanks. “We thought it best if he simply pleads amnesia from the trauma of being shot, and then he will have a refuge from being pressured into revealing where he has been for the last two months. I have cleared everything with Joe, through Geoffrey.”

“Mr. Maxwell will still want to know how you managed to find both Burch and Shannon, and kept them secreted from him.” Father fingered his beard worriedly. “He is far too astute a man to believe that you just happened to come upon them in the park.”

“That is a bridge we will have to cross when we come to it.” Catherine sighed. “There are so many things that we will have to clear up. Loose ends that could easily trip us up if we aren’t careful.”

“At least we are finally free of Gabriel.” Father reached for her hand. “There was a time when I was convinced we would lose it all and we were powerless to prevent it from happening. But now…”

“Now, we have a future, Father…together.” Catherine linked her fingers through the older man’s warmly. “And that is something worth fighting for.”

“Yes.” Father looked from Catherine to Vincent, where he sat quietly drinking his tea. His eyes, when they rested on his love, were filled with a mixture of trepidation and hope.

A future, Jacob mused to himself, and a small shiver feathered along his spine, I wonder what it will bring…

*******

“The way out.” Elliot glanced towards the drainage tunnel that led up to the park above.

His voice held a wealth of memories. A cool breeze found its way to him, bringing with it the scent of wet grass and the muted sounds of the city that Elliot had always considered his own. He could feel its pull strengthening as he moved ever closer.

“And the way back.” Vincent affirmed softly at his shoulder, as he closed the barred gate behind Catherine. “You must return to us.”

“You know you are always welcome here now, Elliot.” Catherine stepped forward to slide her arms around his neck and hug him closely.

Elliot couldn’t resist pulling her against him for a brief moment, needing to feel her slender softness once more. His eyes met Vincent’s and he saw the answering gleam of understanding in their sapphire depths.

Dressed now in an elegantly tailored suit, thanks to the efforts of one of the helpers, an elderly Chinese tailor, with his hair and beard once more neatly trimmed, Elliot looked every inch the rich property developer of old. Only his eyes were different now—they held a warmth, a reflective smile, and the look of a man who had come to terms with himself.

“I will miss Stosh Kasmarek,” Catherine chided him with a smile, smoothing the rich fabric of Elliot’s sleeve beneath her fingers.

“He’ll be back.” Elliot kissed her temple. “He finally has a home now. And very good friends who care about what happens to him.”

“Please, be careful, all the same.” Catherine touched his lean cheek, before stepping back to stand beside Vincent. “The press won’t make it easy for you. They will hate to pass on a juicy story such as yours. They will hound you incessantly.”

“A man without a memory won’t be much use to them,” he assured her, tapping his forehead. “I know how fragile your world is here, and how much you have to protect. I will do my best to assist you in any way I can.”

His gaze turned to Vincent as he said these last words and again he surveyed that unique face. But Vincent’s appearance had ceased to amaze him. He had come to know and love the man beneath it, and he knew he could never betray the honesty he’d found there. Now his silence was not only for Cathy’s sake.

“Remember what I said about building blocks for that boy of yours.” Elliot’s smile was lopsided at best as he watched the two of them. “You need to learn the construction game early in life.”

“They will make an excellent Winterfest present,” Vincent assured him, as he embraced Elliot with understanding.

Elliot leaned against him for a moment, simply drawing strength from this unique man. A man who gave so unselfishly of himself, asking nothing in return. There was more than a trace of tears in his eyes when he drew back.

“I’ll remember that,” he assured him huskily, before he turned to the tunnel and, after a final glance of gratitude made his way back to the remains of his life Above.

“I think he will make it.” Catherine moved into Vincent’s arms and laid her cheek against his heart. “I hope he will make it, for his sake.”

“He goes with love, Catherine.” Vincent lifted her chin on the back of his fingers. “No man has more.”

“Yes…” Catherine agreed softly, as she gazed up into the beauty of her lover’s eyes, before his lips touched hers with a feathered lightness and her world became centred on that one heady sensation…

*******

Sin being gone, oh fill the place,

And keep possession with thy grace;

Lest sin take courage and return,

And all the writings blot and burn.

George Herbert

Joe Maxwell surveyed the two people seated before him, with satisfaction. Greg Hughes and Diana Bennett acknowledged his thanks for a job well done. He’d already sent over a very large box of the finest Swiss chocolates to Edie at the Data Centre, at her insistent request. She said she didn’t have time to hang with a bunch of lawyers and note-takers. Her irreverence for his position always made Joe smile. It felt good to finally be able to smile again.

“We did good,” he acknowledged to his team. The removal of Gabriel had been a major coup for Joe and his whole department. He had felt like David taking on Goliath, without even the benefit of a slingshot, but his team’s sheer tenacity had paid off in the end.

Even though Diana’s final removal of the man had caused a few palpitations at City Hall, it was generally agreed that she had acted in the city’s best interests, as well as the interests of her own safety, and the whole affair had been quietly dealt with. There were, of course, far more selfish reasons for a fuss not being made over his demise.

There had been an audible intake of breath in many shadowy corners of the private sector worldwide at the thought of what Gabriel could have revealed at his trial for murder and industrial espionage. A messy, costly, trial that could have dragged on for years, bogged down in endless appeals and plea bargains. The man would not have gone down without taking many of his shady business associates with him.

And since none of Gabriel’s henchmen could be found and taken in for questioning, the case had been closed, with great relief in many quarters. It was to be business as usual now.

“You were right about cutting off the head and the rest would fall into place.” Greg nodded now. “All the little men are tripping over themselves to be the first to disavow any knowledge of Gabriel and his dark empire.”

“The stock market has taken a nosedive that it will take some time to recover from,” Diana added thoughtfully. “Elliot Burch should be able to buy back his companies for a song and count himself lucky.”

“And the man has conveniently forgotten where he’s been for the past two months. So he won’t find the press hindering him for too long.” Joe fiddled with the darts on his desk. He had readily agreed to Catherine’s terms, as they were relayed through Geoffrey, but he still wasn’t happy about letting Burch off so easily.

“A small price to pay to be rid of Gabriel, I would say,” Diana agreed, as Joe frowned at her absently.

“A prince for a king,” Joe said slowly. “Yes, I suppose you could call that a fair trade.”

Greg and Diana exchanged frowning glances as Joe continued to finger the darts. They both wondered what was going on in his mind.

*******

Catherine stood at the threshold below her apartment building, looking into the shaft of cool, white light that flowed down from above. So much, so many things had changed since she had last passed through the barrier that separated Vincent’s world from her own. The world above her seemed alien now, something to be faced with trepidation, not unmixed with a little fear.

Mouse had been busy, unblocking the entrance. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of Catherine going Above again. She was a part of Vincent’s world now. What did she want with Up Top? But he had completed the work grudgingly.

Catherine could feel Vincent’s solid presence behind her, his warmth and love reaching out to her, the currents of their connection pulsing with all the doubts and questions that had no answers that Catherine could find within herself. There could only be an acceptance of what must be and a sense of safety in the sure knowledge of their love for each other.

She turned her head to meet the questioning blueness of Vincent’s gaze, as he scanned her face, taking in all the details of her beauty, memorizing them once again, for he needed her reassurance as well. Catherine smiled as she hovered in the opening, undecided about how to continue. Perhaps Mouse was right after all.

“I have that same feeling now that I had the last time we stood here, after my father died.”

“Only stronger this time,” Vincent supplied on a sigh, his gaze tangling with hers, after a tense silence.

“I feel like an intruder, as if I don’t truly belong up there anymore.” Catherine turned her back on the shaft of light. “Perhaps Mouse is wiser than we guessed.”

“Mouse doesn’t like the rhythms of his world to be disturbed, unless it is he who is causing that disturbance.” Vincent shook his head. “The choices must be yours alone.”

He moved forward then, to gather her slim form back against him, and the warmth of his body seeped into Catherine’s, the hard contours of his muscles an exquisite torture as she laid her head back against his shoulder, feeling his breathing stir her hair.

“It takes courage to go forward.” Vincent’s hand rose to detail the outline of her jaw line and the slender column of her throat, before coming to rest on her shoulder. “We are both on a journey that can only have its conclusion Above. You have decisions to make, decisions that affect not only us, but all those who love and care for you. But whatever conclusion you finally come to, know that I would not try to influence you, in any way, to change those decisions.”

There was a wistful tone in this last statement that caused Catherine to turn in his arms and look up into eyes. She could see there all the love, all the passion that had come to be between them, but also the fear of this greatest of all challenges to their relationship. Above, where Catherine must walk alone, lay a whole world of possibilities that Vincent could only dream about.

“I must do this…for us.” She laid her hand against his cheek. “I can sense your doubts, all your fears. Don’t worry, Vincent, we can have a whole lifetime together now. I will never leave you again after this. I could not exist without you to love me and to be with me.”

Vincent bent his head to brush his lips gently across her mouth, his body trembling slightly in her loving embrace. A low murmur escaped Catherine then, as she sought to deepen the caress, to reassure Vincent of her warmth, her need for him, and the world became suspended in time, as they became totally absorbed in each other. Vincent growled softly, deep in his throat, as Catherine’s hands moved over the leanness of his hips, skimming the aching warmth of his renewed need for her touch.

“The tunnel floor…it’s a little dusty,” Catherine managed. After an eternity of caresses and impassioned murmurs of suppressed desire.

Vincent chuckled, resting his forehead against hers, his mane mingling with the honeyed bronze of her hair. “My need for you was once a thing of shame for me. But now…” He drew a deep, steadying breath. “Now I can only wonder at how I lived for so long without the ability to express it.”

“I take it that statement is a polite refusal of my offer.” Catherine smiled.

“Only a postponement of the inevitable.” Vincent traced the outline of her body, from the base of her throat to the flare of her hip, with one fingertip, making her shiver.

“To be apart from you and Jacob, even though I have no choice, is its own special brand of torture.” Catherine swallowed against the tears gathering in her throat, threatening to choke off her words. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

Vincent gathered her against him, smoothing every curve, every contour, reaffirming her reality, as he buried his face against her neck and rocked her gently, knowing that he must release her in order that she return to him and their fragile dream of a life together.

“I must go,” Catherine whispered brokenly, drawing back resolutely. “While I still have the strength to leave you.” She swallowed the obstruction in her throat and smile tremulously. “You hold all that I am…here.” She took one of his hands and turned it over to trace the curve of his palm, then she closed his fingers over and held them closed on the memory of her touch. “Keep me there until I return.”

“Always…” Vincent promised softly, his gaze unwavering. “I love you,” he finished simply, but the words held a wealth of shades and reflections that sent shivers through Catherine’s soul.

Her eyes held Vincent’s as she stepped backwards, once, then again, drawing away from him physically, but leaving everything she was and ever could be in his loving care. Then she turned and the white light swallowed her, the echoes of her footsteps fading into nothingness as she ascended the ladder to the basement.

How long Vincent remained standing there, he could not afterwards have said. At last, he drew a long shuddering sigh deep into his lungs. He shook his head. Catherine, his great heart cried, before he turned and walked away into the darkness of the tunnels Below...

*******

Elliot stood in the middle of his office, simply staring at all it contained. It all looked the same and yet…it was somehow different. He knew, deep inside, that nothing here had truly changed, the change was within himself. The centre of his being had shifted, altered to include the new perceptions of his life.

But it felt good to stand here again, knowing he was once again the master of his own destiny. Even though everything was in disarray after Gabriel’s death, he’d been able to purchase the shares in Burch Properties Group for a quarter of their value six months ago. Elliot knew he could bring it and himself back to the top again, back to his place as a prince of Manhattan.

“I need to make it so.” He smiled.

He had Mouse to contend with now, and he expected daily lists of demands.

He chuckled, as he pictured the boy’s enthusiasm over his offer of help.

The day had been one of frustrations and delays when Elliot simply wished to come to grips with his old life again. His press statement had been brief and noncommittal. He had learned long ago how to handle the awkward questions that were designed to trap the unwary.

But he had hidden behind the veil of amnesia and refused to be drawn out on his whereabouts of the last months. The conference had broken up with relief on Elliot’s part and ill-disguised disgust on the part of the media. Elliot had smiled inwardly as he’d watched them depart, knowing that the game was far from over.

The interview with Joe Maxwell had been much harder, as the lawyer strove to pry from him any knowledge he had about Catherine’s whereabouts. Diana Bennett had also attended the meeting. Elliot had been hard pressed to keep his secrets intact under their expert pressure. But all he could say was that the man who had shot him had been sent by Gabriel to eliminate him. The gunman’s last words had testified to that.

The ruse of amnesia had been designed, with Joe’s contrivance, to keep the press at bay; consequently he took Elliot’s unwillingness to unburden himself as a personal insult to his intelligence. But short of dragging Elliot into court and forcing him, under oath, to confess all he knew, which Joe was naturally unwilling to do, there was nothing left for him but to dismiss Elliot from his office, with the stricture that he keep himself available at all times and not to leave the city.

Elliot had breathed a sigh of relief when he found himself on the other side of Joe’s office door. But he was uncomfortably aware that the issue with the D.A. was not going to go away so easily. The man was far too suspicious of Elliot’s motives. And Diana Bennett watched him as if he was a complex puzzle she fully intended to unravel.

Elliot turned now to stare at Cleon Manning, lounging very much at his ease, on the couch. The investigator’s eyes were filled with wry amusement at Elliot’s triumph. “You know the press will hound you for months, until they’re finally convinced you’re telling the truth.”

“The truth is what you make it.” Elliot dropped onto the opposite couch and picked up the glass of scotch he had poured himself. “I don’t remember a thing.”

“Yes, boss.” Cleon sat back, laying his arms along the back of the couch, his amusement growing as he acknowledged Elliot’s shrewdness. “I take it you found what you went looking for that night.”

“That and a great deal more.” Elliot consumed the fiery liquid in his glass in one swallow. “A great deal more.”

“I will look forward to meeting your Miss Chandler then,” Cleon mused. “She must be a remarkable woman.”

“Remarkable and very beautiful.” Elliot contemplated the emptiness of his glass. “She helped me rediscover who I am.”

“And Vincent?” Cleon probed thoughtfully.

“Vincent…?” Elliot glanced up at that, his grey eyes narrowing as he surveyed his friend and colleague, a small smile curving his mouth. “I have no memory of such a person,” he stated quietly.

“So, it was all a wino’s fantasy, after all.” Cleon returned the smile, as he shook his head, acknowledging Elliot’s look of complete understanding.

*******

Catherine stepped out of the lift and stood for a moment, letting the ebb and flow of the D.A.’s office surge around her. The corridor was filled with its usual crowd of people hurrying in both directions and no one allowed her the slightest attention as they bustled past. It was everything she remembered, but it had a different kind of familiarity to it now.

She had already been over to Edie’s department, in an attempt to sooth the very ruffled feathers of her co-worker. Questions about who, what and where, she’d managed to deflect. Edie had to be satisfied with what little Catherine could tell her, but she was obviously not happy. But she made her promise never to do that to her again.

“I swear I’ve aged at least 10 years in the last few months. Some people have worn holes in my carpet coming in and out looking for you.” Edie cocked her head, her dark braids flipping around. “Does it show how old I must look now?”

“Not a bit,” Catherine reassured her, laughing. “Come on, let’s get some lunch. My treat, I think I can still afford it. You did good work, girlfriend.”

“Hey, you owe met at least the all-you-can eat buffet over at Mac’s. And you aren’t going to escape that easily. I want to know all the facts.” Edie wagged an admonishing finger before allowing herself to be escorted from her work station. “I gotta know some secrets.”

Drawing a deep breath now, Catherine moved forward towards the door that declared itself the office of Joe Maxwell, District Attorney and pushed it open. Joe’s secretary looked up from her desk and surveyed Catherine politely. Catherine didn’t recognise her.

“May I help you?” the woman asked politely.

“Catherine Chandler.” Cathy smiled. “I believe Joe is expecting me.”

“Oh, of course.” The woman sprang to her feet and headed for the inner door, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Cathy!” Joe exploded through the open door, his relief and delight at seeing her, patent on his face. He gathered her up into a bear hug that threatened to break her ribs. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again!” He drew back to hold her at arm’s length.

“Hello, Joe.” Catherine smiled, her voice catching. “It’s good to see you too.”

“The place hasn’t been the same without you.” Joe shook her gently. He turned her around, to push her into his office before him.

“I see you’ve moved up in the world.” Catherine looked around her.

Joe pushed her down into a chair and called for his secretary to bring them both coffee. “My reward for finally unmasking Gabriel.” He dismissed it all with a shrug, his eyes devouring every detail of Catherine’s appearance. “Your desk is exactly as you left it, Radcliffe. All primed and ready to go.”

He leaned his hips against the desk behind him, watching her with a keen air of expectation.

“I wish it were that easy, Joe. I really do.” Catherine accepted the steaming cup of coffee from Joe’s secretary with a word of thanks. She sipped the hot liquid gratefully. “I’m sorry. I won’t be coming back here, not to work.”

“Not coming back? What gives?” Joe’s voice filled with alarm, as he searched for any clues in her expression. “Is there more you haven’t told me? You have a bad habit of holding out on me, Radcliffe. I thought that by this time you would know that you can trust me.”

Catherine’s smile was apologetic as she surveyed him steadily. “It’s more than a matter of trust, Joe, much more. If the secrets were mine alone…but they’re not; they never have been. More than that I cannot say. I’m sorry, Joe.”

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m missing something really big here?” Joe set down his mug and slumped into the chair behind his desk. He laid his hands, palms down, on the desktop. “I thought that once Gabriel was caught, you would be free to return. Now you drop this bombshell. I need you, Radcliffe.”

“I have another life now, a good life, Joe.” Catherine shook her head. “I can’t leave all that behind, not now.”

“Caves and candles, I suppose.” Joe shifted his position uneasily. “You scare me sometimes, you know, Cathy. Why this necessity to shroud yourself in mystery? It isn’t healthy.”

“For those I love and I have sworn to protect. There can be no other way,” Catherine told him quietly, not wishing to hurt Joe, of all people. “I…I had a choice to make and I have made it.”

“With no regrets?” Joe questioned, on a deep sigh.

“No regrets, Joe,” Catherine told him, with a smile. “Never could there be any regrets.”

“I should have seen it coming, I guess.” Joe stood to pace the office, reminding Catherine of Vincent. The two men were more alike that they knew. She wished they could meet.

Joe waved his hands in frustration. “But I thought that once we had caught Gabriel and the threat to your safety was over, that…”

“Everything would be as it was before,” Catherine supplied gently, when he paused.

“I can’t help but wish we could go back to the way things were before.” Joe came back to stand before her, his tone wistful, and Catherine could see the pain in his eyes. “Chocolate cheese nuggets.” His lips twisted.

“I’m sorry, Joe, but I have met someone, someone who means everything to me. But he can’t live in my world, so I must live with him in his. I…told you about him once.” She stood, setting aside her mug to take Joe’s hands in hers. “I said that you had a heart as big as his, and you…you are as beautiful.”

“Geeze, give me a break, Radcliffe.” Joe’s face flushed at that; he’d been called many things in his time, but this was a first.

Catherine smiled at his embarrassment before slipping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. His arms came around her and he sighed deeply as he kissed her cheek.

“Maybe, deep down, I expected something like this, Radcliffe.” He slid his hands down her arms to clasp her fingers in his. “But I managed to convince myself otherwise.” He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “So, are you going to disappear on me again? Leave me stranded trying to communicate with you through the likes of that ragamuffin, Geoffrey?”

“No, not this time, Joe.” Catherine laughed at his expression of distaste. “I have several things that I must clear up before I leave. But I will be available anytime you need me. It won’t be like before, Joe, when we were all in serious danger.”

“So, no more subway car meetings.” Joe brushed a hand over his hair. “Thank goodness for that. One day you must tell where you took me that day; it was truly awesome and scary. But I get it.” He held up both hands in surrender. “I’m not allowed to know where you’re going and who will be protecting you now. You know I hate that, Radcliffe, the not knowing a darn thing!”

Catherine nodded. “Where I am going is somewhere that survives only because of its isolation, its ability to hold itself apart from the madness of this world.”

“Sounds pretty primitive, if you ask me.” Joe cocked his head in scepticism.

“This better not be some cult you’ve got yourself involved with.”

“No, Joe.” Catherine smiled. “Nothing like that, I can assure you. But this place has a magic that touches people and brings out the best in everyone who ventures there.” Her gaze moved to the middle distance, and Joe felt a sharp stab of aloneness and envy as Catherine smiled a secret smile that told him nothing.

He felt his heart contract, as he watched her. The expression on her face was one of love and generous acceptance and his sense of isolation deepened.

“We did some good work together, Radcliffe.” He raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Replacing you is going to be impossible.”

“Give some struggling young lawyer the same chances you gave me, and the results will be all you could wish for.” Catherine touched the back of her fingers to his cheek. “You have been a good friend, Joe, and a great boss.”

“And I intend to remain just that.” Joe smiled crookedly, the pain still evident in his eyes. “You can’t escape that easily, Cathy. I won’t let you.”

“When I need someone to bully me and force me to watch him eat those awful cheese nuggets, I’ll give you a call.”

“Make sure you do.” Joe took her shoulders in his hands. “Your friend…he isn’t in any kind of trouble, is he? I mean, any kind of legal trouble?”

“No, Joe, nothing like that,” Catherine assured him.

“Well, that’s a relief. “Joe returned her smile ruefully. “Can’t have my best investigator consorting with a known criminal. There’s been too much of that lately.” He eyed her for a long moment, as if unsure of his next words. Finally he ventured, “Will I ever get to meet this mystery man of yours? I mean, Elliot Burch must know more than he’s telling. Why keep me on the outer? You know I would never betray you.”

Catherine looked into his face, knowing again the honesty and the innate integrity of this man who she had come to love and respect over the years they had spent working together. Of all people, she felt Joe would understand about Vincent. Keep all their secrets. But the decision was not hers alone to make.

In the distance, she could feel all of Vincent’s trust in her judgment, reaching out to her, giving her comfort and reassurance with the strength of his love. Catherine brought her attention back to Joe’s face.

“Perhaps, one day, Joe.” She nodded. “Maybe anything is possible after all…”

“I’ll hold you to that promise, Radcliffe.” Joe hugged her tightly. “Until then I guess I’ll have to make do with Geoffrey’s company.” His lips quirked wryly. “At least he’s housebroken.”

*******

I summon to the winding ancient stair;

Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,

Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,

Upon the breathless starlit air,

Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;

Fix every wandering thought upon

That quarter where all thought is done:

Who can distinguish darkness from the soul?

W.B. Yeats

The world Below was silent in the deep, dreamless night, only the murmuring of the pipes that was its soothing heartbeat, underscored the peace. An echo and an answer. Vincent listened and interpreted both as he sat on the side of his bed, rocking his son in his arms.

Jacob rested against his father’s powerful chest, his head inclined into Vincent’s shoulder. One small fist was entangled in the silken fall of his mane, grasping the strands of hair with determination as the two communed without words.

Sleep for Vincent had been elusive in the depths of the first night he’d been separated from Catherine in the many months since their son had been born. The aching void inside him was matched by Catherine’s absence from the bed behind him, and he’d finally given up the unequal struggle and sat up to find his son awake, the child’s eyes wide and bright as they surveyed him.

“You could not sleep either, without her.” Bending into the cradle, Vincent had gathered up his son and cradled him close. He felt his heart swell with love as his son’s tiny fist played over his face, softly patting his cheek, before settling for grasping his hair.

The murmur of Catherine’s heartbeat, distant, but reassuring, whispered across their shared connection. The understanding shone in Jacob’s clear, blue eyes as he sought, in his own way, to sooth the disquiet of his father’s mind and heart.

Father paused in the doorway of Vincent’s chamber, his tired eyes taking in the scene before him. He had also not been able to sleep and he knew he would find Vincent awake and watchful. He had no wish to intrude now on such a private moment, but neither could he withdraw, so he hovered in the chamber entrance, feeling an unfamiliar sense of deep loss, now that Catherine had gone Above once more.

“Come in, Father.” Vincent broke the silence.

The old man smiled lopsidedly, he’d forgotten that sixth sense of his son’s that enabled him to divine another’s presence without looking. “I couldn’t sleep.” Father limped forward. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You could never intrude, Father.” Vincent’s eyes met his parent’s worried look. “We all miss her.”

“I never thought, until this moment, how much I would miss seeing her every day,” Father admitted, easing himself into Vincent’s chair before the writing table.

Vincent looked down at his son, his voice husky and raw as he replied, “I never knew, until this moment, how much such a parting could bruise the soul.”

“She will return, Vincent.” Father felt his throat contract over his son’s agony. “Everything she is now is here, waiting for her to come back.”

“Everything…” Vincent echoed the word absently, his attention on the small child in his arms. “She asked me to hold all we are together, here.” He extended one hand, palm uppermost, the fingers curved inwards, as if holding some precious, fragile gift beyond all price. “But it is Catherine who holds us all. Without her, there is nothing.” He closed his fist tight.

“How long does she expect to be Above?” Father questioned, after a long silence.

“There are many duties she must attend to.” Vincent lifted his son to settle him against his shoulder as the baby’s eyes drifted shut and he murmured in his sleep. “She wishes to set up a trust fund for Jacob with her inheritance and such matters take time, Catherine told me. Also her apartment, her work Above…so many ties that need to be severed cleanly.”

“But you still worry about whether this is the right path for her to choose, Vincent,” Father probed gently.

“I see our way as always being bounded by barriers, limits. I…I once told Catherine that she deserves a life without limits.”

“I think I can guess her response to that.”

“Yes.” Vincent smiled briefly at the memory. “She was forthright, to say the least.” His eyes met his father’s. “The worst is knowing the life Catherine has Above, that I can never have a part in it.” Vincent glanced down at his son’s sleeping face nestled against his shoulder. “Our son can walk the paths Catherine walks, though his origins must ever be shrouded in mystery. So, in order to hold all the threads of her life together, Catherine must detach herself from all she cares for Above in order to live with me, here.”

“But the right of choice is hers, Vincent.” Father studied his son’s down-bent head. “You cannot deny her that. I have shared your misgivings, your doubts over what has come to be, on so many levels. There have been times when I truly have wondered if it was for the best.”

He raised his hands, palms uppermost. “But, seeing you two together, seeing the love that you have for each other, for your son.”

Father stood and moved to Vincent’s side to place one hand on his shoulder, the other on his grandson’s head. “Sometimes I have felt humbled by the beauty I see in the three of you.”

“I have felt that same sense of humbleness from the day Catherine came into my life. The day she chose to share all she is and could ever be, with me,” Vincent admitted, his voice breaking with unshed tears. “I feel it even more keenly now. Now that she is prepared to give up everything…for me.”

“I think Catherine would dispute just what it is she is giving up.” Father bent to kiss Vincent’s temple. “I think you will find that what you think she is giving up counts for nothing beside what she now possesses.”

Jacob stirred in his sleep and Vincent could sense the trend of his dreams. Distantly, the softness that was his Catherine reached out to him, to touch his soul, enfolding it in beauty. Vincent nodded slowly at his father’s words.

“Yes,” he agreed, as three heartbeats blended into one steady pattern of contentment. “But I cannot rest until she returns to me. There are such dangers Above.” He sighed. “I shall keep watch, until I know she is safe with us once more.”

*******

“Catherine! Oh, sweet heaven, I can’t believe it’s really you!” Jenny Aaronson fairly burst into Catherine’s apartment, rushing forward to cling to her friend fiercely, covering her cheek with kisses. “It’s been so long and Joe point blank refused to tell me where you were. You’ve aged me terribly! I must look a hag.”

“Well, you don’t so stop fussing. And that’s because Joe didn’t know anything either.” Catherine hugged her friend tightly. “And even if he could have told you, he wouldn’t have risked your life with such dangerous knowledge.”

“So, it was as bad as the papers kept screaming?” Jenny pulled back to look at her friend with troubled concern. “It felt that, as usual, they’d blown things out of proportion.”

“No, it was as bad as they said,” Catherine admitted, leading her friend to the couch and sitting beside her. “Gabriel was prepared to kill anyone in order to discover my hiding place.”

“Mystery upon mystery.” Jenny shook her head, watching Catherine closely. It had been a long time since Jenny had last seen her friend and the change was remarkable.

“You know, girlfriend, you have blossomed out of sight. From that rung-out rag of a woman Joe brought home all those months ago. You’ve been holding out on me, Chandler. Living a mysterious life looks good on you.”

“I just found those missing pieces of the puzzle and finally made them fit.”

Catherine met her friend’s inquiring gaze squarely.

“So, tell me.” Jenny sat back, curling her legs beneath her. “Your Vincent, the guy with the note, he must be one heck of a man.” She shrugged. “So, are you gonna tell me about him now? Share some juicy details, like does he love you well?”

“Maybe one day, Jen. I think you would like him a lot.” Catherine smiled. “You could discuss prophetic dreams.”

“He must be some kind of real hunk, if he can put that sort of dreamy look in your eyes, just by the mention his name.” Jenny sighed, wistfully. “He doesn’t have a brother, by any chance?”

Catherine laughed, taking Jenny’s hands. “Thanks, Jen, for being a good friend. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, not knowing what was going on. But I couldn’t put your life in danger by contacting you. You’ve been incredibly patient, especially when I gave you such short notice that I needed my apartment back. I can see it’s been well taken care of.”

“Ah, Paul and Mandy were no problem.” Jenny shook her head briskly, her eyes overbright. “They’ve been expecting you to return, since the word’s got around that it’s safe for you to reappear. They’ve found another place. They’re just happy you’re okay.”

“I’m glad it’s finally over.” Catherine turned her head to look across the room at the doors that led from the lounge onto the balcony. She could sense both Vincent and Jacob were safe Below, but so many memories came crowding back. Good memories.

- She could see Vincent standing in front of those same doors, watching the shafts of evening light filling the room. She’d walked to his side, and after all they had shared in those long ago days, he had enfolded her in an embrace filled with such love, with everything he was thinking and feeling. It was a truly beautiful moment of shared connection she would never forget. “Whatever happens, whatever comes, know that I love you…”

Her breath caught at the sound of his voice, echoing in her mind. She opened her mouth to reply…

“You really are in a different world, aren’t you?” Jenny’s voice cut across her thoughts, making Catherine jump at the words unintentional double meaning.

“I gotta meet this guy.”

“Sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?” Catherine swung her attention back to her friend’s rueful expression.

“I was asking what are your plans now? Now that Gabriel has been dealt with. Gonna buy a condo and live the dream with your man?”

“I have so many things to sort out, so many loose ends to tie up.” Catherine studied her hands. “I will be giving up my job at the D.A.s office.”

“Giving it up?” Jenny echoed in stunned disbelief. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? That job was your life.”

“Now my life is very different.” Catherine nodded, knowing her actions now would cause pain to her friends Above, who could not understand her decision because she could never tell them the truth.

“And what does Joe have to say about this?” Jenny studied her closely. “I’ll bet he’s not pleased.”

“He wasn’t pleased, but he understands, some of it anyway. Oh, Jen, there is so much I wish I could tell you, but I have sworn to protect Vincent’s world and the greatest protection is absolute silence.”

“Well, I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t be consorting with any kind of criminal element,” Jenny admitted. “So I won’t have any nightmares about where you are and what is happening to you.” She laughed shakily, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. “It’s your life, Cathy. Live it as you choose, and I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Catherine thought of her friend’s words long after Jenny had departed. Standing on the balcony, she gazed down into the depths of Central Park. My life, she drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Yes, it is my life, and I have made my choices long ago.

Far below, Catherine could sense Vincent’s disquiet, his deep sense of loss and her son’s attempts to sooth his father’s troubled mind and heart. Catherine sent all her love and longing to be with them again, flowing through their unseen bond that linked her with her family. Her family, she turned the words over in her mind, as three souls made contact and the pain eased slowly. Her family. Her eyes reflected the deep, loving bond. They are my entire existence now…

*******

“We have a problem.” Diana Bennett stood before Joe’s desk, her face more than usually serious, her blue eyes troubled.

“What!” Joe half-rose from his seat, unnerved by the investigator’s manner.

“This.” Diana extended a sheet of computer printouts. “I have already contacted Greg Hughes. He’s on his way.”

Joe stared at her as he took the paperwork, and he could see just how worried Diana was. He felt a chill wind blow through his soul as he dropped his eyes to the papers. Anything that scares Bennett…

The words on the sheet danced before his eyes and he had to begin again, before they made any sense. It was a list of names and his own was at the top of the second page. He looked back at Diana. “I don’t get it.” He shrugged.

“I’ve been digging though Gabriel’s computer system.” Diana took a turn around the room. “It’s taken me days to come up with that.” She came back to Joe’s desk, her fingers beating a nervous tattoo. “Whoever set up that system knew what he was doing. Anyway, I finally found a hidden file, codenamed JUSTICE. This is that file.”

She slumped into the chair behind her. “Names, Joe. Yours, judges, politicians, even the mayor of New York City, for Pete’s sake!”

“This is madness.” Joe stared at her, his mind galloping from one thought to the next. But he knew that anything that could scare Bennett so deeply was something he didn’t want to think about.

“Some of the names have a symbol beside them, see?” Diana got to her feet and, peering over the top of the pages Joe still held in his hand, indicated a name towards the bottom of the list. “Some kind of ring, like a snake eating its tail, of all things. Read the last name, Joe.”

Joe dropped his eyes from Diana’s troubled face to the paper in his hand. Quickly he scanned it and Justin Cole’s name suddenly leapt out at him. Beside it was a coiled snake, its tail held between its jaws.

“I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me,” Joe stated grimly, looking up once more.

“The names, Joe, the names with the symbol.” Diana took the pages from him and spread them out fully on the desk. “Here, Judge Phillips died in a car accident two months ago. And here, Senator Ryan, drowned at sea, his body never recovered. And then, this name.” Diana’s finger trembled slightly, as she came to another line on the page, another coiled snake symbol. “John Moreno.”

“A death list!” Joe shook his head in disbelief, as he read each of the names with the snake symbol. Every one was the name of a dead man.

“Yes.” Diana expelled her breath in a rush. “And as far as we know, it’s still active and your name is on it, Joe. Gabriel must have prepared for every eventuality, even his own death. He wanted to make sure that, whatever happened to him, his inhuman form of justice would be seen to be done.”

“Phillips, Ryan, Cole.” Joe ran one finger down the list, looking for one name that wasn’t there. “Catherine?” he questioned, looking up in sudden alarm, fearing the worst as he came to the end of the names once more.

“No, Joe, those are all the names I found.” Diana shook her head.

“Thank God for that!” Joe dropped back into his chair. “She has been through enough. Who else knows about this list?”

“No one, except Greg. I brought it straight here and I have the disk in my purse. But there’s no way of telling who’s had accessed this file before I found it. Shannon Cole’s name is also on the list. But, no one seems to know where she’s hiding.”

“John Moreno…” Joe spoke slowly. “The men who attacked us at the carousel in the park that night…they were all finished off in the same manner. Ripped to pieces, and yet Cole was shot once, through the heart. Ryan was drowned at sea. If Gabriel is establishing a pattern of revenge, it doesn’t make sense. Why not make the retribution as brutal and blatant Moreno’s murder? Drive home the point that it’s still not over.”

“I don’t think the man who killed those men at the carousel has anything to do with this list.” Diana’s tone was slow and considering. “I think they were dealt with by Cathy Chandler’s protector. She knows who he is, but she will never reveal his identity.”

“Cathy would never be involved with a killer!” Joe half-started out of his seat again. “It’s just not possible!”

“I never said he was a killer, Joe.” Diana held up one hand. “I said he protects her, and in turn, she protects him. If those men had reached us, they would have killed us; that’s the simple truth. They were prevented from doing so, very effectively.”

“But, John Moreno…?”

“That was a different matter.” Diana rested her chin on her upraised fingertips. “That was made to look like something it never was. For what reason, we can only guess at. Gabriel enjoyed playing deadly games where only he knew the rules.”

“So you’re telling me that there’s still a killer out there, a man armed with this list and instructions to execute everyone on it.”

“I’m sorry, Joe.” Diana shook her head. “We thought it was all over and now, it begins again. You will need protection, ‘round the clock. Whoever he is, he is very efficient and through. You can’t even be sure you can trust your own staff with this. Remember, we thought Moreno was safe in prison.”

“I remember,” Joe stated grimly. “And I’m not about to cower in hiding while there is a maniac on the loose.” He struck the pages with the flat of his hand. “We must warn everyone on this list before things get out of hand.”

The door to Joe’s office burst open and Greg Hughes rushed in. His hair and clothing was in disarray and his face was drawn and pale. He barely acknowledged Diana as he leaned on Joe’s desk.

“I’ve just come from downtown.” Greg thumped the desk. “Someone planted a car bomb and has managed to blow Judge Shipley all over Central Park.”

“So it begins again.” Joe’s eyes met Diana’s shocked gaze, before he dropped his to the printed pages before him. Michael Shipley was the third name on the list.

*******

The hills are shadows, and they flow

From form to form, and nothing stands;

They melt like mist, the solid lands,

Like clouds they shape themselves and go.

But in my spirit will I dwell,

And dream my dream and hold it true;

For tho’ my lips may breathe adieu,

I cannot think the thing farewell.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The thunder of the explosion rattled Catherine’s windows as she prepared herself for the day ahead. The roiling cloud of smoke stained the bright morning sky as Catherine ran to her balcony to look out over the park. Her hand went to her throat when she saw the flaming wreck so close to the drainage entrance to Vincent’s world. She felt the sudden flare of his awareness of her anguish.

Firmly, Catherine forced down her terror and tried to convey the dangers apparent now as sirens wailed and people began to gather around the wreckage. Hastily, she finished dressing and hurried out of her apartment, heading for the basement entrance to Vincent’s world.

He was waiting for her on the threshold, the strain of the past few hours evident in his face and stance. Silently, Catherine flew into his arms and they closed around her.

“I felt your fear,” Vincent said, against her hair. “I knew I couldn’t reach you, up there.”

“I’m all right.” Catherine drew back to touch his cheek. “It was the shock, some sort of explosion in the park, by the drainage tunnel. I thought, at first…”

“We felt it, even Below.” Vincent nodded, his eyes devouring her pale face. The necessity of a day spent apart from her seemed like an eternity already. “We will have to seal up the tunnels around the junction for now. There will be an investigation into the cause. I have sent Mouse and Cullen to begin. I must join them soon. It will need to be done swiftly.”

“Yes,” Catherine breathed. “Vincent, I will be back as soon as I can. Every moment away from you…”

“I know.” Vincent gathered her against him again, and Catherine slid her hands up into his hair to tangle there as Vincent rocked her gently, soothing her confusion and forcing down his own deep sense of disquiet so she would not detect it.

“I must get back.” Catherine sighed at last, regretfully, but she made no move for several more precious minutes.

Finally, reluctantly, Vincent placed his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him. “You will be careful, Catherine. Your world is a very violent place.”

“I will…” Catherine whispered against his lips, as she drew his head down to hers. With a deep groan, he accepted her heart stopping caress before drawing back and gently pushing her back towards the world Above.

“I love you…” Catherine’s parting words floated back to him, as she was swallowed by the shaft of white light once more.

“Be well, Catherine,” Vincent whispered, as her footsteps died into silence.

*******

“You can’t be serious, Joe! You need protection!” Greg’s tone was exasperated. “I don’t want to end up investigating your murder! Tell him, Diana!”

“We have to draw this killer out into the open,” Joe repeated his last statement patiently. “We can’t let him get the upper hand.”

“There are 20 other names on that list. Why should he pick yours?” Greg tried a different tack.

“Because we’re going to make it easy for him.” Joe drew a deep breath. “I’m not going to sit around and wait for the axe to fall. I want to put a final stop to Gabriel’s from-beyond-the-grave, control.”

“This sort of game can get you killed.” Greg shook an impotent fist. “I will be with you around the clock, whether you like it or not.”

“No,” Joe was emphatic. “He doesn’t know we have the list. As far as the killer is aware, he can operate with impunity. Let him think that for a while yet.”

“But the rest of the names on the list,” Diana spoke then. “It will look too suspicious if they all suddenly leave town for parts unknown. He will have to suspect that we’ve discovered him, and he will go to ground, wait for his next opportunity.”

“Bennett’s got a point there.” Greg nodded with grim satisfaction.

“Illness, a sudden family bereavement.” Joe tapped the list. “We don’t know why some of these names are on here. But you can bet that more than a few of them know more than they’re telling. Gabriel’s retribution list would include those who should’ve found out any information on our movements when we were closing in on him. But they were too busy looking after their own skins and reputations.”

He picked up his darts. “If they were informed of the list’s existence, those in Gabriel’s pay would be just as likely to try and find our killer to confess their sins in the hope of escaping with their lives. So, we need to quietly shuffle them out of the line of fire. Put them out of immediate reach, so that I become a far more tempting target.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this!” Greg stalked from Joe’s desk to the door and back again.

“It could work…” Diana nodded slowly.

“For Pete’s sake, not you, as well, Bennett!” Greg raised his hands helplessly. “You’re both mad; do you know that?”

*******

Catherine looked around her father’s old office wistfully, expecting to see him at any moment in every corner. So many things had happened since his death. Catherine was shocked to remember that it was nearly two years ago. But she knew that, wherever he was now, he would be proud of her…and her son.

The thought of Jacob brought a smile to her lips and his image rose before her. His sweet baby face and those deep, sapphire blue eyes, so like his father’s…

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Cathy.” Alex Morgan bustled into the office, a sheath of papers in his hands. “You know how it is.”

“Oh, yes, I know how it is.” Catherine smiled, as her lawyer sat behind her father’s old desk. “Or at least, I used to.”

“I think the carpet at my door has been worn threadbare by all the people who were convinced I knew your whereabouts and demanding I tell them.” Alex returned her smile. “Next time you decide to disappear, please send me a note first, so I can disclaim all knowledge of you.”

“I’ll do that,” Catherine promised.

“So, what brings you to me today…memories?” Alex probed gently, his face suddenly thoughtful as he considered the picture she made. At 62, he was still capable of wishing he was 20 years younger whenever he encountered the daughter of his old friend and partner.

“I carry Dad’s memories with me.” Catherine glanced around the office once more. “But I will admit that it’s good to see his old office once more. It has been a long time.”

“Too long.” Alex’s eyes followed hers. “I needed a bigger office, so, I—”

“It’s okay, Alex.” Catherine held up her hand. “Life goes on. Dad would have wanted you to have it anyway.”

Alex relaxed back into his seat with a sigh and his eyes fell on the file under his hand. “So, this is more than just a social call?”

Catherine considered him for a long moment, sorting out in her mind what and how she would tell him of her plans. She knew that Alex would never betray his oath as a lawyer, or her trust in him as a family friend. But she still needed to tread warily. A whole world depended on her for its security now more than ever.

“I want to set up a trust fund with my inheritance from Dad and all my other assets,” she said finally.

Alex nodded slowly. “A wise decision, but who benefits? You…have no family left now that your father has gone.”

Catherine drew a deep breath and held it for a long moment before plunging in. She was placing her complete trust in Alex with the secret she was about to reveal.

“What is it, Cathy?” Alex frowned.

“I have a son, Alex. He will be the beneficiary.”

*******

“So that is what you have been doing all this time in hiding, bearing a child?” Alex asked in shocked disbelief, after Catherine had told him the bare facts of her story. “Oh, my, what a story.”

“He’s eight months old now. His name is Jacob Chandler Wells.”

“Wells…” Alex frowned. “I don’t know any Wells. Are they a New York family?”

“My child’s father doesn’t live in New York.” Catherine decided her statement wasn’t really a lie. “Actually, he doesn’t hold an American passport.” That, at least, was completely true.

“So, he’s a foreign national.” Alex attempted to come to grips with the bare facts she had given him.

“Yes, in a way.” Catherine inclined her head. She could see all sorts of awkward questions buzzing around in Alex’s mind. But he wisely refrained from prying too far.

“Has the birth been registered?” he asked finally.

“No,” Catherine admitted. “There were obvious reasons why I couldn’t expose myself or my child to the dangers that we faced then. Now that Gabriel is out of our lives forever, I want to put everything right. That is why I’m here.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult, given the circumstances.” Alex nodded, as he watched her. “I…take it, the father couldn’t stay in this country?”

“Our worlds can never overlap.” Catherine met his gaze squarely. “He can never have a place in my world, so I must go and live with him in his. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s safe there, and I know I will always be cared for and loved.”

“You make it sound so final. As if you’re finally closing some sort of door on the past.”

“In a way, I suppose I am,” Catherine agreed slowly. “Yes, I truly am.”

*******

Elliot sat at his desk, his head bowed over the pile of papers before him. The rays of the dying sun glinted red through the windows of his office, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. In the two weeks since he left the tunnel world he had barely slept, so intent was he on restoring order to his kingdom. His face was hollow and strained, and his bullet wound was beginning to protest over the pace he had set himself. But he was winning the battle, slowly, but surely.

Suddenly, he had the distinct impression he was not alone. He toyed with the idea of making a dive for the handgun in his desk drawer, as he slowly raised his eyes from his paperwork.

“Mouse!” He fairly yelled the name, as his eyes encountered the stocky, fair- haired figure before him, hovering uncertainly in the middle of his office.

“Elliot!” Mouse jumped and bobbed his head in acknowledgment of his greeting. “Brought a list.” He held out a scrap of grubby paper.

Elliot frowned. “How did you get in here? The place is locked up.”

Mouse dived into his pocket with his free hand, extracting a set of keys. He held them up, jangling them proudly. “Skeleton keys. Mouse made. Good for anything, anywhere, any time.”

“Of course, I should have guessed.” Elliot released a long sigh as he raised his eyes upwards momentarily. A reluctant laugh escaped him as he contemplated several fates he would like to see befall the boy. Then his attention dropped back to his little visitor and his eyes softened. “Let’s see it, then.”

Mouse’s face lit up. “Okay, good, okay, fine!” He scurried forward to deposit the list into Elliot’s outstretched hand.

The paper was covered in something Elliot preferred not to try and name, so he opened it gingerly. It wasn’t as bad as he feared—no nuclear power plants yet, but it was an extensive requirement.

“When?” Mouse gazed hopefully from the list to Elliot’s face and back again. “Important work. Need to do now.”

“Yes, I gathered that.” Elliot raised his eyes. “Two days,” he promised. “But how will you get all this Below, without being seen?”

“Mouse knows a way,” the boy assured him gleefully.

“I’ll bet you do,” Elliot spoke under his breath. Then he sighed. “Just tell me when and where. I want to oversee this whole operation, Mouse. For all our sakes.”

“Can’t use the drainage tunnel entrance, in park. Big explosion. Lots of policemen. Digging around, not good there now. Mouse sealed it up, Vincent and Cullen helped.”

“Yes, I heard about that.” Elliot’s tone was grim. Now that he knew the secrets of the world Below, he was afraid for its safety. He’d gone to the park himself to try and assess the risk of exposure, but the police didn’t appear to be too interested in the tunnel entrance. But it was a close call.

“Chun’s Market, here, I wrote it down.” Mouse proffered another grubby piece of paper. “Boxes marked fruit. Mr. Chun knows what to do.”

“You know, the more I get to know your world, the more amazing it becomes. This place is miles from the park entrance.”

“Best way.” Mouse rubbed his hands. “Mouse is smart.”

“Smarter than me, it seems.” Elliot grinned at him and Mouse bobbed his head in solemn acknowledgment.

*******

“Hey, Radcliffe, you haven’t abandoned me yet?” Joe greeted Catherine as she was shown into his office once more.

“Not yet.” She returned his hug warmly before he hustled her into a chair.

Catherine surveyed him closely; the lines of strain and worry were fresh on his face. Instinctively she knew there were more things he was not telling her. Things related to Gabriel’s case and it made her feel cold inside. Was the dead man’s evil still to touch them, even from beyond the grave?

“What is it, Joe? What’s happened? Tell me!”

“Not much, just a few loose ends we haven’t tied down yet. Don’t worry about it,” Joe lied briskly. “You don’t work here anymore, remember?”

“Joe…” Catherine said with a warning frown. “I don’t find that very funny. What’s going on?”

Joe surveyed her in frustration. He didn’t want to involve Cathy, of all people, in this new mess. She was far better off out of it, but he knew that she wouldn’t rest until she knew the truth. Still, he wanted desperately, for Cathy to go away happy and content, and not to become caught up in all the danger once more. He owed her that much.

“I’m waiting, Joe.” Catherine’s eyes were determined, but before Joe could answer, his office door opened and Diana walked in.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Your secretary wasn’t there and I just assumed…” Diana began, then stopped as she recognised Joe’s visitor. “I’ll come back—”

“No, it’s okay, Diana. Come in and shut the door behind you.”

Diana complied readily and stood with her back to the closed door, looking from one to the other. Joe’s mouth was tight, his face closed to her, while Cathy Chandler watched him with ill-concealed impatience.

Diana could sense all the undercurrents between the two, and she sighed sharply. “You will have to tell her, Joe. She had a part in it all. She deserves to know.”

“If someone doesn’t tell me what is going on soon, I will say something I might regret.” Catherine watched them both.

“I didn’t want to involve you in this, Cathy. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m already involved, Joe. Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Joe sighed heavily, and then said, “Diana found a list in Gabriel’s computer. A list of names…” he began, much against his better judgment. He told her everything, with visible reluctance. There was a strained silence in the office when he finally stopped speaking. Joe threw a dart at the board to ease his frustration, missing it completely.

“And you are intending to invite this killer to try and get to you?” Catherine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Sheer madness.”

“It’s the only way to deal with him—neutralise his potential to kill half the figureheads of this city.” Joe attempted to make her see his reasoning.

“But, this is crazy. You’ll get yourself killed!”

“That’s why I didn’t want to involve you, Cathy. You’ve been through enough at the hands of that man. This is my fight now.” Joe sank to his haunches beside her chair. “You can’t get involved in this battle. You must go back to your safe place and wait for me to give the all clear. Understand?”

“No.” Catherine’s chin rose in defiance. “I was involved the moment you gave me that diary,” she reminded him quietly.

“What diary?” Diana demanded to know.

“It was a book of dates and names. It was given to me by a friend, a man I thought I knew.” Joe stood up. “He turned out to be one of Gabriel’s creatures.”

“So, where’s the diary now?” Diana straightened away from the door, her face intent.

“I gave it to Elliot Burch.” Catherine frowned. “Why is it so important now?”

“It could be a link; it could be nothing. I won’t know, until I see it.” Diana pursed her lips. “I think I’d better pay Burch a visit.”

“You won’t learn much,” Joe denied. “Pat said it was about payments, kickbacks. We had no time to try and crack the code.”

“And time is the one thing we don’t have.” Catherine stood. “I’ll go with you to see Elliot. He may refuse to give you the dairy. He’s aware of its potential should it fall into the wrong hands.”

“And nothing I say is going to change your mind, is it?” Joe demanded gruffly.

“You did the same for me, Joe. Remember?” she said, before she followed Diana out of the office.

*******

“Well, this is a day for surprises.” Elliot stood behind the bar in his office pouring himself a large whiskey. Both Diana and Catherine had refused a drink.

Elliot’s eyes encountered Catherine’s, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. Elliot nodded in understanding and Diana wondered at the silent communication between the two.

“I’ve just gotten rid of rather a large mouse, a short time ago. He had a list.” Elliot came to sit on the couch opposite the two women.

“Probably been at your whiskey supply.” Diana interpreted Elliot’s comment differently from Catherine.

Elliot smiled over that, but he refrained from elaborating. He’d gotten his message across to Catherine, as he had intended.

“I will see to it that the pest control officer is informed.” Catherine nodded. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“No problem.” Elliot began to grin, enjoying the game of words. “I think I can handle some small nibbles at my stock.”

“Little nibbles can become huge holes if left unchecked,” Catherine countered, sensing Diana’s puzzled frown, and it was all she could do not to smile.

“There is a large debt to pay,” Elliot countered. “I can control the problem. If it gets out of hand, I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” Catherine nodded. “You can’t let these rodents plague you night and day.”

“Will someone please tell me what is going on here?” Diana demanded.

“Pest control,” Elliot informed her solemnly. “The place was overrun by mice, or one large mouse might be more correct.”

Diana looked from one to the other without speaking. They both were wearing grins that would have shamed the Cheshire cat.

Catherine felt a weight lift off her spirits as she bantered with Elliot. She felt a warm sense of gratitude that he didn’t take Mouse’s sudden appearance too seriously. Still, she would need to inform Vincent, Mouse could easily get carried away with his projects if he wasn’t constantly kept in check.

But the heavier problem of Joe remained. To put himself at risk was suicidal, but she knew that, in his position, she would have done the same for those she cared about and depended on.

“The diary I gave you, before I was kidnapped by Gabriel’s men. Do you still have it?”

Elliot surveyed her, not sure of her intention. “Why do you ask?”

“Because it could be the key to everything,” Diana put in then, and she proceeded to elaborate on her discoveries. Elliot’s drink and drunken mice were forgotten as she told him the facts as she knew them.

“It’s in my desk.” Elliot stood when Diana had finished speaking and circled his desk to open a secret drawer where he kept valuable documents. “I had it hidden away, but I thought, with Gabriel gone, it was a reminder never to over-reach yourself.” He came back to place it on the coffee table. “I’ve tried, but I couldn’t decipher a word if it.”

“I doubt anyone could just by reading it.” Diana picked it up.

“There’s nothing in it that makes any sense.” Elliot glanced at Catherine. “Malloy-Davidson and Hanover-Norton Trust—they are about all I recognised. The initials are pencilled in the margins.”

“This may be a clue or it may be nothing.” Diana scanned the pages quickly. “We shall find out.”

“Thanks, Elliot, for everything.” Catherine smiled at him, and Elliot felt all his love for her threatening to engulf him. His smile slipped a little, but he maintained it. He saw a flicker of understanding in her green eyes, and he felt humbled by the trust she had placed in him.

“Give the rodent control officer my regards,” he said then, casting a sidelong glance at Diana’s puzzled frown.

“I will.” Catherine promised him, getting to her feet. “Take care of yourself, Elliot.”

“Don’t I always?” he quipped, following them to the door.

“He’s in love with you,” Diana observed quietly, as the two women walked to the elevator.

“Yes…” Catherine studied her companion’s expression, as she pushed the down button.

“But…for you, there is someone else.”

Catherine dropped her eyes and looked away into the middle distance. “Always…” she sighed wistfully.

“He must be one lucky man to have such a love as yours.” Diana shook her head. “I have never known a love like that.”

Catherine looked back at her. Diana’s gaze was direct and very open. Suddenly, they were both smiling, almost conspiratorially.

“We’ll catch this man of Gabriel’s, don’t worry,” Diana said, as they both stepped into the open elevator. “It would be nice to have a happy ending for a change. The cases I usually deal with are bound together with tragedy.”

*******

Catherine stood on her balcony looking out into the night. She had been Above for three days now…and three nights, she reminded herself with a deep sigh. There were still so many things to sort through. Alex had handled everything very efficiently. Jacob’s birth had been officially noted, though there had been a few hands thrown up in horror at the delay and a few pointed questions asked. Alex had handled it all smoothly and everything had been put right in the end.

The father of her child had been registered as unknown and that was the end of the matter. It hurt, but there was no other way. To enable Jacob to one day walk in her world, he needed a birth certificate and a name, and Catherine had supplied him with both. She crossed her arms across her breasts, where she ached to hold her son once more. Soon, very soon now, she promised herself, and they would never be parted again.

Then Joe’s face rose before her. Why did he have to be so noble and risk his life? Also the fact that he’d tried to hide it all from her, stung her pride. Joe was always playing the big brother to her, trying to shield her from the inherent dangers of her job.

True, in the beginning, he’d pushed her to see if she would crack and prove all his theories about rich girls playing at being tough. But, when he had come to know and value her as a friend and colleague, his conscience had been pricked about the danger she took for granted in her line of work. But then, there had been Vincent to protect her, always…

“Catherine…” it was as if the wind had spoken her name, so softly did it echo to her from out of the night. Vincent’s voice, speaking in an aching whisper from some faraway place.

But she felt he was nearer than that. Suddenly, Catherine turned her attention to the shadows that hung in the corner of the balcony. A darker bulk of shadow stood out against the rest. How many times before had he stood there, simply watching her and aching for what he thought could never be, for what he could never have?

“Just when I’m sure I can sense your every mood, your every thought, you go and surprise me.” Catherine swallowed against the tightness in her throat at the beloved sight of him, as she moved to stand before him. “I have never needed to see you so badly.”

“I know.” Vincent looked down at her, not touching her, except for the shimmering depths of their bond. There he held her and would never release her. “To be apart from you, even for a few days…” he left the rest unsaid.

“I had to be strong to walk in this world again, when first we met. You gave me that strength, Vincent.” Catherine laid her hand over the steady beat of his heart. “But this time it has been like a knife twisting inside me. I felt your pain on that first night.”

“As I felt your fear for me after that explosion in the park. There are evil forces still at work here; you must protect yourself before thinking of me. I wish I could walk with you when you face the dangers of your world.”

“I know.” Catherine gripped a fold of his vest beneath her fingers. “But you are with me, and you walk with me and watch over me. You pick me up whenever I stumble.”

“Then, tell me what is troubling you so deeply, that you cannot sleep tonight.”

Slowly, infinitely slowly, Catherine dropped her head forward until her cheek was resting against his chest. His arms rose to enfold her and she released the sigh she seemed to have been holding all day, waiting for him to come to her. To hold her, exactly like this.

All her troubles, all her fears and concerns came tumbling out, muffled against Vincent’s chest. He had to strain to hear her words. He listened in silence, though his very stillness was filled with a nameless dread. They had come so far, and yet the road before them seemed to stretch endless still, without an ending in sight…

*******

Yeah, I’d fight for you

I’d lie for you

Walk the wire for you

Yeah, I’d die for you

You know it’s true

Everything I do

I do for you…

Bryan Adams

The early morning light was tipping the high clouds with liquid gold before Vincent could tear himself away from Catherine to return Below. The hours had sped by silently, as they sat, as they had so many times before, in the shelter of the balcony wall, and Vincent had told her of their son. Every event, no matter how small, that had happened to Jacob over the intervening days since Catherine had last held him.

She drank it all in. The apple cake given by William, which the baby had managed to smear everywhere, including through his father’s hair and clothing. Everywhere, except in his mouth. The small contest between Mary and Father over whose turn it was to give the boy his bottle.

Vincent had wisely stayed out of the contest, but had watched them both with considerable amusement. Naturally it was Mary who won the battle in the end and had borne off her small prize triumphantly, leaving Father to his mumbling about interfering women.

And, in the depths of the night, when the voice of the wind had dropped to a slumberous murmur, Catherine had leaned her face into Vincent’s neck and whispered raggedly, “Let’s go inside, Vincent, please…”

His eyes held hers for a long moment and then he slid his arms around her, one at her shoulders, the other behind her knees, and he lifted her bodily from the tiles as he stood in one fluid movement. All barriers had dissolved since last he had been to her apartment, and he stepped with her across the threshold without further thought, into the softly lit interior of her world.

Inside, he let her slip to her feet, her body a sensuous caress as she moved against him. She was standing on the small dais that led to the French doors, while Vincent stood below her, so they were virtually on eye level. Her eyes held a wealth of longing as emerald clashed with sapphire, and Vincent felt his heart contract at the sight of her, softly entrancing in the lamp light.

Images and impressions tumbled though his thoughts as he remembered when he’d last come to her apartment, when he had come to remove all traces of himself from her life. When he had attempted to redirect her course, away from him and onto a new life, free from the need to hide their love.

“I was bound to you,” Catherine whispered softly, as Vincent’s thought communicated themselves to her. “My fate was inescapable and very desirable.”

“And I was bound by the beliefs of a lifetime.” Vincent touched one fingertip to the soft curve of her mouth, following the line from side to side, before drifting down to caress the hollow at the base of her throat.

Catherine shivered at the subtle contact. “But you came to me in the night,” she managed. “I remember a nightmare, a dream of demons and pain. But when I thought all was truly lost, you came and held me, told me that I could never lose you, that I was a part of you…always.”

Vincent tipped his head to one side, his eyes unfathomably deep and inviting. “Our bond was evolving in ways even I could not have imagined. It transcends all time and space, all the laws of probability and reason.”

“All the laws…” Catherine agreed slowly, as Vincent’s hand moved to curve around the column of her throat, rising to cup her chin, his claws a seductive whisper across her skin, invoking shivers of longing.

The brush of his lips across hers was fraught with desire and an aching need, while the touch was almost tentative. Back again, the lightness deepening to shimmer there, against the trembling softness of her mouth. Three days that had somehow spun into years, three days that had dissolved into nothingness now that he was with her once again, to cement his own reality once more…

*******

The lamp beside the bed played over the honeyed bronze of Vincent’s skin. Tones that were so different in the uncertain flicker of a candle flame took on a molten warmth as his muscles moved and flowed beneath their mantle of fine hair.

Catherine lay, stretched along his side, cradled against the curve of his shoulder, the afterglow of their lovemaking, tingling in every pore of her skin. Lightly, she smoothed the play of muscles beneath the skin of his forearm. They flowed sleekly beneath her touch, quivering at the sensuous pass of her questing hand.

How many times had she dreamed of being here, exactly like this, making love with the man she desired more than life itself? Dreams she had been forced to suppress as soon as they arose, often leaving her feeling strung out and distraught.

She could never allow those feelings, those needs, to communicate themselves to Vincent. He had been so afraid of mirroring those feelings within himself, so wary of hurting her in what he saw as a terrible desire for the warmth of her, the softness of her inescapable beauty. A beauty that he had convinced himself he could never possess, because in that possession he could see only their mutual destruction.

“And now, not to be able to possess all that beauty again and again, would drive me insane.” Vincent’s voice overlaid her thoughts. “I need you, as the sullen earth thirsts for the sunshine and the rain.”

“I know.” Catherine rose beside him, a smile curving her lips. “But you have shown me a dimension of beauty that I never thought existed. The beauty of the untarnished soul.”

Vincent sighed. “I was bound by darkness, by forces that I felt only stripped me of my humanity, my reason. Then you came to me, gave of yourself, for me. I can never forget the selflessness of that gift. You gave back all that I had lost, and then, infinitely more than I could have hoped for…or dreamed.”

Catherine trailed kisses across his naked chest. “If I had simply stood by and allowed you to destroy yourself, I would have ceased to exist as well. You are the best part of who I am, of all I can become. You taught me to love myself, to understand who I am, without limits.”

“I love you.” She rose to her knees beside him. Her heart ached that he would have to leave soon, to return Below and be separated from her once more by daylight and distance.

She arched her back, running her fingers up into her hair. She moved slowly, her body swaying to the entrancing notes of Mozart’s clarinet concerto playing softly in the background. She closed her eyes, letting the music move through her, sensing every pure note, as if it were a physical caress.

“You are my soul…” Vincent raised himself on one elbow, watching her move sinuously in the lamplight through half closed eyes. He reached to lay one hand on the flatness of her lower body and slowly spread his fingers, fan-like, against her perfumed skin. He watched, fascinated, as her skin shivered and dimpled beneath his touch.

The sensation of his caress trembled through Catherine’s senses, bringing her whole body instantly to fever pitch. From her stomach, Vincent trailed a slow, aching path upwards, over her ribcage, to surround the ripe fullness of her breast, running the burgeoning rose tip against the palm of his hand.

Catherine’s bones seemed to dissolve then, and her trembling communicated itself to Vincent. His breathing became raw and uneven as sensation built on sensation, reflecting between them, through them, entwining them together in their mutual need.

Catherine rose against him as his touch flowed down to the moist silk of her inner thigh. She bent over him, tasting and testing the infinite textures of his skin. Here, warm and soft with a fine covering of silken hair, then down to the muscular planes of his stomach that contracted beneath her sensuous assault, and Vincent’s breath hissed between his clenched teeth.

His hand curved over the back of her knee, drawing her leg across him, bringing her most intimate warmth to rest against the powerful thrust of his lower body, blindly seeking her satin depths. She gladly surrendered herself, as he held her easily, lifting her body to draw her intimately against him from breast to hip. She arched even closer, her desperate cry of need lost in his questing mouth.

The contact trembled through them as Catherine entwined her leg though his, rolling him backwards until she lay across him, looking down into the flame of his intent gaze.

“Wherever you go, you will always take me with you,” Vincent whispered raggedly, as she rose against him, the lamplight playing through her hair and across her skin.

“Always…” Catherine lowered her head to caress his lips with the word. Her tongue played across his mouth, probing between to touch on each of his canines in turn, before moving on to run against his tongue and taste the sweetness.

Vincent’s hands encompassed her waist, and with a flow of strength that left her breathless, held her up and away from him. She remained there suspended in time and space, simply waiting for Vincent to complete this most intimate of journeys once more. She watched him, seeing all the love and the respect and all the giving of his great soul, shining up at her from his half closed eyes. Then, as his arms began to tremble with the strain of holding her above him, he lowered her down again, slowly, timelessly, bringing her onto him, renewing himself once more within the very heart of her being.

Catherine flung her head back as she slid over him, encompassing everything he was and ever could be in the molten satin of her inner body, centering her entire existence on that single intimate contact. That world ‘where music and moonlight and the feeling are one’ beckoned them both onwards and neither had the power, or the will, to deny its existence or incredible beauty…

Slowly drifting back to reality, still encompassing him, Catherine lay along Vincent’s chest, lazily teasing him with her lips against his throat. Vincent growling, low and warningly, but his hands smoothed along the curve of her back, coming to rest on the flare of her hips.

“Hmmm, you taste so good.” Catherine baited him with small nips at his salty skin. “Almost good enough to eat.” She trailed her mouth towards his shoulder, testing and teasing.

Vincent raised his hands, encompassing the roundness of her breasts. “Not as sweet as you,” he countered, drawing her nipple into his mouth, catching it between his teeth, effectively stifling her teasing.

Beyond the doors, sunlight began to push back the darkness and they both watched the dawning glow with infinite sadness. “I must leave soon,” he whispered against her hair.

“I know.” Catherine turned her face into his shoulder. “But not yet, not yet.”

Vincent couldn’t deny the appeal in her eyes as she moved against him once more, drawing him up and into her sweetness and the need to lose himself within her once more became unbearable…

*******

Catherine stood on her balcony long after Vincent had disappeared into the gathering daylight. She sensed when he’d reached the safety of the tunnels and she sent all her love and her aching longing coursing across the distance that now separated them once more. It was reflected back instantly, enriched a thousand times by the strength of his love, and she turned back to her apartment to face yet another day of separation in the sure and certain knowledge that this would be the very last time they would be apart.

*******

Peter Alcott was delighted to see Catherine again. He had not visited the tunnels for over two months, his workload preventing him from descending Below. He hugged her warmly, with great affection.

“You always manage to brighten an old man’s day,” he said sincerely, as he sat on the corner of his desk, holding her hand between both of his. “It’s a relief to know that the terrible darkness that Gabriel brought into both your lives has finally been removed.”

“Yes.” Catherine nodded slowly. “But, I’m afraid, part of that darkness still remains.”

Peter sat stunned and frowning, as she unfolded the events of the last few days and his eyes reflected his bitter disquiet as Catherine finished her story. He shook his head as he considered her words. “I know it’s useless to say that you shouldn’t involve yourself in this new mess. I know you too well for that. Does Vincent know of this?”

“I told him last night.” Catherine met her doctor’s gaze squarely. “He came Above to be with me. Our need to be together risks everyone’s safety, but I can’t just abandon Joe to his fate. Who knows what this killer is capable of.”

“Everything, it would seem.” Peter tightened his grip on her hand. “Your name might not have been on this accursed list, but you would be known to this madman. There is nothing to stop him from trying to remove you—if you were perceived to be preventing him from completing his mission.”

“Nothing except Vincent,” Catherine spoke honestly. “And that I will not allow to happen. When he fights to protect me, he loses a part of himself. It’s a terrible thing to see. He blames himself for so much that is never his fault.”

“Then you must tread very carefully. Go Below again as soon as possible. There is safety there, you know that. If Gabriel couldn’t find you in all the months he searched for you, then this man won’t either.”

“No, Peter, that I cannot do, not yet. The nightmare will only begin again.” Catherine’s chin rose. “I won’t, I can’t, leave Joe to face this alone when I can help. Now it’s my turn to fight.”

Peter sighed, his brow creased with worry. “And when it’s all finally over?”

“Then I will go Below, to live with Vincent and our son. He cannot live in my world, so I have made my choice. I would have it no other way.”

“Somehow I knew that from the start.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t think of two people who deserves happiness more than the two of you. I wish you the best of everything.” He bent down to kiss Catherine’s forehead, as he used to do when she was a child.

“You will come to Winterfest this year?” Catherine squeezed his hand, grateful for his understanding.

“I will be there.” Peter inclined his head. “Why, are you planning something special?”

“Perhaps.” Catherine smiled, and Peter regarded her with curiosity mixed with suspicion. He knew that look of old, and he could see the determination in her eyes.

*******

Mr. Chun bowed respectfully when Elliot told him of the mission on which he had come. He’d been expected, the little Chinese man murmured, as he led Elliot below to his basement storage area, followed by several of the old man’s sons. They carried the boxes of items that had been detailed in Mouse’s long list.

Neat piles of stores lined the walls of the basement, giving no clue to the entrance to the underground world. But when a sink unit that was seemingly bolted to the wall was pushed aside, a large, neat hole was revealed, with flickering shadows beyond and a long, brick lined tunnel leading into the distance.

Almost, as if by some darker magic, a scruffy blond head popped out of the hole and Elliot found himself staring at Mouse. The boy grinned at his startled expression.

“See,” he crowed, passing into the basement. “Mouse fixed it up like this. Good, eh?”

“Do you need my sons to assist you?” the store owner asked from behind them.

“Thanks, but brought lots of helpers.” Mouse shook his head, as he picked up one of the boxes and disappeared through the hole again.

There was a whispered conference beyond, and then Jamie stepped into the cellar. She glanced shyly at Elliot before taking one of the boxes with a nod of thanks, and then she too disappeared again. Elliot felt like Alice looking down the rabbit hol,e as another tunnel dweller swiftly took her place, and then a third.

But he was startled by the last person to step out of the hole. Swinging dark braids contributed to Shannon’s youthful appearance, as she accepted the last box, and then, turning, she pulled up short at the sight of Elliot standing in the shadows.

“Elliot!” Balancing the weight of the box, she stared at him in disbelief.

“Yes, I’m beginning to wonder what I’m doing here too.” He grinned at her astonished expression.

“Must go now,” Mr. Chun urged. “Is not good to leave the way open for too long.”

“Gotta go.” Mouse’s head popped back out of the hole again to see what the delay was. He looked from Elliot to Shannon in exasperation. “Need that box, Shannon. Need it for my big experiment.”

Elliot toyed with asking what sort of experiment the boy was planning and then decided it wasn’t safe to ask. But he suddenly found himself on the underworld side of the hole as Mr. Chun hustled him through and pulled the trap shut behind him.

“It seems that you have a long walk ahead of you,” Shannon murmured, as Elliot looked back in frustration at the now concealed exit.

“It would appear that way. No doubt my car will have been towed by the time I make it back up there.”

Mouse had moved off at the head of the procession, and Elliot found himself left far behind with only Shannon for company. Quickening their steps, they moved after the rest of the group.

“I’ll take that,” he offered, as Shannon shifted the box from one hip to the other. “And before you begin to argue, let me tell you, I don’t take rejection very well.”

The words of denial that had risen instantly to her lips, changed to laughter at that. She gave up the box with only a token show of reluctance.

“It’s good to see you again,” she ventured, after they had walked in silence for some distance down the echoing tunnel. “The children have missed your teaching.”

“And I have missed their curiosity,” Elliot replied reflectively. “I have never had an audience quite like them.”

“You spoke from the heart and they could sense that. You care about what you do, what you create.”

“As you do.” Elliot looked down at her. “You are creating the living future, a legacy that will far outlive my monuments of stone and steel.”

“Ah, you are a philosopher as well, Elliot Burch.” Shannon smiled.

“The events of the past few months have turned me into one.” Elliot grinned as they followed Mouse’s distant form through the maze of tunnels.

“And your wound...It appears to have healed well, with no ill effects.”

“Thanks to Father’s skill as a surgeon and all the careful nursing I received down here. The scars are not pretty, but they are a small price to pay for my regaining my life.”

“I wish others had your view,” Shannon commented on a sigh, her face clouded with remembered pain. “It’s a sin to be imperfect in that most imperfect of worlds that rushes heedlessly on above us.”

They were entering the inhabited areas of the tunnels now, and the soft tapping of the pipes was like a welcome to Elliot’s tired mind. Until this moment, he hadn’t realised how much he missed the peace and unhurried pace of this place below the towers he had erected halfway to the stars.

He shifted his burden to one arm and halted Shannon with a hand on her elbow. “He is dead, Shannon. He can’t hurt you any more.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “But, sometimes…in my dreams…”

“We all have dreams we wish we could escape from.” Elliot watched her with compassion. “But they are still only dreams. Nothing more.”

“You sound so sure you’re right.” Shannon raised her eyes to his and Elliot was struck by how green they were, a deep, translucent sea green with tiny chips of pure gold, gleaming with unshed tears that she refused to shed over her past. A tiny smile trembled for a moment on her lips and Elliot found he could not look away.

“If I bought tickets to the opera, would you come with me?” were the amazing words he said next.

Her eyes flared wide in astonishment, and the tentative smile froze on her lips. Her gaze darted away from his, as if she was looking for a place to hide, somewhere safe to bolt to, away from him and his question.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he began, as she turned and took several steps along the tunnel away from him. “I can be unbelievably crass at times.” He followed her.

Shannon turned at bay against the tunnel wall. Elliot was astonished to see she was trembling.

“I can understand. I won’t ask again.” Elliot put the box on the floor and took hold of her upper arms turning her to face him.

“Some people feel…trapped, down here, below the earth,” Shannon faltered into speech. “But here, I can find only freedom. Up there, I was trapped, caged by a man who said he loved me. He told me he was doing it for my own good, so that my beauty, my rarity would last forever.” She covered her face with her hands. “A bird in a gilded cage.” She exhaled a broken sigh. “Can you understand how that felt?”

“No,” Elliot admitted honestly. “But I can understand that feeling of being trapped, of not being in control of your own destiny. I understand that feeling all too well.”

“Poor Stosh.” Shannon lowered her hands, reaching to lay one against his bearded cheek, her tears finally overflowing. “We are a sorry match for one another, aren’t we?”

“I haven’t noticed,” Elliot quipped wryly. Almost of their own volition, his arms found their way around her slim body and she came slowly into his arms to rest her cheek against his chest. He felt the stiff lines of her stance, not giving too much away, and he wondered who was the more astonished, but he found that he didn’t want to be the first to pull away.

“Elliot!” a demanding voice accused from the tunnel behind them. “What’s wrong with Shannon?”

Elliot closed his eyes for a long moment and counted to ten. It didn’t help. “Nothing, Mouse, she was just feeling a little faint, and I thought it only polite to prop her up, rather than let her fall in the dust on the floor.”

“Didn’t drop my box, then?” Mouse pounced on the forgotten crate at Elliot’s feet. “Not good, if you did.”

Shannon’s suppressed giggles echoed through Elliot’s chest as they stood together, and he gave her an admonishing squeeze as he left one arm draped casually around her shoulders. She didn’t immediately move away.

“I don’t think Elliot would be so careless with his own ‘stuff’,” said a quiet voice, and Elliot turned to find Vincent regarding them all, in wry amusement.

“I’m afraid it ceased to be my ‘stuff’ a long time ago.” Elliot smiled as Vincent came forward to grasp his outstretched hand.

“So you felt the need to practice first aid instead.” Vincent’s eyes held Elliot’s thoughtfully. “Shannon would seem to have recovered admirably.”

“I’m okay, Vincent,” she assured him softly. She stepped away from Elliot’s light clasp, but she didn’t leave.

“Need this now,” Mouse said, to no one in particular as he scuttled off down the tunnel, the box cuddled lovingly to his chest.

“Just what was in that crate, Elliot?” Vincent asked, in a tone of mild curiosity.

“Alarm clocks.” Elliot couldn’t suppress the laughter that threatened to choke him then. “Among all the other things he wanted, I’ve just dragged six dozen alarm clocks for miles underground without a word of thanks or explanation.

And now he runs off before I can even get a chance to ask him.”

“Thank you, Elliot.” Vincent smiled. “And I am sure Father will also wish to thank you when 72 alarm clocks sound all at once and disturb his sleep. I think Mouse deserves a visit in the near future. I have been neglecting his projects for too long now. Incidentally, Catherine informed me of your rodent problem.”

“Catherine — you have seen her Above?” Elliot’s face mirrored his concern that his friend would expose himself to the dangers of his world.

“Last night.” Vincent nodded, his expression guarded. “I will endeavour to see to it that you are not bothered further by Mouse’s rapacious demands.”

Elliot’s mind was still troubled by the revelation that Vincent had risked exposure by going to see Catherine, but he kept his own counsel, when he saw Vincent was not prepared to discuss the issue.

“I will admit it’s rather like trying to stuff a genie back into its bottle, when he doesn’t want to go,” he said, answering Vincent’s observation. “But I asked for this ride, Vincent, and I won’t cry uncle just yet. I am curious to see what he can conceive of next.”

“That is what we are all afraid of.” Vincent indicated the tunnel before them. “Mouse can invent the most ingenious plans that have no practical application whatsoever. Then it is up to Father and me to point out the pitfalls.”

“I rather imagine that’s like kicking a small puppy, or taking away its favourite toy.”

“Worse.” Vincent shook his head.

“His heart is in the right place.” Shannon shrugged. “But six dozen alarm clocks are going to take some explaining.”

“Before Father finds out and comes looking for you, Elliot. He still hasn’t recovered from Mouse’s last big project.”

Shannon left them at the next junction as they turned towards Father’s chamber. She shook her head as Elliot attempted to speak to her about his invitation and slipped away into the shadows, leaving Vincent to consider Elliot speculatively, though he didn’t voice his thoughts.

“Elliot, it is good to see you again.” Father put aside the book he was reading.

“I didn’t expect to return so soon,” Elliot admitted ruefully. “I was sort of shanghaied.”

“By Mouse,” Vincent replied to Father’s puzzled look.

“You mustn’t allow that boy to trouble you too much, Elliot.” Father indicated the chairs around his table and the two men sat down. “He may be a genius, but I’m afraid he’s inclined to forget the small things that make our life down here tolerable, such as good manners and respecting others personal space.”

Elliot shook his head. “I think I can handle him, for the moment.”

“Good.” Father looked at him with concern. “And your wound? Have you seen a surgeon Above?”

“Yes and I was told I have healed remarkably well, considering the massive damage I apparently suffered. They were curious as to how I managed to survive such trauma, and the quality of care I had received,to enable me to heal so fast. I told them I was sorry, but I couldn’t remember a thing about it. Too far out of my head with delirium, most of the time.”

Father nodded his thanks and then he asked, “You have considered the possibility of plastic surgery for the scarring?”

“Considered it and rejected it at the same time.” Elliot stated simply. “The surgeon couldn’t fault your workmanship, and I think I will keep the scar…as a reminder.”

Before Father could reply, hurried footsteps were heard outside just before two figures clattered down the small flight of steps into Father’s chamber.

“Oh, we’re sorry. I didn’t know you had company.” Lena pulled back when she saw Elliot.

“No, come in, child.” Father invited, as Lena pushed her companion back up the steps. “Bring Simon with you.”

“We have something to tell you.” Lena retraced her steps, dragging the reluctant Simon after her. “Simon has just asked me to marry him.”

“That’s wonderful.” Father smiled at them both, as the boy shuffled his feet and tried not to look too pleased. But the glance he stole at Lena showed clearly how much he adored her.

“I said we should wait until Winterfest, but Simon wants to get married straight away.” Lena smiled at her companion, who nodded vigourously.

“For the best,” he murmured, his dark head coming up and he straightened to his full height. “Catherine needs a father.”

“Then we will have to send a message to Father Morton straight away.” Vincent nodded. “You are both very sure about this?”

“Very sure, Vincent.” Lena smiled at him, taking Simon’s arm. “I love him with all my heart and he loves me.”

“I always have.” Simon slipped his arm around her waist and hugged her tightly.

Vincent stood and came forward to take the boy’s hand before kissing Lena on the cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he said softly, and Lena threw her arms impulsively around his neck and hugged him.

“You are the best friend in all the world,” she smiled mistily, before she turned to accept Elliot’s congratulations.

“Well, I think that has turned out rather well.” Father rubbed his hands together after the young couple had departed to inform the rest of the community of their good news.

“Lena has adapted well to life down here,” Vincent observed, looking after the pair, his face thoughtful and more than a little troubled. “Simon will make her a fine husband.”

“Yes,” Father agreed, wondering what was on Vincent’s mind that suddenly distracted him so. “You don’t disapprove of the match, do you, Vincent?”

“No.” Vincent brought his attention back to the present. “Lena has found true love at last.”

“Just as you and Catherine have,” Elliot murmured, watching his friend’s expression closely.

“Yes, just as Catherine and I have,” Vincent agreed softly, as he stared into the middle distance, his face remote and brooding.

*******

It was late when Vincent finally escorted Elliot through the tunnels to guide him out. The drainage tunnel entrance was still unusable. The police had cordoned off the area, and it was far too dangerous to exit by that route at the present time. So Vincent took Elliot up through the underground to the entrance nearest to Elliot’s offices.

“I have too much to catch up on to waste time sleeping,” was his reply to Vincent’s query as to why Elliot had no desire to go home.

“I asked Shannon if she would come to the opera with me,” Elliot spoke now, as they approached the lower reaches of the subway system. Trains rattled past in the distance, their sound muffled by the intervening concrete walls. “She managed to slip away without giving me an answer.”

“Father has asked her to coach some of the more gifted children in their singing lessons,” Vincent added. “She told him she would consider it. Fear can become so much a part of someone’s life that they cannot see around it or any way through to the freedom on the other side. Fear is not a rational emotion; you cannot explain it away with logic.”

“Are you telling me that I should persist in trying to draw her out?”

“I was alone for all my life…until that night I found Catherine.” Vincent paused to lean one shoulder against the tunnel wall as he turned to look at his companion. “Without her, everything I am, everything I could ever hope to be…or have, would cease to exist.”

He shook his head. “Yet fear, my fear of the unknown, kept me from loving her as she deserved to be loved for so long. I look back on that time now and I realise that I had been trapped, by my fear, by my upbringing, by my very appearance.”

Vincent dropped his eyes to his hands, as he held them out and open before him. “She broke through that wall, through all the barriers that I had erected to contain the beast that I felt could so easily rise up and destroy us both. Catherine drew me into the light, out of the darkness of fear, out of myself. She has given me a son and shown me beauties beyond price…or imagining.”

Vincent raised his eyes once more to Elliot’s. “Shannon is trapped by fears that are just as large and overwhelming. She has been taught that to love is to fear the man who said he adored her. If you leave her there, trapped in that belief that she is unlovable, then she will never believe in herself again.”

Elliot placed a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “I have never truly appreciated how much Catherine means to you…until now. I am glad I was too stubborn to put her before everything else in my life, to do for her what you have done.”

“But you have paid a high price for that stubbornness,” Vincent reminded him, his gaze compassionate.

“And I would pay it again.” Elliot’s lips twisted. “Catherine deserves nothing less.”

“She deserves everything.” Vincent straightened away from the wall, and they continued on their way.

“You have something in mind, don’t you?” Elliot surveyed him curiously.

“Something I should have thought of by now.” Vincent nodded. “But, until a few hours ago, I was blind.”

“Let me know if I can help, with whatever it is.” Elliot’s curiosity was aroused, after waiting for some time for Vincent to elaborate on his statement. But he remained curiously silent and thoughtful.

Then, after a long silence, he turned to look at Elliot. “To involve you in another matter again would be risking your life. I don’t have that right.”

“Whatever it is, Vincent, I will help. You know that.” Elliot took his arm and halted him. “Is Catherine in some kind of new danger?” he asked quickly.

“Not Catherine directly.” Vincent shook his head. “But Joe Maxwell is involved in a legacy of Gabriel’s evil and she cannot leave him until it is finally resolved.”

“So you go Above each night, to be with her, to try and protect her?” Elliot frowned in an effort to understand all that Vincent was trying to tell him.

“Yes. But I cannot protect her when she walks in your dangerous city in the daylight.” Vincent pushed one fist into the other in frustration. “I cannot protect her when she is most vulnerable.”

“I can protect her, Vincent, with a whole army if necessary.” Elliot tightened his grip. “Money can buy a lot of things, even if it cannot buy happiness.”

“But you know the dangers, the risks.” Vincent heaved a deep sigh. “You were lucky to escape with your life the last time, and this time we are dealing with a trained killer. Joe is convinced this is the man who eliminated John Moreno.”

“So we finally come to the heart of Gabriel’s empire of fear.” Elliot shook Vincent’s arm in his agitation. “Tell me, Vincent. Tell me everything you know, everything Catherine told you. This is my battle too. That man took everything from me. So, if there is yet another round to be fought, I’m not running away. I have a considerable stake in your ultimate happiness together.”

Vincent considered him for a long moment before he nodded. He related all that Catherine had told him the night before.

“We need Cleon Manning on this, right away.” Elliot’s tone was decisive. “He’s still annoyed he wasn’t in on the kill last time. And Maxwell thought he could tackle this alone…”

“He felt he had no other choice. No one knows who this killer could be. The police still have no leads, no suspects.” Vincent shook his head. “And Catherine refuses to abandon Joe to his fate. She says he would do the same for her.”

“I’ll do all I can,” Elliot assured him. “This is my world we’re dealing with and my connections stretch further than those of the D.A.’s office. We’ll find him, if he’s still out there.”

“Be careful, Elliot. The way is extremely dangerous.”

“I have the scars to prove it.” Elliot lifted a shoulder. “But, like Catherine, I have no choice, and neither do you. Together we will keep her safe from harm.”

Vincent nodded slowly, before placing his hand over Elliot’s where it rested on his arm. “Together then,” he affirmed.

They turned and continued their journey. The tunnel up which they were travelling ended abruptly in a blank wall. Elliot, thinking that Vincent had somehow managed to get lost, turned his head to look back in the direction they had come.

“Perhaps we missed a turning…” he began, only to hear the sound of the wall sliding open behind him.

“One of Mouse’s ideas that work.” Vincent smiled at Elliot’s astonished expression, as he looked out into the basement of his own office building.

“But it operates from this side only. We felt it was far too dangerous to have a two way system here.”

“I understand.” Elliot nodded. “But that boy is amazing,” he continued, as he ran his hands over the hidden door. “He can have a job with me anytime.” He looked back at Vincent standing in the shadows, the hood of his cloak now drawn over his hair.

“I will do all that I can for Catherine, and I won’t forget about Shannon,” he said, before stepping through the open door. “I have a large debt to repay.”

“You have repaid that debt in full with your friendship.” Vincent inclined his head. “Goodbye, Elliot… and take care, for Catherine’s sake.”

“Goodbye…” Elliot stood there as the door slid silently shut again, his mind turning over the many new problems that now faced him. Then he shook his head as he turned back to his own world with its frightening realities…

*******

Be near me when my light is low,

When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick

And tingle; and the heart is sick,

And all the wheels of Being slow.

Be near me when the sensuous frame

Is rack'd with pangs that conquer trust;

And Time, a maniac scattering dust,

And Life, a fury slinging flame.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Joe stood in the window of his apartment, looking out into the night. The five days since Diana had uncovered the list, since Shipley’s car had been blown up in the park, had passed slowly, the tense pace almost seeming to stop at times.

Joe pushed his hands deeply into the pockets of his robe and surveyed the darkness of the night beyond the window. Everything had been arranged. All the men on Gabriel’s list had been quietly shepherded away to safety, without ever knowing that they were under protection, until it was too late for objections. Now there was only he remaining in the city, an obvious target for Gabriel’s hired killer.

The wind sighed around the building, seeming to carry the whispers of some lost soul. Joe shivered despite the warmth of his apartment and turned away from the window in frustration.

Below, in the darkness of a doorway opposite Joe’s apartment building, a shadowy figure dropped his gaze from his observation and scanned the darkness closely on either side. A nearby streetlight glinted on the fall of tawny hair and the metalwork of Vincent’s belt. The familiar sounds of the night rode the rising wind, but there was nothing that Vincent could detect as a threat or identify as not belonging there. With a final glance up at Joe’s window, he turned and melted into the depths of the pool of darkness beyond the glow of the lights…

*******

“I swear this man just doesn’t want to roll over and play dead.” Cleon Manning paced Elliot’s office impatiently. “So now we have some creep running around blowing up half the city officials and no one can do a damn thing about it!”

“There has to be a connection.” Elliot slammed his desktop with the flat of his hand. “Gabriel used this man to kill Moreno. He has to be linked in some way to Gabriel’s operation.”

“What about Cole’s wife?” Cleon paused in his pacing. “You knew her, hid out with her. Could she provide any leads?”

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t want to involve her in this. She wants to forget the whole sordid affair. She had a really bad time with Cole. If I push it, she could slip over the edge. There has to be another way.”

“Whatever you say.” Cleon waved his hands in agitation. “Are you okay with this, Elliot? I mean, you have only just recovered from the last time Gabriel tried to put you six feet under.”

Elliot’s lips twisted at the unconscious accuracy of his investigator’s statement. “I’ll be fine. But we have to move on this. Maxwell has made himself a very tempting target, and I don’t want to hear this guy has got to him. Gabriel is not going to win this final round.”

“For Cathy Chandler’s sake?” Cleon watched him closely.

“For her and a whole lot of other reasons that matter just as much,” Elliot ground out in a hard tone.

*******

“What we have to go on, you could fit on a damn postage stamp.” Greg Hughes pushed the file on his desk across to Catherine. “It’s all here, though Joe is going to hang me for showing it to you.”

“Then we won’t tell him.” Catherine opened the file and quickly scanned all it contained. “Joe is my friend too.” But he was right; it was pitifully scant on facts.

“Bennett thinks there may be a line or two in that diary of yours. But I think it will take too long to crack the code, but we managed to pull out a name.”

Greg sat back in his chair. “This guy strikes hard and fast and he’s as cold blooded as they come. He lives up to his name. He’s apparently called Steven Striker. He’s been on Interpol’s list for so long, they don’t even know what he looks like now.”

“But he killed John Moreno. Surely he was not alone in that.” Catherine looked up from the file. “There must be someone who knows what he looks like, where he hides.”

“If so, they’re wise enough not to talk. Moreno is just one of many murders we’ve uncovered.” Greg tossed Catherine a stack of files. “Gabriel obviously liked to keep him in full employment. So now, he’ll be looking for a new backer. No doubt someone who will make good use of his unique skills.”

“This is crazy.” Catherine skimmed through the files, her heart chilled by the wanton destruction they disclosed. “Joe cannot take on this man alone. He will kill him for sure.”

“You have told him; I have been beating my head against his stubbornness since Diana found the list. Joe has turned this into a one-man crusade. In a way, I think he still feels responsible for Moreno, like he should have foreseen what would happen and got the man some protection. He feels he owes him.”

“No-one could have foreseen that.” Catherine shook her head. “Surely Joe cannot blame himself.”

“When you disappeared, he nearly went crazy.” Greg spread his hands. “He pushed the investigation until he came within an inch of forcing Gabriel to remove him, permanently, then.”

“So that’s why his name was added to this abominable list.”

“And we don’t have a lot of time to catch our killer before he strikes again.”

*******

For I am your lady

And you are my man

Whenever you reach for me

I’ll do all that I can.

We’re heading for something

Somewhere I’ve never been

Sometimes I am frightened

But I’m ready to learn

Of the power of love…

Jennifer Rush

Calmly, the crouching figure assembled the high-powered rifle. The slenderness of the man’s body was belied by the sense of leashed power that seemed to surround him. He appeared to be like a coiled spring, one touch, the slightest vibration, and he would explode into action.

“So, they think they can outwit me.” The gunman passed his hand lovingly over his weapon as he glanced up at his nervous companion. “They have yet to learn who they are dealing with.”

Detective Jim Folley shifted uncomfortably under the menace of the rifle’s aim and cleared his throat abruptly. “Greg Hughes had a meeting with that D.A. investigator, Catherine Chandler today. The one Gabriel kidnapped months ago to get her kid for himself.”

“I still don’t get what Gabriel wanted with some brat,” the gunman growled. “It wasn’t like him to care so much about another human being. But whatever it was, it destroyed him. Stupid fool, stupid waste.”

“I don’t know why.” The detective shrugged. “But, it seems Maxwell is on to you. They’ve found Gabriel’s list in his computer.”

“Justice.” The other man smiled thinly, without a trace of humour. “An appropriate title, don’t you think?”

“Look, Striker, I only came to deliver the message, like you paid me to do. I don’t want to get involved in this any more than I am. It’s too risky, I’ve got a wife and kids.”

Striker shrugged. “So, Miss Chandler wants to involve herself in our little game, does she?” Striker’s lean smile grew. “I knew I should have finished her off the last time, but Gabriel insisted on getting her brat first. And now, what does he have to show for it?” he sneered in satisfaction. “Nothing, but a six foot hole full of dirt. Are you happy in hell, Gabriel?”

“Watch yourself, Striker. That Chandler woman, seems she has some powerful friends who look after her. Some guy called Vincent. He really don’t like anyone messing with her.” Folley edged away from the other man’s obvious madness.

“They say he’s some kind of great beast.” The detective wiped a hand over his forehead. “Those three men you told me to send to the park that night, to the carousel looking for Maxwell? They never came back. Never used their code for mission accomplished. And they haven’t been seen since.”

He shivered. He’d never trusted the gunman, and he cursed the day when his greed had led him into Striker’s evil web. “I have to go, get back before I’m missed. I’ll see what else I can find out.”

“What else is there to find out?” Striker stood up. “It will be on the six o’clock news tomorrow night. All about the accidental death of the D.A. of Manhattan. As for Chandler, I’ll put down anyone who gets in my way. Even this Vincent, you’re all so scared of. He’s still just a man, and a bullet will soon stop him.”

“You’re not serious!” Folley blurted out then. “You can’t go after Maxwell now. They know all about you.”

“All the better. Make a bit of sport for me, I’m tired of killing fools.” Light gleamed on the ring Striker wore on his right hand, a ring of gold and black stones. “I have a few debts to settle with Maxwell. But first, I think our Miss Chandler could be well worth a visit…”

“You’re crazy!” Folley jumped back as though stung. “You’re risking everything we’ve worked for, because of your pride. We need to get out now!”

“A man should always take pride in his work, and I never leave any loose ends. They are so inconvenient…” Striker remarked with a sneer, as the weapon in his hands spoke once and Folley slid to the ground with a look of complete surprise on his face.

*******

Catherine held Vincent close, his solid presence both a joy and a sadness that touched his senses with pain. He buried his face in the softness of her hair, his whole being trying to shield her from harm. The lamp-lit quiet of her apartment surrounded them both as they held each other fiercely.

“I have missed you so much,” Catherine whispered against his chest, the steady beat of his great heart a reassurance she craved desperately.

“I have wanted to come to you so many times.” Vincent brought his hand up to stroke the brightness of her hair. “But the risks to you were too great…”

“I know.” Catherine pulled back to look up into Vincent’s eyes. “I wish I could tell you that all this will be over soon, but I can’t.”

“And you cannot leave until it is, I know.” Vincent caressed the nape of her neck reassuringly. “But the dangers…”

“I can handle the danger, Vincent. But if anything should happen to you, because of me, if you were discovered because you risked your life to come Above to me, I could not bear it. Father was right to be afraid of our relationship when we have to be apart like this.”

“Catherine, I—” Vincent’s words were interrupted by a knocking on the front door.

Instantly he froze, feeling trapped in a world where he could never belong. Only Catherine’s insistent hands, pushing him towards the open door to the balcony finally galvanised him. Leaping back, Vincent vanished into the darkness beyond. Catherine closed the doors and drew the drapes, before crossing the room again.

“Who is it?” she queried, opening the door on the chain.

“Special delivery.” A uniformed man stood outside, holding a package, his face open and friendly. “Gotta sign for it, lady.”

“All right.” Catherine slipped the chain, as he thrust out the package towards her, his manner growing impatient.

He grinned as she reached for the pen and the package slipped from his grasp to reveal the gun he held beneath. “Don’t scream,” he commanded. “Come with me and you won’t be hurt.”

Outside on the balcony, Vincent felt the shaft of fear that tore through Catherine, as Striker seized her arm and hustled her away towards the stairwell. Vincent whirled about, intent on crashing through the doors into her apartment, through the whole building until he found her, until he assured her safety, even at the expense of his own life.

But Catherine’s warning flashed to him through his rage, their bond pulsing with desperate reassurance as Catherine strove to overcome her own fear, to stop Vincent from committing himself to a course of self-destruction.

Drawing great gasps of cold night air into his lungs, Vincent obeyed her silent plea of instructions as she was dragged along behind her assailant. Swinging back again, Vincent leaped over the low balcony wall and dropped into the night beyond…

*******

“Oh, God, no, Catherine…” Joe read the note in his hands for the tenth time. It was brief and very brutal. Unless he came alone to the address given, Catherine Chandler would become another statistic of the rising crime rate of New York City.

“This has to end!” He crumpled the note into a ball and held it tightly between his hands. He closed his eyes and drew a deep, steadying breath before getting slowly to his feet.

*******

The ride by car across the city had been fast and uncaring of Catherine’s comfort. She bit her lower lip in an attempt to stop herself from crying out as the vehicle slewed across another corner and into the depths of an underground car park. In the distance she could feel Vincent, she could sense all his rage and terrible anger as he raced to save her once more. But this time, the rage and pain was echoed within her and she was frightened by its savage intensity.

Striker dragged her from the car and swiftly tied her to one of the uprights that supported the car-park ceiling. Catherine tried to lash out with her fists and kicked at him viciously, but he avoided her neatly and laughed at her attempts.

“I like a woman with spirit, makes the game a little more interesting,” he purred against Catherine’s cheek as he traced the line of her jaw in a parody of a loving caress.

“Get away from me!” Catherine pulled back from his touch and glared at him.

“You just haven’t met the man who can master that temper of yours.” Striker trailed his hand down her throat to her shoulder. “But we’ll have some time later, to get better acquainted.”

Violently, Catherine twisted away from him and lashed out with her heel. Striker barely had time to leap aside before his instep was crushed beneath the spike of her shoe.

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” He stood out of reach and taunted her. “But Gabriel wanted you alive, so that he could have that baby you were carrying.” His eyes fell to her slim waist. “Should be about eight months old by now. I’ve killed a few children, Miss Chandler. They make such easy prey.”

He laughed at Catherine’s sickened expression. “Very easy prey. But you don’t remember me, do you? Take a closer look. I’m sure I must haunt your dreams.”

“You’re crazy!” Catherine frowned, studying his face almost in fascination. Now that he had dropped the mask of the genial deliveryman, his expression had taken on a far more sinister cast.

“Yes, that’s right, look at me,” Striker gloated. “You will tell us, Miss Chandler, you will tell us what we want to know…in the end.”

“No!” Catherine jerked her head back as if she had been struck in the face. It was the voice, that voice out of all her nightmares, all her terrifying dreams.

“I had you right here.” Striker extended his hand, palm uppermost. “I had you here and I could have crushed you so easily.” He closed his fist. “Perhaps when I’m done with your Joe Maxwell and you, I’ll go looking for that brat of yours. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

Vincent was gaining ground now, but he was still too distant to help her yet. Catherine forced down her sense of pain and glared disdainfully at her captor. “You will never find my baby.”

“Oh, you will tell me in the end. You see, you won’t have a lot of choice.” He thrust one hand into his pocket and it emerged holding a syringe and a small vial of pale liquid. “It will be just like old times…Catherine. And you’re going to tell me how you got away, who helped you and where your kid is now. I’m thinking of starting a whole new list of targets.”

Catherine struggled against her bonds in desperation. “I will never tell you!”

“Oh, but you will. They always do.” Striker assured her calmly, the humourless smile again curving his thin mouth. “And then I’ll kill them all.”

“You’re insane…” Catherine couldn’t prevent the shudder that ran through her body then. Suddenly Striker whirled, as the sound of a stealthy footfall came to both of them.

Catherine twisted desperately in her bonds, turning to the direction of the sound, trying to see who it was. Vincent was still some distance away, but he was covering the ground fast.

Striker ran his hand around her throat and up to grip her chin painfully. “Scream and you die.” The cold metal of his gun barrel pushed against her cheekbone, bruising it hardly. “One sound and your kid will need a new Mummy, a lot sooner than I planned,” he continued mockingly, kissing her lips.

Catherine jerked her face back from the repulsive contact and glared at him. Striker nodded with satisfaction as she obeyed him. Beyond his shoulder, Joe stepped into the light from between two parked cars.

“Joe!” Catherine gasped, appalled that he had come alone, without back up.

“Our guest has been wise enough to show up, my dear. A shame he won’t be around for the main event.”

“Let her go, Striker.” Joe moved forward. “She can’t harm you. It’s me you wanted.”

“So noble,” Striker sneered. “You would almost think he cared about you.”

“He cared about John Moreno.” Catherine frowned at him. “I wonder what you care about.”

“Emotions can get you killed in my line of work.” Striker moved to one side to cover them both. “So, you soon learn nothing matters, nothing and no-one. Then you stay alive. That’s the name of the game.”

“A shame you didn’t teach that to your boss.” Joe advanced another step.

“Gabriel was a fool. He let passion carry him away.” Striker shrugged. He turned to stare at Catherine. “He got so caught up with you and your baby that he couldn’t see the truth. He paid very well for my services. Now I will need to find a new backer. I’m not a greedy man.”

Joe advanced another step and Striker admonished him. “That is far enough, Mr. Maxwell. You know, you really did make my choice so easy for me this time. I almost had to draw lots to decide who was going to be next to experience Gabriel’s idea of justice. But then detective Folley came to me with a story that really made me admire you.”

“Folley!” Joe clenched his fists. “He was your informant all along?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve already dealt with him. He was beginning to develop a conscience. He was a weak tool, but a useful one in the beginning.”

A sound from Catherine attracted his attention. “Does the thought of betrayal by a colleague upset you, Miss Chandler? You should know that every man, no matter how noble, has his price. I wonder what Joe’s price will be for your life?”

“It doesn’t upset me. But you, you sicken me.” Catherine stared at him levelly.

“Yes, I think you and I are going to have some fun together.” Striker laughed.

Joe, thinking the killer’s attention was all on Catherine, threw himself forward, in a desperate dive.

“Joe!” Catherine strained against her bonds as Striker whipped around, lashing out with his gun butt and catching Joe a stunning blow on the temple. He crumpled into a heap on the ground.

“Nobility will only get you killed faster!” Striker bent over him, pulling him into a sitting position by his hair. “Say goodbye to your pretty little friend.”

He thrust the gun into his face, obviously expecting Joe to flinch in fear. But he simply stared at him, prepared to die, but inwardly cursing himself for his impetuous folly that left Catherine alone with the madman. “Go to hell,” Joe snarled.

“Your choice.” Striker tightened his finger on the trigger. “Pity you won’t be around to find out all Cathy’s secrets. I bet they’ve been really bugging you for months. Where she’s been hiding, who she’s been with and who’s the father of her baby. Bet, you’d really like to know that one. Give my regards to Gabriel.”

Suddenly, the very air around them both seemed to explode. The paralysing sound of some great, terrible beast, in unholy pain, beat against the gunman’s ears, as he felt his gun arm being slashed and broken, his weapon spinning uselessly from his numbed fingers. Great hairy hands fastened on his clothing and he was lifted bodily off the ground and slammed into the nearby cars. His stunned mind refused to function properly, to understand what he was seeing and feeling.

A snarling, muzzled face and gleaming canines raged within inches of his terrified face, the roaring of blind, irrational fury battering at him, torturing and breaking his body. He tried to scream, but nothing issued from his straining throat beyond ragged moaning, unvoiced pleas for someone, anyone to save him…

His last conscious thought…surely no lion walks on its hind legs and wears ragged clothing like some primeval warrior.  No one could be powerful enough to take him down, unarmed as this creature is…no, it has to be a dream, a ghastly waking dream…

“Vincent, stop!” Catherine strained against her bonds, trying desperately to reach him.

Vincent staggered back from Striker’s crumpled body, shaking his head, trying to clear it of the red fog of rage. On the ground, Joe sat and stared in disbelief, incapable of making any sudden movement that might turn the monster’s horrifying rage in his direction.

His churning mind tried to assimilate the facts and the obvious threat this crazed man might pose to himself and Catherine, if they made any kind of move that could set his rage off again and—then his shocked brain seized on one horrifying fact, Catherine knew him! She’d just called this raging killer by a name…Vincent…

“Catherine…” Vincent turned abruptly, and Catherine let out her pent-up breath thankfully. “Catherine…” he was at her side in an instant, working on the ropes until they fell at her feet. “I thought I had lost you…forever, this time.” He gathered her against him, and it took all his willpower not to crush her with his overwhelming need to have her close and safe.

“I’m all right. It’s over now.” Catherine soothed him, running her hands over his mane, calming the terrifying agony that passed from Vincent through their connection. But there were no shades of the bitter self-castigation that had coloured their bond in the aftermath of the fight at the carousel. Vincent has come to terms with the fact that in order for their love to live, he needed to defend her. He found he had no choice, but to deal with Striker in the only effective way he knew.

“Catherine…? Joe’s low-voiced plea reminded Catherine of his watching presence and the inescapable fact he’d witnessed Vincent’s attack on Striker.

“For Pete’s sake, Radcliffe.” He was sitting, holding his head in one hand, staring at them both in stupefied amazement. “You actually know this guy? What the hell is going on here?”

“I’m not sure I can explain it all right now, Joe.” Catherine shook her head.

How many times had she pictured a meeting between her old boss and her mysterious lover? To have Vincent looming over Joe as he sat at his desk, wearing exactly the same expression of frozen surprise on his face as he was now, had tantalised her more than once. But now the situation had finally arisen, and she was at a loss to know how to handle the introduction.

“Joe…?” She dropped to her knees beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Apart from a headache that’ll keep me awake for a week, I don’t think anything is broken. Come on, Radcliffe, what is this? I mean, I know you had some kind of close protection, but this is beyond anything I thought possible.” He waved a hand at Striker’s body and then stared at Vincent, standing quietly, just watching the pair of them with wary eyes.

“Look at him…” He pointed a disbelieving finger at Vincent, many different emotions chasing each other across his face. “Come on, Radcliffe, this is crazy stuff. Is he even safe for you to be around?”

Catherine gripped his shoulder. “His name is Vincent, Joe. And he just saved your life and mine. Remember that.”

“I must have been hit harder than I thought…” Joe passed a trembling hand over his eyes, but when he looked again, nothing had changed. The strange looking, leonine-faced man was still there, watching him with calm blue eyes that belied the raging, powerful demon he’d just witnessed.

“The carousel…that was you…” he stammered. “You took out those three guys. You were the man in the shadows—that Cathy didn’t want me to know about. Geez, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Radcliffe.”

“There’s nothing to fear, Joe.” Catherine rose to her feet, moved to Vincent’s side, laying a hand on his arm. “I told you once you had a heart as big as the man I loved. This is that man, Joe. He is everything to me, everything I am and could ever be.”

“I’m going to need a few more facts than that.” Joe closed one eye, but it didn’t help. His head ached cruelly. “You and your secrets drove me mad, Cathy, but this…” He waved a hand ineffectually. “This is beyond anything I ever imagined.” With one eye still closed, he measured Vincent, who stood calmly regarding him.

Vincent waited, not making any move that could provoke the other man into rash action. He sensed that like Elliot, Joe could never harm Catherine with carelessness. In his own way, Joe loved her too. But his expression spoke of his inability to process the information immediately.

“I couldn’t tell you of our relationship,” Catherine continued, shaking her head. “It was never my secret to reveal. There are many others in Vincent’s world who would suffer if their presence was ever suspected.”

“And this mysterious place, that’s where you’ve been for the past months, with Vincent?” Joe struggled to his feet and swayed momentarily. Vincent stepped forward to take his arm to steady him and the two men stared at each other.

“My world was Catherine’s best protection,” Vincent said then, his hand still supporting the other man. “Those who know its secrets are sworn never to reveal them to anyone outside.”

“Burch and Shannon Cole…” Joe blinked. “They were there, all the time, with you?” His mind was obviously taking massive leaps forward to try and grasp some of the answers that had, until now, eluded him. “Where is this place?”

“It is a secret place,” Vincent replied. “And yes, both Elliot and Shannon are a part of us. Elliot returned Above, but Shannon is still with us.”

Joe leaned back against a nearby car. “I knew you had secrets, Radcliffe, but this takes the cake.” He laughed shakily, continuing to stare at Vincent, noting the uniqueness of his appearance and the obvious strength in his powerful frame. “This is going to take some getting used to. And Burch knows about you. Okay, Radcliffe, I get the need for secrecy, but Burch, of all people, I never would’ve thought that man could keep any secret, unless it was to his own advantage.”

“Elliot is a good man, Joe. Like you.” Catherine stepped close to kiss his cheek. “I know you will keep our secrets.”

Suddenly, in the distance, sirens began to wail, rapidly drawing nearer. Catherine’s heart jumped as they all listened to the sound.

“I left an urgent message for Greg Hughes.” Joe straightened from the car. “If he hadn’t heard from me within the hour, then I left the rest to his discretion. We had the trap all neatly baited and set, waiting for its prey, and then Striker goes and kidnaps you, Cathy. I had to come alone tonight. I couldn’t let the nightmare start all over again. But what am I going to say now? I mean…” His frowning gaze strayed to Vincent. “How on earth are we going to explain you, my friend?”

The sound of the sirens swelled as they raced towards them. Catherine took Vincent’s arm and shook it urgently. “Go, Vincent. Get out of here now. Joe and I can take care of this. Go, while you still can.”

“I’ll look after her.” Joe nodded. “Get out of here, before it’s too late. And Vincent…” he called as Vincent hugged Catherine before turning away. “Thanks…for everything. This is the craziest night of my life, but your secret is safe with me. Now and forever.”

“I know.” Vincent acknowledged his gratitude with a quick nod and then he simply melted into the darkness of the car park’s shadows.

The sirens filled the space with their screaming almost in the same moment. Joe passed a hand over his face. The whole thing was going to take some explaining and his headache pounded cruelly. He slung an arm around Catherine’s shoulders.

“Come on, Radcliffe, let’s get our story straight, before Greg starts asking questions we can’t answer. But once we’re done here, I want the truth. I must have been hit harder than I thought. That man said you had a baby. What gives? Why am I always the last to know the truth? You should know, by now, you can trust me, woman.”

He shook his head. “And even Elliot Burch knows your secrets. That hurts the most, you know. I thought I was your friend. So, now it’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing, but the truth, understand?”

“Yes, Boss.” Catherine squeezed his hand, where it clasped her shoulder. “I’ve wanted to tell you everything for a very long time.”

*******

Past the point of no return,

The final threshold –

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn…

We’ve passed the point of no return…

Say you’ll share with me

one love, one lifetime…

Lead me, save me from my solitude…

Say you want me with you,

Here beside you…

Anywhere you go, let me go too –

Christine, that’s all I ask of (you)…

Erik, Phantom of the Opera

“So it was Vincent that saved us at the carousel that night?” Joe flopped on the couch opposite Catherine’s in her apartment. His mind and body were totally exhausted, but he had many questions chasing each other around his brain, and they wouldn’t allow him to rest until he had all the facts.

Greg had taken some convincing that Striker had met his demise at the hands of an unknown assailant, but he had no choice, except to believe Joe when he told him that someone, or something, had dragged the gunman away and they had not seen the attack. But relief that Greg wasn’t called upon to report the murders of the D.A. of Manhattan and one of his best investigators went a long way towards helping convince him to close the case with minimal questioning.

“Vincent found me in the park that night I was mugged and slashed. He took me down to his world, and his father tended to my injuries. He’s a doctor. They saved my life,” Catherine told Joe now, as she handed him a mug of steaming black coffee.

Joe shook his head again in disbelief. “So all those times you somehow managed to escape from certain death, all those unexplained cases that only had you as their link…”

“Vincent and I share a connection, a bond that allows him to sense when I’m in danger, when I am afraid or sad.”

“Then as soon as Striker kidnapped you, he knew about it?”

“Vincent was here, with me, when Striker came,” Catherine told him quietly. “He has been here several times, since I returned Above.”

Joe nodded in silent understanding as he cast his eyes over the apartment, assessing, wondering. Then something in what Catherine has just told him, brought his attention back to her abruptly. “This ‘Above’ you spoke of, where’s that?” He cradled the coffee between his palms. “Vincent said you were in a safe place.”

Catherine considered him for a long moment of indecision. Trust Joe to pick up on the small details. His lawyer’s mind obviously wasn’t affected by the blow he’d received.

“Where Vincent lives is as far removed from here…as the moon,” she began cautiously. “This is the world Above, our world, Joe.”

“Hey, hang on, no that can’t be right.” Joe froze, blinking in disbelief. “You mean…are you trying to tell me that Vincent’s world is…actually below the ground?” He nearly spilled his coffee and he had trouble uttering his next question. “Under the city?”

His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally asked, “So he lives somewhere in the subways? That’s where you took me when you wanted to meet in secret? That crazy place with the spiral staircase?”

“Actually, it’s below the subways.” Catherine spread her hands. “Once I went almost a mile down, with Vincent.”

“Good Lord…” Joe sat back, totally dumbfounded, and he whistled incredulously. “I must be dreaming.” He scratched his head. “Aw, come on, you’re pulling my leg. What’s the real truth here?”

“I’m telling you the truth, Joe. But those who carry this secret, Vincent’s secret, must swear never to reveal it to anyone. Not a single soul.” Catherine sat forward, her whole will fixed on impressing this truth on her old boss. “To do so would bring destruction down on all of us.”

Joe shook his head. “If it’s that important to you, Cathy, then no-one will get anything out of me. I could never knowingly hurt you or endanger those you love. But I gotta see this place. Then maybe I’ll believe you.”

“Thanks, Joe.” Catherine sighed. “Sometimes the whole thing seems like an incredible dream, maybe even an impossible one. I will take you there, one day.”

“I’ll keep you to that promise. And Burch knows all about this?” Joe’s tone implied that Elliot couldn’t be trusted.

“Elliot is a good friend, Joe. He knows and understands everything about Vincent’s world. He’s been through a terrible ordeal. He’s only now discovered who he is and his place in the world.”

Joe shook his head slowly. “I almost hesitate to ask who else knows about this other world of yours.”

“Peter Alcott has known all about it from the beginning.” Catherine smiled as Joe grimaced in surprise. “There are others who contribute to our life down there.”

“And what do they get in return?”

“A sense of peace and safety. They know that there is always a place for them there, when this world starts to fall in on them. Many go there simply to regain something they may have lost along the way, perhaps their humanity.”

“And Vincent?” Joe queried softly, his tired mind still trying to assimilate the unique and incredible man that Cathy obviously loved without reservation.

“Vincent cannot live in this world, Joe. People here would never accept him for what he is, who he is. He is the most noble, the most honourable man I have ever known. But, to live with him, be with him, as we were always destined to be, I must go to live with him in his world. There can be no other way for us.”

“You are an amazing woman, Cathy Chandler.” Joe set aside his empty coffee mug and rose from his seat to move to her side. “One of a kind.” He kissed her cheek warmly and gave her a rib-cracking hug. “Your Vincent is one very lucky guy.”

Catherine sat back within the circle of his embrace and looked at him directly. “There is something more I should tell you. You asked about my baby.” She smiled with incredible tenderness and Joe caught his breath. “We have a son, Joe. His name is Jacob and he’s eight months old.”

“Eight months?” Joe sat back with an incredulous frown. “Eight months…” he whispered again. “But, that means, but you…then you were…that was—”

“The reason I had to return Below after Vincent rescued me from Gabriel,” Catherine supplied for him, as Joe groped for the right words. “My son is beautiful, Joe. I hope you’ll be able to meet him one day soon. But his presence in this world would have caused too many questions to which I had no answers.”

“A son…” Joe stood and took a turn around the room. “Just when I was getting used to knowing some of your secrets, Radcliffe, you go and surprise me all over again. And the father?”

Catherine watched his agitation calmly. “Vincent is Jacob’s father, Joe. There never could be anyone else. Not for me.”

“Okay, but, when did you—?” A large shadow passed over the french doors behind Catherine and Joe stiffened instinctively. He raised one hand as Catherine rose from the couch, but she took it and held it between her own. “It’s all right. It’s only Vincent.”

The door opened and Vincent was framed in the opening, his mane and cloak flowing around him in the night wind. Joe was struck once again by the sheer presence of the man and the love that shone in his eyes when they rested on Catherine. It would take some getting used to, but Joe silently wished them both well in this most unique of relationships.

“I guess it’s late.” He cleared his throat abruptly, feeling suddenly very superfluous, and grabbed up his overcoat. “I think I’m decidedly in the way here.” He shrugged his arms into his coat. “Thanks for the coffee, Radcliffe, and the answers. But I still think there’s more you’re not telling me.”

“Thanks for your understanding, Joe. And thanks for all you have done for us tonight. I know what it has cost you.” Catherine touched his cheek with her fingertips.

“Hey, what are friends for?” Joe’s smile was slightly crooked as his eyes went from hers to where Vincent stood silently, just inside the balcony doors. He was still trying to relate this quiet man with the raging fury who had dealt so decisively with a maddened killer. “Take good care of my girl, Vincent.”

Vincent came forward to slide an arm around Catherine’s waist. “Always…” he affirmed softly.

“And I want to meet that boy of yours.” Joe swallowed the lump in his throat. “I have a few things I want to discuss with him.”

“I’ll let you know, Joe.” Catherine smiled. She glanced up at Vincent. “I think you can expect an invitation to a party, in the not too distant future.”

“As long as there are no more subway kidnappings, please.” Joe held up his hands. “Just tell me when and where. I’ll be there.”

“He is a good man.” Vincent gathered Catherine into his close embrace, as the door shut quietly behind Joe.

“Yes…” she breathed against his mane. “He will keep our secret.”

“I know…” Vincent lifted her chin with the backs of his fingers and trailed one fingertip down the slender column of her throat. “Always…” he reaffirmed, as his lips found hers and the world around them spun away into infinity once more…

*******

“Lena looked radiant.” Mary wiped a tear from her eyes as she sat with Father in his chamber.

Catherine smiled as she helped Jacob with his toys. “They will be very happy together. I’m glad Lena has found someone who loves her.”

Her eyes went to Vincent where he sat across from her, looking magnificent in a white ruffled shirt over black leather trousers. His booted feet were thrust out before him, crossed at the ankle, as he listened intently to something Elliot was describing to him. Catherine watched as Elliot waved his hands eloquently in the air before him.

“And now you are safely back with us, Catherine…” Mary reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Our world is complete once more.”

“It is wonderful to be finally home.” Catherine nodded.

The last few days had been hectic. But her life Above had finally come to an end. Her apartment had been sold and she’d brought Below her favourite pieces. Memories of her parents and her earlier, happier life. The rest had been sold off and the money raised had been placed in the newly-formed trust for her son.

Alex Morgan was an able administrator and there would be ample funds ready and waiting for Jacob, if he decided to venture into that world. Catherine smiled secretly as she watched Vincent. Their future held so many wonders as yet unexplored, many gifts her lover was yet to experience.

Jacob threw himself back against her chest and patted her cheek with his small hand. “Mama.” He smiled before turning his eyes to Vincent. “Dad, Dad.” He bounced with joy.

“He learned those words all by himself,” Father put in proudly, as the room dissolved into laughter and Jacob practiced his new words over and over again, bouncing energetically on his mother’s knee.

Over his head, Catherine and Vincent exchanged glances and Catherine could feel the glow of their love spreading through her like wildfire. Just one glance and she felt her need for him bloom once more.

The smile in Vincent’s eyes acknowledged that need and there was also the promise of wonders yet to come later that night. Catherine hugged the knowledge to her and dropped her eyes before the whole room became aware of her heightened colour.

Vincent turned his attention back to Elliot, his smile widening as his effect on Catherine became apparent. It was a heady intoxication that still took some getting used to.

“So Mouse planned to set up an early warning system with those alarms clocks.” Elliot’s voice cut across Vincent’s musing.

“Yes.” Vincent glanced across the room to where Mouse was talking with the newly-married couple. His hands were waving animatedly in the air and Vincent wondered what advice he was giving to Lena and Simon. “He had the wondrous idea of linking all the clocks together and having them ring at intervals along the chain until the final alarm sounded in Father’s chamber.” Vincent shook his head.

Elliot chuckled. “And what did Jacob say about the possibility of receiving such a rude awakening?”

“I have not enlightened him about that particular idea.” Vincent’s eyes met Elliot’s in a look of complete understanding. “I feel he has had enough of Mouse’s schemes. This one will be buried and quietly forgotten about.”

“And the alarm clocks?” Elliot had to know.

Mouse assures me they will be useful for parts for another idea he’s formulating.”

“Oh, no…” Elliot dropped his head into his hands and his whole body shook with suppressed laughter.

*******

The glow of the candlelight flickered and danced on the walls of Vincent’s chamber as Catherine tumbled back into its quiet warmth, held in the strength of Vincent’s embrace. Her heart rate slowed, as she drew deep gasps of air and Vincent’s ragged breathing fanned her cheek.

Turning to him, she enclosed him with her arms and legs as she planted soft kisses along his jaw-line. “A penny for them…” she whispered, as Vincent returned her kisses almost absently.

“I was thinking…of Lena and Simon.” Vincent traced the curve of her bottom lip with one fingertip. “I was thinking of the joy they have found in each other.”

Catherine ran her tongue against his touch and then bit down gently on one clawed finger that intruded into her mouth. “I am glad they found each other.”

“So am I.” Vincent raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her, lying beside him, warm and soft in the candlelight. Beauty and strength, he marvelled then, fire and steel enclosed in such a fragile seeming body. He shook his head in wonder once again, as he smoothed the fall of Catherine’s hair off her forehead.

“Keep thinking thoughts like that and you will have to take the consequences.” Catherine groaned, as Vincent’s eyes trailed down over her body and his senses flamed anew.

With a deep, steadying breath Vincent brought his gaze back to Catherine’s smiling face. “I looked at Lena tonight and I knew she had finally found something she’d been seeking for a long time.”

“She found love, Vincent.” Catherine raised her hand to cup his cheek.

“Yes…” he agreed slowly, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “There have been moments between us when I thought all we had would simply slip away…because of my carelessness.”

“No, Vincent, never think that!” Catherine sat up to grasp his shoulder, shaking it fiercely. “Never, ever, think that again!”

Vincent rose, glorious and naked in the candlelight, to kneel before her in the tumbled covers of the bed. He reached to hold her troubled face between his hands. “I love you more than my life,” he affirmed simply. Then, after a pause that lay between them, fraught with secret beliefs and complex emotional turmoil, he finally asked in such a low voice, she leaned closer to hear the words. “Will you marry me, Catherine?”

Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came forth. Everything she wanted, everything she had ever dreamed since their divergent paths had crossed all those years ago, when she had been seeking something she could not define or understand, were all encapsulated in this one simple sentence she never expected or hoped to hear spoken. She was supremely happy with her life as it was now, but this, this was Vincent’s final commitment to their life together.

He had ceased to be afraid, finally he’d set himself free from all the doubts, from all the fears that had loomed so large in his life for so long, it had been impossible for him to see beyond them to the fragile, gloriously unique world they had created together with their love.

“Will you?” Vincent sat back on his haunches, taken aback by Catherine’s lack of response.

He could sense her emotional turmoil. Their mutual bond hummed with colours and emotions he could not pin down and define. They were jumbled and chaotic, dancing and shimmering like mayflies. All the poetry in his life, all the complex words and phrases he knew and understood so well, had mysteriously deserted him now, when he needed them most. He could only whisper that one simple phrase that held everything he could ever feel or touch, and sit and wait for some sign Catherine had heard his question. His heart thundered in his chest.

Catherine threw her arms wide. Alternatively crying and laughing, she tumbled into his embrace, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him with abandon. “Yes, oh, yes!” she cried, her tears dampening the glory of his mane. “Oh, I love you, Vincent Wells, my impossible man…”

Falling backwards, they became entangled in each other, as Catherine rained kisses over his head and neck. She was like quicksilver in his hands and Vincent was not proof against her tantalizing warmth as she danced beneath his touch, her body singing for him alone…forever and always…

*******

How can I call the lone night good,

Though they sweet wishes wing its flight?

Be it said, thought, understood

Then it will be – good night.

To hearts which near each other move

From evening close to morning light,

The night is good; because, my love,

They never say goodnight.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Winterfest had come once more. Elliot stood with Shannon and Peter watching the throngs of people who filled the great hall. A very bemused Joe found his way to their side, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“I’ve just spent the last hour with someone called Mouse who showed me a great many things, not one of which I understood anything about.”

“That happens to everyone who meets Mouse for the first time, Joe.” Elliot laughed, as he handed him a glass of William’s best brew. “Here, this may help to make things a little clearer.”

Joe took an experimental sip. “Jeez, put me on my ear would be more correct,” he gasped, as the fiery liquid slid down his throat. “But, I could get used to it.” He took another mouthful and smiled.

“You know, I have travelled on the subways all my life.” He looked around him in wonder. “And all that time this world has existed down here and I never knew. It is truly amazing.”

“Where anything is possible and nothing is quite as it seems,” Shannon murmured, her eyes on Elliot.

“Oh, anything is possible tonight. Just go ask Mouse.” Elliot returned her look speculatively.

“No! Please, don’t ask Mouse anything!” Joe groaned, and they all laughed together.

Across the room, Father leaned his shoulder against one of William’s great barrels. The cook stood beside him, a mug of his secret concoction in one hand.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should ever see such a night as this again.” Father shook his head.

“Vincent and Catherine getting married, do you mean?” William asked, as he watched the dancers in the middle of the room.

“Yes.” Father smiled suddenly. “Peter was convinced of it all along, but I thought…”

“They deserve every happiness.” William gripped Father’s shoulder. “Heaven knows, they have been through enough to last a thousand lifetimes.”

“A life together…” Father mused softly. “A simple enough dream, but one fraught with so much difficulty, so much heartache.”

“And yet, here we are, celebrating another wedding, another beginning.” William raised his mug in the air. “To all the rivers we have crossed, the long paths we have travelled, and the wonderful friends we have found along the way. To life, love, and happiness. And apple cider!”

“Yes, to life.” Father laughed as he raised his own glass. “And to the happiness of two people who deserve it more than anyone else I know.”

In Vincent’s chamber, Mary was putting the final touches to Catherine’s gown. Standing before a newly installed full-length mirror, Catherine turned slowly around, watching her reflection. Her mother’s wedding gown whispered around her softly, its creamy silk and antique lace a perfect foil for her complexion.

“Oh, you look so beautiful.” Mary reached for her hanky again, as she smiled mistily at the picture Catherine made. “I am so glad for you and Vincent. How I have longed for this very day, for both of you.”

“Thank you, Mary.” Catherine slid her arms around the older woman to hug her tightly. “I love you so much.”

“Now you go on, before you have me crying all down your lovely gown.” Mary chuckled, as she blotted her face determinedly, before she stepped back and took Catherine’s hands in hers. “May every one of your dreams come true.”

“They already have.” Catherine smiled.

In another chamber, Pascal, who was to be the best man, was attending Vincent. Mouse popped his head in the door and nodded briskly. “Took care of Joe.”

“What did you do to him?” Pascal looked worried.

“Showed him my workshop.” Mouse sidled into the room. “My new experiment.”

“No more alarm clocks.” Vincent smoothed the lace at his wrists into place as he looked up. “Our old system works perfectly well.”

“Oh, finished with that.” Mouse waved a dismissive hand. “New project, very big, very good. Fast too.”

Vincent and Pascal exchanged glances. Pascal nodded at Vincent’s unspoken message.

“Perhaps we can discuss your new project after the wedding.” Pascal took Mouse’s arm and escorted him from the chamber, leaving Vincent to his reflections on whether, after their honeymoon, he and Catherine would have a home to return to.

*******

The music floated up from the children’s orchestra, spiralling into the air to hang in the breathless hush as Catherine moved along the staircase and down into the great hall, attended by Mary and Lena, with Samantha carrying her train. Peter took the place of her father, his face beaming with joy.

Below, Vincent stood looking up, his heart filled with a joy he never thought to know and a love that knew no boundaries, no inhibitions or fears. Catherine glided up to his side, her eyes shining in the candlelight, and Vincent thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful than his love on this night of nights.

“She’s all yours, Vincent.” Peter smiled, as he stepped back. “I know you’ll be good to her.”

“He will.” Catherine slipped her hand into the crook of Vincent’s arm and she smiled up at him, her green eyes alive with all the love, all the passion that had come to define and enrich their shared existence. Vincent laid his hand over hers and together they turned to where Father stood before them with Father Morton at his side.

Father cleared his throat, and there were few dry eyes in the great room behind the pair who had come to be wed. Shannon touched Elliot’s arm tentatively, and he smiled down at her. They both looked back at Father as he began to speak.

“We have all come here tonight to celebrate Winterfest. But far more importantly, on this night, we have come to celebrate the love and happiness of two people who truly do symbolise our world, our very existence here in these tunnels. Without them our world would be very grey indeed. Their love will always light our way home. For they are both truly now home.”

Joe cleared his throat as Father continued to speak. Catherine glanced at him and smiled warmly. Life up Above wouldn’t be the same without her, Joe decided, as Vincent turned to Catherine and lifted her hand to his lips, but Joe knew that she had found all she had ever wanted in life. He was proud of her, proud of the commitment she was about to make with this most unusual and incredible man.

“Catherine, you have showed me the light,” Vincent began softly, his words truly for her alone. “You came to me in the darkness and gave yourself to me, freely and willingly, asking for only a small token in return. That token was my acceptance of your right to love me, as I was, as I am. All that I am, all that I can ever hope to be is because of you, because of the love you have given me, shared with me. From this moment and for all eternity, I pledge myself to you.”

Catherine looked deep into his eyes, those incredible sapphire eyes that touched her very soul with their tenderness. She smiled as she raised Vincent’s hand between them and turned it palm upwards.

“I once asked you to hold all we are together, here, in your palm.” As she spoke, Catherine gently closed her fingers over his and laid her other hand on top. “You are my life, you are the reason I exist at all after that first night. For, without you, there could be nothing for me. You showed me my true self, you found a strength in me that I never knew existed. Your acceptance of my love is a gift beyond price; the beauty of your love is a wonder beyond all imagining. From this moment and for all eternity, I pledge myself to you.”

Lena slipped her arm around Mary’s shoulders and hugged her, as the tears flowed unheeded down both their faces. Elliot swallowed an unaccustomed lump in his throat, as Shannon leaned her cheek against his arm and gripped his hand tightly in hers. Mouse shuffled his feet and bobbed his head gleefully, as he saw the happiness shining from the faces of the two people he loved best in the whole world. Father Morton stepped forward to conduct the rest of the service.

The rings, carried proudly by little four year old Andrew on a cushion of crimson velvet, were matching gold circles, a tribute to Mouse’s gold-working expertise. Vincent’s ring was a broad, handsome circlet of plaited gold while Catherine’s was a more slender version of the same antique style. The gold gleamed in the candlelight as Catherine slid Vincent’s over his long, tapered finger and it nestled in the tawny fur as if it had always belonged there.

As she lifted her eyes to Vincent’s, away in the shadows in one corner of the hall, Catherine was almost sure she caught a hint of movement as Vincent clasped her hands between his. Two figures standing hand in hand, simply watching and approving of their daughter’s supreme happiness. Catherine nodded, as her parents gave their silent blessing.

“You may kiss the bride.” Father Morton beamed at them both as Vincent raised Catherine’s veil and let his hands trial down to back of her head to cup her face.

“Always…” he whispered against her lips, as he bent to salute his wife for the first time, before everyone, and the cheers that broke out must have surely risen to the very stars.

Jacob bounced in Rebecca’s sure hold and he added his voice to the general chatter as everyone crowded forward to be the first to congratulate the happy couple. Elliot kissed Catherine soundly, as Joe shook Vincent’s hand with enthusiasm.

“I told Catherine once that she needed to find a more solid type of boyfriend, someone more down to earth.” He laughed. “And all the time she was laughing at me. I can’t think of a more apt description of you, Vincent. I wish you both the best of everything.”

“Thank you, Joe.” Vincent smiled. “I hope that, one day, you will find the same kind of happiness that we share.”

“I’m just glad you found each other.” Joe nodded. “Against all the odds you found each other, and that gives the rest of us some hope.”

“A lot of hope, I would say.” Peter came to shake Vincent’s hand and kiss Catherine’s cheek. “Your father would have been so very proud of you. Your mother would just love Vincent as much as you do.”

“Yes, they both would.” Catherine glanced across to the shadows that still hung beyond the candlelight, but they were empty. “Very proud and very happy for me,” she whispered, taking Vincent’s arm and laying her cheek against it, as the music began again.

Vincent looked down at her. “Happy, Mrs. Wells?”

“Very happy.” Catherine stroked his arm. “Mr. Wells.” She smiled.

“So, do we join the dancing?” Vincent turned and bowed, flourishing one hand and bowing before her like an old world courtier. “Shall we give them all something to see?”

“Try and stop me.” Catherine curtsied, gathering her train over her arm and accepting his hand. Together, they joined the throng of people swirling around the middle of the room to the music of a waltz.

“You see, if you put this here and pull that bit.” Mouse’s hands fairly danced through the air, much to Joe’s confusion.

“Mouse.” Father took his arm firmly. “Joe is new to our world. He is not accustomed to all its intricacies. I think Elliot was looking for you a moment ago. Why don’t you go and find him.”

“Okay good, okay fine.” Mouse bobbed his head.

“Thanks.” Joe sighed, as Mouse scurried away. “It must be this cider of yours, but I think I was actually beginning to understand him.”

“I wanted to thank you for accepting all that Catherine has told you and all you have seen down here. I must admit that I never expected to be entertaining the District Attorney of Manhattan in my world. But I am very grateful that you can reconcile all you have discovered here with your work Above.”

“No thanks necessary. Down here I am just plain Joe Maxwell. I would cut off my right arm before I would do anything to hurt Cathy. She means the world to me and you can be assured of my silence on all I have seen down here.”

Father nodded his gratitude and then an errant thought struck him. “You don’t, by any chance, happen to play chess, do you?”

Elliot came up to Shannon where she stood against the wall, watching the crowd of people as they swirled and eddied through the hall. Here the shadows hung a little thicker, the candlelight casting dancing figures across the rock face behind them.

“You look a little tired.” Shannon gazed up into Elliot’s face with concern.

“Keeping up with Mouse will make anyone feel wrung out.” Elliot leaned one shoulder against the wall and surveyed her thoughtfully. “Have you given any more thought to the invitation I made the last time we met?” he asked presently.

“Yes,” Shannon murmured, her eyes following the dancers.

“And…?” Elliot prompted, when she didn’t continue.

“Yes, Stosh Kasmarek, I will go the opera with you.” Shannon looked back to him with more than a little trepidation in her eyes.

“Now, was that so hard?” Elliot took her chin in his hand and held her gaze. “There is good as well as evil Above and a great deal of beauty besides.”

Elliot tumbled into the depths of her green eyes as she stared up at him, and almost without thought he leaned down to kiss her lightly, a soft caress that caught them both off guard.

Shannon’s hand flew to touch his cheek, before darting away again as if afraid, and Elliot felt his heart contract with tangled emotion. Gathering her against him, he drew her head down onto his shoulder, as he entwined his fingers through the tumbled length of her raven hair.

Shannon stiffened perceptibly and then slowly relaxed, letting the warmth of the embrace sooth her tumbled thoughts. In that moment, Elliot realised the road before them could be as torturous and filled with as much heartache as Vincent and Catherine had suffered, but he knew he could face the challenge for her sake. With his help, she would come to believe in herself again and perhaps Elliot would find something that he’d been seeking all his life, a love of his own.

“Is Shannon feeling faint again?” A voice at Elliot’s elbow brought him back to the present with a rush.

Mouse stood before them, his face enquiring and concerned. Elliot shook his head, marvelling at the boy’s ability to pop up at all the wrong moments.

“It’s okay, Mouse. I was just resting on Elliot for a moment.” Shannon smiled as she took the boy’s hand. “Will you dance with me?”

“Dance!” Mouse jumped back, startled. “Okay good, okay fine. I can dance, Catherine showed me how. Come on!”

“Oh, good.” Shannon allowed Mouse to drag her away, leaving Elliot standing in the shadows, his face thoughtful and wondering.

“Enjoying yourself, Mrs. Wells?” Vincent came up behind Catherine, to slide his arms around her waist and draw her back against him.

Catherine laid her head back against his shoulder and clasped her hands over his. “It is a perfect and magical night.”

“Your beauty makes it perfect,” Vincent murmured against her nape, beneath her upswept hair.

“How soon can we slip away?” Catherine voice trembled as Vincent’s lips continued their journey to the lobe of her ear.

“Mrs. Wells, are you making an improper suggestion, by any chance?” Vincent teased, as Catherine leaned closer to him.

“If I don’t get you alone soon, I think I will explode with sheer desire.” Catherine struggled to maintain her composure, as he continued to plant soft kisses across the smooth rise of her bare shoulder, testing and teasing.

“That would never do.” Vincent’s hand moved to caress the soft curves of her lower body. “I’ll go and find Father.”

“Be quick,” Catherine called after him, as Vincent threaded his way through the crowd, before her attention was claimed once more.

Joe left Father’s side as Vincent came up, and he went to find Elliot. He was still standing by the wall where Shannon had left him, and Joe rested his shoulders back against the wall beside him.

“Thought you would want to know. Diana Bennett has managed to crack the code in the diary Catherine gave you. Pat was right when he said I wouldn’t believe the scope of it.”

“That’s great news.” Elliot straightened away from the wall. “How damaging is the information?”

“It should wipe out a few of your competitors,” Joe replied flatly. “And more than a few people will wish they’d never gotten into bed with Gabriel.”

“The lawyers for Justin Cole’s estate contacted me a couple of days ago.” Elliot watched Shannon circling the floor with Peter. “They are winding everything up and wanted direct contact with his widow.”

“What did you tell them?” Joe asked.

“That I would deal with them for now. I have put my lawyers onto the case. I don’t want Shannon to be involved until she has to be. She is still too fragile.” Elliot passed a hand around the back of his neck. “Despite everything, she is going to be a very wealthy woman. I wish I knew how she’s going to react to the news when I tell her.”

“Good luck with that.” Joe grimaced. “I don’t envy you the task of untangling that particular mess. I know you’ll do what is best, for both of you.”

“But the shadow of Gabriel and all his scheming is finally over.” Elliot watched Shannon being cajoled into singing by Mouse. “And for every ending, there is a new beginning,” he concluded softly, as Shannon’s clear tones touched his heart with renewed warmth.

*******

“Where does this lead?” Catherine followed Vincent along the winding passage, her hand clasped within his.

They had made their escape an hour ago, leaving their son in Mary’s tender charge, and now they were nearing the end of their journey. Catherine was dressed once more in tunnel costume, a softly swinging gown of velvet and leather. Its many tawny shades added a glow to the warm tones of her skin beneath the flame of the torch Vincent was using to light their way.

He was sure he had never seen her look so beautiful. There was a glow about her, a quiet air of expectation that teased at him, touching along the edges of their bond with a feather-light caress. It both puzzled and intrigued him.

Catherine’s fingers tightened on Vincent’s as the tunnel suddenly angled downwards, turned sharply left, and disappeared into a seemingly solid wall. There was no visible opening.

“I sent Mouse out last week, to find us a special place…for our honeymoon,” Vincent explained, as they turned sideways to slip through the gap in the rock wall. “He brought me here, to this,” he concluded softly, Catherine’s hand still held within his. Her gasp of pleasure brought a smile to his lips.

The large chamber beyond was lit with candles set at intervals around the walls and their light danced on the surface of the small pool that graced the centre of the floor. A sandy shore led down to its limpid depths, while away to one side lay an inviting pile of comforters and pillows spread over a low, wrought iron bedstead.

“Actually Mouse came back with several suggestions,” Vincent remarked, as Catherine turned full circle, gazing at their new surroundings with breathless wonder. “Somewhere below us here, is a whole series of chambers fitted out with all manner of comforts. I believe Mouse even managed to get a four-poster bed into one chamber, after dismantling it into several pieces. He assured me, most solemnly, that it would not break under the weight.”

“What weight?” Catherine turned back to her husband, her eyes dancing with merriment.

“Honestly, I did not have the courage to ask him,” Vincent admitted.

“Have I ever told you how wise you are?” Catherine came back to him and threaded her fingers through his mane. “Or how beautiful?”

“My wife is beautiful.” Vincent kissed her with aching tenderness. It was only his arm around her waist that prevented her from falling, as the kiss deepened and she began to drown in renewed desire.

“This bed will do,” she whispered, as Vincent rested his forehead against hers, his breathing laboured and unsteady.

“I’m afraid it will have to, I don’t think I have the strength to go searching for Mouse’s other hideaways.”

“As long as I am with you, I don’t mind where we are.” Catherine drew a steadying breath. “But you couldn’t have chosen a more perfect spot. I love it all, Vincent…and I love you…”

“You are my life, now and forever,” he replied, and the world turned and fell away into oblivion beneath their feet as he outlined the neck of her gown, probing beneath with a sure touch to unlace the opening, and the soft material slipped from her shoulders to pool at her feet. “All the treasures, all the beauties, now and for always, my love…”

An errant breeze, stealing across the surface of the pool carried the sound of Catherine, voicing Vincent’s name as an invocation, away through the rock walls, slipping through the fissures and cracks to bear the sound upwards and out into the starlit night far above. Dancing and twisting, the breeze became one with the night, blending the sound it carried with the many voices of the city that hung in the cool night air.

Later, much later, Catherine nuzzled her way along Vincent’s jaw line, enjoying the sensation of his cheek moving along hers. She ran her tongue against the strong column of his throat and was rewarded by a soft growl that reverberated through her, where she lay against his chest.

Buried in the mound of quilts, she stretched lazily along his warm length and entwined her legs through his. The breeze that had touched on them before, had died away, leaving a slumberous calm in its wake. Catherine snuggled closer, her thoughts drowsy and content.

They drifted together, Catherine’s mind touching lightly on several things, chief among them their son, and Vincent followed her silently, enjoying the novelty of their unique style of communication. In the distance the steady patter of Jacob’s heartbeat warmed them both, as he slept in his cradle in Mary’s chamber.

“Vincent…” Catherine raised her upper body onto one elbow.

It took Vincent a moment to realise she had actually spoken. He looked up at her, poised above him in the soft light, her green eyes warm and loving. Lightly, he traced the shape of her nose with one fingertip, falling off the tip to rest against her soft mouth. A smile curved beneath his touch as they gazed at each other, and Vincent felt a stirring, a slight ripple through the depths of their connection to each other. Catherine’s smile widened as Vincent’s forehead creased in puzzlement.

Softly, Catherine lowered herself back until her eyes were only inches from her husband’s, only a short breath away from falling into their sapphire depths.

Vincent’s hand moved to cup her cheek and she nestled into it.

“Tell me,” he asked. “What is your secret?”

“I wasn’t sure before…” Catherine began, as she gathered a length of tawny mane and let it slide back through her fingers. “But I saw Peter yesterday, and my suspicions were confirmed.”

Again their bond stirred lazily, an undercurrent pricking at Vincent’s senses. It flowed from her, a warm confidence that carried its own special secret into the heart of his being.

“Catherine…” Vincent sat up abruptly, moving her down into his lap, and he stared at her in bemused wonder. The time-honoured, obvious questions of when and how, crossed his face in swift succession, but he didn’t voice them. These were soon replaced by an understanding look that sent Catherine’s blood racing to keep pace with her heartbeat.

“In the summer,” she told him softly, as his eyes dropped to the slenderness of her waistline. “Our baby will be born in the summertime.”

Vincent’s eyes rose back to hers, and he gathered her into his arms, a sense of wonder colouring their bond with a thousand shades of meaning. With one hand, he explored the curve of her abdomen, the life within so small and yet already so powerful.

“You don’t mind?” Catherine lay her hand over his where it rested against her.

“Mind…?” Vincent questioned, almost absently, as Catherine moved to kneel between his upraised knees. “Oh, Catherine, you have given me gifts beyond everything I could have hoped to possess. How could I object to this most precious gift of all?”

“When I knew about Jacob, I was tortured by fears that you wouldn’t understand about how he came to be.” Catherine leaned forward to nestle into the broad curve of Vincent’s shoulder. “Jacob was conceived in a moment of complete desperation, of an overwhelming need, but also with unswerving love.”

“I know…” Vincent whispered, the ghost of an old pain briefly touching them both. “But this child was also conceived in a moment of overwhelming need.” He smiled with incredible tenderness. “The need that we have for each other, a need that cannot be assuaged. No matter how hard we try.”

“Very true.” Catherine’s laughter echoed his, as they tumbled backwards together into the warmth of the bed.

“Do you think Father can stand the shock?” she questioned, when she finally caught her breath.

“He will be delighted,” Vincent assured her. “This way he and Mary will have a child each to fuss over.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” She chuckled.

“Catherine, you are a never ending source of complete wonder to me.” Vincent turned to her to look deep into her loving eyes. “How did I ever manage to exist without you?”

“I have wondered the same thing many times, Vincent. How I managed to get through life without you. But, I do know that we were meant to be. Our first meeting was inevitable.”

“Yes…” Vincent agreed slowly. “I know that our fates were inextricably linked from the beginning. There was no escape from what was meant to be…”

Catherine nodded her agreement, her face buried in the warmth of his neck, and there was a long silence as they drifted together in quiet communion. Vincent’s hand strayed again to the softness of her lower body, to trace the outline of her from hip to breast in reverent wonder.

Catherine smiled as his touch feathered across her soft skin. Vincent had shared much of her pregnancy with Jacob, but this time there was so much more to be shared and enjoyed, a new dimension to be added to their mutual bond.

The breeze returned, lightly kissing its way across the surface of the pool. The current of air created tiny waves that lapped the shore.

“We should bring Jacob here,” Catherine murmured, as she floated in that wondrous place between waking and sleeping. “The pool is ideal.”

“We will bring all our children here.” Vincent kissed the top of her head. “It shall be the Wells family retreat,” he teased lightly.

“All our children…?” Catherine echoed, drawing herself up to look into his eyes, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

There was a light in those sapphire depths, a flame that danced and flickered, teasing and completely serious at the same time. Catherine took his chin in her hand, as she tilted her head to one side in suspicion. “Just how many do you have in mind, Mr. Wells?”

“Well, there is Mouse and Pascal to consider. And then, William…” His hand stroked her skin lazily, his fingertips making their own special music. “Now that Father and Mary have been satisfied.”

For a moment Catherine froze in total disbelief as she tried to assimilate this sweeping statement. Vincent, all the while, was gazing at her most solemnly. But the light in his eyes betrayed him, as it grew and danced mischievously.

“We will need to build a bigger chamber.” Catherine joined in the game then, her mock solemn face masking the pure joy she felt deep inside.

“Perhaps Father’s,” Vincent returned, in a voice that was not quite steady.

“But can we separate him from his books? They won’t all fit in your chamber.”

Vincent frowned over the thorny problem, his hand describing lazy circles across Catherine’s stomach before rising to curve over the swell of her breasts. Fire licked through her senses, inflaming them instantly.

“This will require a lot of thought…and a great deal of practice,” she whispered unsteadily, as Vincent continued his intimate exploration.

“Years of practice…” A tremor ran through Vincent then, as Catherine began her own intimate tour of his body, touching lightly along his thighs to finally encircle him with her questing touch.

“I doubt that we will ever get it completely right…” Catherine’s breathing grew ragged, as Vincent trailed a fiery path with his lips, from the lobe of her ear to the scented hollow between her breasts.

He shook his head mutely, the light in his eyes, when he raised them to hers, becoming an aching need, an invitation, a breathless question of burning intensity.

Poised above him, Catherine was snared in the light, drawn into its warmth, caught by the tumultuous sensations that rampaged through her. Totally lost to herself and her surroundings, she tumbled down into Vincent’s embrace and his arms closed around her, as she moved down over him to seal their bond intimately once more.

“My wife…my heart.” Vincent took her lips as they merged, one into the other. “You are everything I am, everything…”

“Together we can make all things possible…” Catherine gasped as they rode the waves, spiralling upwards. “Now and always…”

“Yes…” Vincent lifted her into the light, before bringing her back to wrap her legs around his waist, as her body sang again that sweet song that was for him alone. “Together…”

Beyond their hidden chamber, the world Below began to stir, rising to face the new day and a new beginning. But for the honeymoon couple, there was only each other and the sure knowledge they would never be parted again. Whatever happens, whatever comes, Catherine had led Vincent home to the security of their love…

*******

I am as a spirit who has dwelt

Within his heart of hearts, and I have felt

His feelings, and have thought his thoughts,

and known

The inmost converse of his soul, the tone

Unheard but in the silence of his blood,

When all the pulses in their multitude

Image the trembling calm of summer seas.

I have unlocked the golden melodies

Of his deep soul, as with a master-key,

And loosened them and bathed myself therein-

Even as an eagle in a thunder-mist

Clothing his wings with lightning.

LITERARY REFERENCES

If    Bread

Vincent   Don McLean

They Say That “Time assuages”  Part 4 Time and Eternity Emily Dickinson

- To Jane: Though the sound overpowers, sing again   Percy Bysshe Shelley

Good Friday   George Herbert

A dialogue of Self and Soul   W.B. Yeats

There roll the deep where grew the tree   Alfred, Lord Tennyson

In Memoriam, Section 123

I Do It For You   Bryan Adams

Be near me when my light is low   Alfred, Lord Tennyson

In Memoriam Section L

The Power Of Love   Jennifer Rush

Don Juan Triumphant    Phantom of the Opera

Goodnight   Percy Bysshe Shelley

Wedded Souls 1819  Percy Bysshe Shelley

Dancing

Light

“Dancing Light”

A Story of “Beauty and the Beast”

By Judith Nolan ©

Artwork by Kathy Fidge

This zine picks up the story of Vincent and Catherine and their family after the end of “All Things Are Possible,” the last zine in my Trilogy series. My Trilogy seems to have developed into a Fourthogy…

To all those who have joined me on this journey that began with one small idea, How Shall I Hold My Soul, so long ago now — I couldn’t have done it without you all. To Tic, my chief editor and avid zine reader, my special thanks. To Inez and Andrea, I have tried to do all you asked. I hope it is enough. To the present day and for Jo Baca who found me again, after all the years away, and to Carole Whitehead, for her good humour and endless patience, Winterfest will have a special place in my heart…always...

This story is dedicated to all the cast of “Beauty and the Beast”. Without them there would truly be ‘nothing’ indeed. Still holding out hope for ‘our’ movie. Please, Mr. Koslow, before I’m too old to appreciate it!

(Please do not reproduce, by any means, this story)

“Dancing Light” is an amateur fiction fanzine and as such does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of RON KOSLOW FILMS, REPUBLIC PICTURES, CBS TELEVISION, WITT THOMAS PRODUCTIONS or any other holders of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights.

“Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade, hide your face so the world

will never find you…”

“You turned and looked at me,

your eyes were filled with dancing light

and I was bathed in your warmth.

And I believed in that moment,

that even for me,

all things were possible…

In that warmth,

in your light,

I felt what it is to be beautiful…”

Vincent

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So be it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The child is the father of the man

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

William Wordsworth

Joe peered cautiously into the bottomless depths of the Whispering Gallery. The mists in the great yawning hole swirled and beckoned, plunging downwards into distant nothingness. He swayed back abruptly, casting a thoughtful look at Father who stood, in apparent unconcern, at his side. Joe took a strong grip on one of the bridge’s upright posts for added support.

Words and brief moments of broken sound echoed down from Above, adding to the awesome magic of the place. Joe cocked his head to listen to the strains of a Bruce Springsteen number that suddenly cut across all the other voices. The music echoed into the distant corners of the vast cavern.

“All this, and I never, not even in my wildest dreams, imagined that a world so vast and complex as yours existed right beneath my feet. I always thought I was beyond the age when things surprised me anymore. I guess I was wrong. After this, I know New York will never be the same.”

And I won’t be either, Joe thought, edging away from the broken planking beneath his feet. No one would believe me anyway, even if I told them the truth.

Joe had left the wedding party soon after Catherine and Vincent’s departure, drawn by an intense curiosity when Father had offered to show him something of the world that had been created Below. The sheer magnitude and wonder of it all took his breath away.

He shook his head now on a small, incredulous laugh, speaking more to himself than his companion, “Or was it just that apple cider after all and I am truly dreaming?”

“It’s not a dream, Mr. Maxwell.” Father glanced at him with a wry, self-deprecating smile. “When I first came Below, I had the same doubts as you are having now. I couldn’t grasp the scope of it, the sheer magnitude of all that one small group of people had achieved down here. Even now, I am amazed by some of the discoveries Mouse and Vincent continue to make from time to time.”

“Vincent…” Joe mused, glancing back into the echoing depths below his feet. “Your son is a remarkable man. All along, ever since Cathy came to work at the D.A.’s office, I knew there was something going on in her life, someone she was protecting. But she was always funny about it, real secretive. She wouldn’t even tell me his name.”

He shrugged. “I’ll admit it was driving me nuts, but now I know why she had to keep her private life, very private. I have never met anyone quite like Vincent.” Joe looked back at Father. “He and Cathy love each other very much.”

“I once thought it could not be possible,” Father answered the unspoken query in Joe’s voice. “I once thought my son could only be hurt by contact with your world, with any woman from Above. Then Catherine came into his life and I feared the worst. I counselled him strongly to be rid of her as soon as possible. I could not bear to see him hurt.”

He sighed, looking down into the abyss. “For Vincent to find love was a true gift I could not hope or expect for him.” He gripped one of the bridge’s rope links. “There were times when I despaired of either of them finding eventual happiness.”

“He was her protector in the city.” Joe chose his words carefully, not wishing to stir up a host of grim, unwelcome memories for his companion, but needing to know the truth. “One of my investigators, Diana Bennett, stumbled onto the truth. I could never understand why Catherine managed to slip out of so many situations where death was a very real possibility. Then, there was that night at the carousel…” He lifted his shoulders.

“They have a bond, an empathic connection, that allowed Vincent to sense whenever Catherine was in danger.” Father looked squarely at Joe. “Whatever Vincent has been forced to do in the past, Mr. Maxwell, he has done for Catherine, for the survival of their love, each for the other, and the continued existence of our world. I know Catherine did the same when Vincent was in danger. If she had died, I think the loss would have destroyed my son, destroyed the man he has striven so hard to be. I would say he chose the lesser of two evils to allow their love to live.”

“Just plain Joe, remember?” Joe returned Father’s straight look. “And don’t forget, I owe my life to Vincent as well. I left my D.A.’s hat in my office, I didn’t have a choice. Knowing your secrets has changed more than a few things for me.”

He sighed brusquely. “Look, when I go back Above, I will make sure that those cases involving Cathy and Vincent are buried so deep they will never see the light of day again, you have my word on that. I would never knowingly do anything to endanger Radcliffe’s new life and happiness.”

He smiled grimly. “Besides, the politicians are not too anxious to investigate Striker’s connections in the city, or the obvious links between his death and other similar killings, like those at the carousel and John Moreno’s death. They get real twitchy about things that threaten them in an election year.”

“Thank you, Joe.” Father nodded gratefully. “When Catherine first told me that you were coming Below, I did hold grave fears about your ability to understand and reconcile our situation and keep our secrets. But she assured me that you could never betray us or our world.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.” Joe gave a short laugh. “All this would take one hell of a lot of explaining anyway and then they’d probably lock me up in a rubber room and throw away the key. Catherine’s friendship is very important to me.”

He eased back cautiously from the yawning pit beneath his feet, looking away from Father’s speculative gaze. “In the end, I guess it all boils down to the fact that I can only return the trust you have shown me.”

“Thank you,” Father returned simply, placing his hand on Joe’s shoulder as they walked together out of the chamber and into the tunnel beyond.

“But, you have no clues to Vincent’s origins or parentage?” Joe glanced at Father with curiosity, as they walked through the torch lit quiet. “Catherine told me that you found him as a baby behind St Vincent’s hospital.”

“A member of our community found him, yes. A man named Falcon. He is gone from us now. He was a good man.” Father pushed at a stone with the tip of his cane. “Vincent only cried when Falcon nearly stepped on him. We had an epidemic outbreak in the tunnels that year and Falcon had been coming from St Vincent’s with medicines for us. He was in a hurry and didn’t want to stop, but something made him. And what he found was a baby, a tiny thing buried under some rubbish. Vincent had been abandoned there, in the cold and snow. He had been badly injured, perhaps during the birth, and his life hung in the balance for many days.”

He shook his head. “Someone had tied a cloth bag over his head, we presume because they couldn’t bear to look at him. In those early times I almost convinced myself that perhaps it would have been better to just let such a sick baby slip away, to spare him the awful pain of his very existence.”

“But, you didn’t.” Joe watched with interest as Father operated one of the many gates they had encountered in their wanderings.

The device that opened the portal had been cunningly wrought out of metal in the shape of a candlestick set into the wall. The naked flame dipped and swayed as Father depressed the lever and Joe remembered Mouse, the inveterate tinkerer, and hoped they didn’t come across any of the boy’s more insane inventions along the way.

“No.” Father exhaled. “I just couldn’t let him die, when he had struggled so hard to live. Despite all his injuries, his appalling state of neglect, I could feel such life in him, buried so deep and banked. As if he was simply conserving what little strength he had left, waiting for someone to find him and care enough to fan that tiny flame back to life. From the beginning, he knew how to fight for what he needed to survive. And I loved him for having that kind of extraordinary courage.”

He closed the gate behind them with a soft clang that echoed into the far distance, momentarily disturbing the rhythm of the quiet. “In one so young, his desire for life was unbelievable. With each passing day, his will to live grew stronger. He simply refused to die. That is Vincent’s true gift, to find that same flickering ember in others and nurse it back to life. He was, and is, a true miracle.”

“Yes he is.” Joe shook his head. “But then, I think this whole place is a miracle.” He expanded his arms to include everything around him. “I’m still not totally convinced I’m not dreaming. But I know I’ll want to return here again.”

“You will always be most welcome.” Father smiled at his enthusiasm. “I know Catherine will always welcome your presence. You have been a good friend to her through some very troubled times.”

“If you have any problems, send for me.” Joe placed a restraining hand on the other man’s arm, as he led the way back to the more inhabited tunnels. “I mean anything. I might only be the D.A. of Manhattan, but I do have the power to help. Burch’s tower could happen again, we both know that. I can hold up developers for years, if necessary. Moreno succeeded in crippling Burch’s project.”

“And now Elliot is a valuable ally in our struggle to keep our two worlds separate.” Father nodded his understanding. “I am constantly amazed how life can turn out so well from such darkly evil things that some men do. I am also sure that knowing you in an official capacity will prove useful in the future. Thank you.”

“I shall make certain of it.” Joe grinned, as the sound of voices swelled in the confines of the tunnel and Mary appeared, shepherding the smaller children from the excitement of the wedding celebrations to the dubious pleasure of their beds.

“I always feel so hard-hearted doing this.” Mary sighed, as she came abreast of the two men. “The children do so enjoy the festivities.”

A small, ragged child suddenly attached himself to Joe’s hand as Mary attempted to gather her scattered charges, after they had greeted Father and demanded bedtime stories. They all showed a tendency to linger, hindering progress.

Joe looked down into the boy’s bright, dark eyes and found he could see himself at the same age. He could remember the times when he had been such an innocent, trusting in all life had to offer, before the realities of the world in which he lived intruded upon his innocence. A broad, gap-toothed smile greeted his gaze. The cast of the child’s features suggested some mental deficiency, but a wonderful sense of self worth fairly shone from his sparkling eyes.

“His name is Angelo.” Mary supplied softly, as Joe continued to survey the boy curiously. “When Vincent found him, up there in the snow on Christmas Eve, Angelo was unconscious and nearly dead. He’d been badly beaten and his life hung by a very slender thread for many weeks. Angelo managed to tell us later than his father didn’t love him because he couldn’t think quickly enough to earn his living on the streets, like the other children. His mother had died when he was a baby.”

The boy nodded, the trust in his eyes fairly blazed forth and Joe found it difficult to equate this obviously happy boy with someone who had been brutalised and abandoned by those he had depended upon for his very existence.

“Christmas Eve…” He shook his head slowly in despair as he went down on his haunches before his small companion, taking a firmer grip on the long fingered, thin hand that had been laid so trustingly in his. “Hello, Angelo.”

The boy beamed and shook Joe’s hand vigourously, like one man to another. Joe felt a lump rise in his throat as the boy opened his mouth to laugh, but no sound came forth.

“Angelo is mute.” Father watched the pair of them with compassion. “His vocal cords were damaged in the last beating he received. But, he is an incredible musician. He composes piano concertos that would make you weep, they are so beautiful.”

Angelo nodded briskly, his long fingers flying animatedly through the air, making sweeping passes, as if he was playing an unseen piano. His gap-toothed smile widened into one of mischievous glee. He laughed soundlessly, his hands dancing again in complicated movements, too fast for Joe to follow.

“What’s he trying to tell me?”

“He’s describing his latest masterpiece to you.” Father smiled. “He has learned sign language from Vincent and one of our helpers, who also cannot speak. We all share in his progress. He is a remarkably bright pupil. One day, I’m afraid, he will outgrow our ability to teach him down here.”

“And yet, his father beat him…” The sickening picture of a child, with such a talent, being beaten to within an inch of his life and being unable to plead for clemency, twisted Joe’s heart painfully. He rose abruptly to ruffle the boy’s dark curls with an unsteady hand.

“I wish I could say that I could prevent such a thing from happening again.” He shook his head. “But I can’t. I see so much anger and violence in my world that sometimes I despair for any of us up there. Down here, you have so much to offer, so much to give each other. Even the simple matter of trusting one another has escaped those in my world, and yet you offer your trust to those who come here, so easily and completely.”

“I’m afraid there is only so much you can do up there.” Father laid his hand on Joe’s shoulder, as Angelo gave Joe’s hand a final squeeze, then darted away again with the rest of the children, Mary following in their chattering wake. “I have had those same feelings of helplessness many times.”

“Yes, but you can at least do something about it,” Joe replied, in an exasperated tone. “If I come across an abandoned child, I can only place that child in the care of the state. But the system is so overworked and under-resourced that I sometimes despair of even one child having a complete and happy life.”

“A happy life is what all parents wish for their children,” Father agreed, his tone thoughtful. “Vincent has often said that all we can do is try and touch those with whom we come in contact, influence their thinking for the common good. If we are lucky, in turn, they will touch others who cross their path. There is no other way. One conscience at a time.”

“A brave philosophy for a world obsessed with itself.” Joe gazed after the children, the sound of their chatter floating back from the tunnel shadows. “I wish it could be different, I really do. I wish I had the power to change things in my world.”

“By helping us, keeping our secrets, you are helping to make a difference.” Father took Joe’s arm and led him slowly onwards. “Your silence is a very valuable commodity. But, let’s not dwell in such matters now. I am sure there must be some cake left and I know William will be offended if we do not sample some more of his cider. And there will be a bevy of young ladies waiting to implore you to dance with them. I’m afraid there is no escaping their attentions.”

*******

Above, the night faded into a morning that dawned bright and clear. The city dwellers bustled about their business, totally unaware of the secluded chamber deep beneath their feet, where the smallest, muted echoes of city life filtered down through the intervening rock on ghostly tendrils of sound.

Catherine stood poised above the waters of the pool, her naked toes just edging the rock on which she stood, the slender lines of her nude body gleaming satin in the flickering candlelight as she raised her arms above her head, reaching up as if to touch the shadowed recesses of the rock ceiling of the cavern far above her.

Vincent sat back against the head of the bed, where Catherine had left him, one arm draped over his upraised knee, as he watched his wife breathe in the crispness of the morning air that filtered down through the rock walls from the world Above, carrying a remembrance of the city that held them all in place.

His wife…the words echoed softly through his consciousness, touching on all the memories, all the gifts of Catherine’s generous spirit and body.

“My wife…” he rolled the sound softly off his tongue, savouring the words, listening to their resonance as he shook his head in wonder. Would he ever get used to the sound of them, the incredible beauty of their simplicity. Two words, two words that had taken on a meaning he never knew before. His wife…

Catherine turned her head to smile at him across the sandy width of the shore, the slim lines of her body lending her an air of fragility Vincent knew to be deceiving. He answered the taunt in his wife’s eyes with a shake of his head and an upraised hand. In the morning, the waters of the pool held a chill that he respected, but Catherine had made light of his protests, slipping from beneath the covers of their bed without hesitation.

His eyes darkened with all the power of his love and need, as Catherine walked away from him around the edge of the pool, completely at ease with her own nudity, the long length of her hair swinging in time with her steps. The sight of her was almost too tempting to deny, but Vincent was content to sit and watch, to study all the varying facets of her personality.

Sitting back on the pile of bedding, his eyes followed her path to the rock above the pool, indulging his need to simply watch and absorb everything about this woman who had changed his life so completely and irrevocably. Dancing candle flame outlined the rounded upthrust of her breasts, the lean lines of her stomach and flanks, pooling in the shadows at the angle of her upper thighs, adding the warm touch of mystery and the promise of another gift of love.

The slow, rhythmic patter of Jacob’s heartbeat underscored Vincent’s own, reminding him of another precious gift who awaited their return to his small world. Left in Mary’s tender care, a pair of thoughtful sapphire eyes had followed his parents until they were out of sight. Winterfest and the wedding party had continued until dawn, long after they had departed to their own private world. The warmth of Shannon’s beautiful voice followed them into the darkness, Mouse sitting raptly at her feet, accepting her song as his due for encouraging her to sing.

Elliot had stood in the shadows, his eyes following Catherine’s progress out of the hall with a thoughtful smile, Vincent acknowledging his hand upraised in farewell as they left. Then Elliot had turned his attention back to Shannon and his thoughtful expression softened into warm enjoyment. Vincent nodded his satisfaction at the obvious trend of his friend’s thoughts. He had wished him a silent good luck in his quest.

“Has married life taken away all your sense of adventure, Mr. Wells?” Catherine’s voice jerked Vincent’s attention back to the present. Calling from across the pool, her clear tones rang against the rock walls of the cavern, stirring echoes to life, her voice holding more than a hint of laughter.

“I prefer to think of it as self preservation,” Vincent countered, shaking his head. “The pool is spring fed, it runs out through the rock on the far side down into the waterfall below. It’s very cold.”

“Just the way I like it.” Catherine swept her arms above her head once more, leaning out over the water before diving cleanly into the limpid depths. A stream of bubbles marked her progress as she dived deep into the chill waters, her body a slender gleam of silver against the darkness of the sandy bottom.

The water closed behind her with hardly a ripple and only the echoes of her laughter remained, trapped in the hollows of the cavern’s upper reaches. The sense of their mutual bond touched against those lost whispers, adding to the memory of the night before.

Vincent touched the forefinger of his right hand against the unfamiliar feel of his broad wedding ring, the plaited strands of gold, cool to his touch. The candlelight glinted on the polished surface, adding a spark of gleaming fire.

Vincent dropped his hand to smooth over the bedding beneath him. The warmth, the presence of his wife was still held in the material and the pile of clothing at his side. He turned his head to consider the discarded attire. Tunnel clothing, tawny leather, dark velvet and old lace, to Vincent, tangible symbols of all that Catherine had left behind when she had given herself finally into his keeping.

The memories of the previous night touched him gently, adding layers to the bond that connected him with the two people he cared most about in this world. He gathered the folds of her gown and let the softness of the material run back through his hand, before gathering them again to hold them to his face, breathing in the clean, fresh scent contained in their lingering warmth. They carried all the scents, a hint of the vitality that was his Catherine…

A chill drop of water fell onto the back of his hand, running swiftly through the soft fur, startling him from his intent thoughts. He had not heard Catherine approach over the soft sand of the pool surround, his sense of her momentarily lost in the past. She had dried herself on a towel, but her hair was still wet.

“You look so pensive.” Catherine dropped to her knees at his side, her skin dimpled with gooseflesh, the scent of her clean and cool.

“And you look cold.” Scooping up a large patchwork blanket, Vincent drew it around her slim shoulders, feeling as he did so, the shiver that ran through her. With the fine length of her hair in unruly abandon after her swim, she looked no more than 16, at once both innocent and wise.

Gathering her chilled softness close, Vincent rubbed her skin with the blanket, urging circulation back into her chilled body. Shuddering, she pushed closer, moulding her body into the curve of his side, burying her face in the silken length of his mane.

“I was thinking of you,” Vincent told her, in answer to her observation. He lifted her left hand where it lay against his chest, to study the fine gold circle on her ring finger. “And of this…”

“Last night was only the beginning,” Catherine whispered, turning her hand within his grasp to hold his fingers tightly. “Sometimes I have to remind myself that all this is real, that our dream has finally come true. But then, I look at you and I know there could be nothing more real than our wedding night.”

“Yes…” Vincent nodded slowly, turning his head to plant a soft kiss in the warm dampness of her hair.

“I love it here, it’s so peaceful and quiet.” She sighed, burrowing deeper into his comforting solidness. Vincent relaxed, drawing her closer to him, his hands wandering at will over her nakedness.

“I wonder if Joe and Mouse have found anything in common yet,” Catherine remarked presently, her voice dreamy and reflective.

A soft laugh echoed through Vincent then, sounding against Catherine’s cheek. “I’m still wondering about that four poster bed Mouse informed me he had erected in one of the other chambers. I can only hope he didn’t steal it from Above.”

“I think it would be safer not to ask.” Catherine chuckled, bringing Vincent’s hand up to her lips to kiss each other his fingers in turn. The soft fur whispered across her cheek, adding its own sensual touch to her drowsy senses. “The thought of someone coming home to an empty bedroom stretches the imagination.”

“Let’s not think of it.” Vincent lifted a fold of Catherine’s blanket with his free hand and began drying her hair, running his fingers against her scalp. “But, when he showed me this chamber, I knew it was the one for us. Mouse was pleased. He approved of my choice.”

“I’m glad.” Catherine dropped her head back, closing her eyes. “I love it here.”

“And I love you, wife.” The smooth column of her throat, half shadowed in cream and gold by the surrounding candles, invited Vincent’s questing touch. Lowering his head, he placed a lingering kiss in the hollow at the base of her throat, just above where his gift of crystal gleamed diamond fire.

Catherine’s skin tasted of her swim, a fine, clear wine, chilled and moist to the sweep of Vincent’s tongue. The edge of the blanket slipped from his grip against the dampness of her hair, as he became lost in her once more. His fingers, still entangled with hers, stroked a whispered caress against the slowly heating warmth of her abdomen.

Opening her eyes, Catherine smiled into his, his gaze studying every curve and plane of her face with solemn intensity, as if to memorise her for all time. Bringing his hand up between them, Catherine ran her tongue from the base of his thumb to the tip of the finger that carried the symbol of their union, their commitment, one to the other, before finally curving around the long nail with deliberate intent. Her eyes gleamed witch-fire taunts in the flame-lit quiet.

“Always…” she murmured, as Vincent slid his fingers through her hair, cupping the neat elegance of her head between the strength of his hands, teasing the softness of her lips with caressing strokes of his thumbs.

“Always…” he agreed softly, noting the darkening fire in her green eyes, answering the molten need that would forever riot through him anew, each time they loved.

Lowering his head, he touched his mouth against hers, his thumbs slipping to define the line of her jaw, then still lower to outline the pulse that beat frenetically in the soft column of her throat. He felt her quiver and heard her groan against his seeking caress.

Giving again the whispered word of aching desire, Vincent deepened the kiss, slowly and, with the new skills his love had taught him, drew her soul from between her parted lips to blend with the fire that raged through his own. Catherine’s hands rose to hold him, clutching handfuls of his hair to steady her world, as her body responded to the exquisite torture of his caressing touch.

It was a long time before Catherine sat back to move across him, sinking to her knees as she slid down to sit in his lap. Vincent’s hands dropped to smooth the satin skin of her thighs, defining the muscles beneath.

“I love you, Mr. Wells.” Leaning forward, Catherine began a detailed exploration of his face with a butterfly touch that tempted and teased. She smoothed across the lines of his forehead, down over his prominent cheekbones to the width of his nose and the full curve of his mouth, her head tilted to one side in seemingly abstract contemplation.

Hooded within the blanket, with her gaze locked on his, intent on her exploration, she appeared almost not to notice as Vincent’s hands moved again. Cupping her bottom in his palms, he brought her up and forward, then down, sliding her onto his body, her warmth absorbing that most intimate part of himself which would always need to be joined with her.

Vincent drew a long, shuddering breath, deep into his lungs. Warm, tender flesh quivered beneath his touch as he brought her up again, slowly, infinitely slowly lifting her almost clear of him, before bringing her back down again to take him all the way once more into her warmth. His breathing intensified, as his fingertips curving in at the junction of her body to touch delicately against her satin heat, where she enclosed him, stroking along the softness of her body’s innermost secrets.

He smiled, watching her eyes, seeing them flare wide with awareness, but her pretense at absorption in exploring him continued. Her fingertips traced the line of his jaw, the corded muscles in his throat and neck. She pushed her way into his mane, defining the curve and shape of his ears.

Vincent’s smile widened into an answering taunt, watching her as he lifted her away from him again, adding the extra twist of rocking her gently from side to side as he brought her back down again, sliding completely into her once more. Poised above him, Catherine’s body arched back in reflex, her whole being momentarily centred on that one sweet torment. Vincent growled in appreciation of her reaction. His breathing became fractured, as he continued to torment his love. Giving up her quest to memorise his features, cupping his face in her hands, she mutely begged for completion, but he shook his head in denial.

Moving ever upwards with aching slowness, he began to trace lazy patterns on the slender curve of her hips, running his forefingers over the indentation at the base of her spine, before rising to encompass the slim span of her waist with both hands. To lift her above him required no effort at all, drawing her warmth up to the intimate exploration of his mouth and tongue.

“Vincent…” Catherine dropped her head forward, mingling ash blond with tawny wild silk, as her body began to quake with reaction, her breathing staccato and filled with voiceless anticipation.

A soft moan of frustration escaped her then, and Vincent found the tiny sound infinitely pleasing, as Catherine pushed down against his deliberate and ongoing torture, desperately seeking the release he was denying her.

“Not yet…” Savouring every quivering contact, he lowered her again, his hands still encompassing her waist as he continued his exploration, dipping into her soft belly with his mouth and teeth before moving upwards to the ripe curve of her breasts, their rose tips warm and sleek against his tongue.

“Please…” Catherine begged then, all thoughts of teasing him in turn forgotten. His name, voiced again and again, became an invocation on her lips. All her desires, all her desperate need for him encompassed in that breathless begging. “Make it end…”

“Catherine…my Catherine, my love…” Closing gently against the tip of her breast, his canines leaving tiny indentations in the smoothness of her skin, Vincent answered her demand, raising her above him again, high into the dancing light, the surrounding flames a molten caress to equal the depth of their union, lowering her once more back into his lap, her thighs parting eagerly to encompass him intimately once more.

Their gazes locked as he moved within her, the glance only lasting a breathless moment, or perhaps an eternity, before Catherine laid her body along the length of his, burying her face in his neck, their combined shadows blending into each other until they were inseparable.

Safe within the circle of his arms, she let go of the reality that cemented them both in this sacred place. Following Vincent’s lead,  she trusted him with everything that she was and could ever hope to be. She finally surrendered herself to the increasing tempo of her body’s most intimate need, knowing that Vincent would always have the power to take her where she most desired to go…

*******

Say you’ll share with me one love,

One lifetime, say the word

And I will follow you…

Share each day with me, each night,

each morning.

Anywhere you go, let me go too…

Love me, that’s all I ask of you…

Phantom of the Opera

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of the great hall, tucked quietly away in one corner, Mouse played happily with the contents of the box at his feet. Before him, the few remaining guests and tunnel dwellers were working diligently to restore the hall to some semblance of order after the wedding party and Winterfest.

It was now the early hours of the morning and the young and old alike were fast asleep in their chambers. Father had gathered together those who had lasted the night, clustered around William’s wine and cider barrels, and put them to work. All except Mouse, who had scuttled quickly out of Father’s line of sight, when he came looking for volunteers. Now, he ignored the others completely as he delved into his box, running his hands lovingly over the contents.

“Thank you, Elliot Burch.” Mouse caressed his present.

Elliot had brought something for his young friend, and he had only remembered to give it to him late in the previous evening. Laughing softly with delight, Mouse held up each gift in turn, watching as the candlelight reflected on their polished surfaces. Bright, gleaming new tools, many that Mouse had only as broken rejects from the world Above - equipment he had carefully restored, though they were still not as good as brand new tools.

A voice in the small group of people before him attracted the boy’s attention.

Joe Maxwell was talking with Shannon and Elliot, making them both laugh at something he said, as they laboured beneath Father’s benign dictatorship to set everything to rights. Mouse liked Joe. He’d endeavoured to show him the best of his inventions down in his chamber, not quite understanding the look of uneasy reluctance on his new found friend’s face when Mouse had juggled a block of plastic explosive, nimbly plucked from the questing fingers of his pet racoon, Arthur.

“You do know what you’re dealing with there, I hope.” Joe had sidled to the entrance to the tinker’s chamber, one eye on escape and the other on the innocent looking block of green in the boy’s hands.

“Sure.” Mouse had caressed the smooth coolness of the explosive. “One tiny bit and boom! Used it a lot. But need more detonators.” He looked up at Joe hopefully.

“Sorry, can’t oblige you.” Joe shook his head.” “Not my department.”

“No matter.” Mouse beamed. “Elliot Burch finds stuff for me.” He replaced the block on the bench, far away from his wandering pet. “He said his stuff is now my stuff. All of it. He has some neat stuff for Mouse to use.”

These last careless words had sent the remaining blood in Joe’s cheeks scurrying for cover. He wasn’t too far gone with William’s excellent cider to know this kid was extremely dangerous. He would have some choice words with Burch, just as soon as he and Mouse returned to the party now getting into full swing above them.

“I think I can hear Father calling for you.” Joe took Mouse’s arm firmly and led him away from the danger. “In fact, I know he wants us both urgently.”

Behind Joe’s back, Arthur sidled up to the block of soft green material that intrigued him. He paddled on it with delighted hands as Joe led his master away. He attempted to tear off a small piece to see if it was good enough to eat…

Mouse grinned to himself now, as he watched Joe labour good-naturedly. Dressed in shirt-sleeves and suit trousers, just like Elliot, he contrasted oddly with the leather and patchwork clothing of his co-workers. William and his band of helpers moved among the group, removing the last of the vast spread of food to the safety of the kitchens. Mouse returned his attention to his box of treasures, huddling further into his corner when Father cast a critical eye over the work being done. Mouse had no intention of being hauled out to help with the tedious chore.

Father smiled as he saw Mouse’s bent figure shuffle crabwise into the deepest shadows of the great hall, huddled protectively over the open box in his arms. He hoped Elliot had the good sense not to give the boy anything too explosive.

*******

“Vincent…” Catherine stirred lazily in the aftermath of their loving. Curled into her husband’s side, she rose over him and laid both hands on his chest, smiling at him as she rested her chin on the backs of her fingers.

“What is it?” Vincent brushed back the fall of her bangs from her eyes, his gaze quizzical as she continued to regard him solemnly, her lips pursed in deep thought.

Vincent’s touch was light against her cheek, encouraging her to speak, even as his eyes told her of the beauty he saw both within and without the sweetness of her face. Catherine tilted her head, answering his smile, reaching forward to brush her lips lightly across his.

“I want to do something,” she said finally, as if picking her words, even worrying over her choice. “Something for your world, our world. Something to repay all that you have given me.”

“If there is a debt to be paid, it is ours.” Vincent drew his fingertips slowly down the curve of her cheek, his claws whispering softly on the delicate skin.

Catherine shook her head at that, determined to deny his words. “You have given me far more than I could have hoped to possess, even three years ago, before we first met. You know of my life then. It was empty and meaningless. Of all that you have given me, Vincent, the greatest gift of all is a meaning and a purpose, of doing the right thing, without counting the cost, for the first time in my entire life.”

Her lips twisted wryly. “I have no practical skills, like Mouse. I’m afraid I have no wizardry in the kitchen to equal William’s expertise. I do have a talent for burning toast.” She laughed softly. “I have always thought that what I was good at could be of no practical use in your world.”

“No one has given more than you, Catherine.” Vincent framed her face with his hands, looking deep into her eyes, reinforcing his words with the strength of his love. “You have certainly taught me a few things I never dreamed to know.” His wicked smile teased at her senses.

“Thank you, Vincent,” she replied in mock solemnity, dropping her face to plant a kiss on his chest, tracing the lines of muscle to the base of his throat. But her face was as determined as before when she raised her eyes to look at him once more.

“I want to be of use down here. I need to know that I can make a difference in this world too, Vincent. I have thought a great deal about it since you asked me to marry you, and I think I have finally come up with an answer.”

Emerald eyes fell into sapphire in the candlelight as Catherine smiled slowly, sensing all the love and security that surrounded her now, love that said she needed to give nothing more, but respecting her right of choice. In all their time together, Vincent had always been very aware of Catherine’s right to choose her own path, however painful her final decision might eventually be.

“I remembered Michael and I knew exactly how I can help my new world.” Catherine shifted her position, moving higher up Vincent’s chest to place a deeper, more lingering kiss on her husband’s lips. “I wish to teach, Vincent. I want to impart everything that I have learned to all the tunnel children who wish to go Above to further their education. Michael was the first step, there were so many things he needed to learn about my old world. I know I can make a difference, Vincent. And for our children in their turn, if they chose to go up there.”

Vincent was silent, absorbing all she had just said and all that she’d left unsaid. The surety of this new path echoed softly to him across the unseen links of their bond. A path that offered a sense of purpose, a choice to fill a need deep within his wife that he had not been aware of until now.

Catherine’s coming Below had been the end of her life Above, the end of all her work and struggle to help those in the great city who could not help themselves. Vincent knew well all that she had left behind to go with him into his world. Now, as he turned her words over in his mind, studying them closely, perhaps she had found a way to come full circle, to help those children Below who wished to seek a place in the other world. The rightness of her decision made him nod slowly, as he drew himself up against the head of the bed, taking Catherine with him to rest against him.

“The choices are always yours, Catherine,” he said, reaffirming his wife’s decision. “They always have been and always will be. But you should discuss this with Father, when you feel ready to begin. He knows the children best and their individual needs.”

Jacob came to his mind then, the child’s face bright and inquiring of everything around him. One day his son would walk in the world Above, to taste its delights and learn all its mysteries. One day…

“He is your son, Vincent,” Catherine answered her husband’s unspoken thoughts. “Wherever he goes, he will always take you with him. He will love this world as much as you do. But he also needs to know the ways of the world Above. I can only prepare that way for him, when the time is right.”

“I know…” Vincent’s tone was low and considering as he smoothed the length of her hair. “With all your gifts, I know you will make an excellent teacher.”

Catherine smiled and nodded, needing to know that Vincent understood her reasoning and receiving his reassurance by his very touch. His reassurance and his trust in the choices she, and she alone, had the right to make. It was the truest gift he could give to this beautiful woman nestled against him, her gaze warmly enveloping him with all her love and understanding.

*******

“Mouse!” William’s commanding voice jerked the boy erect. “Come with me. I want you to show me where to find Catherine and Vincent’s chamber.”

Mouse was now alone in the Great Hall, still playing happily with his new acquisitions. Everyone else had long ago dispersed to rest or return Above. William had reappeared after a few hours sleep, looking well rested.

“Honeymoon!” Mouse looked shocked at the idea of intruding. “Need to be alone.”

“Need to be fed.” William’s ample belly bounced in time with his laughter. “Honeymooning has a way of making you very hungry indeed. Now, come along and show me where they are. I’m getting some trays all prepared.”

“Vincent won’t like.” Mouse climbed to his feet, reluctant to leave his new tools. “Told me to keep it a secret.”

“You leave Vincent to me.” William pushed the boy before him towards the kitchens. “I think you’ll find they’ll be happy to see us. Man cannot live by love alone, or woman for that matter.”

“Okay good, okay fine.” Mouse grumbled, still unconvinced.

*******

After bathing in the pool and getting dressed, Catherine and Vincent lay together in the bed, lazily replete. Neither felt inclined to move, but soon they would have to leave, if only to answer their growing mutual sense of hunger and Vincent’s sense of duty to the world he cared for.

A loudly whispered conference from beyond the chamber’s entrance attracted their sleepy attention. Voices could be heard arguing.

“Said not to go in,” Mouse’s voice complained. “I told you. Wait for Vincent to say so.”

“Leave it to me.” William cleared his throat and made knocking noises with his knuckles on the stacked trays in his hands. “Room service. You guys decent?”

“Told him not to come in here.” Mouse’s head popped through the opening, keen to defend his unwanted part in the intrusion. “Told him you’d be busy. Not to disturb.” He turned back to glare at William. “See, Mouse was right. They’re still in bed.”

“It’s all right. Come on in, boys.” Catherine sat up, as Vincent groaned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, leaning down to pull his boots on.

“So much for the peace and quiet.” He turned to smile at her, his shoulders lifting in resignation. “But, I will admit I am hungry.” His stomach rumbled in agreement and they both laughed.

“Need to fix things up.” Mouse sidled into the chamber, fussing around the walls, replacing and renewing the candles from the large bag he carried. He kept darting them sidelong glances, as Catherine straightened the bed covers and William bustled in with his trays of food.

“Thought you guys would’ve worked up a healthy appetite, by now.” William’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “So, I thought a picnic breakfast would be the answer. Help me here, Mouse.”

“That sounds heavenly.” Catherine licked her lips.

“Excellent, I knew I’d be right.” Handing the trays to Vincent, William beamed as he began to bustle around, unfolding the rug he carried, slung over his broad shoulder. Ordering Mouse to take the other side, he laid it out on the edge of the pool, arranging and fussing, until Mouse came back from sorting out the candles to stand beside him with his hands on his hips.

“Food will get cold,” he complained. “Vincent looks hungry.”

“Fair enough.” William chuckled, taking the trays back from Vincent and arranging everything to his satisfaction. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks for this, boys.” Catherine kissed Mouse’s cheek, much to his stammering embarrassment. “It looks delicious.”

She was enveloped in William’s arms and squeezed tightly. “You’re very welcome, lass,” he rumbled.

“William’s idea,” Mouse admitted honestly. “I said not to disturb. Not come here, until Vincent said it’s all okay.”

“I forgive you, Mouse.” Vincent smiled. “It’s all right, you have done well.”

“But then, Mouse, you and food don’t have much of a working relationship, do you?” William ruffled the boy’s hair. “Enjoy, you two. I’ll be back in an hour to tidy up.”

“This all looks so delicious, Vincent.” Catherine peered under the lids, after they were alone again. “I hadn’t thought of food. Remember, I told you I can manage to burn toast, but not a lot else.”

“We had different things on our mind.” Vincent chuckled, as he assisted Catherine to sit on the rug. They ate in companionable silence, dining on William’s delicious creations.

“Do you mind if we take some time to explore the tunnels?” Vincent took her hand. “Left to his own devices, Mouse could cause havoc. And Father can’t cope on his own with everything. We will return here each evening, of course. But, adding to your knowledge of this world would be a good idea.”

“Of course, I don’t mind.” Catherine smiled. “I would love to explore. And we will always come back here. It will always be our special place.”

“The Wells family retreat.” Vincent nodded, his eyes full of amusement. “I will admit to still being intrigued over that four poster bed. I wonder where it is?”

“We should have asked Mouse.” Catherine chuckled. “He’s very proud of all he’s done for us. Perhaps, if we look hard enough, we may find it. We could certainly put it to good use.” Her smile promised new delights.

Vincent laughed as he raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back with lingering affection. “You deserve the very best of everything, my love.”

“So do you.” She returned the pressure of his fingers. “And there will always be time for us now. We have all the time in the world now. Love me, Vincent, that truly is all I ask of you.”

“Always…” Vincent reached across to lick the strawberry jam from her lips and their world spun away once more…

*******

Joe sat back in his chair behind his desk, carefully weighing his darts in one hand, the expression on his face, thoughtful and distracted. The battered dart board that hung on the wall of the District Attorney of Manhattan took another direct hit as he aimed without really considering his shot. His mind was a long way from his office and far beneath the city. The scope of Vincent’s world staggered the mind. Its possibilities were breathtaking.

But, it also seemed incredible to him that such a world could remain isolated and hidden, right in the middle of one of the world’s biggest and busiest cities. A part of Joe, the wondering child that still existed within him, rejoiced in that isolation, in its ability to survive despite the overwhelming odds against all who lived Below. But Joe also feared for them, for the ability of their world to survive at all, in the face of what would happen to them if they were ever discovered.

He was well aware Cathy could survive that discovery, perhaps even come to terms with the loss of her new home, but for those she had chosen to live among, it would be an entirely different matter. He threw another dart.

He sighed, thinking of Catherine’s son, a beautiful baby with such intelligent eyes, it was hard to believe how young he was. Joe could picture the boy, and the others he had met far below the city.

Their faces came back to him, images of Cathy’s wedding, thoughts that brought a smile to his pensive face. Mary, Father, Shannon O’Neill. All bruised and battered by life in his world, all had found shelter in a world that accepted them for who they were and asked no questions.

Mouse…the memory of his new found friend’s face surfaced in Joe’s mind and he sighed audibly. It had been two days since the wedding, but Joe couldn’t shake the conviction that Mouse was going to be trouble. The scope of some of his more elaborate inventions was enough to scare any sane man.

Joe and Elliot had found themselves in uneasy alliance over that particular subject. Joe hoped that Mouse wasn’t trying Father’s patience too far while his son was on his honeymoon.

“And Vincent…” Joe sighed audibly then.

There was only one fate for a man so different. Joe threw another dart at the board in disgust. What his world would do to Catherine’s new husband, if he were ever discovered, soured his thoughts. His hands clenched in despair. The line they all walked together was so fine and fragile; it needed only the strength of a harsh wind to bring all that had been built crashing down.

- If only he could make it safe for all of them, for the—

“Joe…?” A woman’s voice intruded on his distracted thoughts. Joe sat forward abruptly in his chair to find Diana watching him from the open doorway of his office.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I did knock.” Diana’s gaze was cool and speculative as she advanced into the room and shut the door. “But you looked, very preoccupied. Difficult case?”

“More than one.” Joe rolled his shoulders, indicating a large stack of files on his desk. “Look, I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment,” he continued, shrugging off the uncomfortable thought that Diana had been watching him for some time. Had she heard him mutter Vincent’s name, just then? He prayed she didn’t.

He needed to be a great deal more careful around this woman from now on. She saw too much and had a disturbing habit of coming to the right conclusions far too easily.

He got to his feet to walk around the desk to perch one hip on its edge. “It’s a fact of life in this place. Do you have something for me or is this just a social call?”

“Business, Joe, always business.” Diana placed her large hold-all on Joe’s desk. “Not much more on the Chandler case, though a friend of mine at the courthouse rang to say that a woman of that name now has a child registered in the name of Wells. Curious development, I thought.”

She pursed her lips. “Her lawyer was very evasive when it came to giving out any information on the matter. Apparently, the father is listed as unknown, supposedly he’s not an American citizen. I thought that was an interesting turn of events. You know any more?”

“What more is there to know? I think it’s about time we dropped that case,” Joe spoke more abruptly than he intended, drawing the investigator’s uncanny gaze again. “Cathy deserves some peace now. I think we should respect her wishes of privacy.”

“Okay…” Diana intoned slowly. “But, aren’t you in the least bit curious about the child? It’s a boy, I’m told.” She looked taken aback. “You were the one who was so insistent that we go all out to find Catherine Chandler in the first place. I know she’s shielding this Vincent character, who appears to be her protector. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Bad day, too many cases to solve,” Joe complained, looking away. He threw another dart.

Diana frowned, as she studied his reaction. “After the incident at the carousel in the park, you were convinced there was more going on with Catherine than she was telling you. Those gunmen were torn apart. It takes a powerful man to do that. Perhaps this man, who protects her, is also the father of her child. It all fits, very neatly.”

Diana sighed, shaking her head in frustration. “But, what gets to me, is the fact that I just don’t know anything more concrete about Catherine than I did when I first started. There sure are a lot of smoke and mirrors.”

She raised a frustrated hand. “Whichever way I look at this case, I can’t shake the feeling that there is so much more going on with her that we just aren’t seeing. The whole affair has so many layers. Just when I think I’m getting close, everything seems to slide out of my grasp again. I hate that.”

“You need to leave it alone. There’s nothing more to learn,” Joe lied blatantly then, wondering how he’d become so accomplished in the act so quickly. “And I want Radcliffe left strictly alone. Let her live her life as she chooses. What she does is no longer any of our concern. She’s done nothing illegal.”

Diana was silent for what seemed an eternity as she surveyed his face closely, delving into all he’d said and all he had left unspoken. Joe stared straight back at her, feeling beads of sweat starting on his forehead. He knew full well Diana’s powers of observation and hoping that his face gave nothing away.

Finally she nodded slowly, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Okay, Joe, if that’s what you want, I will halt the investigation, but I won’t pretend to be happy about it. That night at the carousel continues to bug me. I know I’m getting close to some of the answers. This Vincent of hers, he must be one hell of a guy. A man who will do anything for her, even lay down his life, if necessary. They are very rare indeed, these days, a true knight errant.”

She sat in a chair before the desk. “But, I have all the mess created by Gabriel’s death to deal with. I have actual countries hounding me for answers I don’t have, as yet.” She blew a long breath. “So, what do you want to do with the Chandler paperwork?”

“Bring it to me, all of it. I’ll deal with it.” Joe slid out from under her unblinking gaze, returning to the relative safety of the other side of his desk. Diana’s eyes followed him all the way.

“How far have you got with Pat’s diary?” Joe attempted to distract her attention.

But he suspected Diana merely allowed him to think he had her compliance. The sooner her notes were in his possession, the better, and he hoped she wouldn’t ask another new set of awkward questions, if she ever discovered how deep Joe had buried all the relevant files on Cathy Chandler and her mysterious protector. So deep, he fervently hoped they would never see the light of day in anyone’s inquiry again.

Suddenly Joe felt weary and old. Must be the coffee, he decided, staring at the offending plastic cup sitting beside the telephone. A headache at ten o’clock in the morning wasn’t a good sign.

“Elliot Burch was right when he said his people suspected South American drug interests were involved in Gabriel’s empire.” Diana drew some papers from her bag and pushed them across the desk. “These are copies of what I’ve already uncovered. Hanlon’s diary gave names, places and dates. We appear to be dealing with an international cartel of immensely powerful men who control the drug trade, finance arms sales and carry out wholesale slaughter for a fee. Gabriel was at the top of it all, Justin Cole was his European deputy and Striker played a considerable part with murders and extortion threats. We have some leads on at least four others.”

“You must be very careful with this information and who you share it with.” Joe scanned the closely typed pages quickly. “The men in that diary have nothing to lose and everything to gain by shutting down this investigation. I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

“Are you trying to take me off this case, as well?” Diana demanded then.

“You know I don’t have the authority.” Joe shrugged. “I’m only warning you that we need to tread carefully here. Men with the kind of power Gabriel exhibited are to be respected. A good dose of healthy fear will keep you alive.”

“Fair enough,” Diana acknowledged. “The investigation is still very low key. I think they all relaxed a little too much with Striker taken out. That was a lucky break, Striker being dealt with so neatly and you not seeing a thing. Another unsolved mystery to add to my growing collection.”

Her brows rose, as she surveyed Joe, waiting for him to comment. Another area where he felt acutely uncomfortable. He shifted uneasily in his chair. Diana hadn’t believed a single thing he and Cathy had said about Striker’s demise. She’d obviously compared the wounds on the gunman’s body with those on the three men from the carousel and come to her own conclusions.

She’s like a damn bloodhound, nose to the ground, constantly searching for clues to put the whole puzzle all together. Joe just thanked his lucky stars she was on his side. But, what would happen if she ever discovered the truth?

“So, we don’t want any of Gabriel’s associates slipping through the net,” Diana continued, after Joe didn’t speak. “We have to make sure we have an airtight case against the lot of them.”

“All the more reason to be careful.” Joe emphasised his words by leaning forward across his desk. “They have all the weapons on their side. We only have the cold comfort of the law on ours.”

“And she can be a fickle lady at the best of times, I know.” Diana nodded. “I will be careful.”

*******

Shannon moved carefully through the piles of discarded boxes and stacked rubbish that lined the walls of the basement exit into Elliot’s world. Behind her, the concealed door to the world Below shut softly, cutting off the muted sounds of the pipes.

Her heart fluttered nervously at the sound of the closure. Malcolm, her escort to the surface and the outer guard for this section of the tunnels, had gently pushed her through the door, encouraging her first foray into the outside world since she had fled to the sanctuary of her childhood home.

Diffused light filtered through the filmed windows high above, while tiny dust motes, stirred by her passing, danced lazily in the chilly air. Shannon shivered, despite the warmth of her full-length cloak. She lifted the hood to arrange it over her hair, the velvet trimmed cowl concealing her face from possible recognition.

“Limousine service for two.” From the shadows before her, Elliot’s voice spoke softly, his voice echoing in the concrete depths.

“Hello, Elliot.” Shannon touched a hand nervously to the upswept style of her dark hair, before stepping forward to meet the man she had agreed to accompany to the opera in a rash moment of madness three days ago.

Elliot had been persistent since he’d secured her agreement, not allowing her to renege on her nebulous promise to go Above with him. His ready access to her world had made avoiding him an impossibility.

“You look lovely tonight.” Elliot’s eyes slid over her appreciatively as she stepped into the filtered light of the stairwell that led up to the basement level.

“Thank you.” Shannon smoothed her damp palm over her thigh. Nervous tension was making her jumpy.

Beneath her cloak, she had dressed with care in a form hugging evening gown, a relic of her life before, carefully preserved in the suitcases of her possessions Elliot had delivered to her chamber at Winterfest. She felt now as if she was stepping out into an alien world.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she replied breathlessly.

It was a huge understatement, of course. This was the first time she’d seen him dressed so formally, in a dark tuxedo and crisp white shirt. He looked…devastatingly handsome, and so much more dangerous to her fragile peace of mind.

She was sure Elliot could hear the beating of her heart, loud as it was to her own ears, as she took his proffered hand. The sinister shadow of her late husband still loomed large in her life, even though he’d been dead for months. But the look in Elliot’s eyes stilled the rustling of the ghosts in the recesses of the cellar, as he studied the picture she made, the deep wine red of her gown complimenting her clear skin.

“Once Vincent and Catherine knew of your invitation, they said I had no choice, but to come.” Shannon found herself hurrying into speech then, feeling the need to say something, anything, against the melting warmth in Elliot’s eyes, her hand feeling small in his strong grasp. “They said they will trust you to take care of me.”

“Wise counsel.” Elliot smiled. “I promise to do my best not to disappoint them.”

He tightened his grip on her slim hand, as he drew her upwards out of the basement and into the fading sunlight of early evening. Shannon halted on the edge of the sidewalk, as concentrated city life hit her in the face. People bustled through the streets, intent as ever on being somewhere else and no one paid the slightest attention to two people emerging from a basement entrance in full evening dress, or the limousine parked at the curb with its attendant driver holding open the rear door with a guarded stare.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure I can do this.” Shannon faltered.

“You will be okay.” Turning to her, his grey eyes deeply serious, Elliot slid his hands beneath her hood, taking her face between his hands and kissing her with warm promise. “I’m here with you. I won’t let you fall.” He smiled as he brought her mouth to his again, deepening the kiss until Shannon felt her knees begin to buckle.

The pedestrian traffic flow parted around them, smiles lighting a few faces as Elliot continued a slow exploration of the soft contours of Shannon’s mouth, oblivious to his surroundings or the stiff expression of his driver, who was now staring into the middle distance with fixed intensity.

“Your life before we met is in the past now.” Elliot rested his forehead against hers, smiling into her startled green eyes. “All of it. You don’t owe me any explanations or excuses for what you had to do simply to survive. I am just immensely grateful that you did. Now we have a whole new journey to begin…hopefully together.”

“You certainly have a way with words, Stosh Kasmarec,” Shannon whispered, her eyes glimmering tears in the street lighting.

“I still have a lot to learn.” Elliot pushed her gently in the direction of the open door of his vehicle. “In fact, a great deal to learn,” he concluded softly, before following her into the car. “Perhaps, you could teach me?”

*******

Oh, who is the Beauty, who the Beast?

Would you die of grieving when I leave?

To children too blind to see

I would fall in your shadow, I believe

My love is a man who’s not been tamed

Oh, my love lives in a world of both

pleasure and pain

We come from different worlds, we are the same

I never doubted your beauty, I’ve changed…

Stevie Nicks

Jacob was the first to see his parents returning from their honeymoon. Playing with a set of metal trucks, making roads through the dust of the tunnel floor under Samantha’s watchful gaze, Jacob sensed his parents before he saw them.

With a squeal of glee, he scrambled to his feet, momentarily alarming his youthful babysitter, as he tottered away down the tunnel, hurrying on his sturdy legs into his father’s waiting arms. A huge smile of contentment lit his small face with unbounded joy, as Vincent lifted him high against his chest to hold him against his shoulder.

“Dad, Dad!” Chubby fingers locked securely into his hair, as Jacob smothered his father’s face with wet kisses of welcome.

Matching sapphire eyes looked into each others, Vincent sensing the chaotic thoughts of his son’s childhood mind. Catherine felt her heart miss a beat as she watched them together, content with their wordless communication. The intense pleasure of their communion washed through her senses, colouring the edges of her conscious thoughts with images and impressions of joyous reunion.

Four days spent in the cavern of the pool, wandering its immediate tunnels and exploring the wonders of Vincent’s world had added another layer of much needed knowledge to Catherine’s perception of her new home. It had also been intriguing to find their evening meals left discreetly for them to find when they returned. William had turned all his considerable skills into preparing some memorable feasts, but the giver of these aromatic gifts they did not see.

Vincent had said it was probably Mouse, doing what he did best, scurrying unseen through the tunnels and passages, delighting in surprising them both with each new evening’s repast. After the first morning, he held firm to his belief that the honeymooning couple should not be disturbed when they retired to their private haven.

“Jacob has missed you both,” Mary said now, emerging from her chamber further along the tunnel, watching her small charge with a mixture of satisfaction and regret. Of all the children Below, Jacob held the largest piece of her heart. “Father was forced to read to him every night before he would go to sleep.”

Catherine and Vincent exchanged glances, Behind Mary’s words there was a whole world of unspoken thoughts. They both could well imagine the trials of strength that would have gone on in their absence. Both Father and Mary felt they were in charge of Jacob’s care and Samantha also hovered in the background, not to be outdone in her attentions. Jacob’s grin widened in a totally unchildlike pleasure. His blue eyes twinkled his satisfaction as he noted the trend of his parents’ thoughts.

“You are incorrigible.” Catherine tickled him in the ribs.

Her son’s bright eyes turned to hers, sharing his delight across the warmth of his connection with his mother. He bounced in Vincent’s arms.

“Me, me!” he cried triumphantly, before he dissolved into laughter, throwing himself back into his father’s shoulder, to bury his face in his hair, wriggling with delight. All was right once again in his innocent world.

*******

“Another child…” Father’s bemused gaze travelled from Catherine to Vincent and back again, his face a study of varying emotions, as he tried to grasp all the implications of what Catherine had just told him.

“Jacob is delighted.” Leaning back in the warm shelter of Vincent’s arms, Catherine felt sympathy for Father’s obvious bewilderment.

So much of what he believed possible for his son had been so radically changed over the past few months. They had all come so far now. Too far to ever go back. In all the years she had known him, she had never seen him so much at a loss for words.

And now they had presented him with another unalterable fact that he was trying to come to grips with. Father sat back at his desk, his brow furrowed in thought, as he tapped lightly on the cover of the book he had been reading when Catherine and Vincent had first walked into his chamber.

“Well, I think the news is just wonderful,” Mary stated joyously, getting up from her pile of mending, coming forward to kiss Catherine’s cheek warmly and hug Vincent’s arm. “You both deserve all the happiness in the world. Jacob will have a new playmate.”

Father mumbled something they did not catch. He was obviously trying not to voice all the questions that ran riot through his mind, but needing answers to them. He removed his glasses to polish them diligently on his sleeve. Catherine was sure she could see tears in his eyes, but he blinked them away rapidly, as he cleared his throat, replacing his eyewear on the bridge of his nose.

“I certainly did not expect news of such an event so soon,” he said finally, trying to remain in control of the situation as Mary eyed him in exasperation, obviously expecting more than this bald statement. “I would have thought…” His voice trailed off under Mary’s stern gaze. Finally, he tried again. “Are you sure?”

“I saw Peter before I came Below.” Catherine laced her fingers where they lay against the slight swell of her abdomen. “He said all was well and that he would visit me as soon as he can get away. He said to remind you about ‘roses around the cottage door,’ saying that you would know what he meant.”

“I see...” Father peered at her over the rim of his spectacles, the reminder of his conversation with Peter all those months before Jacob was born, sitting awkwardly on his thoughts.

Peter had been convinced that Vincent and Catherine’s love was nothing short of a miracle and the physical part of their relationship doubly blessed as a direct consequence. Father felt the burden of playing the devil’s advocate once more, but the question had to be asked, however painful it could be for him and those he loved most in the world.

“And the implications of another child?” he voiced the words unhappily, not wanting to colour the happiness of the two lovers before him with the harsh shadows of his doubts. “Jacob’s birth answered only some of the questions that troubled me.”

“We will cross that particular bridge if and when we come to it, Father.” Vincent’s gaze was straight and calm. “This child will be loved, as all here are loved. Without reservation.”

Father considered them both for a long moment, taking in the fresh loveliness of Catherine’s face against the broad sweep of his son’s shoulder, the calm assurance with which they were both regarding him and his reaction to the news.

“Then, of course, I wish you both well.” He nodded slowly at last, his eyes glistening again in the flicker of the candle flames surrounding him. “And please, believe me, I am truly happy for you both.”

He stood and, moving around the desk, took each of their hands between his own. Mary watched them all with compassion and undisguised joy.

“It is simply that there have been so many changes in your life, Vincent. Changes in a life that, for your own sake, I once truly believed could never be changed…for the better. I was afraid that you would always be alone, out of the sheer and unavoidable necessity of your own birth.”

“I do understand, Father.” Vincent returned the pressure of his father’s warm grasp. “Our love will endure…whatever happens, whatever comes. I know that now, before anything else.”

Vincent’s voice dropped on his last words, their tones flowing through Catherine’s senses. She turned her eyes up to his, as his hold on her waist tightened and the sapphire depths of his gaze held the bright flame of his love, secure and undeniable, and she knew those words were for her alone…and always would be. Whatever happens….whatever comes…

*******

Shannon stood at the window of Elliot’s apartment and marvelled at the view of the city she had once known so well. Lights sprawled in all directions, almost as if precious jewels had been thrown by some thoughtless giant, with careless abandon, over the midnight velvet of the landscape. Towering skyscrapers, trying desperately to rival the penthouse in which she stood, paraded into the distance, gleaming with a myriad of colours.

In the far distance, the twin towers pointed the way to the stars, evidence of the permanence of man’s creating hand in the city that truly never sleeps. She had forgotten how beautiful the city could be at night. Darkness covered all the heartache and sorrow of its crowded streets.

Music played softly somewhere in the shadows behind her, soft strains of a song about a lost love wound their way through her senses, making her body sway. She hummed the tune beneath her breath.

She had now ventured Above three times in the last two weeks, to spend the evening with Elliot. It was becoming a serious habit, this need to see him, to be with him, but she didn’t want such magical nights to end. Not just yet…

That first night he had taken her to the opera, then a music recital and tonight it had been a Broadway show. Always, they had used a private entrance and he’d taken great pains to make sure she was neither seen nor recognised in public. Elliot knew there would have been too many awkward and unanswered questions about where Shannon was now living or hiding and why.

Who murdered your husband? What was your involvement? She appreciated his care and attention for her need to remain out of sight for now. One day, she would have to face the world and give her statement.

Intent as she was in her observation of the world beyond the window and the music, she didn’t hear Elliot approach. He extended a glass of chilled wine before her, bringing it to the level of her eyes, distracting her attention with a low laugh. She took it with a whispered word of thanks, as his gaze travelled over her slowly.

He liked what he saw. The long, elegant sweep of her black evening gown made her look mysterious and remote, like an unattainable dream. With the soft darkness of her hair confined in a chignon at the nape of her neck, Shannon looked very different from the woman in tunnel costume he’d first encountered. He raised a denying shoulder. He found he missed the swinging braids and soft, shy smile of the other Shannon. But he was intrigued by the air of sophistication she wore now, a carefully cultivated air of self-containment.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He waved a hand at the window, but he wasn’t looking in the direction of the city below. “But, there is beauty in your world too.”

He dropped his arm to his side. He knew he wanted to touch her, to bring her to an awareness of herself, of his own need to draw her closer to him. But she seemed to have retreated into herself, become detached from all that had happened to her, from the life that went on heedlessly around her. As if she was no longer emotionally connected. He found that so sad to contemplate. That the incredible young woman she’d once been, had been destroyed by one man’s careless use and abuse.

“You looked like the homeless child with her face pressed to the toy store window.” He smiled, attempting to lighten her sombre mood, as he moved back to lean his shoulders against the thick glass of the window, watching the many expressions that chased each other across her face. Trepidation, uncertainly, then, so fleeting he almost missed it, a look of intense yearning that tugged at his heart.

“I had forgotten the beauty of this great city.” Shannon dropped her eyes to the wine in her glass, moving it slowly so the cold liquid swirled against the rim. “A beauty that hides so much corruption and sorrow.”

“You are a romantic.” Elliot glanced over his shoulder at the world beyond the window, at the bright city lights that promised so much and gave so little of its steely heart. “Knowing there is corruption out there simply allows you to appreciate the glorious nature of this city much more.”

“Does that make you a cynic?” Shannon raised her eyes to study him closely. He met her gaze squarely, humour adding a warmth to the cool, grey depths of his eyes. “And, I suspect that, deep down, you are also a realist, Elliot Burch. Hold it, touch it, taste it, measure it, but don’t believe it exists unless you can have a 50 page report document to authenticate its reality.”

“I was that man once, long ago. I came to this city to build,” Elliot replied quietly, almost reflectively, his eyes appreciating the picture she made in the soft lamplight behind her. “I wanted to leave my mark, I wanted everyone to know in 200 years time, that Elliot Burch had lived and had done something in this world. I once wanted a lot of similar things…” He shrugged. “Now that has all changed. Perhaps I have come to believe…a little, in the possibility of dreams and decent, honest men.”

“I’m sorry.” Shannon shook her head contritely. “I shouldn’t have presumed to know how you feel. I know it has been difficult these last few months. Maybe it is simply the night, seeing this city again as I remembered it…from before. When I was young and it was merely a spectacular playground to be abandoned when night fell. Gabriel took many things away from us both.”

“I think perhaps he gave us more than he took.” Elliot reached out to run the back of his fingers down the soft curve of her cheek. Colour bloomed instantly beneath his touch, flooding Shannon’s clear skin. “He forced me to see what I wanted…and what I needed, were two totally different things. I can at least thank him for that knowledge.”

When she didn’t immediately pull away, he gave into temptation, continuing to touch her softly, his fingers defining a gentle trail down over the line of her jaw to the warm column of her throat. He felt like a child again, about to embark on the first great journey of his life, an adventure that would take him to places he never dreamed existed. He delighted in the soft quiver of her skin beneath his caress, as she held his gaze steadily.

“Did you enjoy seeing Phantom for the first time?” he asked then, his eyes directly challenging, before dropping to watch his insistent exploration of the fine bones at the base of her throat, feeling the throb of her erratic pulse through his fingertips. “I loved watching you watch it. You were so caught up in the romance and the ultimate tragedy.”

“The show was…wonderful,” Shannon managed huskily, both frightened and fascinated by the warm insistence of his touch. It had been a very long time since any man had touched her with such care and reverence. As if she would shatter, if he pressed too hard. “I loved it. If I were ten years younger, I might have auditioned for the role of Christine…”

“If you were ten years younger…” Elliot’s eyes came back to hers and he smiled at the trepidation he saw there. He brought his hand up to gently tap the full curve of her lower lip with his fingertip. “You look so young right now. Like a small, frightened bird who has just seen the snake and there’s nowhere to hide. I could never hurt you, you know that?”

“Yes, I know. Is it that obvious?” Shannon questioned shakily. “My husband…he was not a…kind man. I’m afraid I’m a little out of practice when it comes to men.”

“Don’t you think I understand that?” Elliot shook his head, as he took her glass from her and set it aside with his own. “I know you better than you think.”

The look in his eyes made her gasp as he mocked her gently. “Let’s forget the ‘men’ part of that statement and just concentrate on this man,” he said softly, as his hand returned to define the curve of her lower lip, bringing a heat to her blood she had never known, while her legs felt as if they would no longer support her. The touch of his hand forced all the air in her lungs into her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“I should be getting back…” she finally managed shakily. “I wouldn’t want anyone to worry about me. Wonder where I am.”

“Father knows where you are, he knows you’re with me. He also knows I could never hurt you.” Elliot raised his eyes to hers and Shannon’s heartbeat began to hammer high in her throat, choking her words. “But I want you to believe that as well.”

“Of course.” She inhaled sharply. “Yes, I know that.”

“Then, there are no pumpkin coaches at midnight, Cinderella. How long do you intend to run from me? I can wait forever, if necessary. I have endless patience.”

“Run from you…?” Shannon managed through the sudden dryness of her throat, her small laugh shaky. “I’ve been standing here wondering what is the truth now? Where do we go from here, you and I?” She sighed. “Or perhaps I’m only running from myself. But then, it has always been easier to run away from a situation you’re not sure you can handle anymore. I’ve had a lot of practice at that recently.”

Elliot shook his head. “To leave a man like your late husband took more courage than it did to stay.” He placed both hands on her shoulders, impelling her to move closer into his arms and, after an agony of indecision, to bury her face wearily in his shoulder.

A shudder passed through her then, accompanied by a long sigh. “I don’t know why I’m crying. This evening has been wonderful.”

“I’ll admit, it’s not usual for my date to cry on my shoulder.” Elliot smoothed his hands over the length of her back, drawing her closer all the while, holding her when she would have pulled back. “But, I think I can handle it.”

“And it has been a perfect date.” Gradually, she relaxed, even turning her face into the side of his neck, and then slowly, almost reluctantly, her arms came around him, sliding around his body at his waist, the coolness of her palms spreading against the scars of his encounter with Gabriel’s hired killer beneath his silk shirt. Swaying to the music playing in the darkness of the apartment, they began to move slowly together.

Drawing her closer still, Elliot placed a lingering kiss on her bare shoulder, his beard rasping softly across her skin. The new song from the shadows asked him to take the ribbon from her hair. He lifted his hands into the confines of her chignon, spilling pins to the carpet as he threaded his fingers through the gleaming length, letting it tumble down her back in a glorious flood. They circled the floor in a slow, drifting dance of spiralling need and anticipation.

“Yesterday is dead and gone…” Shannon murmured a line of the song, letting the pure sensual pleasure of Elliot’s hands on her body suspend all her doubts and fears, in some other time and place as the music soothed her confusion. “I truly know how sad it is to be alone.”

She also knew if she denied him, Elliot would not force her, demand her attention. That marked the difference between Justin and this man who watched her now with such concerned intensity she had to close her eyes.

She could hear the blind voice of her blood, heated and demanding, echoing through her pulse with the accelerated beating of her heart.

The sane, reasoning part of her mind which should have pulled her away, found itself suddenly swamped in the demands of her body, in the insistence of Elliot’s increasingly urgent touch. But to surrender was to change, emerge from the self-imposed shell of indifference that she had forced on the more sensual side of her nature through the need to survive.

But she could not deny her body’s sudden and intense craving for fulfillment, for the touch Elliot’s fingers as they slid beneath the neckline of her evening gown to detail the rounded fullness of her breast, sending a shiver of pure desire rocketing to the very limits of her consciousness.

With a muffled groan she surrendered, her limbs trembling with reaction and an overwhelming need to know she was loved and desired for who she was. Perhaps, perhaps this time it could be different…for both of them…

*******

Detailed as the outer guard of the junction door for the night, Mouse spent the long hours happily sorting through Elliot’s gift, arranging and rearranging the tools to their best advantage in the specially constructed box he had made. Endlessly fascinated by their possibilities, he tested their edges lovingly, keeping only a cursory vigil at his post.

Now the broad peace of his midnight solitude was broken by the sound of footsteps, furtive treading on the gravel-filled dirt beyond the closed steel portal of the junction door. Mouse froze in position, listening as the footsteps crossed from one side of the door to the other, as if the intruder was searching for a way through. He heard tapping, as if someone was seeking a weakness in the steel plate. The barred gate rattled briefly and then fell silent.

Mouse stole forward, his booted feet making no sound in the softness of the tunnel flooring on his side of the door. A swift glance confirmed the portal was securely latched from his side. Only someone who knew about the secret, emergency latch behind the grill on the outside could gain entry. The footsteps recrossed the floor outside, pausing in the middle for a breathless moment.

Mouse pulled a stethoscope from one of his capacious pockets and applied it to the door. He could almost feel eyes boring through the solid steel, eyes that caught him leaning closer to hear any movement. Then, the sounds of hurried retreat came to him and there was a short, pregnant pause of silence.

Mouse released his indrawn breath. “Okay good, okay fine…maybe,” he whispered. “Need Vincent.”

Suddenly, he was startled by a muffled scream from beyond the closed door, a terrified intake of air was cut off in mid breath. Footsteps scuffled frantically for a moment, seeking purchase on the coarse gravel floor of the outer tunnel. Something was flung against the bars of the gate beyond the door, rattling against the steel, before falling to the floor. Mouse jumped back in alarm, barely managing to stifle a rising shout of dismay. Then an awful silence, heavy and complete, fell again…

Mouse strained forward, his blond head cocked on one side like an inquisitive sparrow, but after a long time, he could hear the footsteps retreating, accompanied by a heavy, dragging sound, as they receded into the distance.

Who was the intruder? Perhaps a couple walking in the evening who saw the tunnel and decided to investigate, playfully frighten one another? Or…someone more sinister? Were they really gone? Mouse couldn’t decide what to believe, but he knew Father and Vincent must know immediately.

Ever since Gabriel had tried to recapture Catherine at any cost, security in the underground world was even more tightly controlled than usual. Father had given instructions that any suspicion of an intruder was to be reported immediately.

Hurrying back to his lookout, Mouse picked up the long staff that was his authority as an outer guard and used it to tap out a message softly to Pascal. Softly, because he didn’t want to panic his sleeping world and softly because he wasn’t at all sure the intruder wasn’t still listening on the other side of the gate…

*******

“We must double the guards in that sector.” Father bent over the map spread across his desk. “You said you found, when you opened the door, nothing beyond some footprints and the marks of something being dragged away. I don’t like it, Vincent, this not knowing what happened up there tonight.”

“Staying vigilant is all we can do.” Vincent leaned over his father’s shoulder, the long fall of his hair obscuring his features as he studied the map, running one long nail over the area lying behind the junction door. “Perhaps they were only drunk and got lost.”

“Mouse feels that the intruder was more than a casual wanderer.” Father pulled off his spectacles, worry lines marking his forehead. “If we are forced to reseal the entrance once again…”

“The security of our world is more important than my nocturnal wanderings in the park.” Vincent looked at his father, correctly divining the trend of his thoughts.

“I know.” Father sighed, tapping his glasses on the map sharply. “Your safety is as important to me as all of the others. But, to curtail again what freedom you do have to come and go in peace…”

“There are other exits, Father.” Vincent straightened, slanting his head to listen briefly to the staccato message that clattered along the pipes outside the chamber. “Now that Catherine is here with me, the exit has lost its primary importance.”

“Perhaps Mouse was wrong, perhaps the intruder was simply investigating the tunnel.” Father looked up into his son’s pensive face. “Seeing if it led anywhere. It’s happened before, as you know.”

“Perhaps,” Vincent agreed slowly. “But the guards need to be aware of the possibility of danger. I will take the first watch tonight, with James.”

“It would be for the best.” Father dropped his eyes to the map again and listened to his son’s measured footsteps leaving the chamber, as he studied the map with weary trepidation in his eyes.

*******

“I swear I’m getting too old for this!” Joe shook his head in frustration, running a tired hand around the back of his neck, as he tried to shake the sleep from his brain. A very early Sunday morning taxi ride across town had not helped his perceptions any. Standing beside the mortuary table with its shrouded body, he felt drained of all empathy.

“Tell me about it,” Greg Hughes replied, with a thinning of his lips, as he held up the corner of the sheet that covered the body on the table. “The coroner has been moaning like an old woman all night, and I’ve been forced to listen to every complaint.”

The body Greg revealed now had been a young woman in her early teens and once she had been quite pretty, before her face had been severely battered. Long blond hair spilled from beneath the sheet, flowing in a silken stream over Greg’s hand, hair matted with dried blood.

“Her body was found in the park last night.” Greg dropped the sheet back over the girl’s face with a sigh. “She was little more than a child. When I get cases like this I think, just what I am doing wrong in this job that something like this can happen. Such a senseless crime.”

Joe, remembering the tunnel child Angelo and the scars in his short life, knew the same feelings of helplessness. At least the boy had survived to find the love he needed to thrive. “And, now you’re telling me that there’s a link between this death and others?” Joe stared at the shrouded body.

His world and Catherine’s…so different. The thought made him grimace. His world thrived on violence and corruption. More than anything, a senseless murder accentuated the difference between the two worlds.

“Yeah, we now have a definite pattern,” Greg answered Joe’s question over his shoulder, as he led the way to the coroner’s office. “I also have an aversion to being hauled out of my bed at three o’clock on a Sunday morning to come down here. But, this is my case, and I’m sorry to say, this girl’s body is the piece that makes the rest fit into a pattern.”

The coroner’s office was brightly lit, the overhead strip lighting reflecting starkly off the white walls. Joe could not overcome his aversion to the place, even though he had been here many times before, often as now, in the middle of the night. Greg didn’t have that aversion on his own. But death never kept regular hours.

“At first all we had was a couple of random killings.” Greg paused beside a table. “Two young women strangled and stabbed, admittedly in a similar way, but then homeless people kill each other all the time over nothing. But they occurred two weeks apart and always on a Saturday night.”

On the table lay several plastic bags. Bags that held the life and death of the child down the hall. There were pathetically few. “I know this getting out of bed in the middle of the night is no longer your department, Joe.” Greg shrugged. “You’ve moved too far up on the food chain. But I knew you’d want to see this one.”

“Okay, so talk to me.” Joe took a chair beside the table. “Forget the D.A. bit, I know you need to tell me about this. And the girl.”

“Random killings,” Greg said again, sorting carefully through the bags, turning

each over in his hands to study them carefully. “Not much to show for a life, is it?”

“There never is.” Joe shrugged, his compassion tempered by the hour and the bleak surroundings. “How much of one person’s life can you pack into a few plastic bags?”

Greg nodded as he selected one of the bags and held it up for Joe to see. It contained a photograph, clean and well kept, as if it were a memento of a better time in the life of the victim in whose possession it had been found. It was certainly not something you would expect to find on a girl from the streets who lived life by the barest of means.

“This was found on the body of the first victim.” Greg held the photo by the corner of its evidence bag. “She was an unidentified Jane Doe, until her mother filed a missing person report ten days ago, when she hadn’t heard from her daughter in some time. Her name was Cherry Stanton. Her mother said she was a waitress at a local diner, but from the state of her things, I think she was homeless.”

He heaved a long sigh. “She was murdered four weeks ago. Stabbed and strangled in a remote area of Central Park. The photo had been blown under a nearby bush, only found when the guys did a detailed search of the undergrowth.”

Greg replaced the bag on the table and held up another photo, larger than the first, but like the first, showing a young woman, a smiling young woman who posed happily for the camera, sunlight gleaming on dark red hair. “This one was found under the body of Helen Stock, the second victim. From what little we could discover, she’s been living on the streets for the past year. Strangled and then beaten to death with savage intent, two weeks ago in the park. Neither woman has been sexually assaulted, but this guy gets his kicks in other ways.”

He turned to the next bag. “And now this photo was found on the body of the latest victim tonight. She was murdered about seven hours ago. Again on a Saturday night, just like the other two. In a different area of the park this time.”

The detective held it up, but Joe couldn’t see the contents against the reflection of the overhead lights. Taking the bag he turned it over in his hands. Like the rest it was neat and well kept, as if it had great sentimental value for the owner.

Joe smoothed the plastic to see the photo inside. Again it was of a young woman, standing in the middle of a busy street, the people on the sidewalk breaking around her as they hurried about their own business. Long, blond hair flowed from beneath an unusual cap, almost a hood over her hair. Her clothing was an odd assortment of cast offs, but the girl still managed to look neat and almost stylish. And full of life…

Joe felt his stomach suddenly cramp with foreboding. A chill of fear sliding icy fingers down his spine. He wanted desperately to be wrong, to find some other explanation for what he saw, but the photo was too real in this place of death and decay. It’s bright promise of youth, refreshing and warm.

“It can’t be…” Joe dragged his eyes from the bag in his hands to stare at Greg. He willed him to find another explanation, any explanation other than the truth that stared back at him so horribly.

“I thought the same as you, at first,” Greg said slowly, his eyes on the table. “That’s why I wanted you to come down here, to tell me I was wrong. To say it’s just a coincidence. I didn’t want to believe it was happening again.”

“Oh, God…” Joe groaned, closing his eyes on a sigh that came from the very depths of his soul.

“I don’t think even He can help us with this one, Joe,” Greg stated grimly, as the two men studied the evidence before them, each fearful of what the future might hold now. “I think we’re strictly on our own from now on. God has taken a holiday.”

*******

I've seen the tears and the heartache

and I've felt the pain

I've seen the hatred in so many lives lost in vain

And yet through this darkness there's always a light that shines through

And takes me back home, takes me back home

All of the promises broken

and all of the songs left unsung

Seem so far away as I make my way back to you

You gave me faith and…

You gave me a world to believe in

You gave me your love to believe in

And feeling this love I can rise up above

And be strong, I'll be whole once again

'Cause your love is my soul once again

I can live I can dream once again

'Cause you make me believe…

Celine Dion

The huge, claw footed bathtub Mouse had recently installed in the bathroom shared by Jacob and his parents, was a playground of infinite possibilities.

Almost lost in its vast, cream enamelled depths, Jacob approved wholeheartedly of the arrangement and demonstrated his contentment by initiating his mother in the delights of his new toy with a shower of soapy water.

“If I joined you, I wouldn’t get any work done.” Catherine shook her head as she sat back on her heels, wiping her face with the towel while her son smiled at her disarmingly, his blue eyes wide and innocent.

With his blond hair growing longer about his ears, spiked and fluffed out in the rising steam of the bath water, and the deep colour of his eyes, her son was beginning to look more like his father with every passing day. Catherine felt her heart contract as Jacob continued to regard her steadily, the warm tenderness of his love touching on the edges of her consciousness with infinite care.

Turning away, he dipped his chubby hands into the water, searching through the array of bubbles that danced on the surface. Catherine watched, fascinated, as he came up with one large, bright bubble perched precariously on the tip of his finger. The colours rippled across its soapy surface, rainbow colours that didn’t come from this world far beneath the city, colours reflected from the bright light of the lamps overhead.

They ran across the fragile membrane, blending into each other with fluid ease as Jacob cooed with delight. Then, extending his hand with slow, exaggerated care, for he well knew the brief lifespan of a bubble, he offered his gift to his mother, his young face screwed up in deep concentration.

“It’s beautiful,” Catherine whispered, as she extended her finger to accept the soapy sphere. It slid readily onto her hand, shivering in the slight draft that crept around the edge of the heavy curtain that covered the doorway to the bathroom.

“One day I will show you a real rainbow,” Catherine promised her son, as they both watched the colours swirl and change smoothly. “Just after the rain, the sun comes out and you have all these beautiful colours in the sky. Beautiful colours like those in Elizabeth’s painted tunnels.”

“Sky colours,” Jacob affirmed in his small, deep voice, in perfect mimicry of her words. “Rainbow, Mummy colours.”

“Yes, Mummy colours…” Catherine smiled at her son’s words.

Jacob had an uncanny ability to imitate anything spoken directly to him, even at his young age. Others, like Father, thought he was merely imitating what he heard and learned to reproduce it with amazing accuracy. But Catherine could sense her son’s thoughts.

She was coming to know the mind and heart of her son as he grew, and what he said was not always in mere imitation of others. Jacob possessed the intuitive soul of his father and he was well aware of when those he loved needed his reassurance.

“Mummy’s colours.” She nodded then, her heart aching for the memory of another sweet, bright little boy who had never been shown the sky or the bright wonder of a rainbow against the roiling clouds of a passing summer shower. Her heart contracted with regret that no one could ever show Vincent the beauty of a summer’s day.

“Pretty.” Jacob looked from the bubble to Catherine, his head slanted to one side, as he reached up to touch his mother’s cheek, patting her moist skin gently. “Pretty,” he agreed.

Catherine reached one arm into the bath, disregarding the water soaking her clothing and hugged her son with fierce love, leaving the imprint of his soapy body on her shirt. The bubble, still shimmering on her free hand, popped in a spray of tiny droplets of colour.

“Pop!” Jacob flailed the water with his fists, soaking his mother anew. “All go pop.”

“There will be other rainbows,” Catherine whispered against the neat roundness of her son’s head, as the bath water ran from one end to the other, slopping over the rim and pooling on the floor. “Lots of them, I promise.”

Within her a small awareness stirred, pushing outwards to touch lightly on the connection that bound them all. Jacob’s eyes twinkled knowingly as he played with the water, his sense of who he was sharpening with each new day as he became aware of the continuing changes in the world around him and the gifts to come.

*******

Late on Sunday afternoon, Joe stood in frustrated silence before the large bulletin board on the wall of Diana’s apartment. The board was covered with police photos of the bodies of the murder victims, as well as the crime scenes. Diana had arranged them in patterns, notations and questions written beside each of them in red pen. Joe studied Diana’s thoughts on each crime, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers, his shoulders hunched in worried thought.

In addition to the police photos, there was, below them, the grouping of photographs that had been found with all the dead women. Joe’s eyes hardened as he stared at them from beneath lowered brows. They seemed so out of place to his tired mind, as he recounted them slowly. They were spontaneous and full of life. He wished they knew the identity of the last girl they’d found in the park. He hesitated to release the photo to the press, who were already over-

sensationalising the whole thing. But, if they received no new leads, he would be forced to do so, if only to give her family sad news they didn’t want to hear. He sighed heavily. Sometimes he hated his job.

The pictures had been pinned to the board, still in their evidence bags, arranged neatly by Diana in her new quest for the answers to their mystery. Joe began again, studying each in turn.

“Come on, what are we not seeing?” Looking intently at each picture, he tried to force some truth from the two dimensional surfaces, any clue, any lead, however small, that could possibly end this madness. “You’re supposed to be so good at this,” he complained, glaring at Diana.

“I can’t work miracles, especially since you only brought me into the case this morning.” She moved to stand at his elbow, thrusting a mug of steaming, black coffee into his hands. “Don’t worry. I’ve already tried staring at them like that, trying to force open the door.”

She took a sip from her own mug as she stared at the pictures. “I’ve sat here and worked them for three hours already. They still refuse to speak. Our killer isn’t into leaving too many clues.”

She glanced at Joe’s set profile, nothing the signs of deep anger and frustration on the grim lies bracketing his mouth. She traced the rim of her mug with one finger, as she carefully phrased her next question.

“Do you want to tell me why you have asked for my immediate help with this case? Why this case, above all others, has affected you and Greg so much? Child murders are not uncommon in this city; you have dealt with them before. It’s almost like a personal crusade for you two. And you’re no longer a foot soldier; you are the D.A. This is no longer your turf. You pilot a desk and give the orders. And I have the Gabriel case to concentrate on.”

“I know you’re busy. But I had thought it was all in the past.” Joe sighed, turning bleak eyes to her. “I know it would be better for everyone if we’d left it there.”

He took a long mouthful of coffee, swallowing hard. “Greg and I once had a very good friend, a detective on the force called Erik Coltrain. Ten years ago he got a call to meet an informant in an alley over on the East Side. According to Erik, the informer had an aversion to police stations.”

He rolled his shoulders. “So, like the good cop that he was, he agreed. He didn’t want any back-up, the guy liked to do things his own way.”

Joe looked back at the board, his next words stark with suppressed anger and resentment. “Erik was shot sixteen times in the back and head and bled to death in that alley with only rats for company.”

“I’m so sorry, Joe.”

“Yeah, so am I.” Joe looked at each of the photos with distaste. “When I saw these photos beginning to surface again, I knew Erik had died in vain.”

Joe brought his eyes back to Diana’s considering look. “Ten years ago, Erik and his team, which included Greg, were investigating the Snapshot murders. Erik’s informant said he had information on the stalled case. Six children were murdered, all girls, and each body was left with a photo of the victim. Erik knew he was close and he badly wanted to get the guy. It was a personal thing for him; the fourth girl had been the daughter of a close friend. But, with his death, the killings simply stopped and no one knows why.”

“So, now it’s personal for you.” Diana leaned her hips against the edge of her desk, studying each exhibit on the board with the same clinical detachment that annoyed Joe immensely at times like this. But she was the best resource he had. After this morning’s early meeting with Greg, he’d immediately asked for her input, knowing it would ruffle a few feathers downtown. He didn’t care.

“It got too hot for the killer then,” Diana mused slowly. “After killing a cop, perhaps silencing someone who was getting too close for comfort. But he didn’t need the attention in that way. Maybe he went to prison for some other, unrelated crime. Could be, he moved cities, but he’s come back. And, now the heat is off, he’s found a fresh supply of victims.”

She looked back at Joe. “Our friend, Detective John Russell, is of the opinion that he’ll catch this guy inside a week and what do you want my help for anyway.”

“Russell is an idiot,” Joe replied shortly. “He wasn’t on the force in this city ten years ago. He didn’t know Erik for the man he was. He got too close and he was eliminated. It’s his work, and ours, that will get this guy.”

“So, for our killer then, torturing the new D.A. of Manhattan with an old, unsolved case just makes the game more interesting.” Diana nodded. “And he won’t stop until he gets your undivided attention. So, I want all the files, and I want the files of all the past cases that you and Greg have prosecuted, whether or not you secured convictions.”

“I’ll have them sent over.” Joe frowned. “If this is some sort of sick game…”

“Your average sociopath gets more enjoyment out of torturing their victim than the act itself. A sick game, yes, but also a very dangerous one. You and Greg will have to watch your backs. This guy plays for keeps.”

Remembering Striker, who’d almost murdered him and Catherine that day, made Joe feel sick to his stomach. The cat and mouse game that had been played out then, was prolonged and agonising. But Joe was determined to avenge his friend.

“I’m getting tired of game playing,” he complained, glaring at the board. “I think it’s about time we invented some new rules.”

*******

Mouse hurried along the tunnel, casting furtive glances right and left as he crossed other bisecting tunnels. Huddled forward awkwardly, he was attempting to shield what he carried in his arms with his body, hiding it from any casual glance that might come his way.

His blond hair was slicked down against his head, for it was raining Up Top and the chill of raindrops ran from his hair down the back of his neck to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt, adding to the sodden nature of his clothing. His boots squelched softly with each footfall. A few wisps of steam rose gently into the warmer air of the tunnel, as he began to dry out slowly.

Mouse didn’t like the rain, it had ruined some of his better inventions with its insidious wetness. Shaking his head like a shaggy dog, he hurried along, attempting to appear inconspicuous, which seemed to be working well until he ran into Jamie at a bend in the tunnel.

“What have you got there, Mouse?” Jamie felt it was always a good idea to be very direct where the engineer was concerned.

“Surprise.” Mouse drew himself even further around the parcel in his arms, almost doubling up in his attempt to keep it hidden.

“Will Father be annoyed if he finds out what you have there?” Jamie got right to the point of her argument.

“Not for Father,” Mouse hedged warily, trying to sidestep his unwanted challenger, but Jamie moved into his path.

“Who’s it for, then?”

“If I tell you, won’t be a secret anymore,” Mouse prevaricated hopefully, his voice dropping to an exaggerated stage whisper.

“If you don’t tell me, I will have to tell Father and Vincent that you have been Above again without permission,” Jamie countered ruthlessly.

“Don’t need permission to go Up Top.” Mouse drew himself up indignantly, revealing a large parcel wrapped in heavy oilskin. He realised his mistake and dropped his body forward again, cuddling his burden to his chest lovingly, glaring at Jamie in frustration.

“Mouse…” Jamie said, warningly.

“Surprise,” Mouse reiterated stubbornly, shaking his head in denial.

“I won’t tell, Mouse.” Jamie moved closer to lay her hand on his arm. “But sometimes your surprises can be a little too much,” she ended tactfully.

“Mouse always makes good surprises,” his tone was hurt. “But sometimes Father doesn’t understand the surprise. He doesn’t like a lot of noise.”

“I know, Mouse.” Jamie couldn’t help smiling. “Will Father like this surprise?”

“Not for Father.” Mouse looked at her slyly, still hoping to be able to slide around his assailant and make good his escape, but Jamie blocked his way firmly.

“You are going to tell me, Mouse. Or I will be forced to tell Father.” Jamie folded her arms and waited, tapping an impatient foot.

“Christmas present.” Mouse mumbled, after a tense silence.

“A Christmas present!” Jamie shook her head in disbelief. “But Christmas isn’t for months yet. What are you up to this time?”

“Needs work, fixing.” Mouse eyed her determination warily. “Need time to make it good. For Jacob.”

“You’re making a Christmas present for Jacob?” Jamie repeated his words blankly, much to his annoyance. His look spoke volumes about his impatience to be getting on with his work. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

“All in pieces, has to be fixed.” Mouse sidled forward, hoping that, having allowed Jamie in on his secret, she would allow him to get around her interference in his plans.

“Does Vincent or Catherine know of your gift ideas?” Jamie took his arm firmly and held on despite his vocal protests.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told,” Mouse growled, as he subsided with ill-grace, glaring at Jamie from beneath the shock of hair falling across his forehead. But his friend was completely unperturbed by the look.

“I think you’re going to need a hand, Mouse.” Jamie slipped her arm through his and urged him down the tunnel. “In fact, I’m sure of it. And it’s no use complaining, you’re stuck with my help, whether you want it or not.”

“Steal Mouse’s idea.” He moved a shoulder in resignation, simply wishing he’d taken the express route to his chamber and avoided all the fuss.

*******

Diana stood looking down at the roped of area of beaten down grass where Helen Stock had been killed. Dark patches of blood still stained the ground.

Nothing registered in her expression, beyond a clinical curiosity. She could not allow herself to feel anything, despair, regret, even anger. She found that such thoughts always clouded her judgment, so she had learned to suppress them. She kept the folder of crime scene photos clamped firmly beneath her right arm.

“Not much to go on, is it?” the detective at her elbow spoke as if he was discussing the weather. “This guy’s good. But I’ll get him soon.”

A small man of lean temper and no humour, who wanted…no…needed, to elicit some kind of human response from the woman he’d summed up and dismissed as the original ice maiden. John Russell didn’t like coming off second best to a female.

“The killer’s methods are messy.” Diana went down on her haunches, her hands still in the pockets of her coat, touching nothing, simply gazing and absorbing the crime scene. “But then, I don’t think housekeeping was his main objective, do you?”

Beyond them, further away among a stand of trees, a small cluster of homeless people had gathered, talking amongst themselves in the long, Monday afternoon shadows. An old woman, wispy grey hair sticking out at odd angles beneath a disreputable woollen cap, finally sidled forward, her fingers tangled in the folds of her ragged cardigan.

“The poor girl never did anyone any harm,” she mumbled, her eyes darting from Diana to the surrounding policemen and back to the investigator again. “But street people don’t matter to the city fathers. Helen was like a daughter to me.”

“Go away.” Detective Russell glared at the old woman, obviously considering her words to be a needless interruption of his work. When she didn’t move away, he took a step forward, forcing her to scurry back to the safety of the small crowd.

Russell turned to stare at Diana. “We’ve taken everyone’s statement, I don’t see why people have to keep hanging around like a bunch of undertakers waiting for customers.”

“Perhaps, it’s because she was their friend.” Diana spoke calmly, with only half her mind on the complaints of a man she had scant time for. “Maybe they care.”

“A woman from the streets doesn’t have any friends.” Russell lit a cigarette, his fourth since arriving at the scene, to check on Diana’s unwanted involvement in his case.

“Your compassion does you justice.” Diana gave him a long straight look that brought a flush of anger to the detective’s lean face, as he eyed her with intense dislike. “Now, if you don’t mind, Detective, I have work to do here.”

“Then, I’ll get out of your way, Miss Bennett. But, I’ll want a full report on your findings. This is my case, not Joe Maxwell’s. Remember that.” Russell gave her a hard smile, flicking ash from his cigarette in her direction, before moving off to disperse the crowd with heavy-handed authority.

Without even glancing to see where he’d gone, Diana put him from her mind as she went to work. The woman’s body had been found by a passing horse patrol. Anything of value had already been stolen by someone, more intent on their own needs than those of the dead girl.

Diana pulled the folder from beneath her arm, opening it to consider each of the crimes scene photos in turn. Visible beneath the body’s blood stained shirt, Diana could see the corner of a neat photograph. Its cleanliness contrasted starkly with the body. Diana surveyed the photo with fatalistic calmness that would have intensely annoyed John Russell, if he’d still been at her side.

With no more clues than they had two days ago, when the latest Jane Doe had been murdered in a different area of the park, Diana knew this case would drag on, the killer powerless to stop playing his game of cat and mouse with Joe Maxwell. Diana felt for Joe, but she could not allow her sentiments to interfere with her approach to her work.

Emotions were an expensive liability when you were dealing with a man who murders the innocent without compunction and walks away free once more.

Diana extracted her notebook from the pocket of her coat and opened its pages on the small luxury of a sigh. She was going to spend another long, sleepless night trying to find the answers…

*******

‘The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ.

Moves on; nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it…’

Omar Khayyam

Shannon slipped into the hushed shadows of the basement entrance to the world Below. It was late afternoon before she’d finally told Elliot she needed to leave. It had been a hard decision to make, against everything within her that clamoured to stay with him. Allow him to persuade her to spend another night with him.

Elliot followed her into the darkest corner where the secret entrance was concealed. In answer to her coded knock sequence, the door swung silently inwards, revealing the bulky figure of the tunnel guard.

“Thanks, Peter.” Shannon nodded, then stopped, standing half in and half out of her world, when Elliot placed a hand on her arm to detain her.

“You won’t reconsider spending the evening with me?” Elliot lifted a length of her hair with his free hand, entwining it through his fingers gently. Her face was bare of makeup and very kissable. He forced down his baser instincts as Shannon gazed at him with remembered passion in her green eyes.

Peter cleared his throat. “I’ll be back here, when you’re ready.” He retired tactfully to the inner shadows.

“I’m sorry, Elliot, I can’t.” Shannon placed her hand over his. “Last night was…”

“Magical…” Elliot supplied when she paused, looking confused. His fingers stirred against her clasp.

“Magical,” she agreed, the memory of her wanton abandonment of her suffocating inhibitions in Elliot’s guiding arms bringing a fresh flush of colour to her cheeks.

Tentatively, she raised his hand to her lips to kiss his palm lingeringly. She saw his eyes darken at the erotic contact. “But, now I must go. If I stay you will only coerce me shamelessly into doing exactly what you want.”

“This is not over between us.” Elliot took her shoulders, smoothing over the bare skin that rose from the dark neckline of her evening gown, his thumbs tracing a path up her throat to lift her chin. He took her lips in a kiss that made her tremble.

“If I thought coercion would make you stay with me, I wouldn’t hesitate,” Elliot admitted honestly, kissing the tip of her nose with a smile. “I have so much more I want to show you, to experience…with you. You looked like you were enjoying Monday morning breakfast in bed.”

Shannon opened her mouth to reply, but Elliot closed her lips with one admonishing finger, before he turned her around and gave her a tiny push in the small of her back, propelling her into the darkness of the world beyond the portal. “Go on, before I lose all my good intentions. But, I will be back for you.”

“You ready to go?” Peter materialised out of the shadows. The long staff of his office thumped hollowly on the floor as he halted at Shannon’s side, impatiently waiting for Elliot to leave.

“I will be waiting for you.” Shannon touched Elliot’s bearded cheek briefly, before she stepped back to allow the portal to close. But she stayed to watch until it shut on Elliot’s tall figure, with a soft thump that pushed against the enveloping darkness.

*******

Father lost the final chess game of the evening with good grace, owning himself to be beaten, even before Mouse declared the win, bouncing with unseemly glee in his chair. The boy’s playing was erratic at best, at worst, alarmingly flawed. Father shook his head in bemused wonder as his opponent pounced with unholy delight on his king, snatching the hapless piece from the board in triumph.

“Got it!” Mouse crowed. “My game! My game! Makes six in a row!”

“Sheer madness...” Father raised his hands in futile supplication. He’d given up trying to teach his young pupil the king was inviolate.

“I keep telling myself I should give this game up,” he muttered into his beard, as Mouse carefully reset the board and looked at him with undisguised hope. “No, Mouse, I think losing six games to you is all the excitement my constitution can stand tonight.”

“Perhaps you should take up a different hobby,” a voice spoke from the doorway of the chamber. “You have a strong masochistic streak in your nature that keeps you wanting to teach your pupils to better you in the game.”

Father looked up at the sound of Catherine’s voice with a rueful shake of his head. “I know what you mean. Somehow I just cannot seem to resist the temptation. Vincent finds little to challenge him in my game these days.”

“Here, Catherine. Sit.” Mouse slid out of his chair as Catherine descended the short fight of steps into the room and offered her the seat with a quaint courtly bow. “Have to go anyway. Big project, lots of work to do yet.”

He fled before Father could even think of a question to detain him. His hurried footsteps faded rapidly in the tunnel beyond the chamber.

“Perhaps it’s better not to ask.” Father brought his eyes back to Catherine, as she sat down at the chess table opposite him. “I am sure I will find out what he’s up to, in Mouse’s own good time.”

He eyed her speculatively for a moment. “Would you care for a game?” he asked hopefully.

“My father taught me to play when I was very small.” She eyed the pieces dubiously. “I think I can still remember how everything moves.” She reached out to test her memory, moving each piece in turn. Father watched her moves with renewed interest.

“I actually came to ask you something.” Catherine rearranged the pieces and made her first tentative move with a pawn.

Father countered the pawn with one of his own and looked at her across the pieces. “You sound as if you expect me to deny your request.”

“No, it’s not that.” Catherine caught her bottom lip between her teeth, as she considered her next move. “You and your world, Father, you have given me so much. You have given me a place where I can belong, with people who care about what happens to me.” Carefully she moved forward one of her bishops.

“I think it is we who stand in your debt, Catherine.” Father made his move with baffling efficiency, leaving Catherine frowning in concentration. He reached to take her hand where it lay on the table beside the board. “You have given my son everything, more than I could ever hope for him. You have given him, himself. No one else could have done that for Vincent.”

“Thank you, Father,” Catherine acknowledged his words with a warm smile. “But I feel I need to give something in return, something back to this new world of ours. I have spoken to Vincent and asked him to consider my ideas. He said I must speak with you.”

“And you would like my approval?” Father shook his head in despair. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” he chided her gently, with a rueful smile.

“Well, perhaps not your approval.”  Catherine smiled at his mock despair, taking his hand between hers. “But, certainly your blessing.”

“Now, you do have me intrigued.” Father laughed, peering at her over the rim of his glasses, his eyes warmly appreciative of the beautiful picture she made.

“I wish to teach, Father.” Catherine spoke quickly. “My skills as a lawyer are next to useless down here. But what I can impart, to those children who wish to make their way in the world Above, is the knowledge of its ways. Michael was simply a beginning. I can take what he has learned so much further, if I tackle the task from down here.”

Father looked at her then, as if he was truly seeing her for the first time. He realised that he only knew a small part of generous personality of this woman who had married his son. A part of the beauty, both within and without, that Vincent first saw on the night he brought her Below three years ago. He shook his head, as he thought of the limited expectations he’d had in those early days,

limited by his own unsatisfactory experiences of a rich man’s daughter. He wondered briefly how he could have been so wrong in his expectations, knowing Catherine as he did now.

“You have already given us so much,” he replied simply. “You have given of yourself, even when it seemed that we did not welcome your presence here with us. I think our children will be very lucky in their new teacher.” He closed his free hand over hers. “Bring me your list of requirements and I will see they are met. I, in turn, will draw up a list of the most likely children to need your help.”

“I will make it out first thing in the morning.” Catherine smiled. “And thank you for understanding. I must admit, it will be quite a different experience to be in front of a class, instead of part of it.”

“I am sure we will all benefit from the experience.” Father nodded, as he returned his eyes to the board.

“Here goes nothing…” Catherine made another tentative move and then watched closely as her opponent made his next move and she couldn’t help wondering if he was trying to lead her into a trap with his bland expression and easy moves. Her skill at the game had not been honed to a fine edge by the constant practice Father and Vincent allowed themselves. She suspected that he would not be a generous opponent and was grateful to him for that.

A short time later, Father won his first chess game in many weeks. He had also found himself with another pupil to teach when Catherine ruefully confessed her rustiness at the game. She soon surrendered the second game, admitting defeat within a few moves, as she watched Father pounce on her queen with a cry of triumph.

Vincent, coming in halfway through the third game, found wry amusement in Father’s jubilant mood. Under his expert coaching, his wife succeeded in winning the next three games in a row.

“When will I learn?” Father wondered to himself, as he got ready for bed later that night, but his smile was filled with warm remembrance of an evening well spent in delightful company and he found himself looking forward to the challenge. At least Catherine didn’t possess the same streak of off beat ability Mouse displayed. That had to be an unalloyed pleasure in itself by Father’s reckoning.

*******

You are the love of my life

I knew it right from the start

The moment I looked at you

You found a place in my heart.

You are the love of my life

You give me reason to live

You taught me how to be strong

With you is where I belong

No one’s ever touched me

Quite the way you’ve touched me

People search a lifetime

To find what we have…

You are the love of my life

One thing that’s good in this life

I’ll spend the rest of my days just loving you…

George Benson / Roberta Flack

“Catherine, may I speak with you?” Shannon came up to her at breakfast, just as Catherine had plucked Jacob from his highchair. Vincent put aside the washcloth he’d been using to wipe all the oatmeal from the boy’s face and hands.

“Of course.” Catherine lifted her son onto her hip. “You don’t mind, do you, Vincent?”

“I’m sure Jacob and I can find some work to do together.” Vincent smiled, plucking his son from Catherine’s arms and swinging him up onto his broad shoulders.

The child squealed with abandon, as he was swung high through the air to finally settle his sturdy limbs around his father’s neck. Wrapping his arms enthusiastically around Vincent’s head, he clung tightly to his new position.

His father was forced to peel away one small hand from his eyes, so he could see where he was going, as Jacob bounced with glee over the promised treat of working beside his father.

The two women watched the performance with varying emotions. One with pride and a deep sense of love. The other with an empty, wistful sensation in the pit of her stomach and uncertainty on her face. Catherine reached up to kiss Vincent’s cheek and then her son’s clutching fingers.

“We can go to my chamber.” Shannon watched Vincent and his son out of sight, before turning to Catherine. “I have something I want to ask you.”

Shannon’s chamber was cunningly wrought out of the bedrock of the lower tunnels, one of a series that usually accommodated the younger members of the community and any visitors who happened to come Below. The chamber’s multitude of nooks and crannies were filled with the many small figurines Shannon had collected in her youth.

Made of pottery, stone, glass and crystal, they added a depth of life to the blank rock walls, gleaming in the flame of an overhead lamp made of glass in many different colours. Highly-coloured rugs were strewn across the floor, jewel bright patterns mixed together carelessly to form an endless flow of pattern and designs that defied the eye to separate them.

“I used to collect all the colours that were lacking in this world.” Shannon indicated the carpets as she led the way into the room. “Once I returned here, I discovered Father had stored them away against the possibility I would return one day. I couldn’t believe it when I saw my old chamber again, with all my things in it. It was only then that I truly felt I had finally come home.”

“I know that feeling of finally belonging somewhere.” Catherine smiled her understanding, as she picked up the figurines of a small unicorn from the shelf.

It was unlike the rest of the eclectic pieces that lined the walls. Lovingly shaped, the tiny creature nestled warmly in the palm of her hand. It had an absurdly funny expression on its face and two buck teeth protruded from its top lip. If anything it looked more than a little drunk.

“I couldn’t resist him when I found him in a curio shop in London.” Shannon came to stand beside her. “He appealed to the child in me.” She caressed the soapstone figure with love. “He also brought me happiness and, somehow, helps me to forget.”

“He’s beautiful.” Catherine touched the buck teeth lightly and tapped the end of the animal’s long nose. His comical expression didn’t alter as he smiled at nothing, the small head tilted to one side, as if in surprise.

Gently, she replaced the figure and looked about the chamber with interest.

It was a truly charming room, filled with the scent of beeswax candles arranged over a large secretaire in the corner and the small bowl of scented wood shavings on the nightstand beside the bed. Catherine brought her eyes back to Shannon, standing beside her, looking confused.

“I wanted to talk to you…about Elliot.” Shannon drew a breath before launching into speech, lacing her fingers nervously in front of her. “About my going Above with him last night.”

“He cares for you.” Catherine considered the other woman’s jerky movements for a moment, before drawing her to sit on the bed behind them.

“Yes…” Shannon agreed slowly, sitting heavily and reaching to play absently with the fringe of one of the pillows at the head of the bed. “He…is a good man, I believe.”

“Shannon, did something happen when you went out with him?” Catherine was perplexed by the other woman’s tone, that contrasted oddly with the dreamy quality of her expression.

A blush mounted into Shannon’s cheeks then, a whimsical smile curving her lips as she dropped her head to stare at her hands, the heavy fall of her hair obscuring her face. Vastly curious now, Catherine leaned forward to draw back the curtain of long hair.

“What happened last night?” She almost didn’t catch Shannon’s next words.

“I never thought I could fall in love…”

“Fall in love…with Elliot? But, that’s wonderful news.” Catherine caught her chin and brought Shannon’s eyes to hers. “You’ve had a great deal of tragedy in your life, you deserve to find happiness.”

“Sometimes I wonder if everything happened as I remember it. We had a lovely night at a Broadway musical, and then…back to his apartment.” Shannon’s blush deepened. “I…it’s been a long time. I mean, since I…my husband was the only man I have ever…” her words trailed off beneath the understanding look in Catherine’s eyes.

“Lord, I am making a mess of this, aren’t I?” Shannon laughed shakily. “But, being with Elliot…it all happened so naturally, as if it was always meant to be. We didn’t stop to think, or consider the consequences.”

“And that worries you.” Catherine struggled to understand her fears. “Elliot would never hurt you. He is a good and decent man.”

“No, I don’t believe he could ever hurt me.” Shannon took Catherine’s hand. “But, you know him and you must have realised he is a very complex man. He has the power to create great things, put a lasting mark on the city up there, and yet he wants more. He wants to be remembered for himself, and not just for his creations. But, I also know why he came here and the hopes he still has. Even when he was only Stosh, the dreams were truly vast…and I find that frightening. I don’t know if I could cope.”

She drew a long shuddering sigh. “Justin had such incredible dreams; they consumed him, day and night, to the exclusion of everything else. Even me, I was also just a means to an end. He was always making deals, hosting dinners and networking. And he wanted me at his side, always.”

“And, with Elliot, you don’t want to be left behind.” Catherine nodded in understanding. “If you cannot share those same dreams.”

“What is there for a man like Elliot, Below?” Shannon rose to pace the room. “I love him, but I would not chain him to a world where he could not function, simply because I would like him in my life. I know he would eventually suffocate down here. But, I cannot function anymore, in his world. I feel alien and alone up there. I just don’t know what I should be feeling now, how to be. I’m so confused.”

She turned and came back to the bed, to the warmth of Catherine’s sympathetic eyes. “I knew you, Catherine, of all people who have come Below, would understand.”

“But, you are never truly alone. My life with Vincent has not been easy,” Catherine acknowledged the truth of Shannon’s words. “It involved great sacrifice on both our parts to be together, to raise our children in an environment that is both nurturing and safe. Don’t think I haven’t had my doubts, because I have. But we both knew that Vincent could never live in my world, so I had to come and live in his. I had no choice.”

“Choices…” Shannon nodded slowly. “And yet you chose the hardest path of all.”

“Because I loved Vincent too much to let him go,” Catherine replied simply. “Even though he tried to release me from loving him several times. There is nothing I would not do for the sake of our love…nothing.”

“I understand that.” Shannon sank to her knees at Catherine’s side, laying her hands on her arm, plucking uncertainly at the cloth of Catherine’s sleeve. “To have a love as wonderful and complete as yours…” She shook her head as she looked around the chamber. “To have Elliot in my life, the choices are going to be as hard, and as painful.”

“If you love someone too much to live without them, then there can only be one choice.” Catherine looked down at the plaited ring of gold and touched it with a loving forefinger. “And, in the end, you will discover that it really wasn’t a choice after all. It was simply something you were always meant to do.”

“Do you really think so…?” Shannon whispered.

“Always and forever.” Catherine smiled warmly and nodded.

Two minds answered the sudden intentness of her thoughts. One young and jumbled with impressions and breathless excitement, the other, older and wiser, and filled with gentle understanding and a deep abiding love…

*******

“The press are going to have a field day with this one,” Greg muttered in disgust. “They’ve raked up everything from the past and they’re constantly harping on about our not getting any closer to this guy than we were ten years ago. It makes me sick. What do you wanna do?”

“Not much we can do about them.” Joe scanned the newspapers on his desk as he sat on the corner. “But, we’re going to get him this time. He’s playing with us and I’m not about to let him get away with it.”

They’re calling him the Happy Snapper Killer this time, for Pete’s sake!” Greg snorted in derision. “As if he needs any encouragement to go and do it again.”

“Then, we shall have to catch him before he does.” Diana looked up from studying the papers on the case Joe had given her. “He’s operating now in a confined area of the city, but his pattern is still constant. He kills on a two week cycle and it hasn’t varied since the last time he was active. And always on a Saturday night.”

“Sixty city blocks isn’t exactly confined.” Greg pushed his fingers through his hair. “I would say he has quite an area to rattle around in.”

“Those are the facts.” Diana slanted him an exasperated glance. “And we have another ten days before he strikes again. I, for one, am not prepared to sit around on my hands and do nothing. I’m going to nail his butt.”

“You say there’s a reason all the present murders have the park as their focus.” Joe looked from one to the other with ill-concealed impatience over their professional rivalry, as he tossed the newspapers aside with a grimace of disgust.

“The park is his focus, because he’s comfortable there.” Diana consulted the large folder she had open on Joe’s desk. “Jane Doe, his third victim was killed there four days ago, just like the others. Only the site varies. He has some sort of deep attachment to the place.”

“Lives near the park, works in the park?” Greg ticked off the options on his fingers. “Travels through to get to work. Jogs, walks his dog?”

“When you and Coltrain were on the case, the killer operated over a far wider area of the city.” Diana leafed through the papers on her knee. “Now, for his own reasons, he’s confined to a more local area and the park. I would say he lives near the park and works there too. He’s someone no one sees or is concerned enough about to report to the police. An anonymous face in the crowd. He’s there, but no one truly sees him.”

“You lose me when you get too mysterious.” Greg sat forward in his chair, his hands held out, palms upwards. “The guy is out there and he’s playing his own game that doesn’t have any rules apart from the ones in his own imagination. Now you’re telling me that he’s there, but no one sees him. The original invisible man.”

“No, I’m saying that he exists in the park, but we’re just not seeing him because he’s part of the landscape, part of everything you would expect to see there,” Diana reiterated patiently. “In that way he is invisible and he likes the cover it gives him. Though he appears to be confined to the park area, he seems to have greater freedom than before.”

Greg scratched the back of his head in frustration and cast a glance of appeal at Joe. “I just want to catch him, that’s all. Just by doing something as plain and simple as foot slogging police work.”

“Then he will kill again and again until you get the point he’s trying to make.” Diana gathered up her papers and thrust them into her bag.

“And what is that point, Bennett?”

“That you won’t catch him unless he wants to be caught. And that may be never. He’s enjoying himself too much to stop now. He has the media’s attention and he likes it. Why stop now?”

But, neither Joe nor Greg could see anything funny in the situation that had cost a friend his life. They both regarded Diana with a jaundiced eye and she shrugged at their collective inability to see her point.

*******

Mouse moved cautiously through the confines of the park. Moonlight washed the path he took with silver, gilding the drab concrete with something approaching beauty. But Mouse, stepping around the puddle of rainwater, only mumbled to himself about the brightness of a moon that showed more than it hid. To his mind the purpose of darkness was to conceal things.

“What did you say?” Jamie demanded tersely, labouring along at his side, encumbered with an ungainly package.

“Moonlight. Too bright.” Mouse tossed his shock of hair in disdain at the pool of sliver light at his feet.

“But, it’s beautiful.” Jamie looked up at the bright orb sailing high above, unhindered now by the passing rain clouds. “Surely you can see how wonderful it looks. Vincent said—”

“Too bright.” Mouse dealt with the subject summarily, clanking ominously, as he pushed at the odd assortment of metal objects he had concealed beneath his shirt and slung around his neck like some bizarre decoration. “No moon Below. Good thing.”

“And don’t you find that sad?” Jamie shook her head in frustration.

“Could build one,” Mouse offered by way of atonement, brightening, as they approached the drainage tunnel entrance. “Sun too, but have to make that hot.”

“Thanks, Mouse,” Jamie replied hastily, her mind well able to grasp the scope of such a project, if the boy decided to get started on it. “I think it’d be better and safer if we just came up to look at the moon when we feel like it.”

“Okay.” Mouse sighed gustily, his voice echoing in the tunnel confines. He was eternally unable to figure out the fickleness of the female mind. Did Jamie want a moon or didn’t she? “Lots of other things for Mouse to fix up.”

“Well, we’d better get this lot down to your chamber before someone comes nosing around to see what we’re doing at this time of night.”

For not the first time since she had gotten herself involved with Mouse’s latest project, Jamie slanted him a sideways look as the tinker operated the secret lever that rolled back the steel door behind the barred gate. “Are you really sure no one out there is going to miss all this stuff?”

“Been abandoned, you saw the sign.” Mouse clanked through the open portal, motioning his companion through with an impatient wave of his hand. “Besides, all my stuff now.”

“I know I shouldn’t have asked.” Jamie hauled her burden through into the tunnel beyond, uncaring of Mouse’s protest as the bulky wrapping snared momentarily on the doorsill.

“Hey, who dropped this here?” Jamie bent to collect a crumpled leather cap, trapped behind the gate. She held it out to show Mouse.

“Not mine, don’t know,” Mouse muttered crossly. “Come on, let’s go.”

“All right, all right…” Jamie tucked the cap into the pocket of her coat and returned to her task of hauling her burden inside the tunnel. The portal slid shut behind them as Jamie fell to arguing with Mouse about his attitude towards her ongoing assistance.

In the tunnel leading in from the park, a shadow flickered briefly over the mouth, highlighted by the brightness of the moon, as a man’s head craned to see into the junction. A lean, short body followed as he moved further in, cocking his head to listen to the muffled voices beyond the barred gate and closed metal door, the boy and the girl’s, arguing still as they retreated slowly into the distance. Pausing at the entrance, the man studied the door and its confines with careful, clinical eyes and nodded in satisfaction…

*******

“Father, I need to talk to you.” Mary stood in the entrance to his chamber, her brow creased in worried trepidation mixed with more than a little fear.

“What is it?” Father started out of his chair, casting aside his spectacles and the book he was reading, alarmed by Mary’s expression.

“I’m afraid it’s Sarah. She hasn’t been seen lately.” Mary descended the steps, smoothing her hands over her apron absently. “I know she’s almost seventeen now and she will be annoyed with me for mentioning it, I know I shouldn’t worry, but, we usually hear from her at least once a week, always on a Tuesday. Just a check in to let me know she’s all right. It’s now Thursday and I’ve heard nothing.” The words spilled out in a breathless torrent of concern. “I need someone to go and talk to Lady May. To make sure Sarah is all right.”

“Sarah chose to go Above, to find employment under Lady May’s care.” Father took her hand and pulled her down to sit in the chair beside him. “May told me a month ago Sarah was ready to move on. There could be a dozen different reasons why she has not been in touch. She is young and New York City can hold endless fascination for someone like her. To the point of perhaps making her forgetful.”

“I want to believe that, Jacob, I truly do.” Mary returned the pressure of his grasp. “I’m well aware of the wonders of the city. But, I have also seen the cold, dark heart of the life up there and I know the dangers that exist for a girl like Sarah. Besides, she would never worry me with her silence. She would get a message to me somehow.”

“If only the people Above cared for their children as you do for yours.” Father sat back to tap the cover of his book. “It’s only been two days. Do you really feel Sarah could be in some sort of danger?”

“She is young and pretty.” Mary pursed her lips. “And she is not as worldly wise as she would have me think. She always comes Below each week to tell me of her life and worries. She knew how much I cared for her and wished to see her happy.” She fetched a photograph from her apron pocket. “Sarah gave this to me the last time I saw her.” She held it out.

Father accepted it. “Very well. If you really think there is a need, I will alert the sentries, ask if anyone had heard from her recently. Pascal can send word Above to those of our helpers who may know of her recent movements and I’ll send Geoffrey to see May. I am sure we will find Sarah safe and well. If we still have no answers, I will ask Catherine for her advice on how to contact the authorities Above.”

“Thank you.” Mary nodded, getting to her feet. “They are all my children, Jacob, all of them, no matter how big they grow or how far they fly. I cannot help, but worry and care about what comes to them.”

“I’m sure we will see her soon. Demanding to know what all the fuss was about.”

“Good, then I won’t worry about her anymore, will I?” Mary smiled wisely as she left Father alone with his thoughts. He frowned at the photograph of a girl with long, blond hair flowing from beneath in a jauntily set leather cap, smiling as if she had not a care in the world.

“No, but you will continue to worry about all the rest,” he said, to Mary’s shadow, as it stretched back through the doorway, cast by the lights beyond. “You always do.”

*******

If there were no dreams

And there were no dreamers

Then how could I dream you up?

You’re still a mystery to me

The way that we love

The life that we’re leading

I don’t want to give you up

Whatever I have to do, I’ll do…

Neil Diamond

“Sometimes I think the city should pay us for all the work we’re forced to do, shoring up their mistakes.” Cullen reached for another slice of William’s apple cake, from the basket Catherine had set at his feet, his fingers hastily wiped of their clinging mud on the leather of his shirt.

“I doubt they could afford your rates,” Catherine returned lightly, folding the cover that William had placed over the food, watching with interest the other members of the work party.

The sight of her husband’s wild silk mane underscored her innate knowledge of his position, as Vincent worked the beaten metal patch Mouse had prepared, into position, ready to stem the flow of muddy water from the crack in the pipe. As a direct consequence of the back-breaking work involved in capping the leak, Vincent was liberally covered in the same yellow mud and sand as the rest of the crew. The clay texture streaked his face and clothing in bizarre patterns, clinging in wet clumps to his hands.

Catherine’s eyes fell to the pool of darkness beside the food basket; her husband’s discarded cloak. Bending to gather it up into her arms, she folded it neatly beside her against the tunnel wall.

She’d brought the food to the men at William’s request, but she didn’t need any encouragement to search out her husband when he was working close to the home tunnels. It was Vincent himself, despite his desire to have his wife close, who warned her against venturing out when he was working further from home, in the far more dangerous reaches of the tunnels both above and below the central living areas.

In time, Catherine knew she would come to know Vincent’s world as well as he did, roaming its endless passages and chambers with ease. But, for now, she joined her husband whenever she was able, leaving her son in Mary’s capable care, overseen by the ever present shadow of Samantha’s hovering figure.

At the moment, Catherine was standing to one side in the mouth of a lower tunnel that ended abruptly in a deep, sunken mess of yellow clay and debris. Rocks and broken stones surrounded a large water pipe thrusting its bulk above the bottom of the collapse. Once it had run unseen beneath the tunnel floor, but now the crack had opened, causing a leak that made the surrounding earth to subside, exposing the pipe’s smooth concrete sides. The tunnel dwellers were forced to dig to expose the leak and seal it with the metal patch and then some of Mouse’s magic sealing mix, before its seepage flooded the area.

Cullen had lamented long, in Catherine’s hearing, about the ineptitude of the topsiders to ever make anything that would last. Since he obviously didn’t include her in that anonymous group of people, and was at great pains to tell her so, she was in no way offended by his complaints. Vincent had looked on with wry humour in his eyes, but had refrained from commenting. He knew that his family and friends considered Catherine as definitely one of their own, despite her beginning in the upper world.

Cullen leaned wearily against the tunnel wall beside Catherine now, savouring the food as well as the respite. He nodded his thanks, drinking deeply from the cup of water Catherine filled for him. Soon another of the workers would take his place, eating in shifts, while the work went doggedly ahead.

For Catherine it still seemed surreal, even after living Below for some time now, to be bringing a noonday meal to the work crew through the night shrouded tunnels. Slowly she was gaining a sense of night and day, here in this place deep beneath the earth, but she still had a long way to go to be as accurate as even the smallest child among the tunnel dwellers.

Vincent had an uncanny ability to tell her what the time was, despite having lived his life below the city. Although time down here stretched and broadened into a slow moving river, it did not have the same impetus as her old world. It didn’t carry the same importance or need to be so bound to the clock.

Catherine was shaking her head in wonder over this when she heard the unexpected sound of a watery explosion, and the sudden yells of the men below, which brought Cullen abruptly to his feet.

“Damn! I was afraid of that!” He thrust the remains of his meal into Catherine’s startled hands, before running to leap into the pit, wading through the sticky morass of stones and mud to Vincent’s side.

The muddy flow of water had widened the crack, and it swelled to a torrent, escaping into the confines of the pit with vindictive force. Vincent threw his weight against the hastily installed repair, attempting to stem the flow of water before it became unmanageable, while the other men fought to seal it. Catherine could feel the surge of power that went through him then, touching against the edges of her conscious mind, allowing her a brief glimpse of the raw darkness that balanced Vincent’s soul.

The remains of Cullen’s hastily abandoned meal slipped from her fingers as the weight of sheer energy pushed her back against the tunnel wall, the rough stones bruising her palms as the water’s defiant roar of assault, and Vincent’s instinctive answer to the water’s raw power, echoed through her into the confines of the tunnel beyond.

The link that connected her to her husband had never before vibrated with so much fire and brute force, even balanced as it was with his conscious thoughts. He was using the darkness of the power within him, harnessing it to his will, tapping the deep pool of explosive energy. But the effects were just as far reaching, as when he’d been forced to attack to defend Catherine and their world from harm.

Catherine pressed a hand to her chest. She knew the development of the bond had been a gradual thing of time and distance, sensual pleasures that drowned all reality, tying them together on so many levels. Jacob hovered there; his young world bounded more by sensation and colours, unaware yet of the depth of knowledge to come, unhindered by the depth of connection his parents shared now.

Icy cold water cascaded over Vincent’s head and shoulders as he fought against the escaping current, the muslin of his shirt washed free of the clinging mud only to be plastered against the great straining muscles of his powerful frame. Cullen and the others worked desperately to clear the clog of stones and mud that hampered Vincent’s effort to close the gap between pipe and the metal patch in his hands.

Catherine leaned down to gather the folds of her husband’s cloak, letting its elusive scents of smoke and leather enfold her, the tiny flicker of movement within her womb a reminder she was not alone. The links that had been forged between them were strengthening, almost imperceptibly, she realised until this moment.

Before, when Vincent had fought an unwelcome foe, the effect on Catherine had been minimal. She did not share with him this new depth of connection, this linking of the spirit that their new life together and the arrival of their son had brought into being.

Sensing a need within him, she strained outwards with her mind, with all her love and strength, forging yet another link in her connection with her husband, giving back to him anew, all the strength and support he’d always given her, adding her own will to his.

Vincent surged against the water’s flow; another growl of determination rising to a full-throated roar at the metal in his hands gave a little more, grudgingly. Cullen’s face was riven with strain as he toiled at Vincent’s side unmindful if the storm raging in his ears and senses. Above the water’s voice, he could hear the crack of mighty sinews as Vincent redoubled his efforts. Bracing his feet in the slippery mud, Cullen threw his weight bodily against the stubborn panel that had once been the bonnet of an abandoned car.

“You can do it, Vincent…” Catherine’s gaze remained intent on the Vincent’s position. Pushing outwards along the flow of thought and emotion more vivid in his consciousness than her own, Catherine attempted to reverse the flow, adding her own awareness to the swirling current that linked them.

Leaning down, his head falling between his upraised arms, Vincent felt a sudden warmth, an awareness that coiled through the reaches of his mind and heart. It was a bright light, a pure warmth that shone into all the dark places of his soul and banished them from thought. Rising from within him, the heat curled up, touching against the searing strain in his shoulders, easing the pain of muscles stretched to their limits, soothing the rawness of abraded palms with an angel’s satin kiss.

Confused, Vincent shook his great head on a half suppressed growl of bewilderment, distracted from his purpose by the unusual invasion of his senses. Then, startled beyond puzzlement, he simply went away…

*******

The beautiful reaches of Central Park lay open for all to see, fresh and warm in the light summer air. The sun, hot and bright, so unlike the cool of the moonlight, warmed each leaf, each casual display of nature’s artistry, with brilliant colour and warmth, brighter and more vivid than anything experienced before, even in the depths of dreams.

It all appeared so much more alive, as nothing in the darkness of night ever could. Warmth seeped into every muscle and tired sinew.

Lightly, drifting on the warm, fragrant air, kissing against the senses to stir puzzled thought, children’s laughter sounded in the distance, out among the trees, lost from sight to eyes not used to the brightness of the sun’s caress. Fluctuating and dying away is if it never had been, the sound pulled inexplicably at the heart, promising a life filled with careless and untrammelled joy.

Beyond the park’s limits, city buildings hovered above the earth, divorced from all involvement in this place, floating adrift on all ties. Sunshine reflected back from a million blank windows, concealing all they contained. But no sounds issued from beyond the limits of this place, no traffic noise, no voices apart from those of the unseen children. All else hung with the stillness of imminent death…

A shake of the head and attempted dismissal of such unwelcome and intrusive thoughts. Scents, a myriad of odours and hidden knowledge, in every breath of the summer breeze. Fresh grass, green and vibrant with unknown life, dipped and flowed like a vast uncharted sea. Summer blossoms, and the drone of a bee enveloped every thought, every sense of what was real and what could not possibly be.

The rasp of booted feet on the hardness of the concrete apron underfoot merely accentuated the feeling of utter unreality. A bird dipped past, bright and sleek as it chased the desperate flight of an escaping insect that fluttered wings of impossible colour and texture.

“Where am I?” Vincent drew back into the sheltering arms of the drainage tunnel entrance to his world, slipping beneath the scant shelter of the overhanging foliage, as he searched desperately through his mind for his bearings, trying to make sense of what could not be.

The tunnel, the pipe, Cullen and the others, his Catherine, watching and helping him with her love and strength, where have they all gone?  He reached up to grasp a branch beside his head, crushing the leaves against his palm, feeling the prick of twigs digging into the tender flesh so recently scourged by rough metal. So, a reality of sorts, he released the branch and watched it spring back above his head.

Escape was behind him, blessed darkness that led towards home. But the feelings that had assailed him the last time he’d found himself unaccountably alone and exposed in the park, were absent. There was no sense of urgency, no blind panic over his own actions now, as when he’d awakened to the strangeness of a spring morning sprawled on the grass without even the scant concealment of his hood.

Reaching behind his head now, Vincent was startled to find only the absence of the leather bound wool. Looking down he found he was dressed in no more than the thin muslin shirt and his usual well-worn cords above the fur topped length of his leather boots. He was no longer covered in mud. Puzzlement creased his brow, as he contemplated the inexplicable loss of his cloak. He would certainly not venture Above without its concealing folds and hood.

The soft leather bag containing his rose flew out in startled flight as Vincent whirled to the renewed sound of a child’s voice crying out in sudden fear, reaching out from behind him. But no one stood in the confines of the tunnel mouth that beckoned him with its sheltering appeal, no sign of a single person anywhere, despite the heat of the afternoon that would usually entice a host of weary city dwellers into the relative cool of the park and its trees.

Hovering uncertainly, caught between the hopeful certainty of his world beyond the end of the tunnel and the inexplicable yearning to push outwards into the unknown dangers of the park, Vincent curved his nails into the hardness of his abused palms, hoping against hope the sudden flash of pain stabbing through his senses would restore his world to rights…

“Vincent…”

A voice, echoing more in his soul than his ears, snapped his head up, the fall of tawny hair skimming the sun dappled leaves of the drooping foliage as he tried to determine the direction of the voice.

“Vincent…?”

There! His gazed fixed on a distant movement, held against the darkness of a stand of nearby trees, a flash of bright colour, someone walking an uncertain path between the solid trunks. Held like a moth entranced by a flame, Vincent found he could neither retreat or go forward, as the sound of children playing came again, more distant now, to finally die away with the sigh of the passing breeze.

A young girl’s voice floated on that breeze, one Vincent felt he should know, half tearful, but still filled with a sense of laughter, as if unsure of where she was and how she got there. Confused by the absence of anyone to go with the sounds, Vincent fought down the sense of unreality, as he watched the figure among the trees, the bright splash of a summer dress that moved as if searching for something…someone…

“Vincent, where are you…?”

“I am here.”

Pulled forward from his hiding place, propelled by something other than his own conscious will, ducking beneath the reaching branches that would snare him in place, Vincent took his first steps forward, moving out onto the concrete apron that fanned out before the entrance. Left behind were the thoughts of escape, concealment, left behind were the many well founded inhibitions about daylight and the hostile gazes of the city strollers in the park. Drawn forward, he had no will but to obey the impulse to go forward and protect those he loved. From what…his puzzlement increased along with a new found, healthy sense of trepidation.

“Vincent…” the slight figure of a woman seemed to dance in the summer haze.

Unused as he was to the brightness of the sun’s light, Vincent dipped his head to peer forward through the welcoming concealment of his bangs, shielding his eyes from the immediacy of the sunshine.

“Catherine…” he breathed in wonder then, as the reality of the woman’s identity became clear through the diffused concealment of his hair.

“Where are we?” Catherine walked, unhesitating, through the waves of summer grass to finally halt only inches from her husband’s bulk, gazing around in puzzled wonder, seemingly totally oblivious to the fact they both stood in the revealing light of the sunlight.

“The park, I think, I have no idea…” Vincent felt keenly the loss of a viable explanation, as he noted the dreamy look in his wife’s eyes, the quality of unreality crystallising deep in his soul.

Never before had she shown such complete unconcern for the exposed nature of their position, she seemed to be adrift in another place and time.

She smiled, gazing around her.

“The park…yes, I remember.” Her clear, green eyes came back to his face. “The children… I was with the children.”

“Children…?” Vincent felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand with the thrill of an icy touch. “”Whose children?” The sound of soft laughter echoed again, far removed and fading into the sun rimmed distance, falling into a long, deepening silence that threatened inexplicably.

“I don’t know…” Catherine drew closer, resting the slim length of her body against Vincent’s in an achingly familiar pose, gazing up into his perplexed face with a smile that simply took the breath from his throat, at once bemused and entirely sensual. “They came to play in the park, and they stayed.”

From unconscious habit Vincent’s arms enfolded her, cradling the curve of her waist between his powerful hands, senses stirring anew beneath the unashamedly sensual nature of her gaze, as she reached to encompass the warmth of his nape, sliding her fingers up through his hair.

“Through everything we are together, I have always dreamed of showing you the beauties of the park on a summer’s day,” she mused slowly, curving her body into his, the leather bag containing her gift of love coming to rest in the shadowed valley between her breasts. “And now, somehow, it has come true.”

“Catherine.” Vincent shook her in his arms. “This cannot be real. There is danger here.”

Vincent pulled his gaze away from the entrancing invitation in her eyes, to study every facet of the surrounding landscape, needing to know the secrets of this place out of time. The sense that everything was all right, and all so very wrong at the same time, unbalanced his ability to search out the correct answers.

“But, it’s as real as you and I…” Catherine drew his head down to hers, brushing the softness of her lips across the warm curve of his mouth. “It’s as real as your touch…” she whispered, with aching entreaty. “Love me…”

“This is a place of dreams, of wishing for those things that can never be,” Vincent whispered into her breath, allowing the momentary assault on his senses of her tongue invading his mouth. “We do not belong here…”

“But…the children are here…” Catherine drew back to frown, obviously not understanding why he was questioning that which simply was, without the need for explanation. She shook her head. “No, you must be wrong, Vincent. This is…this is, like paradise…”

Vincent sighed. “I do not pretend to begin to understand it, but I think we have somehow slipped into another place…another time.”

“But, then why are the children here? They are all alone and afraid.” Catherine’s gaze wandered away from him to look back over her shoulder at the hushed beauty of the park.

She shook her head again, seeming perplexed by her lack of understanding. “I felt them, I knew they were here. We played in the trees, but I never quite saw them. They were always ahead, always out of reach…”

“As all things we are not ready to know are just out of reach.” Vincent nodded in understanding, remembering his own bemused thoughts at the sound of the children’s laughter that drew him inexplicably. “Catherine, do you remember the tunnel, the water pipe? We were fixing the pipe, remember?”

“They are gone, children are all gone…” Catherine rested wearily against him then, letting her whole body slip into his secure hold. “Perhaps, they were never here at all…”

Vincent bowed his head over her bright hair. The memory of voice of the tearful young girl troubled him, he felt he should know who she was, but the knowledge hovered just out of his reach. “We must go back, we cannot stay here. I do not know this place, but I suspect its nature is not what it appears to be.”

Against his chest, Catherine nodded slowly, her body almost limp in his hold, alarming in its very slackness. Vincent gathered her into him then, supporting her slight weight with deceptive ease.

“Catherine…?” He felt the first flaring of real alarm feathering through his senses, as even their bond drifted into oblivion. “Catherine! No! Not now…”

*******

The golden gate of sleep unbar

When Strength and Beauty, met together,

Kindle their image, like a star

In a sea of glassy weather

May the purple mist of love

Round them rise, and with them move

Nourishing each tender gem

Which, like flowers, will burst from them,

As the fruit is to the tree

May their children ever be…

Percy Bysshe Shelley

“Vincent, what’s the matter? Vincent!” Cullen’s voice was harsh with fear as he shook his friend’s suddenly slack shoulder. “Hey, what gives here, buddy?”

Vincent felt himself snap back to reality with brutal force, the breath momentarily beaten from his starving lungs. He found he was still standing in the same position, arms upraised above his head, hands supporting his weight against the metal sheet, chin pressed to his chest with the strain of the past few minutes. But the vital, healing warmth that had feathered through his soul was gone, its departure leaving an aching void of helplessness.

“Hey, I thought we had lost you then, for sure.” Cullen’s voice vibrated with relief when he saw Vincent’s head rise slowly off his chest. “I was wondering how the hell I was going to explain your sudden demise to Father. You can let it go now, Vincent, we’ve got it licked.”

“Good.” Vincent nodded, easing slowly into a standing position, thoroughly chilled and uncomfortable, in sodden clothes and boots that squelched with every movement.

Every muscle protested the movement as he stepped back to lean heavily against the side of the pit. The metal patch, he could now see, was firmly attached to the pipe and the runoff around his feet was slowly seeping into the surrounding bedrock.

“Mouse will be pleased to know his repair worked. He’s always so sure that what he makes works without question.” Cullen grinned. “We can get this sorted now, Vincent. I’ve got the sealing mix all stirred up. We should have it good as new in no time.”

He swept wet hair from his eyes. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay, Vincent?”

“Battered, but in one piece,” Vincent managed to reply through lips stiff with cold, swaying with reaction as he pushed himself away from the wall at his back, stepping over the stones and rocks littering the bottom of the pit.

He wanted to reach Catherine, memories crowding in on his tired consciousness, needing to know she was safe. His mind was only half on what Cullen was trying to tell him.

“Whoa, that fight with the pipe must have taken more out of you than you realised.” Cullen grabbed his arm, supporting Vincent, as they climbed out of the pit.

“Catherine…?” Vincent questioned the knot of workers clustered at the tunnel mouth, a few standing, others kneeling around a huddled figure against the wall.

“Think she’s fainted, Vincent.” Phillip, one of the work crew was on his knees supporting Catherine’s head in his lap. “Sean has gone for Father. I didn’t want to move her, just in case.”

A cold chill of premonition took the rest of the warmth from Vincent’s chilled body as he took Phillip’s place, gathering his wife’s limp body into his arms, attempting to impart some of his own will into her still body. Someone draped his cloak around them both. Vincent gathered its folds, tucking them securely around Catherine as he quickly checked her vital signs. He took painful note that her palms were bruised and cut, obviously from contact with the rough tunnel wall.

But, to his heartfelt relief, Catherine’s chest rose evenly, steadily, the flutter of breath easing the jam of despair in his own throat. Cullen and the others hovered worriedly, not sure what to do next.

“My wife used to faint all the time when she was having our third,” Phillip offered by way of rough comfort as he stood awkwardly behind Vincent, questioning the others for support with his eyes.

Catherine stirred briefly, her eyes opening and a collective sigh of relief ran through the rest of the gathering. She looked at Vincent for a long moment and then she smiled wistfully, almost sadly. “It was beautiful…” she whispered. “So beautiful…”

In the far distance came the sound of running feet and the unmistakable tapping of an agitated cane. Father hurried along in the wake of Sean’s more athletic frame, his face creased into a hundred new lines of worry, his bag clutched firmly in his free hand.

“I know.” Vincent bent forward to hear Catherine’s words, stroking her hair with a tender touch. “Wishing for such an elusive dream can sometimes make it a reality, but that reality comes with its own inherent dangers.”

Catherine nodded slowly, understanding Vincent’s warning well enough, but she still sighed, low and softly. “I felt you, deep inside me, I tried to help, to give you some of my own strength…you were so cold.”

“And I felt you touch me, a soft, pure light that flickered so brightly.” Vincent shook his head. “But you must save your strength now, the work is finished.”

“The children…what happened to the children?” Catherine frowned suddenly, ignoring his words, as she forced her clouded mind to concentrate on the remaining scrapes of memory. Soft summer afternoons and the warm distant laughter vied with an unwelcome sense of disquiet. Desperately, she clung to the good memories, dismissing the others.

“I do not know where the children are,” Vincent answered soberly, aware of the trend of his wife’s thoughts and knowing full well, all the dangers of abandoning the shell of life to follow another’s soul into such a place as they briefly visited today.

But he knew, for Catherine and his son, he would always be prepared to do just that. He would follow them to the very gates of heaven and beyond, if it were the only way to spare them one moment of pain or grief.

Suddenly Father was going down on one knee beside them, Cullen holding open the medical bag for him. Catherine’s eyes travelled from Vincent’s to Father’s worried eyes and back again. “But, it was beautiful…”

“Yes, Catherine,” Vincent agreed softly, as Father began his examination. “It was beautiful…”

“A summer’s day to share…” Satisfied that they had shared the fleeting memory of beauty on a summer’s afternoon in the park, Catherine closed her eyes on a sigh with a wistful smile.

*******

Vincent lay full length on the bed in his chamber, resting back against the pillow at one end. Dressed in fresh, dry clothing, his hair still hung damply around his shoulders, taking a slight curl from the warmth of the bracketed fire in the corner of the room. In his cot, Jacob slumbered quietly, his dreams things of many colours and images of his perception of his world. His small heartbeat thudded above Vincent’s own.

Curled into his side, Catherine sighed in her sleep. Vincent dropped his head to watch her as she burrowed deeper against him, one hand resting confidently within his grasp. Catherine trusted him to keep her safe. Father had cleaned and bandaged her hands. Vincent fingered the neat folds of white cloth with concern, his thoughts and troubled, far from the confines of the chamber. His own body ached from the abuse of the pipe work, but he ignored the nagging pain.

He smoothed a hand over Catherine’s hair. Her dreams were of green meadows and warm sunlight, of children playing in a place and time all their own. Utterly worn out by the trauma of the event, Catherine was already asleep before Vincent had finally carried her into their chamber and laid her on the bed. Mary and Samantha had hovered nearby to help put her to bed while Vincent went to change out of his wet clothes. Taking only the briefest of showers to remove the mud and grime from his body, he was back in the chamber, even before Father had finished with Catherine’s bandages.

“Well, there appears to be no need for alarm, Vincent.” Father stood at the table repacking his bag. “Pregnant women, I’m afraid, often faint for no apparent reason. I think, with a few days rest, all will be well again. I will send a message to Peter for a complete examination as soon as he can get away. In the meantime, Vincent, you must not allow Catherine to do too much.”

He raised one hand when Vincent shook his head. “I know, a tall order at best. I am aware that will be no easy task. But the early stages of pregnancy are the most crucial. She was a very lucky woman last time.”

Vincent had not told him of their shared experience in the park. He was not sure he fully understood it himself. He had watched the older man leave, unsure if his father would ever understand the depth of a connection that encompassed all that he and Catherine were to each other. He didn’t begin to understand it all himself.

Beyond the chamber their world slumbered on, the quiet tappings of the pipes the only sound in the hushed silence. Vincent rested his cheek against Catherine’s head, following the silent trend of her thoughts, but his eyes remained watchful, reflecting the glow of the fire, as he tried to gain an understanding of their perplexing journey into an unknown realm. But, even into the early hours of the morning, as sleep finally claimed him, the chill sense of foreboding would not leave his mind…

*******

“Mr. Maxwell, any comments of the latest murder?”

The collection of microphones suddenly shoved into Joe’s face, as he pushed through the swing doors of courtroom, irritated him almost beyond enduring.

Monday morning and the ravening pack was already on his trail.

“Do you have a line on the killer yet?”

That one earned the reporter asking it, a straight Maxwell stare of considerable contempt and disgust, but the ice in Joe’s glance simply slid off the man’s hard shell.

“Is the Happy Snapper’s fourth victim young and pretty like all the rest and how did this one die?”

Joe wanted to take the man’s tape recorder and do things with it that had never been dreamed of in any service manual. So, he could wish, couldn’t he? Instead he bared his teeth in a gritty smile, halting in the middle of the wide corridor leading to the courtroom elevators. He turned at bay to the clamourous pack clustered behind him and gave them his best line.

“No comment.” He turned his back to them, balling his fists.

“The word is you’ve got that private investigator, Diana Bennett on the case. We hear she’s good.” That one nearly took Joe’s head off with the speed of delivery, as the mike barely missed his ear from behind. “She was the one who exposed John Moreno and his drug connections, wasn’t she? When’s she gonna front up and give us an interview? How does the D.A.’s office react to her involvement in this case?”

The mention of John Moreno and the on-going investigation into his alleged connections with the drug world hit Joe on a raw nerve. He was stung into a retort before he could think to keep his big mouth shut.

“I guess you’re writing the book on John Moreno, with or without the truth, right?” he shot back, fixing one eye on the red haired woman quietly skirting the crowd undetected, while Joe struggled through the press of expectant and eager faces and their collection of appendages that could trip up the unwary.

How he wished he could throw Bennett to the horde, but he forced down the wayward temptation, knowing her anonymity was in the best interests of the police…and his own, if he was completely honest with himself.

“Only print the facts, Mr. Maxwell, only the facts,” the reporter in Joe’s face replied to his acid remark, with a causal shrug. “How about parting with some for us? What do you have to say to our readers?”

“What I would like to say, you wouldn’t want to print.” Joe stepped back between the opening doors of the elevator, uncaring if he walked over unwary toes to get there.

As a mob, the reporters tried to go with him, but got hung up in the rapidly closing doors as Joe thumbed the button for the descent with a deep sense of grim satisfaction.

“Do you always give the press such a hard time?” Diana was leaning back against the rear wall of the elevator, looking cool and unruffled as the doors slid shut on the clamour beyond.

“You took your time in showing up. I noticed you were a big help out there.” Joe ran a tired hand up and around the back of his neck. He straightened his clothing, shrugging himself back into his jacket and tugged the knot of his tie straight.

“Oh, I thought you were doing very well.” Diana shook her head. “Though I doubt that reporter would have appreciated the trend of your thoughts.”

“That obvious, eh?” Joe sighed, as he set his briefcase on the floor. “I don’t have time for their questions when I still have a dozen fires to put out and not enough hands to do it. How I wish I still had Cathy back in the office. I sure could use her help right now.”

All he got for his words of despair was a speculative look and a shrug. “Face it, Joe, you’re public property, whether you like it or not.”

“Only in office hours, Bennett, only in office hours.” Joe studied the falling numbers above the door. “Share a cab with me, then you can tell me what you’ve got for me, and it’d better be good.”

Diana fell into step with him as the doors opened on the ground floor level. They hailed a cab and Joe flung himself after her into the smoky interior and closed his eyes as the car rocketed away from the curb and into the flow of traffic. He reached to close the driver’s slide, giving them some privacy.

“Right, what do you have this time?”

“Same two week cycle,” Diana said quietly. “But this time she wasn’t a homeless runaway. Now, why did he break the pattern for this one?”

She pulled a file from her bag and opened it. “Man walking his dog found her in the park yesterday morning. Trudy Klein, 15 years old and missing from her home since Saturday night. Mother works, she had a sitter in for the evening. The woman went out for a cigarette and the girl was gone from her bed when she returned. No sign of forced entry on the windows or doors. Sitter swears she saw and knows nothing.”

“I hate this!” Joe dragged his mouth down at the corners. “Photo?”

“Yes, a shot of Trudy on one of the white horses at the park’s carousel. Taken around noon, judging by the shadows, very crisp and clear, professional job. No fear, no distrust on her face, nothing, but happiness.”

“Which tells us that she knows her killer enough to let him get close to her?”

“Perhaps. “Diana shrugged. “Or he’s someone who seems so normal and natural in her life, she doesn’t think twice about letting him take her picture. But I get the feeling he’s never seen at all. I think he’s using some expensive camera equipment and a really sophisticated, long lenses. It makes sense then, why no one has reported seeing him. I’m canvassing all the stores to see who sold what and when.”

“So, no one sees any of the pictures being taken. Find out who took her to the carousel and when.” Joe tapped the driver’s window. “Drop me here.”

He looked back at Diana as the cab slowed and came to a halt. “We need witnesses, Bennett, and we need them fast. I want a full report on my desk by the end of the day.”

“I know the feeling, Joe.” Diana held the door open after he got out. “The mother said her daughter was in the park on a school outing three days ago. Thirty kids and two teachers, no one had time to see anything that day.”

“Find him, that’s all I ask.” Joe closed the door.

The park, it always comes back to the park, why? Joe pondered the question to which he had no answer. He thought of Catherine and her close ties to the carousel and the park. He was sorely tempted to make his way Below and lay all the problems revolving around in his overworked brain before her and see if she could make any sense of it all. But the impulse was short lived.

Catherine had another life now, far away from the grind and her, often times painful, duty to the D.A. of Manhattan. But the thought just wouldn’t go away, even after he pushed it firmly down into the depths of his consciousness where the rest of the unpleasant tasks of his job lurked out of sight.

He could still wish, couldn’t he?

*******

“It was all so strange, real and yet…so unreal.” Catherine struggled for the words to explain the complexity of her thoughts.

Curled on the bed, she watched Vincent guide his son’s efforts with a crayon on a sheet of discarded building paper. Jacob drew off the edge of the sheet and back again, leaving a line of bright orange colour across the table’s polished surface.

Vincent raised his eyes from his son’s work to study his wife with compassion. The need to understand, to analyse what had happened, was strong in her, her lawyer’s mind chewing at the problem while her instincts struggled to simply come to grips with something that was far beyond her experience.

“The empathic bond we share has powers we can only begin to guess at,” Vincent began slowly, selecting his words with care. “You pushed all your strength and courage outwards, away from yourself and into me, leaving yourself open to other forces, other levels of consciousness.”

“A dream?” Catherine’s fingers worked the leather stitching of a pillow, her eyes intent on Vincent’s. “But you were there, we share the memory of it.”

“Part of it was a dream.” Vincent helped Jacob select another crayon and streaks of green were added to the orange circles in the paper. “Your wish of, one day, showing me the beauty of the park in the sunlight, created the setting…the rest, I am not sure. But there was something ominous hovering just beyond our reach.” His brows drew together in concentration.

“It was chilling.” Catherine slid off the bed to pad across the floor, encircling Vincent’s neck with her arms, resting her cheek against his hair. “I needed to find you, I was desperate for some sort of contact with you. The children were always just out of sight, but I didn’t know what to do, how to reach you. I could only call your name in the hope you would hear me.”

“I have lived with such dreams all my life.” Vincent took one of her hands in his and carried it to his lips. “They are reflections of feelings, visions of the future, some even had a sense of hope.”

He turned his head to look up at her. “The night before I found you, Catherine, I had a dream that something, someone was coming into my life and I would be changed…forever. That I would no longer be alone. All I could do was accept it and know that I could not change what was to be. But, I never dreamed how far that vision would take us.”

He ruffled his son’s shock of blond curls. “Now I know and understand all that the dream was trying to tell me. It was a gift from the future.”

“But my wish, to show you the park in daylight, can only remain that…simply a wish.” Catherine moved around to kneel beside his chair. “It was a thought and a wish too deep to be even a memory.”

“We all desire to bring happiness to those we love,” Vincent told her gently. “Your wish was an unselfish dream born of a belief in the future. It cannot be dismissed because of circumstance. It is part of who you are now.”

“And the rest? The children, the fear you felt for us both?”

“The pull of your love was so strong, so real, it pulled us into another dimension of our bond, another place. Who else exists there is still a mystery. One of the children’s voices I thought I knew, but it was a fleeting impressions. I could not grasp the connection. But I was so sure…”

“Yes…” Catherine nodded slowly, smoothing the blond length of her son’s hair and receiving a toothy grin in return. “I had the same feeling, I am sure I know her voice.”

“I wish I too could remember…” Vincent stared at his son’s drawing in perplexity. “But the knowledge hovers, just beyond my grasp.”

*******

Diana stood in the park, the bushes that had concealed Trudy Klein’s body immediately in front of her. The long shadows of the afternoon reached across the ground, slowly filling in all the gaps occupied by the bright sunlight. A sharp wind picked at her coat, but she ignored the bite of the cool air. A small group of men were working in the area, taking pictures and sifting through the debris of the crime scene. The yellow strips of plastic tape denoting the police cordon decorated the trunks of several of the surrounding trees, marking off the area of the crime.

Head bowed, hands as usual, pushed deeply into the pockets of her coat, Diana stood still, her eyes absorbing the scene in measured increments, noting all the details that had been in the report John Russell had thrust into her hand half an hour ago. The detective’s attitude had been smirking and superior when Diana had encountered him beside his car, parked on the carriageway above the roped off area.

“Hey, Bennett, you haven’t caught up with him yet, then?” he’d remarked.

“Maybe he’s too clever, even for you.”

“Your perverse pleasure in the fact, does you credit, John.” Diana took the report without touching him. “I notice you don’t have the cuffs on him, either.”

“Whoa, do I detect a note of sarcasm, Bennett. Are we getting a little testy over this one?” Russell drew deeply on his cigarette, with a hard smile of satisfaction. “Maybe you’ve finally met your match. You can’t just shoot this guy and get a medal for it. I suppose it’s now up to the rest of us hard working stiffs to catch him for you. I’m still way ahead of you.”

“I have never been one to believe in miracles, John.” Diana turned away from his sneer. “Nor do I believe the rumour about you actually being a prince in disguise.”

Diana sank to her haunches now, her eyes measuring the distances from where the body was found to various points in the park. The nagging feeling that she was missing an obvious clue would not be banished. She could hear Russell talking to one of the uniformed officers guarding the scene and the sound of crude male laughter ruffled the edges of her calm.

Turning her head, she continued to work the scene, pushing the sounds of the voices away from her until they were lost on the general noise of the city. Russell was right on one count, this case did needle her more than usual, but she wasn’t about to let him know it.

“I wonder…” A drainage tunnel in the distance caught her attention.

Foliage covered much of the entrance, drooping down over the concrete sides, providing perfect cover for anyone who wished to remain undetected. Diana had put the unwelcome sensation of being watched by unseen eyes down to Russell’s careless observation of her movements, but now she was not so sure…

Perpetrators of such crimes often liked to observe the police at work. Dropping her eyes, she studied every aspect of the ground between her position and the tunnel entrance. There was nothing out of place, only a few pieces of litter that would find in any public park. In the distance the carousel music began, accompanied by the sound of children’s voices lifted in expectant laughter.

“Am I becoming paranoid…?” Diana remembered the night she had followed Joe to his secret meeting with Catherine Chandler. That particular mystery was still unexplained.

The feeling that it all somehow fitted together would not go away. Diana knew she was missing something very obvious here and the thought needled her more than John Russell’s smirking certainty. She thought of Joe, waiting impatiently for her to deliver her report and, for one sweet moment, she toyed with the idea of sending Russell to be eviscerated in her stead over the lack of progress in the case. The thought gave her a moment of hard won satisfaction.

The litter of discarded rubbish beyond the scene blew up suddenly in the wind, teased by a small wind gust that danced briefly and was as quickly spent, dropping to the ground again, almost in time with the distant carousel music. Park maintenance had not been allowed to clear the area. One of the park staff, a small, stocky man of short temper, had been arguing for some time with Russell about schedules when Diana had arrived, but he’d been summarily dismissed in favour of John’s favourite game of scoring points off his favourite target.

“Come on, Bennett, think!” Diana eased back into a standing position, watching keenly, as the drift of litter settled again, whispering slightly in the chill wind. “He’s not going to beat you this time.”

In her mind’s eye she pictured the park attendant again, his words and his attitude to the disruption of his schedule, John Russell’s barely concealed intolerance at the intrusion of another fool getting in the way. They had both been of the same height and build and neither had been prepared to give ground until Russell flashed his badge and threatened to take the other man in for questioning.

But where was he now? Diana looked back at the small cluster of police officers patiently sifting through the scene.

The man had drifted away, unnoticed by anyone on the team, once Diana had arrived. Russell would walk barefoot over broken glass for the chance to needle her. Diana turned her eyes back to the drainage tunnel and studied it with a thoughtful gaze, the sensation of being watched still tugging at her senses…

*******

Elliot watched Shannon push the food around her plate with a growing sense of disquiet. She looked so pensive and unhappy. And he knew what he had just imparted to her was the cause. But she had to know the truth some time.

They were alone in a private room of one of New York’s most exclusive restaurants. They had been seeing each other for several weeks now, but Shannon was still very reticent about being seen in public. Given the choice, she always preferred to dine in his apartment and spend the night with him, holding him close, whispering all the things she was afraid to say in the daylight.

She spoke of her confusion about their relationship, and her concerns that their being together was simply an impossible dream that could not last forever. He’d tried to argue, make her see they were meant to be together, but she still denied there could be a future for them. She said they came from such different worlds…

He realised she was fast becoming very necessary in his life. His need to see her, to be with her, a beguiling addiction. He could only pray, given time, Shannon would come to understand she could feel the same about him. Without limits or reservations.

She looked so sad now, his heart contracted with fear. He would never try to make her stay with him, against her better judgment, against everything she wanted for herself. He was nothing like Justin Cole….but if she left him now…

He knew he wanted to take her out, show her off, but he also knew she was not ready to face the world again so soon. He could be patient. Finally, he had decided to tell her about her late husband’s estate, and his own handling of the complicated situation.

Shannon looked up. “Thank you, Elliot, for making it all so easy for me, for taking care of things.”  She shook her head. “I know I couldn’t have coped with all that without you. I owe you so much, I can never repay you.”

“You owe me nothing. It will take months and the estate is still in a chaotic mess. It’s better if my lawyers continue to deal with it.” Elliot sighed. “But at least, at the end of it all, you will be extremely wealthy. You can plan what you want to do with the rest of your life.”

“You must face your fears, not let them make you afraid to live.” He took her hand, where it lay beside her plate. It felt small and cool within his. “You cannot remain a recluse forever. The whole world is yours to explore. You have the means to return to singing, if that is what you want.”

“I’m sorry, Elliot, but I want no part of my husband’s estate.” Shannon frowned, aware of the deepening concern in his intent gaze. “I will keep only what was mine and you may dispose of the rest as you see fit. It wasn’t my money and I want no part of him…not even his memory. As for the world, I have seen that too, Elliot. And it is no longer a place I wish to be a part of. My life is Below now.”

“You don’t have to explain your actions to me,” Elliot chided her softly, tightening his grip. “The choice was always yours. But, I worry you are thinking only of running away again. Don’t make decisions in haste that you may come to regret one day. There are things you could do with the money. You could set up scholarships for those tunnel children who chose to come Above. Surely there are other things your world needs. You would be doing something good out of all this mess.”

Shannon nodded. “Yes, I could do those things. But, it is important to me that you know. I feel I don’t have any right to things my husband owned or used. I don’t want any part of him, to remind me.”

“The choices will always be yours to make, of course.” Elliot tightened his grasp on her hand. “But let’s discuss that another time.”

*******

Father limped into Vincent’s chamber. “I’m afraid we have an urgent problem, Catherine. One of our older children is missing. She lives Above, but she always visits once a week. She has been gone for more than two weeks now. Mary is seriously worried about her. She gave me this.” He offered a photograph. “Her name is Sarah.”

Catherine looked up from the book she was reading to Jacob. She took the photo, turning it to the light.

“She’s very pretty.” Catherine frowned. “I hate to ask this, Father, but are you sure she is actually missing? Perhaps, she just forgot to get in touch.”

“Mary assures me it could not be so.” Father sat heavily on the bed. “She says Sarah would not dream of worrying her like this, and I am inclined to believe her.”

He passed a weary hand over his eyes. “One of our helpers, Lady May, takes charge of those girls who wish to find a life in the city. She has an enormous house up there and she lives alone. For many years now, she takes and trains the girls in their chosen field and, if they prove suitable, she takes care of all the relevant documents and secures them employment. Most of the time the work will be with another of our network.”

Father frowned. “I have contacted Lady May and she said Sarah has already moved on to her new employment. But the employer is outside our network, so we must tread carefully. I would hate to find that something has happened to the girl and we didn’t discover the truth in time. Do you have contacts Above that could help us?”

“I will do everything I can to help, Father.” Catherine looked at the photo again. “Very well, but this could be difficult. I know Joe is caught up in this awful Snapper case, I wouldn’t think to worry him with a missing person. Besides, he would feel obliged to handle it himself, given the sensitive nature of the girl’s background and I can’t allow that.”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Truly our best avenue would be to ask Elliot to put his private investigator, Cleon Manning, onto this. He would be happy to oblige, I’m sure. It may be simply a case of memory lapse.”

“Good. “Father sighed. “I only hope it is a case of memory lapse and nothing more serious. Mary will be devastated if something has happened to the child. She cares deeply about every one of her charges.”

“Then we will do our best to find her.” Catherine squeezed his hand. “I will send Zach with a message for Elliot immediately. Please, try not to worry, until we have something to go on.”

Father squeezed her hand and smiled wryly. “I’m afraid, worrying is what I do best.”

*******

“I guess it’s pointless to ask the reason why you want to know where this girl is, Elliot?” Cleon frowned at the photo Zach had delivered to Elliot’s office the same morning. “But, surely you know who she is. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen her face before. I know you've been to Diana Bennett's loft a few times. She said you dropped in to check on some things about the Gabriel case. About the best way to separate your companies from his empire.”

“I’ve also been very busy lately. I can't remember every conversation I’ve had with that woman.” Elliot defended himself with upraised hands. “Why? Who is this girl? Why should I recognise her?” He didn’t like the other man’s tone.

“I guess your attention must have been on other things.” Cleon shook his head. “I’m sorry, Elliot, but she’s the only unidentified victim in the Snapper case. I saw her picture at Diana’s Bennett’s loft a couple of weeks ago, when I delivered my files on Gabriel. They’re about to release her picture to the press, in the hope of tracking down her family. How did you get her photo? What do you know about her?”

“Damn!” Elliot thumped his fist on the desktop. He leaned forward to speak into his intercom. “Get me Joe Maxwell, Gloria. Tell him its urgent.” He broke the connection. “Sorry, Cleon, this is personal.”

“More of your mysterious connections, I suppose,” Cleon complained. “One day you will tell me where you were all those months you were missing. And where and how this girl comes into it all.” He placed the photo on Elliot’s desk with a grimace. “You should know by now that you can trust me, boss. I know how to keep secrets. I’ve kept yours all these years.”

“If these were my secrets, Cleon, then you’d be welcome to them. But they’re not. More than that, I’m not at liberty to tell you.”

“Fine, have it your way. But, does the person you’re protecting happen to be Shannon Cole?”

“That’s also none of your business.” Elliot’s lips thinned. He wasn’t surprised Cleon knew about Shannon. He paid the man very well for his expert skills at finding the truth. Perhaps too well. “She’s a friend and that’s all you need to know.”

“Okay, boss.” Cleon threw up his hands. “It’s your life. I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. But, from where I’m standing, I’d say she’s damaged goods. You could get seriously burned.”

“As I said, it’s none of your concern. I’ll take it from here.”

“Suit yourself.” Cleon sat back on the couch with a mulish expression.

Elliot knew he had bought some time, but he also knew Cleon hated to be kept out of anything. He would have to be extra careful from now on in his dealings with Shannon. He would trust Cleon with his life, but Shannon’s well-being was his first concern.

*******

Samantha sat cross legged, encouraging her small charge to explore the smooth concrete surfaces over which Elizabeth painted her murals. Jacob’s touch was light and sure as his small fingers skimmed the paintings, patting them and exclaiming at all the bright colours he didn’t know.

Standing beside them, Catherine, like her son, found endless fascination in the work that Elizabeth never seemed to finish, the recounting of the life story of her new world, still full of tales Catherine had not yet heard.

“Come and tell me your story some time soon,” Elizabeth had encouraged that last time Vincent had brought his new wife to visit the painted tunnels. They had been on one of their honeymoon rambles. “And I will paint it for you, so that others may know who you are and what you meant to us all. I need other stories from Above besides Elliot Burch and his tower.”

“I will, but perhaps another time.” Catherine had demurred then.

Even with the reassuring strength of Vincent’s arm around her waist, she’d been hesitant to add the life story of a topsider to the varied richness of her new world displayed before her.

“It’s all right, when you are ready.” Elizabeth had smiled gently and patted Catherine’s cheek. “Come and see me, and bring that lovely little boy of yours. I will paint for him too.”

“Everyone has a story, child,” Elizabeth said now, adding the final touches to an exquisite painting of Father and Joe.

Perched over the echoing depths of the Whispering Gallery, Elizabeth had captured the comical expression of dismay on Joe’s face with great accuracy. Catherine couldn’t help smiling as she thought of her old boss. She hadn’t seen him in the past weeks and she found she felt the loss of contact more keenly than before. But she was well aware of the hectic life in the D.A.’s office that left little time for social calls.

“Father told me this story of how he showed Joe Maxwell our world.” Elizabeth stood back to admire her work. “I liked your friend, he has a kind face. Though he worries too much, for you and for all those who live up there.”

“He has a good heart.” Catherine nodded, looking anew at the painting, remembering Joe’s many kindnesses in the face of her own need for total privacy.

She wondered if he felt the loss of contact as keenly as she did. Or was he too busy to think of her now? She could picture him, chocolate cheese nuggets in hand, making light of her concern for him, as the constant battle of the office swirled around him. Life goes on, Radcliffe, right?

“But, such problems now…” Elizabeth sighed, bringing Catherine’s attention back to her abruptly. “Why do they always have to harm the children, the innocent ones?”

“I don’t understand.” Catherine frowned in perplexity. “Who is harming the children?”

A chill sensation whispered through the recesses of her mind, Vincent’s consciousness answering her thoughts in swift puzzlement, as she searched Elizabeth’s words for meaning. Catherine remembered the voices in the park of their shared dream, the laughter of children and the unseen threat that hung in the air.

“The children Above.” Elizabeth put aside her paintbrushes and picked up a newspaper from the floor. “I read about it yesterday. See, your friend Joe, his name is mentioned…here.”

Catherine scanned the article the older woman indicated beneath the banner headline with trepidation, absorbing the facts of the case swiftly, the chill feathering outwards to prickle her skin. Beside her, Elizabeth craned her head to see over Catherine’s arm.

“Always the children.” She sighed in bitter memory, turning her eyes back to her paintings. “If only we could keep them all safe.”

*******

“I am seriously worried about Sarah now.” Catherine laid Elizabeth’s paint splattered newspaper before Father. “I sent Zach to see Elliot yesterday and he promised to look into her disappearance immediately. Do we know any more?”

“We are still checking.” Father looked from Catherine to the paper in puzzlement. “As you know, Catherine, it is a huge city up there.”

“We have searched the city.” Vincent came down the steps behind her, his concern over his wife’s continued sense of disquiet deepening by the minute. “But Sarah always was a free spirit, she disliked long term commitments.”

“Mary is concerned, very concerned.” Father studied the newspaper. “And Sarah would not want that.” He raised his eyes from the article to Catherine’s face, deepening concern colouring his voice. “And you think that this article may be linked with her disappearance?”

“I pray I am wrong.” Catherine looked into her husband’s face, taking strength from his quiet presence, bracing herself for what she must do now. “I hope I am very wrong, but there is only one way to find out for sure. I have to see Joe right away. I must go Above.”

“We can send him a message.” Father rubbed his forehead, the beginnings of a headache nagging at him. “Geoffrey can run to him…take a note from you. He would wait for a reply.”

“There may be a body to identify,” Catherine said sadly, the warm comfort of Vincent’s arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know what I may find up there. We have to know for sure, Father.”

“Yes…yes, you are right, of course.” Father lowered his hand slowly to stare at her in despair. “We must pray that it is not so. I will tell the others after you have gone. I don’t wish Mary to worry needlessly, until we know the facts.”

“I won’t be long, Jacob,” Catherine answered the plea in the old man’s eyes. “Trust me in this. I can go and be back tonight.”

“I have always trusted you, Catherine.” Father laid his careworn hand against her cheek. “It’s the others of your world I fear. Please be careful up there.”

*******

From what realm,

When your beloved appears,

Do you take the future?

More than will ever be.

One who knows distances

Out to the outermost star

Is astonished when he discovers

The magnificent space in your hearts.

How, in the crowd, can you spare it?

You, full of sources and night…

Rainer Maria Rilke

Catherine stood in the warm circle of Vincent’s arms, leaning against him with her eyes shut in silent resignation. Her awareness of him flowed through every vein, every muscle and bone of her existence. She wanted nothing more than to blend with him, be absorbed by the solid strength of his body, to be held safe within the limitless spaces of his great heart for all time. Even being dressed again in city clothes did nothing to alleviate Catherine’s feeling of stepping once more into an alien world.

The warmth of her husband’s breath stirred the feathered edges of her hair, the touch of his mouth sure and compelling against the side of her neck. Life was a series of goodbyes, Vincent had said once, and Catherine felt the keen poignancy of his words through every fibre of her soul.

“I will be back tonight,” she whispered raggedly, drawing her husband even tighter into her own embrace, until there was no room for anything to come between them, not even the very air they breathed. “Joe will tell me what he knows. We can only hope Sarah is safe.”

Vincent bit back his words of denial, even before they became thought, before they influenced Catherine to stay with him. He knew she must go Above, for all of them to discover the truth, but the bare knowledge of her duty didn’t make the parting any easier. But he had come to an unpalatable truth.

“I haven’t told Father, but I am afraid it was Sarah’s voice we heard in the park, in our shared vision.” Vincent shook his head. “I have thought about it many times, and the conclusion I come to does not alter. I know it was her voice. There was danger…and death, in that place.”

Catherine’s breath hitched with despair. “I’m sorry, if that is so, Vincent. We can only hope the dream was nothing more than that. Some kind of odd nightmare, born of my fear for your safety.”

“I hope so too, but I fear the worst. You must be careful up there, Catherine.”

“I will.” She nodded quickly. “I will be very careful.”

“And I will be waiting for your return.” He drew back gently, his hands moving over her with slow deliberation, before coming to rest against the slight swell of her abdomen. “I will be with you, always...”

“I know.” Catherine nodded on a sigh. “And I will be back as soon as I can. Please don’t worry about me. Joe will take good care of me.”

“How can I not worry?” Vincent whispered. “You will be beyond my keeping.”

A sound from the shadows behind them attracted Vincent’s attention to a figure approaching them slowly in the half-light of the tunnel beyond the open gate of the junction entrance. Shannon, dressed as Catherine in the clothing of the world she had left behind, moved into the daylight shafting down the drainage tunnel.

“I can’t let you go up there alone.” Shannon stood defensively, as if expecting to be denied. “I know about Sarah. Father told me. At least, this way, I get a chance to repay you both and I want to do this.”

She looked at Vincent. “You taught me years ago to face my fears and not to be afraid. I had forgotten that lesson, until Elliot reminded me of your great truth the other night. So, I will go up there to help where I can.”

“Joe will be with me and it won’t be easy, identifying a body, if Sarah is one of the victims,” Catherine said quietly. “Are you sure you will be all right?”

“If Vincent was able to go with you, he would.” Shannon stood resolute. “So, since he cannot, I will go for him. Please Catherine, I must do this. Choices…remember?”

“Choices…” Catherine agreed slowly, aware of Vincent’s disquiet over their exchange.

Reaching up, she placed a lingering kiss on his parted lips before he could speak. “I won’t be away a moment longer than necessary. I am already missing you.”

Shannon stepped away, averting her eyes from the intimate moment.

“And I you,” Vincent agreed softly. “Go now…I will be waiting for your return.”

Catherine nodded, turning away from the depth of love in her husband’s eyes with lagging steps. His heartbeat ran, smooth and unfaltering with her own, but even that comforting reassurance could not compare to Vincent’s physical presence in her arms. The loneliness of the way ahead would only be relieved by her return to the one shelter she could trust in the whole world.

“We can do this…together.” Shannon moved to her side, taking Catherine’s arm through hers, glancing one final time over her shoulder at the portal to her world and the lonely figure who stood in it’s entrance like a sentinel, his face haunted by all the fears Vincent dared not show in Catherine’s presence.

Shannon nodded slowly, acknowledging that which Vincent had left unsaid and giving her reassurance for their safety. Then she walked with Catherine down the long tunnel that led to the park and out into the bright sunlight of a new day…

*******

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d,

Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply, I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising,

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

William Shakespeare

LITERARY REFERENCES

My heart leaps up when I behold   William Wordsworth

All I Ask of You    Phantom of the Opera

Beauty and the Beast   Stevie Nicks

You Gave Me a World to Believe In    Celine Dion

The Rubaiyat   Omar Khayyam

You Are The Love of My Life   George Benson and Roberta Flack

If There Were No Dreams   Neil Diamond

A bridal song   Percy Bysshe Shelley

Antistrophes   Rainer Maria Rilke

Sonnet No. 29    William Shakespeare

- Dreams

Of The

Heart

- “Dreams of the Heart”

A Story of “Beauty and the Beast”

By Judith Nolan ©

Artwork by Kathy Fidge

This zine continues the story of Vincent and Catherine after the end of “Dancing Light”. My Trilogy keeps growing…I hope you have enjoyed the journey, as much as I have enjoyed creating it for you…

Again, thanks to Victoria for being there…always. To all those who told me I must not stop creating these stories, thanks for having faith in my work. To my grandbabies, Amelia and Ethan and the precious one yet to be, (who were not even twinkles, when I began this journey, so long ago) thanks for being the sweet models for Vincent and Catherine’s children. Once again for Jean Pratt, my Tunnel sister and good friend…it’s wonderful to be back Below once more…

This story is dedicated to all the cast of  “Beauty and the Beast”, and to all those brilliant people who created this dream we still live and love, let’s go on from here together. “Our” Below world will return soon…

(Please do not reproduce, by any means, this story)

“Dreams of the Heart” is an amateur fiction fanzine and as such does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of RON KOSLOW FILMS, REPUBLIC PICTURES, CBS TELEVISION, WITT THOMAS PRODUCTIONS or any other holders of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights.

“When the world outside’s too much to take, that all ends when I’m with you…sometimes I am frightened, but I’m ready to learn of the power of love…”

*******

- Dreams of the Heart

Come, give me all the dreams

you hold in your heart

I will shelter them within my own

Hold them against the day

When you come to me

Chilled and despairing of happiness or joy…

Come, give me all the dreams

you hold in your heart

I am your champion,

your shield against the world

Rest in me and be comforted

I could not leave you behind

Lay yourself in my keeping for all eternity

and dream…

Judith Nolan

If I can stop one heart from breaking

I shall not live in vain:

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again

I shall not live in vain.

Emily Dickinson

Joe Maxwell stood in the middle of the bullpen, coffee cup in one hand, an overflowing file in the other and a telephone receiver jammed to his ear, trapped firmly by his upraised shoulder. As he listened to the tirade of excuses with less than half his attention, his expression forbad any attempt at conversation. His mouth was tightly clamped against the sense of frustration that consumed him at the inefficiencies of the man on the other end of the phone.

The voice in his ear droned on; another dead-end in the Snapper case that had looked so promising only an hour ago. John Russell was making sure all the faults for the non-delivery of a viable suspect were not going to be pinned on his own well-guarded butt.

Diana’s name kept cropping up, her shortcomings as an investigator and unwanted involvement, a recurring theme. Joe’s mouth thinned at the range of excuses that seemed never ending, as he stared at the file in his hand, hoping, that soon Russell would have to pause to draw a breath.

The taste of his coffee was sour, after too many cups of the awful office brew and not enough sleep. His eyeballs felt as if they had been rolled in coarse sand. He took another mouthful of the scalding liquid and wondered what Radcliffe was doing right now. He sure could use her help in this case, or, at the very least, her ear to bend in the hope of a fresh perspective on the killings.

“Enough!” Joe dumped his cup down with a grimace of distaste and wondered if the city paid him enough for this job.

The young intern sitting beside him, working at Radcliffe’s old desk, didn’t even blink as spots of brown liquid suddenly dotted her work. She simply moved her papers to one side and continued to write with dogged persistence, her head kept well below the level of her boss’s angry eyes.

“Look, Russell, I don’t care how many dead ends you chase up!” Joe snapped, slamming down the folder in his other hand, causing the intern to jump in startled surprise. “But, you’d better track him down and you’d better do it quick, or you’ll find yourself working the beat in Alaska!”

He thumped the receiver into its cradle. The intern carefully shuffled the file into some semblance of order and held it out silently, with a grimace of sympathy.

“Thanks, Janine.” Joe accepted the file, with a twisted smile of self-reproach. “Go on, be a good kid and get me another coffee, will you? I know I will regret asking for it, but I need the caffeine to help me survive the day.”

“That office coffee is poison, Joe, you know that. It will kill you inside a month and then who will they get to do your job for what the city pays you?”

“What…?” Joe leaped as if he’d been shot in the rear, the voice behind him full of warm amusement and more than a little sympathy.

He never expected to hear that voice in this office again, not even in his dreams. He spun around in startled surprise, a thousand questions clamouring to be voiced, but all he could manage was to stare at his visitor with incredulous wonder.

“Hello, Joe.” Catherine smiled at his expression.

“Cathy! How…I mean, why? What are you doing here? Where did you spring from?”

“You always were one for informal greetings.” Catherine shook her head as she came forward. “It is good to see to again, Maxwell. Believe it or not, I have missed you. Maybe I even miss this office, though the reasons escape me right now. But, God help me, I think it’s that I’ve even missed watching you eat those disgusting chocolate cheese nuggets.”

“You’ve missed me!” Joe seized her hands, pulling her into his embrace. He hugged her with genuine delight. “Hey, Radcliffe, you don’t have that on your own. You wouldn’t, by some remote miracle, have decided to come back to work. I know I was tough on you, but, hey, I’m a changed man, ask anyone, ask Janine here.”

“Don’t believe him.” Janine reappeared with a fresh cup of coffee, her face mirroring her distaste. “No one who can eat those disgusting chocolate nuggets will ever change. There ought to be a law against doing that sort of thing in public.”

“It looks as if the jury has returned a guilty verdict against you.” Catherine shook her head, while Joe retained a possessive hold on her waist.

“I see you’ve brought some back-up.” Joe looked beyond Catherine’s shoulder to where Shannon stood uncertainly, the ebb and flow of the bullpen breaking around her with its usual noisy efficiency.

Catherine reached to take her hand, drawing Shannon forward to stand beside her. “We know about the case, Joe. We’re so sorry.”

She watched his expression, guessing at the myriad of unasked questions that trembled on his lips. Her eyes dropped to the file in his hands.

“And I also know how tough it’s getting for you down at City Hall. I wish I could do something to help, but I’m afraid I may have to add to your burden. I think I know something about this case, that’s the main reason we’re here. For that, and to ask for your help in finding one of our people who has gone missing. I tried not to burden you with this, but now we need to talk.”

“Yeah, but we’d better do it in private.” Joe nodded regretfully. “A missing girl, right?” He heaved a rough sigh. “My secretary took a phone call from Elliot yesterday. But, I was tied up in a meeting with the mayor all afternoon.”

He passed a weary hand around the back of his neck. “Elliot said he had some new information and I needed to get over to see him. He didn’t want to talk over the phone.”

He compressed his lips. “It’s election year, so I’ve got the mayor doing sound bites about how involved and concerned he is about this case and Russell running to hide under his skirts, blaming everyone else for him not getting a result. Now, you’re here, too. It can’t be good news.”

“I’m sorry, Joe.” Catherine lifted her shoulders helplessly. “I wish it could be good news, for your sake. But, I fear the worst. But, we must do all we can to find Sarah. That’s why I asked Elliot to put his investigator on the case.”

“Hey, Radcliffe, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Joe compressed his lips.

He felt the weight of responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders. Responsibility for a ten year old case he couldn’t solve and the even greater responsibility of ensuring Catherine’s well-being while she was in his world, far from her husband’s protection. Added to his burden was also looking after Shannon, standing quietly watching him with a concerned expression.

He could not allow anything to happen to either of them, and involving Cathy in the Snapper case was a flawed wish, that brought those inherent dangers far too close for comfort. With a sigh, he indicated for the two women to precede him out of the bullpen, his eyes shadowed with regret over the reasons for Cathy’s visit. He sincerely wished it could only be a social call.

*******

The yellow plastic strips of the police cordon fluttered sharply in the chill breeze. They added life and colour to an otherwise sombre scene, Diana reflected as she stood before the roped off square. It had been two days now since the murder and the area had been thoroughly searched for any clues, desperation at the steady passing of the days, without any fresh leads adding its own urgency to the search. Now, it was, once more, simply another deserted and lonely area of Central Park.

Diana fingered the tape absently. The laughter of children rang in her mind, accompanied by the music of the carousel and the muted sound of a camera’s shutter speed. Trudy Klein laughing happily as her white horse plunged up and down, round and round.

Diana looked away into the distance, her face for once reflecting her emotions, tears of anger and distress standing out on her lashes. She blinked them away rapidly, swiping at her cheeks with an impatient hand.

If only John Russell could see her now…

She stared hard at the carousel in the distance, but it was closed this early in the morning, a slight mist wreathing its brightly painted horses in magic and mystery. A metal gate barred unwanted visitors. Diana sighed, the laughter of children echoing hollowly into the confusion of her reverie.

“Where are you…?” she murmured beneath her breath, the plastic tape bucking against her palm, imbued with a life of its own by the passing wind. “And why do you kill the young ones? Why only them?”

“Because they were innocent,” a voice whispered back, from the recesses of her mind. A man’s voice, reflective, almost pensive. “Because they are unstained by life, they are so pure, their souls still so beautiful and untouched. I am the guardian of that purity. It is mine. They are my angels now.”

“I will find you.” Diana raised her eyes to the confines of the drainage tunnel in the far distance. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

The sensation of being watched, as before, was gone, but the unease remained. She drew a sharp breath and concentrated on the drooping foliage.

“Do you live in the park? Is that why you kill here?” she asked the swift passing of a small bird that dipped across her face before darting away again.

“There is freedom here, both above and below.” The man’s voice chuckled dryly in her mind. “Why don’t you come and see?”

The leaves around the tunnel mouth lifted and seemed to beckon in the breeze, dancing in the cold air. Diana huddled deeper into the upturned collar of her coat. She expelled her breath sharply, considering her options.

She should report in. She had a meeting with Joe and Greg Hughes she couldn’t miss. She was already late. She needed to get her notes together, needed to force some truths from the prosaic words of John Russell’s police report. She needed to justify her expenses, her ongoing role in this baffling case. The mayor was furious, raking Joe over the coals for his team’s lack of progress and the mounting murder toll.

“Where are you?” she demanded, in a flash of anger.

“Come, try my world and see if you can catch me…or, is it, that you’re too afraid of what you might find?” The voice in her mind mocked her with a dry crack of dismissing laughter. “Come, seek me in my own domain and know the truth of what you search for, it may surprise you…”

The mocking laughter trailed off into the surrounding silence, but its whisper remained in her mind, taunting, gleeful, utterly sure of itself and its own power to deceive. Diana turned to look back at the city behind her, at its blank, uncaring face and acknowledged the thrill of fear that added a sharp edge to her troubled thoughts.

Then she turned back and took a step towards the tunnel that ran to unknown depths far beneath the park and wondered if she was truly being a fool to believe that she could tackle the possibilities before her, alone…

*******

“I knew this wasn’t a social call.” Joe indicated the chairs before his desk and waited until the two women were seated, before dropping into his own. “My luck never runs that way.”

“As I said, Joe, one of our people is missing. We asked Elliot to look into it, but now we have this.”

Catherine sat forward to place the newspaper cutting on his desk. Joe sighed, pausing to study her air of cool sophistication. Catherine looked smart in the expensive clothes Joe had always associated with the old Cathy, ever since he’d known her. But now, he found he missed the more casual tunnel attire. Catherine’s gown of leather and lace seemed infinitely more enchanting now that her current formal suit and silk blouse.

Already, the world Below was taking on a dream quality and Joe had to remind himself it was all still very real and Cathy had not just returned to resume working for him, after some extended holiday in the south of France. But the vision of that other world was so attractive for its slower pace and acceptance of everyone who went there to heal.

“Joe…?” Catherine questioned now, her brows pulling together in a puzzled frown as Joe’s eyes took on a far-away quality.

“Sorry, you were saying one of your people is missing.” Joe pulled his wandering attention back to the present with a conscious effort and passed a tired hand over his face. Too many nights without sleep and too many cups of bad coffee were taking their toll on his senses. “When did you last see this person?”

“Sarah, her name is Sarah.” Shannon watched Joe with compassion, noting the dark bruises beneath his eyes and the defeated cast of his features. “She’s been missing for over two weeks and we can find no trace of her.”

“She had found work Above,” Catherine added. “But she always comes once a week to see Mary. Her lack of contact is completely out of character.”

“How old, hair colour, race, contacts…? You know the drill, Radcliffe.” Joe sighed, pulling a yellow legal pad towards him and picking up a pen. “But finding a single missing person in this city takes a lot of time and legwork.”

“I know. I must have walked half of New York looking for people who didn’t want to be found,” Catherine agreed. “But, this is different. If Sarah’s okay, she would have contacted us by now. She’s not the sort of girl to allow Mary to worry about her without cause.”

“So, do you have an address, her work number, anything to give us a lead on her?” Joe’s pen hovered above the pad. “Kids go missing all the time for a million reasons.”

“What we are saying, Joe.” Catherine got to her feet and took the pen from his fingers and laid it aside. “What Elliot was trying to contact you about earlier. We’re afraid Sarah is not just missing.” She tapped the newspaper before her. “When I read this news I was afraid it was something far worse, something I desperately hope is not true.”

Catherine shook her head. “What we’re saying is that Sarah may be one of the victims in the Snapper case.” She turned to extract Mary’s photo from her purse and placed it beside the newspaper. “You do have a Jane Doe, don’t you?”

“Oh, no…” Joe stared at it. “I know her.”

He picked it up, scanning it closely. It was the pretty blond girl, fresh faced and happy, the same leather cap perched jauntily on her head.

“Jane Doe…” he whispered, looking up at Catherine’s face and then beyond to Shannon’s horrified expression. “I’m so sorry, Cathy.”

Joe shook his head. Catherine’s hidden world had been touched by evil, tainted by contact with a madman. He didn’t wish to believe it, but the evidence of the photograph was indisputable. He felt chilled to the depths of his soul, and trapped by that cold sensation, very beaten and utterly alone…

*******

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Jamie stood back, surveying Mouse’s labours with a critical eye.

“Will work.” Mouse threw up his hands in disgust, intolerant of even the mildest criticism of his creation. “Push this, turn on, push that, turn off. Simple.”

“Yes, but will it work?” Jamie laboured the point with inexhaustible patience. “When we have it all together, will it actually go and not blow up in our faces.”

“Mouse can fix anything, make anything go. Mouse knows what he is doing. You will see when it’s finished.”

“You’ve said that about the last three projects of yours that failed. William is still recovering from your automatic vegetable peeler.”

“Small snag, fixed it.” Mouse turned his shoulder and went back to work with a dismissing air. He began to apply another layer of blue paint to his creation with a lavish hand. “Not helping, then go. Mouse works better alone. Don’t need you.”

“Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.” Jamie picked up another paint brush and squatted beside him. “This is one project I intend to see through to the end. Besides, you need my help whether you realise it or not.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Mouse muttered, keeping his eyes doggedly on his painting. Consequently, he missed Jamie’s warm smile of compassion and understanding.

*******

Diana bent forward to slip into the confines of the drainage tunnel, pausing as she did so, to carefully scan the depths of the half-light at the far end. Seeing no immediate menace in the shadows, she crept on, her footsteps echoing hollowly, forlorn almost, and soon forgotten by the surrounding shadows, as she moved cautiously forward to finally step into a large junction of bisecting pipes that came together before a barred gate over a steel door. All was quiet and deathly still.

The sudden scurrying of a rat pushed her back against the wall, one hand snatching at the gun on her hip. But the vermin quickly vanished through a small hole in the wall. Diana eased away from the wall, her hand still on her weapon as she surveyed her surroundings with distrust. But apart from the rat, there appeared to be nothing here. The cobweb hung silence pressed close on all sides.

“So, what secrets are you hiding?” Turning her head, she considered the gate.

The centre was secured by a rusty chain and a large padlock and didn’t appear to have been opened for years. It had been securely fastened to the surrounding concrete and rock walls with heavy hinges that spoke of solid impenetrability. A cobweb breathed for a moment in the draft of her passing and was still again.

Fancy grill-work stood to one side and this too was secured by a lock and rusty chain. Behind it seemed to hang only cobwebs and dust. Diana’s eyes ran thoughtfully around the steel door’s rim of uneven bricks, considering each in turn, before her gaze touched on the sill beneath. For a place seemingly unused for a vast amount of time, there were a surprising number of footprints in the coarse sand of the tunnel floor. Footprints that ran up to the base of the steel door and simply vanished beneath.

“This is nuts…” Diana scanned the door closely. “What are you hiding?”

She sank to her haunches and ran her fingers lightly around the rim of several of the indentations. Two sets of women’s shoes, spiked heels making a distinctive mark, had moved across the floor recently, leaving the way Diana had come in. They led away from the closed door.

But, before the door, they had grouped mainly around another set of prints. A man’s this time, judging by the size, large and deep set, though from the outline, it was hard to tell what he’d been wearing. Leather perhaps, soft boots of some kind of skin that left a large print bounded by lacings on the outline of the sole. These prints moved from the door to the centre of the floor and then retreated again, vanishing beneath the mysterious barred portal that frustrated Diana’s puzzled eyes.

“Where did you come from and where did you go?” She fingered the depressions thoughtfully. “Do you live down here?”

The coarse sand held the crumbling impressions of another’s passage through this place, undisturbed for weeks perhaps. Her thoughtful eyes quartered the ground evenly and noted the recent scuff-marks at the base of the metal door, as if something heavy had been dragged through the door in the recent past.

“A body, perhaps…” Diana considered the marks closely and was undecided as to their origins. The door reflected back only mute silence, guarding its secrets behind its blank face and heavy bars. “It makes no sense.”

A sudden sound behind her drew her attention. Turning slowly, rising to her feet as she did so, she searched the gloom carefully, as she drew her gun from her holster. The scuffling sound came again.  Behind her, in the shadowed recesses of the opposing tunnel she could just make out a huddled figure, crouched beneath some sort of blanket or heavy coat.

“There is freedom down here…”  that same voice whispered again in the back of her mind, distracting her attention.

She shook her head, easing forward, moving to lean into the exit from the junction, keeping her attention on the huddled figure as she backed out, straining to pierce the half darkness and see the figure more clearly.

It rose, shuffling forward towards her, stooping within the confines of what seemed to be a heavy cloak. Diana tightened her grip on the weapon in her hand, still backing away slowly. She was intensely curious now, wondering if this was her unseen observer from the tunnel mouth.

What had they see, what did they know?

Warily, she raised her gun so that it could be seen and forestall any aggressive move from the figure moving towards her. Instinctively she knew this was not the killer she was seeking. At best, it was some homeless person looking for shelter from the cold. The figure shuffled forward again, keeping low in the hunched stance of servility.

“Got any money, lady?” the figure demanded.

“We’re cool.” Diana lowered her gun with a brief nod and stepped backwards carefully, not wishing to alarm someone who could possibly possess vital information on the case. She raised one hand in a calming gesture and took another backwards step. “It’s okay, I just want to talk. I’m investigating—”

Suddenly, arms with the strength of banded steel locked around her waist, trapping her arms at her sides and lifting her clear of the floor in the same movement, slamming her back down with brutal force, to skid across the ground, the coarse sand stripping the skin from her cheek. The pain knifed through Diana’s senses, as blood mixed freely with the loose grains of sand to form a sticky mass beneath her face as her assailant kneed her in the back, holding her down with the weight of his body while she struggled to be free.

“Give me the gun!” The voice above her was filled with savage glee and unholy intent. “Give me the damn gun, man!”

“It’s mine. I found it first.” A pair of legs intruded into Diana’s limited vision, closely followed by a second pair, scuffed boots pushing dirt into her face.

The heavy folds of a dirty blanket clustered around the second pair of legs, holding all the smells of what these men were. Someone giggled, high pitched and nervous, the sound setting Diana’s teeth on edge, as they mocked her struggles.

“Hey, I was just down here looking around.” Diana gave up the struggle and tried to calm the situation with her voice, somehow regain limited control. ‘I got lost and I was—”

“You got lost all right.” The man kneeling on her back sniggered, his weight shifting as he made a swipe for her gun in the hands of one of his companions. “Well, we’re gonna see to it that you get lost, permanent like. Give me the damn thing, before you shoot your stupid, fool head off!”

A dry hacking chuckle greeted the man’s attempt at wit. Diana’s face grated painfully across the floor as her assailant’s weight came down on her with full force. Something inside her chest snapped then, a grating pain clutching at her breath like a vice. Blackness swirled into the edges of her vision, narrowing her focus to a single point of light that danced before her eyes and broke into a hundred different colours of impossible hue.

Is this what it feels like to die…? her mind asked abstractly, as her right arm was pulled backwards with savage force into the small of her back.

“We gonna see if you look so pretty without a face.” The woollen blanket swirled in keen anticipation, as Diana stared down the barrel of her own weapon.

The man on her back twisted the length of her hair around his hand, jerking her head back. “We gonna make you look real pretty for the rats.” He hit her across the mouth, splitting her lip.

“Go to hell!” Diana spat blood.

She could see the third man rummaging through her purse, throwing the contents aside as he clawed his way to the bottom. The glint of a gold shield in his hand brought a sudden weariness to her renewed struggles to be free.

A relic from her early days on the force, she only used the badge when she needed to. It had come in handy a few times, to get people to talk to her. Now she wished she’d buried it long ago.

“Hey, man, what’s this? Damn me, she’s a cop! Look at this!” The metal gleamed in the shadows of the tunnel. “She’s probably in vice or something, down here, spying on us.”

“Well, she’s gonna learn not to come snoopin’ in what don’t concern her. She’s dead and dead cops don’t tell tales.” Her gun was lowered until it touched the tip of her nose. “Lady, you’re history…”

“Don’t be a fool, let me go!” Diana could see his dirty finger tightening on the trigger, pulling it back with deliberate slowness.

Her whole being became centred on the whitening flesh, as the finger took the pressure inexorably backwards towards its inescapable conclusion. Everything narrowed in her to that one point, that one feature, the inescapable result.

She knew then, that she didn’t want to die. She began to struggle, despite the crippling pain of her injuries. Blood, flooding into her mouth, threatened to choke her.

Afterwards, Diana could never have said what really happened in the next few seconds. A series of images, half grasped impressions, were her only memories of the events of what happened in the cold confines of the tunnel junction, deep, stabbing pain clouding her memory.

A roaring filled the confined space of the junction, the sound of an animal in sudden pain and terrible rage. Screams, voices lifted in cries of frantic pleading as the weight on Diana’s back lifted instantly, the gun in her face disappearing from sight with explosive force, ripped upwards in a blur of slashing movement, long, hooked fingers leaving trails of silver light across her vision, so fast did they flash past her disbelieving eyes.

Then the sound of falling bodies, the face of the man who had pinned her to the floor crashing beside her to skid sideways into a heap against the far wall, his neck obviously broken by the twisted angle of his head. The second man fell in a heap some distance away, the sound of roaring increasing as the third man tried to flee, but he was brought down by something large and powerful.

His sobbing pleas for mercy went unheeded as his feet dangled briefly before Diana’s startled eyes, his screams answered by screams of cold fury. Then his body crashed to the floor beside the other two, lifeless arms thrown across them in a parody of close companionship.

“This is crazy…” Fear pushed at Diana then, forcing her to drag her unresponsive body upwards at the waist, using her elbows to propel herself onwards towards the entrance.

Drawing her knees up towards her chest, she vainly tried to gain the safety of the tunnel mouth, before whatever it was behind her, that had caused such wholesale destruction, could turn its attention on her defenceless body.

But her movements were hampered by the pain, the blind stabbing hurt that ripped through her senses and left her gasping in exquisite agony in the dirt of the floor. Getting her hands under her, she tried again, snail pacing her way, inch by agonising inch towards the scant protection of the drainage entrance.

“Come on, Bennett, get going…” She railed against her body’s weakness, pushing herself slowly forward.

Briefly, she wished she knew what had happened to her gun. The heavy silence surrounding her now, was more deafening than the raging turmoil of the last few minutes. She could hear the ragged sound of her own breathing, blood from her split lip, filling her mouth. She coughed and gagged, trying to breathe against the agony of her injuries.

In the same moment that she began to believe she’d seen and heard things that surely couldn’t exist, a pair of dust marred black leather boots intruded into her line of sight. Boots that led up to fur banded tops and then dark leather trousers that seemed to go upwards forever. Upwards into the blackness of her fading vision and beyond to a man’s face she couldn’t define…

“Champing his gilded oats,

The Hippogriff will stand in our stalls,

And over our heads will float the Blue Bird

Singing of beautiful and impossible things,

Of things that are lovely and that never happen,

Of things that are not and that should be.”

Oscar Wilde

The hollow tapping of ‘intruder alert’ echoed down the tunnels and Pascal leapt to his feet as the message clattered into his domain. He ran swiftly up the metal stairs to the upper set of pipes.

“Where’s it from?” Zach watched with interest, as his mentor hurried from pipe to pipe, leaning ear against each in turn to listen to their individual tunes.

“Upper level, junction area.” Pascal leaned out over the railing and looked down at the boy standing below. “I’ll send out an alert for Vincent while you go and find Mouse. We want to lock as many entrances as we can to isolate the intruder in the upper sector before they get too far down.”

Zach was gone even before Pascal’s last words left his lips, darting away into the tunnels as the pipe behind and beside him clattered out a new message.

*******

Diana came to herself again after an eternity of drifting in black nothingness and couldn’t understand why the world had suddenly inverted itself. Sandy flooring ran where the ceiling should be, rock walls curved upwards on both sides to a height she could only guess at. Lighting was sparse at best, torches and unseen lamps adding their own ghostly glow to the shadows that flowed into every corner and bend on her route.

A long chamber, half lit and echoing, filled with mouldering furniture of another time. Further along, a steep spiral staircase, rusting and old fashioned, came into Diana’s limited line of sight, as she felt herself descend slowly, slung over the brawny shoulder of her captor.

Pain bit deep into her consciousness. She knew she should struggle, kick and fight to regain her freedom, but the agony of her injuries was intensified by every heavily placed footfall on the rusting steps of the staircase. Blackness spiralled in, threatening to engulf her mind once more, but she fought it off resolutely.

Now isn’t the time to lose it, Bennett!

Her blood, mixed with the dirt of the tunnel floor, had congealed into a hard crust across her cheek, making her face feel stiff and painful as it rasped against the coarse clothing of the man who carried her. Diana bit her inner lip until the sharp taste of blood flooded her mouth and jerked her mind back to the immediate problem of escape, away from her body’s disturbing weakness.

But, who’d rescued her from her assailants and who carried her now, Diana could only guess at. She’d been securely wrapped in the foul blanket that had belonged to one of the men who assaulted her, and her arms were effectively pinned to her sides within its folds. Slung over her captor’s shoulder like a sack of grain, she couldn’t force any movement into cramped her limbs, as another level was reached in the downwards descent, another long night shrouded tunnel that led only into further darkness.

Suddenly, in the distance, something chimed, an echoing metal clanging that had some sort of mad rhythm. A pause and then another distant clanging, further away and more muted than the first. All motion was stilled as her captor paused to listen to the staccato beat of metallic sound.

Diana raised her head to listen as well, hoping for some sort of answer to her current dilemma, but the sound was drowned by the passing of a subway train, and after it had gone, the tapping did not come again. But the hint they were near the subways galvanised Diana and she struggled to raise her head from the confines of the blanket that half covered her face.

“If you struggle, you will only hurt yourself further. You must remain still. You have been hurt.”

Diana gasped at the man’s voice. A softly spoken rumble that echoed through her body. “Where are we? Where are you taking me?”

“To a place of safety. No one will hurt you there.”

“Nothing about this makes any kind of sense.” Diana coughed, fresh blood flooding her mouth, dripping to the floor behind them in a trail. “I don’t want to be here. I have meetings I’m already late for. People will come looking for me and it’ll make it worse for you.”

“You do not have a choice. I cannot take you back Up There for help. Therefore, I must take you down. To attend to your injuries.”

“Up There…?” Pain lanced through Diana’s vitals, making breathing difficult as she fought to make sense of what he’d just said. “Kidnapping is a federal offense, you do know that?”

He’s laughing at me!  Diana felt the tremor of amusement that ran through the man’s powerful frame.

“The first time I saw you. I knew you would be trouble,” was the incredible thing he said next. “Never guessed how much. Now, please be still, we are almost there. It will hurt only if you struggle.”

“How do you—?” Diana inhaled unwarily, stunned that he said he knew her.

But the odours contained in the material of the blanket caught in her throat, making her want to gag, the air foul with the blanket’s stench. Suddenly, an unbearable grating pain inside her chest made her gasp and she fell into a coughing spasm that only passed when she slipped into unconsciousness once more…

*******

Catherine sorted through the photos the coroner handed her with a numb feeling of detachment. The beginnings of a headache was not helped by the too bright overhead lights that lit everything with cheerful relief as she studied each picture in detail.

Beside her Shannon stood silently, accepting every photo in turn as Catherine handed them to her. Joe leaned in frowning repose against the side of the coroner’s desk, hands thrust deeply into his pockets, a tired resignation on his face. After all the years he had spent in the D.A.’s office, this place still gave him the creeps.

“You are sure about the identification, Miss Chandler?” the coroner asked kindly, always an easy mark for a pretty face. “There was considerable damage to the cranial area.” He pointed to several of the photos in Catherine’s hands, painfully exact in his duty. “Any such identification would be difficult.”

Catherine looked sideways at Shannon who had turned to the evidence table and was fingering a long, multi-coloured scarf through its plastic evidence bag, an unusual item made of stitched patches of several colours held together in neat, interlocking squares with a fine leather thronging.

Shannon ran a trembling finger across the blood that had dried to a rusty stain over the tassels of the leather fringe. Her eyes rose to Catherine’s with bleak despair and she nodded.

“I made this scarf for Sarah for her birthday three months ago. She always wore it.”

“Yes, we are sure the young woman in these photographs was Sarah Maitland.” Catherine nodded, her training as a lawyer overtaking her natural instincts to flee this place of death. Now was not the time to break down, that luxury could come later. “But, we will need to see the body, for final confirmation. Are you okay with that, Shannon?”

“Yes.” Shannon nodded quickly. “I want to be able to tell Mary it is her. I don’t wish to be any doubt.”

“As you wish.” The coroner shrugged as he gathered in all the evidence before leading the way down the hall to the mortuary. “Perhaps you can supply me with the name of the next of kin, so that the body can be released for burial,” he asked, as he indicated for an assistant to open one of the ranks of gleaming metal drawers.

“I’ll take care of those details,” Joe put in, as the other man lifted a corner of the body’s shroud. “Have someone get together the necessary paperwork and send it to my office.”

“Fine, I always like the details to be taken care of as soon as possible.” The coroner looked from Joe to Catherine. “Can you identify this body as being the girl in the photographs I showed you?” he asked Catherine formally, as Shannon began to weep quietly.

“Yes, this is the girl from the photographs.” Catherine smoothed the fall of blond hair, tucking the strands neatly back. “This is…Sarah Maitland.”

“I wish it could be different.” Joe came to stand beside Catherine, his bleak eyes reflecting his pain. The coroner moved away, allowing them a moment of privacy.

“It is better to know.” Shannon blew her nose, swiping a hand across her wet cheeks. “At least now, we can take her home, where she belongs.”

“Yes.” Catherine nodded, looking across at Joe’s pensive face. “That is all we can do for her now.”

*******

Running water, flowing down the rocky wall of yet another downward slanting tunnel, splashed icy droplets over Diana’s face, jerking her abruptly back to reality. Impenetrable gloom met her startled eyes, nothing to relieve it save the fitful gleam of a lantern held in the free hand of her captor.

To her critical eyes the small flame was too small to combat the darkness pushing in on all sides, swallowing up their brief passage. Yellow light slid in and out of the hollows in the walls, briefly banishing the blackness that all too eagerly flowed back to fill the gaps as soon as they had passed.

Diana began to wonder at the strength of the man who carried her so unfalteringly downwards. Muscles rippled beneath the pain in her chest and the brawny length of his thighs came into view, as he bent to shuffle awkwardly through a narrow section of the tunnel where the roof came low and impeded their steady progress. The long length of his black leather boots blending back into the darkness behind them.

Despite the fact Diana prided herself on the factual, clinical power of her own mind, she couldn’t stop its more instinctive levels from populating the surrounding darkness with more than just the shadows that dwelt beyond the reach of the lantern’s fitful flame. She could swear there were living entities hovering, just beyond the reach of her eyes, watching them pass with eager anticipation and endless twitters of whispered sound.

“The lantern is for you, so that you are not afraid. Down here, the darkness is my home…and my friend.”

It took Diana a full minute to register that her captor had actually spoken, his voice deep and intoned with an accent she couldn’t identify. That he had answered her unspoken fears almost instinctively, seemed of secondary importance at the time.

With the point of her chin, Diana pushed aside the folds of foul blanket that filled her mouth and turned her head to try and see his profile. But she was frustrated by the hooded cloak he wore, the leather bound edge obscuring his features, making any communication difficult and, at best, one-sided.

Any movement on her part to force a hand from her bindings resulted in a firm clamping of his strong arm around her body, making the breath hiss between her teeth as the pain bit into her anew. Instantly, the man’s grip loosened, allowing the pain to recede to its usual dull throbbing.

“Who are you and where are you taking me?” She forced her lips to utter the words calmly, not allowing her underlying fear to creep into her speech.

They were so deep below the level of the earth now, there was no way Diana could get back to the surface without expert guidance. She could not allow herself to alienate the one link she had with her own world. But the fear remained, bright and constant.

“Do not be afraid, I will not harm you,” came the reply that was meant to reassure, but did nothing to allay her fears for her own safety. “This is my home down here. You will be safe with me, as long as you do exactly as you are commanded at all times.”

*******

“Father, something’s happened up at the junction door.” Michael clattered down the short steps into Father’s chamber without pause. “Geoffrey found the bodies of three men and it looks like there was some sort of fight. It’s a real mess up there.”

“Bodies!” Father paused, halfway across his chamber, pulling his glasses from the bridge of his nose in agitation, unable to believe what he had just heard. “I heard the alert, but…bodies…” A hundred possibilities jostled for his attention, questions tumbling through his mind, but his only question was simple and direct. “What happened?”

“Don’t know.” Michael shrugged. “Geoffrey was going Above with Allan for supplies, when James came running down from his sentry post up there, to raise the alarm. Someone had hit him from behind and he’d been knocked out for some time. They all went and looked beyond the door and saw what happened. Allan said to tell you, the bodies are being dealt with now. Peter and James are bringing them down.”

Michael squared his young shoulders. “They said they would clean everything up and dump the bodies down the abyss. Peter said I should come and tell you straight away. They were Topsiders, homeless people and they’d been dead for about two hours.”

“Who could do such a thing, so close to us?” Father searched about himself for his cane, not really expecting an answer. “Has anyone alerted Vincent?”

“Nope, no one’s seen him.” Michael proffered a black bag with a long strap. “Allan found this up there too. Said you should see it. He picked up everything he could find that belonged to it. Said, things were scattered all over the place.”

Father took the bag gingerly and held it in his free hand as he issued instructions. “Go and get Pascal to send a message to Vincent. He must know what has happened immediately. I will make my way to the abyss and make sure everything is tidied up properly. Also, Pascal must alert the sentries to the possibility there are more intruders Below. Whoever killed these men might still be in the tunnels. Go now, quickly!”

Michael nodded briskly and clattered out, full of his new importance, as he hurried to the pipe chamber. Father stood where the boy had left him, turning the black bag over in his hands. Dust and dirt clung to its surface and several things moved inside. It was a woman’s bag, but not one he had seen before.

Turning to his desk, he up-ended the bag carefully over his outstretched hand and the first thing that fell into his grasp was a gold shield that reflected the gleam of the lamps with bright points of light. Father felt his blood run cold as he turned the chilly metal over and studied the legend on the front. He had seen them before, but they never failed to send a tendril of unalloyed fear creeping through his bones. New York City detectives could not simply disappear without a great deal of fuss being made. But Michael had said the bodies had been male.

So where then, is the woman who belongs to this purse?

*******

Elliot prepared to enter Shannon’s world through the familiar basement entrance. He’d returned to his penthouse apartment just long enough to change from his corporate suit into casual jeans and a roll neck sweater. Now he dismissed his driver, saying he preferred to walk, and was below street level almost before the limousine had turned the corner.

The days since he’d last seen Shannon had stretched endlessly, days spent in consultation with lawyers and accountants working towards the final resuscitation of Burch Properties Group. Elliot constantly found his attention wandering from the issues at hand, wishing to be miles from their dry, prosaic rhetoric and hundreds of feet below the city.

His drive to succeed had been tempered with a desire to do nothing more than lose himself in the many twists and turns of that secret world, and never surface again to be forced to deal with a million tiny details that all needed his individual attention and focus. He’d had little sleep and even less respite from the endless rounds of meetings and glad-handing potential investors and corporate shareholders.

This new Elliot Burch baffled his advisors and managers, with his inattention and distracted air to the need for vigilance when it came to the many small annoying details of restructuring the group of companies to the best advantage - and to a point where they would not be vulnerable again to a corporate raider of Gabriel’s ruthless type. Many glances of frowning concern had come Elliot’s way, as he stalked his offices like a caged animal, yearning to be free of the constraints that bound him.

His glances were becoming edged with impatience.

“I came to this city to build, gentlemen!” Elliot had slammed his fist against the highly polished surface of the conference table an hour ago. “It’s what I was born to do!”

He shot a sweeping hand towards the cityscape beyond the conference room windows. “That’s where I wish to be. Not stuck in here day after day, without an end in sight, haggling over trivial details. I have projects waiting to commence; men standing idle, waiting for their orders. So, I’m going back to where I belong. I pay you well enough to do this endless number crunching and form-filling for me. Make it so, gentlemen, call me when you’re done!”

“But, where will we contact you, Mr Burch?” One of the accountants tried to detain him. “I mean, it’s impossible. You can’t just disappear again. It’s unacceptable.”

“Trust me, I’ll get back to you.” Elliot pushed his chair away from the head of the table, snatching up his suit jacket. “For now, I’m going to visit an old friend. Good day, gentlemen. Don’t make me regret your exorbitant salaries.”

As he stormed from the room, he’d been forced to conceal his smile of delight at the collective look of frozen shock on their faces. He knew they were right. The old Elliot would have stayed, worked and fought for every dollar, every line of the contracts would’ve been argued over and scrutinised.

But, that was the old Elliot…

Even now, as he duplicated Shannon’s knock code on the steel of the secret door, he was scheduled to be meeting some very important money men, men who could set him firmly on his feet with one stroke of their gold pens. He knew his people didn’t really need him to hold their hands while they worked out the details. It was a fact he was only too aware of. But their protests had been none the less vocal and distressed.

Elliot grinned grimly as the hidden door slid silently open before him to reveal Peter’s bulky shape.

“Elliot…?” Peter questioned. “Back so soon?”

“Couldn’t stay away.” Elliot’s grin widened, as he stepped over the threshold and the door slid shut behind him.

He felt freer than he had in days and his mood lightened. Even Peter’s grim face couldn’t ruffle his contentment at being Below once more.

“Well, there’s been trouble.” Peter grimaced. “Father has put everyone on intruder alert. I can’t take you down, I have to stay on duty here. There’s intruders been found in the west sector. Can you find your own way?”

“Trouble?” Elliot sensed the chill of fear prickle his skin. “What sort of trouble?”

“Been some bodies found up at the junction door.” Peter indicated for Elliot to pass him. “Don’t know much else stuck way over here. You’ll have to ask Father, when you get down there. Only know Catherine and Shannon went Above by that route this morning and they haven’t returned yet. And no one can find Vincent. Everyone’s in a flap about that.”

“Shannon’s gone Above?” He felt both surprised and elated that she had gone out there, without the need of his escort and close company. Jealous that she was with Catherine, in the sunshine and bustle of his city.

“Now, what?” He grimaced, knowing he must have looked a fool with his mouth hanging open, but his mind was racing to assimilate all the facts. He even turned away, briefly toying with the idea of going back Above to see if he could find the two women. He had a suspicion they were with Joe Maxwell.

But the only people who could give him accurate information were Father or Vincent, so he must get to them to discover what they knew of the situation, other than the bare facts Peter had told him.

“That’s what I said.” Peter frowned at him. “Shannon has gone Above.” He spaced the words deliberately, before pointing away into the shadows of the tunnel. “If you get lost, use your code on the pipes. Someone will come for you and lead you to Father.”

“That’s a comforting thought,” Elliot muttered, as he plunged into the darkness, lit at infrequent intervals by the fitful flame of wooden torches. “Then we can get lost together.”

He glanced at the tunnel walls as he passed, rock fissures running with water and growing an interesting array of strange plant life. A wry smile touched his mouth, as he thought of the one man who could find humour in his current situation. “I bet Cleon would pay good money to see me now.”

*******

“So, you know nothing of Sarah’s movements over the last few weeks?” Joe sat forward on the park bench, his hands hanging loosely between his knees, holding the remains of a hastily snatched chilli dog, with everything, slowly congealing in its wrapper. Catherine and Shannon sat on either side of him, their painful thoughts clearly written on the fine-drawn quality of their expressions.

Catherine brought her gaze back from the sun-warmed distance and shook her head at his question. “Mary said Sarah always came Below to see her every Tuesday without fail. It was her day off work, and then she would go back to Lady May’s. It was a stable routine. It was after the last visit that she disappeared.”

Joe watched a couple of children with a kite running with abandon across the grass, the bright triangle dipping and swaying behind them, somehow managing to miss all the obstacles that clutched at its fragile frame. Their childish laughter sounded carefree on the breeze, knowing no cares, on hindrance of their innocent pleasure. Automatically, Joe’s eyes searched the shadows for any overt attention being paid to the children’s game.

There was a little girl, blond and petite, beautifully dressed and determined to christen her new shoes in a muddy puddle, despite the frantic noises of disapproval coming from her nanny. In the distance, an orderly group of older children were involved in a nature study under the watchful eyes of a mounted policeman, his horse cropping lazily at the grass, obviously bored with a lecture on trees. Joe measured every shadow that fell over the children, probing their secrets, needing to know that there was no unseen menace in their hidden depths.

“We cannot keep them all safe, Joe, no matter how hard we try.” Catherine’s eyes followed the direction of his gaze. “I wish it wasn’t so, but it just isn’t possible.”

“I know…” Joe agreed, on a gusty sigh, grimacing with distaste at the cold mass of food in his hands and tossing it into the refuse bin at the end of the bench. “But, I did think your world had a shot at it. I thought, at least Below, the kids would be safe from harm.”

“No one is completely safe anywhere,” Shannon added thoughtfully, watching the nanny drag the little girl away from her new plaything, the child’s protests shrill and impatient. “But it was Sarah’s choice to come Above to work. She didn’t feel she could spend the rest of her days hiding from a life that had tried to destroy her, when she was too young to fight back and win. She made a deliberate choice and she was happy with it.”

“Until that life caught up with her again,” Joe said heavily, turning his head to look at her. “Okay, so you tell me, what have we got? Sarah goes Below every Tuesday at a regular time, always on her day off from work. Her routine hasn’t varied for six months.”

He began to tick the points off on his fingers. “That makes her vulnerable to a guy who watches for anyone with regular habits. What we need to know is which entrance she used and did she use it constantly, or did she have the good sense to vary her routine and enter through different gates.”

“All the children who live with us are trained from an early age to be very careful and aware of their surroundings at all times,” Shannon replied. “Sarah would have been careful.”

“But, if there were no incidents to alarm her, perhaps she got careless.” Joe raised a defensive hand as Shannon started to argue his point. “I am just saying that we need to look at all the possibilities here. This is a man who is very clever at concealing himself and doing exactly as he pleases, sure he will get away with it every time.”

He pounded his fist into his open palm. “But, now we have a victim with a set routine. If we can pinpoint when and how Sarah moved between the two worlds, we will have come a lot closer to the killer than anyone has done in ten years.”

“Okay, fair point.” Shannon nodded.

“And, since I'm the only one on this investigation who knows all of Sarah’s secrets, I would say I’ve just been elected to go Below and question anyone who might know of her movements over the past month. I want to know everything, no matter how small or trivial her friends might think it is.”

He turned to Catherine. “I know I’ll need your help in this, Cathy. Feel like becoming an unpaid employee of the D.A.’s office again, Radcliffe? The rates are better than they used to be.”

“I want this man as much as you do,” Catherine replied, her expression determined. “He can’t be allowed to go on. We can get through the interviews a lot quicker if Shannon and I organise everything first. To some of the tunnel dwellers who knew Sarah, you are still very much a stranger and therefore suspect. We will also need to interview those helpers Above who knew her routine.”

Shannon nodded. “I think we should send Elliot to see Lady May, she always responds better to a good looking-man. He can charm her and get the information to you, Joe.”

“Good, but we only have another ten days.” Joe nodded his thanks with a grim expression, knowing that the hard realities had to be faced head-on. “Ten days in which to catch this guy before he kills again and I want him before he even thinks of doing it again.”

“Lord knows what I am gonna tell Diana.” He grimaced suddenly, as a further unpleasant thought assailed him. “And I have ten days to work out a way to slot all this new information into a case file and make it all seem believable, without Bennett snooping into it and demanding explanations I can’t give.”

He stood and glanced at his watch. “Speaking of Bennett, she was supposed to meet me and Greg Hughes in my office at eleven. That was two hours ago. But, when I phoned the office from the morgue to say I’d be late getting back, she hadn’t showed up. That’s not like her. When she last reported in, she said that she was heading to the park, back to look over the Trudy Klein crime scene.”

He shrugged. “Now, Janine reckons Greg’s about to blow a fuse. I’d better get back and calm him down. Wonder what sort of trouble Bennett’s got herself into this time…”

*******

Joe returned to his office, intent on escaping as soon as possible, but he should have known better. Instead of making good his escape, he was forced to make explanations to a very agitated Greg, who demanded to know where the heck everyone was and what was Joe hiding, since he’d suddenly and mysteriously, identified their Jane Doe. He’d already spoken with the coroner.

Joe prowled his desk, throwing what he needed into a bag, while trying to decide how much to tell his friend, and what he could tell him. “I’ll admit that I could have a possible line on the killer. But nothing is certain. I don’t want to jinx it.”

“So, why are we standing here, then?” Greg demanded to know. “Let’s get out there and arrest him. Bennett’s probably way ahead of us, by now. That’s probably why she didn’t show, or contact us. Want’s the glory all for herself.”

“Diana wouldn’t do that, and it’s not that simple.” Joe compressed his lips. “I’m going to be out the office for the next couple of days. I want this guy as badly as you do. But, there are some things I need to do first. Interviews with possible witnesses, I need to conduct, in private. They don’t take too kindly to strangers barging into where they live.”

“Aw, come on, Joe!” Greg threw his hands in the air. “First Diana fails to show up for this meeting, now you want to cut and run too. Witnesses, what witnesses? No one tells me anything. I know you’re holding out on me.” He glared at Joe suspiciously. “What’s really going on here?”

“Can’t say. Sorry, Greg, its sensitive,” Joe prevaricated. He pulled his overnight bag from the bottom drawer. “Look, can you stay, in case Diana remembers she owes me an update? One of my assistants can take notes if Bennett finally shows her face.” He scowled at his watch. “Though, I gotta admit, it’s not like her to miss an important meeting.”

Greg threw up his hands in disgust. “Well, I say the pair of you deserve each other. And, someone said you had Cathy Chandler in here earlier too. You’re not running away with her, are you?”

“Don’t go there.” Joe frowned warningly. “Cathy’s a friend, nothing more. But she’s agreed to help me with this new line of enquiry. She has a way of getting the truth out of people who’re reluctant to talk.”

“Okay, okay.” Greg blew a long breath. “So, you are not going to share what you know? Geez, Bennett had better come up trumps, or I will get it in the neck from the mayor’s office, as soon as you’re out of sight. You owe me big time, Maxwell, and I intend to collect.” He threw himself down into a chair, his expression mutinous, but resigned.

“When I’m sure of the facts, you’ll be the first to know.” Joe nodded. “We’ve been down this road before and Erik paid for our mistakes with his life. I’m not about to allow that to happen again. You’re just gonna have to trust me on this, for now.”

“All right, Joe, I’ll sit on it for as long as I can.” Greg seized the hand Joe extended across the desk. “But, you take care. I don’t want your death on my conscience as well.”

*******

Joe finally escaped back onto the street, where Catherine and Shannon were waiting for him. They fell into step with him.

“Sorry, Greg took some convincing.” Joe grimaced. “I wouldn’t put it past him to try and follow us.”

“Greg cares what happens to you, Joe.” Catherine hailed a passing taxi, before linking arms with him. “And he’ll have a hard time explaining to the higher powers why he let you go chasing off after some nebulous lead, in a case that once got a good friend of yours killed under similar circumstances.”

He will wait for your return, to know you are safe.”

“Right as usual, Radcliffe.” Joe grinned suddenly, the lines of worry momentarily erased form his face. “Perhaps I should run away more often. But, I wish the circumstances of my return to your world could be different.” He shook his head, as they all got into the taxi. “Now all I seem to be doing is bringing my problems to you.”

“They are our problems too.” Shannon said quietly. “And only together can we solve them. This man wants to take the best from both our worlds and we cannot allow that to happen again.”

She looked away to the towers of the city surrounding them as they sped through the streets towards the park, and she wondered what Elliot was doing right now. Probably deep in another of the interminable meetings about money that he had come to detest so much. She sent out a silent wish for him to be well and safe.

Catherine stared at the trees in the park, after the taxi had left them. She’d been sensing for some time now, that Vincent was moving away from her. She was puzzled and confused by this new development, but his reassurance flowed back to her, comforting her that all was well and he would be back with her soon.

As they walked through the park, the early afternoon sun cast stark shadows across the grass. She shivered, remembering their shared dream and took comfort in the two steady heartbeats keeping time with her own. A flicker of movement within her brought her hand up to rest gently against her lower body.

She longed to be home, comforted in the warm strength of her husband’s embrace. This entrancing thought quickened her steps, as they left the city confines and ventured into the depths of Central Park.

*******

“I swear they must have changed everything since I was last down here,” Elliot muttered wearily, as he turned back into the same section of tunnel he had left over an hour ago. “I know I’ve been here before. Cleon, you are never around when I need you.”

The need to know about the trouble that threatened Shannon’s world and the desire to know she was safe, vied with Elliot’s determination to find his own way down, without admitting defeat and being forced to summon help. He laid a hand against the cold steel of the pipe that ran past him at eye level and felt the distant echo of a message being tapped out somewhere far below. The tremble of sound was infinitely welcoming and reassuring.

“I should have stayed at the office,” he said with a tired grimace of self-disgust, as he bent to pick up a stone from the tunnel floor and began to tap out the rudimentary code Shannon had taught him. “But then, I would have missed all the fun,” he amended, on the ghost of a laugh as his message was answered in the far distance.

*******

What raging fire shall flood the soul?

What rich desire unlocks its door?

What sweet seduction lies before us…?

Past the point of no return, the final threshold —

What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?

Beyond the point of no return…

Phantom of the Opera

Slipped from the brawny shoulder that had carried her for so long, Diana sank onto the hard comfort of a bed in the confines of a cavern seemingly cut from solid rock. Patchwork quilts and cushions were arranged at the head of the bed, giving the starkness of the stone room a measure of colour and comfort.

Her captor stood back, deep in the shadows cast by the single lamp beside the bed. Diana strained to se his face, but all that was illuminated was the sheen of his eyes and the metal work of his costume.

This was an odd assortment of leather and cloth held together with many straps and buckles of differing sizes. The black leather boots gleamed in the light, rising to mid thigh, closely hugging the solid length of his legs. Overall, the sweep of a woollen cloak hid a massive frame. No wonder he could carry her so easily for so long, without tiring.

Hurried footsteps beyond the room forestalled Diana’s idea of asking any questions and a plea of answers. A woman stood framed in the entrance, a tall woman with long, faded red hair twisted into a neat bun on the top of her head. Her face, now lined and seamed in late middle age, still held remnants of a once great beauty. Her skin was still flawless, her lips full and pouting. But now, her mouth was pulled down at the corners and every line of her body spoke of her disapproval.

“You shouldn’t have brought anyone down here,” she hissed, advancing into the room and for all his size, the man in the shadows seemed to shrink beneath the lash of her tongue. “You know the rules about bringing strangers to where we live. They can only do us harm.”

“She was hurt.” The man’s soft voice spoke from the greater darkness. “I could not go for help Up There…had to bring her Down Here.”

“You shouldn’t have been Up There in the first place.” The woman placed her hands on her hips in exasperation. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, they are no good for you Up There. They can only harm you, do things to you, you wouldn’t like. Cage you like those animals you saw in that book you found. None of them are any good, and now you’ve brought one of them here, to our home. Why did I bear such a fool?”

“The Others go Up There.” Diana’s captor drew himself up, trying desperately to justify whatever terrible transgression he was guilty of. But, he still moved uneasily in the shadows, like a great child caught out in some serious misdeed.

All their conversation went completely over Diana’s head. She looked from one to the other with detached curiosity, deciding that the man who rescued her seemed to have her interests at the core of his argument, while the woman fairly bristled with animosity and distrust.

“The Others are not like us, they need to go Up There. We only need what we need and what we need, we take from The Others. So it has always been and so it will always be. Break the rules and you will pay the consequences. Do you want that? Do you want them to take you away from me…forever?”

“No, no, I don’t want that.” The man cringed. “I am sorry now. I will take her back, put her back where I found her. Then you will not be mad at me anymore. I can do that for you.”

“You know it’s far too late for that now, you great oaf!” The woman threw up her hands in exasperation, before coming further into the room to stare hard at Diana, with ill concealed impatience. “Still, talking about it now won’t mend things. She’s here and we’ll have to make the best of a bad job until we can get rid of her. What’s the matter with you, girl? You can talk, I take it?”

Diana took exception to her tone and was about to say so, when the man spoke again. “Ribs; might be broken, might be not. She was in great pain and bleeding. You see that I had to do it.”

He advanced into the light of the lamp, pushing back the hood of his cloak with one hand. “Three men were beating her, they were about to kill her. Shoot her with this.” He produced Diana’s gun from a pocket of his cloak. “Wanting to do her harm, and I couldn’t let them do that. She is a nice lady. I have watched her in the park.”

Diana stared at him. Is this man her watcher she could sense, but never see?

Questions crowded into her mind. What had he seen, what did he know?

“Enough!” The woman dismissed his words with a gesture of extreme impatience. “Put that thing away. You can throw it down the hole later. Safer that way.”

She turned back to eye Diana with disgust, running her gaze over the entire length of her body, her lips pursed thoughtfully. But Diana didn’t notice, even when the older woman advanced towards the bed, bending to examine her.

All her attention was fixed on the tall figure now standing at the end of the bed. Diana felt the breath jamb in her throat at the sight of his face, as he moved further into the revealing lamplight…

*******

Catherine and her companions were halfway to the drainage tunnel when, suddenly, a shadowy figure stepped from the surrounding trees. Joe immediately moved forward aggressively, placing himself between this new menace and the two women. But Catherine caught his arm almost in the same instance.

“It’s okay, Joe. It’s Michael.”

“Father sent me.” Michael stared warily at Joe. “Said to warn you, there’s been trouble at the junction door. He told me to make sure to tell you when you returned and to make sure you and Shannon were alone.”

He looked doubtfully at Joe then, not sure how to enforce his strict instructions, but prepared to try and bar Joe’s progress. Happily, Catherine relieved him of the responsibility of dealing with the unexpected appearance of the man.

“It’s okay, Michael, Joe is a friend. He needs to come Below. Father will understand when we explain. You have done a good job. Come on, you can take us home and explain on the way.”

She scanned the darkening trees. “But, where is Vincent? He’s not with you?”

“Gone down, way down. No one knows where.” Michael stared hard at her, as they entered the tunnel. “Don’t you know where he is?”

Catherine shook her head. “I sensed…I felt him moving away, and down. He said he would be here, waiting for us…” She reached out with her mind to touch against Vincent’s, questing and questioning where he was, and why he had not come to meet them.

Are you all right…?

Please, do not worry…I will return soon…

The deep strength of his reassurance came flooding back to her, asking her not to be concerned. He was returning now and would be back with her before she reached the home tunnels. He’d been called away, to investigate a discovery, something they had suspected for some time, but could never prove. His need and support for her flowed into every part of her heart and mind, wrapping her in the endless warmth and beauty of his great love...

“It’s all right,” she whispered, as the steel door rolled closed behind them with a soft clang and the tunnel world surrounded her once more. “I will be waiting for you…”

“He is all right?” Shannon placed a detaining hand on Catherine’s arm, as they started down the tunnel. “There is no trouble for him?”

“No trouble.” Catherine sighed. “Everything is all right.” She linked arms with the younger woman. “Come on, let’s go home.”

*******

Father sat at his desk, turning the detective’s shield over and over in his restless hand, trying to decide the best course of action. To have such a dangerous person either dead or injured somewhere in their world was a truly frightening thought. The guards had been adamant they had cleared away all evidence of the trouble at the junction and they’d found no trace of any woman belonging to the black purse now lying on Father’s desk, like an accusing shadow.

He could only hope she had somehow managed to escape the inexplicable death of the three men and made her way back to the city. He knew full well that the city police force always guarded their own with fierce loyalty. If she was still in the tunnels and deemed missing, then they would certainly come looking for her.

Surely, she would have reported her movements…

He looked at the I.D. again and wondered if he should contact Joe Maxwell. Perhaps he was the one person who could solve this mystery. He chewed his bottom lip worriedly. He prayed Catherine would return soon. This whole mess with Sarah being missing and now this…he pressed a weary hand to his throbbing temple. Where will it all end…?

Soft footfalls on the steps behind him brought his eyes up from the trouble he could foresee ahead. He jumped to his feet.

“Vincent!” Father felt immeasurably relieved to see his son. “I was beginning to worry about you. No one seemed to know where you’d gone. The pipes said Catherine is on her way down again.”

“I know. I can feel her coming near.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “I would go to her, but Pascal sent a messenger down to say there was serious trouble and you needed me immediately.”

He frowned. “Cullen and I were far down, below the level of the pipes. We were at the bottom of the maze. There’s been some subsidence from the flood that we must attend to, but Cullen has found evidence someone’s been living down there. Or further down, below even where John Pater’s maps can take us.”

“Below the maze?” Father struggled with the concept. “But that is so far down, how could they survive? John knew those places intimately. He could hide an army down there, and we would never suspect their existence.”

“That is exactly what Cullen and I intend to find out. There have been too many strange things happening for it to be coincidence. But, that is for another time. What is the danger we have now?”

Swiftly, Father told him the details, offering his son the bright shield and indicating the contents of the purse neatly arranged on the desk. “I can only hope she went Above and was not injured along with those men who were killed. I can only pray I am right. I fear I am not.”

“If she is still Below, we have to find this woman and swiftly.” Vincent investigated the contents of the bag and found a folded piece of paper tucked into a concealed side pocket that Father had missed.

He unfolded it in the light of a lamp and read the few lines it contained and a name. His free hand clenched involuntarily, as he read the name again.

He sighed. “It is worse than we feared, Father.” He indicated the name with one fingertip. “Diana Bennett.” He frowned with consternation.

“This is the woman who followed Joe Maxwell that night of the meeting with Catherine at the carousel. She is the one who finally discovered where Gabriel was hiding and eliminated his shadow from our lives. She will not rest until she knows the truth about us. She is too good at what she does, far too intelligent to be fobbed off with half truths.”

“Then, that only serves to make things far worse.” Father took a turn around the room. “Why was she at the junction door and what happened to her, is of secondary importance at the moment. I must send Geoffrey with a message for Joe Maxwell immediately, because I—”

“That will not be necessary, Father.” Vincent replaced the note and the shield in the purse, his gaze becoming distant and thoughtful as he concentrated on the link deep within him. “Catherine is bringing him Below as we speak. I must go and meet them. Then, we will all discuss what to do next.”

*******

His face…Diana could not drag her disbelieving eyes away. He looked so…

A tumble of long, dark auburn hair framed the broad planes of his cheekbones, falling to curl against the strong column of his throat. His mouth was of generous width, lying beneath a nose that could only be described as noble.

Against the darkness of his hair, his skin was pale and unblemished, as if he had spent his whole life hidden away from the warmth of the sun. It was a face of incredible masculine beauty, but beneath the surface an immense loneliness had been imprinted on his unearthly features, lending an air of deep sorrow and quiet despair.

He looked like some great angel, who had fallen to earth and had somehow lost the ability to fly. And he longed, with every fibre of his great being, to return to the beauty and safety of his heavenly home far above this dark and chill place deep beneath the earth...

But, it was his eyes that continued to draw Diana’s frowning concentration. Framed with long, curling lashes, they were large pools of midnight black, seeming to hold all the sadness and pain of the world, reflecting the light of the lamp, but looking straight through her to some distant point only he could see. A chill feathered along Diana’s senses then, for she realised suddenly, instinctively, that her rescuer was blind.

“Do you like the look of my son?” the woman at her side asked, as she investigated Diana’s injuries with brisk efficiency, bringing a rim of white to her lips as the older woman probed her abused flesh.

But, despite the searing pain, she refused to allow one sound of protest escape her tightly clamped mouth. Colours and spots of light danced before her vision, as she lay quiescent, biding her time until she could work out how to achieve her escape from these mad people.

Receiving no response, the older woman probed a rib with deliberate intent, making Diana gasp and wince. “At least, none of your ribs are broken. You were lucky; they are only cracked. But, you will be in some pain for a while.” She obviously found satisfaction in the thought of Diana’s continued suffering.

She lifted her eyes to glare at her son. “But, he obviously considered you worth the effort of dragging you all the way down here to be a burden on the rest of us. I have no idea why.”

“She is hurt, I knew you would help.” The man at the end of the bed dropped his great shaggy head lower, under the weight of his mother’s sarcasm. He shuffled his feet, Diana’s gun still hanging in his hand.

“Azrael!” His mother snapped. “I told you to put that thing away, before you hurt yourself. It’s not a toy. Now, come here and make yourself useful. You can, at least do that, instead of standing there with nothing to contribute, beyond your silent disapproval.”

“Yes, Mother.” He hurried forward beneath the whip of her words, stuffing the gun back into a pocket of his cloak. Diana prayed the safety was on.

She studied him anew, with clinical detachment, as he bent down beside her. An archangel’s name for a man who looked like one. Diana couldn’t escape the twisted irony, that her life seemed to be plagued by wayward archangels; first Gabriel, and now this unearthly looking man.

She knew the angel Azrael's primary role was to help people crossing into heaven, to ease their passage at the time of death. None of that tied in with what had happened up at the steel door, when he’d dispatched those three men without compunction. But, he had certainly saved her from the same unwelcome fate. She owed him for that, at least.

- If she could only get access to her gun…

She didn’t offer any resistance, as the pair of them stripped her of her outer garments and went about strapping her ribs firmly with length of clean linen fetched from a battered leather medical bag produced from somewhere in the darkness. Their combined attentions were impersonal and very proficient, but Diana was forced to turned her gaze away from the clear blankness, when Azrael’s eyes seemed to study her expression closely, his own face neutral and unreadable.

“If I had my way, I would just drag you out of here and toss you down the hole and forget you, girl,” Azrael’s mother complained. “Make it easy on all of us.”

“No!” Azrael shouted, rearing up into his full height, for once seeming unafraid of his mother’s wrath. “She is mine! I found her, I am keeping her!”

“Calm down, boy. Have it your way. Why did I raise such a fool?”

His mother shrugged, as she moved to attend to the deep graze on Diana’s cheek, muttering to herself the whole time about the problems she had to endure and the obtuseness of her own children. Finally, she straightened to throw a rough patchwork blanket over Diana’s chilled body.

“She’s better now.” Azrael returned to the foot of the bed, seeming loath to leave, hovering uncertainly beneath his mother’s acid tongue when she ordered him to stop chattering and clean up.

After having her body handled with such rough usage, and the crusted mass on her cheek stripped none too gently from her skin, Diana was left closer to tears than she had been throughout her strange ordeal. Now all she desired was to be left alone by this odd couple, who showed no desire to desert her company. The woman watched her with a predatory gleam that Diana found intimidating and more than a little unsettling.

“Now, I suppose I will have to feed you,” she complained finally, gathering up the contents of her medical bag and sighing, casting another look of derision at her son. “Now, I know, you wouldn’t ever have thought of that.”

“With the Master and Zadkiel gone, there will be plenty. I can—”

Azrael was quickly silenced by the sharp intake of his mother’s breath hissing between her clenched teeth.

“Enough! Talk of the Master and your brother is not for the likes of one from Up There to hear! You brought her down here, so you can feed her. From your portion, mind! You wish to keep her? Well, she’s solely your responsibility now. I want nothing more to do with her.”

“That makes two of us,” Diana bit out then, goaded beyond her vow of silence. “I was brought all the way here against my will, if you remember. I have no desire to stay a second longer than I need to. Get out of my way and I’ll walk back up!”

“Oh, so you do have a voice, then.” The older woman turned back to stare at her. “I was beginning to think you were just another cripple, like my great big oaf of a son here. It would be just like him to drag home another defective mouth to feed, who has no earthly use to us down here. He’s been doing it all his life. No matter how many times I try to beat the notion out of his thick skull.”

She frowned at Diana. “So, I’m Emma. What’s your name, girl?”

Diana considered not answering, but she knew she could not afford to antagonise these people any further, for now. “Diana,” she supplied shortly.

“Ah, the huntress...” Emma glanced at her son. “You’d better be careful of this one. I can tell; she’s going to be trouble.”

“He saved my life, when those men would have killed me.” Diana’s gaze moved to the dark eyes of the man standing silently at the foot of the bed. “I will thank him for that, instead of abusing him.”

“I did that, didn’t I?” He moved uneasily then, a bright flush of colour suffusing his pale cheeks. “I did a good thing, for a change. I saved you.”

“You did a good thing, Azrael.” Diana nodded, watching him smile slowly.

He appeared to be a simple man who probably saw everything and nothing at all and she wondered how these two managed to co-exist for so long without trying to kill each other. But, Azrael’s face had quickly resumed its unearthly, remote cast, his eyes fixed, as ever, on some distant point only he could see and understand…

*******

“I have needed you so badly.” Catherine gathered the large bulk of her husband into her arms and clung to him with all her strength.

Vincent’s arms passed around her and gathered her even closer, enfolding her in the shroud of his cloak. Joe and Shannon passed them quietly, going on their way with averted faces, their voices fading into the torch-lit distance.

“I wished I could have gone with you…to protect you…” Vincent whispered into her hair, closing his eyes to lose himself once more in the wonder of their bond and its many layers of awareness. The reality of her love, as always, far exceeded any dreams.

But, another, unwelcome reality nudged mindfully at his consciousness, recalling him to the matter of Catherine’s mission Above. “And Sarah…?”

He slid his hands over the length of her arms, drawing her back to look down into her averted face. But the answer was already there, flowing through their connection, the depth of Catherine’s sadness and regret.

“Yes…” She sighed raggedly. “She’s gone, Vincent. She was a victim of the killer Joe still seeks. Now, she is cold and alone…”

“So, it was her voice we heard in the park.” Vincent massaged the taut muscles of her shoulders, easing her tension, giving her the strength to continue. “The voice we both knew, but could not place until this morning.”

“I had hoped it wasn’t.” Catherine looked up at him, her eyes spilling over with the tears she could now shed, her voice fraught with the agony she could now allow herself to feel. “I hoped we would find her safe and well and happy. Just as she sounded in the park of our dream.”

Vincent heaved a great sigh, gathering her close to him again. “We cannot keep them all safe, Catherine, no matter how hard we try.” He wiped away her tears with the ball of his thumb. “We can only give them the knowledge, all our hope and love, then set them free. Their lives are not ours to live, no matter how much we might wish to make it so.”

“Shannon said something like that, too.” Catherine pushed her fingers across her cheeks, erasing the final trails of her tears. “But, it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear.”

“No, it does not make it any easier,” Vincent agreed solemnly, running the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “But then, nothing ever could.”

“No, nothing ever could.” Catherine nodded, leaning back within his embrace to caress the plane of his cheek with her fingers before reaching up to press a lingering kiss against his mouth.

“Take me home, Vincent.” She laid her face into the width of his shoulder and sighed.

“I’m afraid, we have more troubles to deal with yet.” Vincent cradled her gently.

In the distance the pipes chimed two messages. One calling the members of the council together for an urgent meeting; the other a plea for help from Elliot Burch, who had managed to get himself lost coming down from Above.

*******

Elliot leaned against the side of the tunnel, the rock wall cold and unfeeling behind his back. The answer to his summons had been unintelligible, but very welcome.

The darkness pressed in on all sides, relieved only by the distant glow of a lit torch. It took Elliot a few seconds to grasp the fact that the light was moving steadily towards him, a blond head bobbing within its glow.

“Mouse.” Elliot pushed away from the wall, as the tinker came up to him, holding the torch above his head. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Elliot, lost…again.” Mouse pursed his lips in disapproval. “Should not have tried to come down here without a guide. Dangerous down here sometimes.”

“I guess you’re the expert.” Elliot smiled. “I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Maybe so.” Mouse looked sceptical and shrugged his shoulders in exasperating non-committal. “Maybe not. Mouse not so sure.”

As far as he was concerned, Topsiders belonged Up Top and tunnel dwellers, who knew all these passages, belonged Down Below. He didn’t approve of the two groups trying to mix. That always caused trouble. Trouble for Mouse and Vincent to fix.

Catherine, Vincent’s Catherine, was left out of the first group in Mouse’s mind. She was his friend and therefore different from the rest of the people of her old world. As he mused darkly on this, someone shadowed up from the darkness beyond his shoulder. Mouse glanced back as Shannon halted at his side.

“Brought you a friend.” He looked from one to the other with ill concealed glee. “Someone to guide you down, so you don’t get lost again. Shannon likes you a lot. Don’t know why.”

“Thank you, Mouse.” Shannon took the boy by the shoulders and turned him back in the direction they had come. “I think we can manage from here.” She took the torch from his hand.

“Need help, call Mouse.” The tinker shrugged, glancing back over his shoulder, as he walked away. “Get lost, always need Mouse to find. Break something, everyone says, where’s Mouse? Want new thing built, says, hey, Mouse…”

His voice trailed off into the distance, still reciting his list of accomplishments. Elliot could hardly contain the wealth of relieved laughter that threatened to double him up in mirth, when Shannon turned back to him in mock despair.

“It’s no laughing matter,” she admonished him severely. “Mouse is quite right. You could have been in serious trouble coming down here without a guide. I didn’t think you were so foolhardy.”

“Would you rescue me, if I got into serious trouble?” Elliot ran his hand up her arm to curl beneath the weight of her raven hair. “Mouse isn’t as beautiful as you, my maiden fair.”

“Of course, I would.” Shannon tried to stay immune to the wayward emotions that were plundering her senses at his questing touch. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Ah, but how much…?” Elliot bent his head to caress her lips lightly with his own. “That is something I intend to find out in the very near future.”

“More than perhaps is good for me.” Shannon turned her face from his, but this only presented the tempting target of her neck to Elliot’s warm caress. “We have to go, Father is expecting us. He has called a meeting of the council,” she managed raggedly, pushing him away reluctantly. “We haven’t time to discuss this now.” She tugged at him, urging him to follow her.

“Peter said there was trouble Below.” Elliot fell into step beside her, his hand curving possessively around her upper arm, drawing her to a halt once more. “Tell me, perhaps I can help.”

“I don’t know, Elliot, please…” Shannon argued him forward. “Father can tell you more than I can. We must hurry now.” Drawing her arm out of his hold, she stepped back from him, turning to hurry away down the tunnel, pausing only to make sure he followed.

“But, you went Above, without me. That is something we need to discuss…” Elliot stared after her for a long moment, before he was forced to follow, or be abandoned once again to the surrounding darkness…

*******

“The men you found in the junction, you made no effort to identify them?” Joe sat across the table from Father, his brow furrowed in worried concentration. “They may have families Above.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Maxwell, but, I’m afraid our world does not have the benefits or the luxuries of your legal system.” Father laced his hands before him on the table. “We are forced to do what is expedient at the time. In this case our entire security system depended on our concealing the bodies as quickly as possible.”

He raised his shoulders. “I did examine them, of course. They were quite dead. From their condition, I would say they were drug addicts and as such could have no possible connection to this world. I very much doubt they will be missed in yours. However, you may chose to dress them up, those are the hard facts of the matter. I am sorry if you disapprove of our methods.”

“Yes, of course, I do appreciate the need for secrecy.” Joe looked at the other members of the council who had quickly gathered in Father’s chamber following his urgent summons to a crisis meeting.

William, Pascal, Catherine and Vincent, all looking concerned and perplexed by the circumstances of the meeting. And Mary, saddened beyond the point of tears, regretful that one of her charges had lost her way and come to a sad end, in a world that should have offered her everything she could ever wish for.

Catherine met Joe’s eyes with an understanding nod, as his gaze settled on her, with appeal. She alone could appreciate the dilemma he found himself in now.

That night at the carousel had been bad enough…

“We have no idea what went on up there.” Father looked at each council member in turn. “But, from what we can ascertain from the evidence, there was a struggle and death came swiftly and violently to those three men.”

Father released his breath on a troubled sigh, his gaze both thoughtful and apologetic as he voiced his thoughts aloud. “At first, I thought, Vincent…”

“No!” Catherine put in abruptly, when Father paused, searching for his next words. “If it had been Vincent, then I would have known about it. I would have felt his anger, his pain over what he was forced to do against his better instincts. I would have come back to him immediately. Vincent had nothing to do with what happened up there.”

Vincent slipped his hand into his wife’s, clasping it strongly, giving her his reassurance that he understood Father’s intent. “I was very reluctant to travel so far from home, so far beyond our communication links. But Cullen was very insistent. He was sure, if we hurried, we would return in time. He was very keen to show me his discovery. We have long suspected there are others living below us, pilfering our stores from time to time. Now we seem to have found a faint trail leading down.”

“But, now is not the time to discuss this.” He turned his attention to the council. “We are all struggling to understand what happened up there. Father was right to consider all aspects.”

“I’m sorry, Catherine.” Father’s grimace of apology was strained. “But the facts are sketchy at best. You will have to forgive me my immediate reaction. I did not mean to cause you or Vincent any pain. Now we must try and make some sense of several things to give us some idea of the chain of events that occurred up there.”

Father looked across the table at Joe. “I was going to send Geoffrey to you with a message, before I knew you were Below. You said you would help us always, no matter how large or complex the problem.”

Joe nodded tersely, remembering his offer of help. “I meant what I said. I will do all I can within my powers.”

“This was found at the junction.” Father produced the black handbag and tipped the contents onto the table. The gold shield clattered across the surface, coming to rest face up. Joe’s breath hissed in through his teeth in startled surprise. He lifted his gaze to stare at the assembled council.

“Diana Bennett.” Vincent reached to take the shield, weighing it in his palm. “She is one of your investigators.”

“Diana!” Joe jumped as if he’d just been shot. “What was she doing getting into a fight at the tunnel? It makes no sense.”

“Unless she was searching for something…” Catherine replied slowly. “Or someone…” She looked at Vincent. “She was never satisfied with what happened at the carousel, or our deposition on Striker’s demise.”

“She was investigating the Snapper killings.” Joe took the badge from Vincent’s hand. “Another girl was murdered in the park and Diana’s last known whereabouts was at the crime scene. Somehow, something, must have led her into the tunnel. But, you found no trace of her at all?”

“Nothing to indicate if she has either gone back Above or somehow found her way down here.” Father sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “She seems to have vanished into thin air.”

“Her possible presence Below is a danger to us all.” Vincent considered the black bag and its contents. “From what I know of the woman she is persistent and unwavering in her quest for the truth. We cannot allow her to uncover our truths in her search.”

“Then I’ll get back up to the office right away. Find out if she has returned to the city.” Joe leaned forward to gather all the contents of Diana’s bag and closed it as he stood. “I will have to leave you to handle the interviews, Radcliffe.”

“I can do that, Joe.” Catherine nodded. “But if Diana is Below, then discovering her whereabouts is more important than ever. We cannot allow the killer to gain any extra leeway while we search for her.”

“I just hope that somewhere along the way, the two of them haven’t met up.” Joe passed a hand over his eyes. “I cannot afford to lose another friend.”

“I will send Geoffrey to you in two hours.” Father nodded to Pascal. “He can bring back with any new information you may discover. Good luck, Joe. We can only hope, for all our sakes, that she is in your world and not ours.”

“I think we are all going to need a great deal more than luck.” Joe shook hands with the older man. “I will be in touch as soon as I can.”

*******

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?

Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?

Can wisdom be put in a silver rod?

Or Love in a golden bowl?

William Blake

“I thought this case couldn’t get any worse, but it has.” Joe stood in the shadowed confines of one of the many exits that led out into the area of the city, where Diana had her loft apartment.

It was a place to start. Beyond the abandoned building’s boarded up frontage the muted roar of the city’s night traffic made conversation difficult. It had been a long walk from the home tunnels and Joe was tired, but determined.

Catherine stood beside him, Vincent’s bulk behind her with Diana’s black bag in his hand. He held it out for Joe to take. Turning it over in his hands, Joe frowned at all it implied.

“Send Geoffrey to me at the office.” Joe slung the bag over his shoulder. “I should have something for you soon enough.”

“Be careful, Joe.” Catherine reached to kiss his cheek. “We need you now, more than ever.”

“I’m always careful, Radcliffe, you know that. But thanks for caring,” Joe replied with a lopsided grin, before looking past her to Vincent’s silent figure. “Look after her for me, Vincent.”

“Always…” Vincent gripped his outstretched hand in a warm clasp, before Joe turned away to exit the building by a side door into the narrow, dark alley beyond.

*******

“Bennett?” You tell me!” Greg was pushing his arms into his overcoat, heading out of the D.A.’s offices, when he collided with Joe coming in through the swing doors. “She never showed up at all. I’ve got better things to do that sit around here waiting for her.”

“Hang on…” He halted, frowning. “Okay, Joe, explain. Why are you back so soon from wherever it was you were running off to this morning? Didn’t you have some mysterious witnesses to interview? The mayor’s been chewing my ear off all afternoon. Someone had better tell me what’s going on and fast!”

“Didn’t Matthews give you my message?” Joe caught the detective’s arm, pulling him to a halt. “I telephoned from Diana’s loft. She’s not there. I told Matthews to keep you here until I got back.”

“After five cups of your vile coffee, we’d just about exhausted his short career with this office.” Greg scowled across the bullpen to where the young intern hovered uncertainly, Joe’s sudden reappearance overlaid the young man’s worried expression with patent relief.

“Look, some things have gotten all screwed around.” Joe dragged a reluctant Greg back into his office and took him to one side, away from curious eyes to where they could not be overheard. “As I said, there is no sign of Bennett. It’s not like her.”

“When she gets on the trail of something juicy…” Greg shrugged moodily. “But, okay, I guess you’re right, I’ll admit it’s not like her at all. But, I’m afraid, it’s too late. The mayor insisted I bring John Russell in on this now. He’s marked it up as his greatest moment, finally getting one over on Diana. He hasn’t stopped crowing. That damn man is a real piece of work.”

Joe leaned back against the wall behind him and expelled his breath in a short blast of worried frustration. Greg frowned in puzzlement, as he moved to lean his shoulder beside him, immediately concerned by Joe’s attitude.

“Okay, so tell me, for heaven’s sake. Do we have a major problem here?” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “You know, if Diana is in some sort of trouble…has she gone off on her own again? Are we looking for a body?”

“God, I hope not! Diana is in all sorts of trouble and, for all I know, she’s strictly on her own at the moment,” Joe replied brusquely. “And I have to figure out a way of hoisting her pretty butt out of the muck again, before it brings us more trouble than we can handle. But this will be strictly between you and me, Greg. I can’t afford anyone else to know. Especially Russell.”

“Off the record?” Greg cocked his head thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t wait to see Russell’s face when Bennett shows up again. I would cheerfully part with a year’s pay for that privilege. So, what are we waiting for?”

Joe looked across the bullpen, to where a young boy stood uncertainly, just inside the door. His ragged clothing was patched with leather and odd scraps of material, but his carriage was proud and aloof, immune to the curious stares he attracted. Geoffrey was waiting to carry Joe’s answer to Father and Vincent.

“We need to recheck Diana’s files, see if we can catch a break. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Joe pushed himself away from the wall, heading for the office door. “I have a couple of things to take care of first.”

“Another refugee from your homeless network of spies?” Greg followed, staring hard at Geoffrey, who carefully ignored him. “This case is getting crazier by the minute. Wish I knew half of what’s going on around here. No one tells me anything and I’m getting fed up with it.”

“Sorry, Greg, maybe someday I can tell you.” Joe shook his head, walking away, leading Geoffrey towards the swing doors. They soon disappeared from view, Joe’s hand on the boy’s shoulder and they were whispering urgently to each other.

“No,” Greg decided, shrugging himself into his overcoat once more. “On second thought, I don’t want to know what the heck this is all about. Wherever you are, Bennett, you’d better have a good excuse when you get back.”

*******

The pretty child reached for the red balloon, the topmost one that bobbed and danced above all the rest in the clown’s multi-coloured collection. The girl danced on one foot, reaching up as high as she could, but it wasn’t high enough to touch the red balloon’s shining surface.

“You want that one?” Pancho the clown leaned down to the child’s level, pointing upwards at the bright orb of colour above his head.

“Yes, that one, the top one.” The girl smiled shyly, looking trustingly into the clown’s white painted face, with its one dark tear travelling down his left cheek.

“Well, perhaps we can do each other a favour. Can you keep a secret, a really big secret?” Pancho’s bright red mouth pouted forlornly as he drew the collection of balloons down to shield them both from curious eyes. “I am a sad clown, so what I like to do is keep lots of photos of happy, smiling girls around me. They help to cheer me up when I’m feeling down.”

“You want to take a picture?” the girl ventured in a worried tone, unsure, but intrigued by the clown’s simple story. “My picture?”

“Better than that, I will even trade the red balloon for it.” Pancho checked the view right and left conspiratorially. “But, let’s keep this between you and me. The big people won’t understand. They don’t believe in magic. And, who knows, if you tell me your address, I might come and visit you and we can play games together. Would you like that?”

“Maybe.” The girl looked again at the red balloon. It was a fine big one with a happy face on painted on it. “Okay, you can take my picture, but only one.”

“One is all I need.” Pancho reached into a hidden pocket in his costume. “To take any more would be greedy. And I am never greedy.”

*******

“Nothing, no sign of her at all.” Greg came back into Diana’s lounge from her bedroom. “It looks like her clothes are all still there. No sign of her having taken an unexpected holiday. Bed’s been made, dishes done. Obviously, Bennett didn’t leave here in a hurry. Now, do you want to tell me what this is all about?”

“Sorry, Greg, wish I could.” Joe thumbed the keys of Diana’s computer, in an attempt to break her access code, but the machine was being stubborn. Like it knew it wasn’t its owner trying to gain entry.

Joe grimaced sourly. He needed access to the Snapper files and he took out his mounting frustration by stabbing violently at one of the keys. “But we need to find her and fast.”

“Okay, you’re the boss. But, I don’t like it. Diana never goes off without a good reason and she’s not careless. This is creepy, like she’s been sucked up by aliens or something.”

“Perhaps she had no choice in the matter.” Joe straightened from trying to make the computer co-operate with a sigh, pursing his lips thoughtfully at the blank screen. “And if aliens have her, they’ll soon toss her back. I wouldn’t take on Bennett without back-up.”

“Kidnapped, do you mean?” Greg looked around the apartment with fresh eyes. “Nothing disturbed, nothing out of place. No sign of forced entry on any of the doors. She must have let them in. Professional job, maybe, but they couldn’t have taken her from here. Still, it’s a federal offense, they would have to be pretty desperate.”

“I never said she was taken from here.” Joe walked over to the bulletin board and studied it closely. For him, it detailed every niggling and elusive frustration in this case.

“When you get all mysterious on me, it not only raises my blood pressure sky high, but I know in my gut, we’re in some kind of serious trouble.” Greg plucked one of the photos from the board and turned it to the light. “So, where do we go from here, then?”

“I want to get into that computer. I want to read all of her files as soon as possible. There may be a clue there about what she was getting into when she disappeared. Which was from the Trudy Klein crime scene in Central Park, as far as we can make out. That was where she was heading when she last reported in.”

“You think the Snapper has something to do with this?” Greg looked over the board. “I know it’s not like Bennett to just up and leave in the middle of a case, but there could be a thousand good reasons why. Do you know something I’ve been missing in all of this? Something you’re not telling me? Don’t go holding out on me, Joe. We’re friends, remember?”

“As Diana said, it’s all here and we’re just not seeing it.” Joe thumped his fist hard against the board. “Well, this time, we’re gonna find out.”

“So, I guess that’s a ‘no, I’m not about to share’ look you’ve got on.” Greg sighed in frustration. “What you owe me, Joseph Maxwell, is gonna be a whole long weekend of sun, surf and sand. Drinks on the house and the all I can eat buffet for free, 24/7. Otherwise, I might just say, to hell with Bennett and leave you both up to your armpits in the proverbial.”

“But, you won’t.” Joe grinned at him. “Because I know the mystery is fairly eating you up inside. Anyway, we’re not about to let Russell get there before us, are we? Bennett would kill us for certain.”

“God, no!” Greg straightened up, glaring at the board. “All right, so what do we know for sure…?”

*******

“What did he say to you?” John Russell stooped over the small child standing beneath the bobbing red balloon. “What did he want?”

“He wanted to take my picture.” The girl’s voice had taken on a depth and maturity that belied her apparent age. “Said he liked to keep them to look at when he’s feeling sad. Wanted my address, gave him a fake one, of course. He said he wanted to come over and play games.”

“Did he?” Russell straightened up and gazed through the park’s trees to where a mass of bouncing balloons marked the clown’s progress among the lengthening shadows of the afternoon. He was heading for the carousel.

“You said 50 bucks, you would pay me 50 bucks for the job.” The childlike hand was extended imperiously. “And I get to keep the balloon.”

“For a kid, you have the morals of a shark.” Russell plucked his wallet from his inside pocket and counted out the notes into the girl’s open palm. “You’re a mean 16 year old going on 55.”

“Oh, and you’re a nasty mister.” The girl batted eyelids that shielded eyes as old as time and twice as cold. “When you come to Crystal’s again, be sure and keep out of my way.”

“Count on it, kid.” Russell stepped aside and watched her out of sight, the red balloon bobbing furiously in her wake. “I happen to like my women a whole lot bigger, a bit older and not as sassy as you.”

He turned back to the park, but the parade of balloons had disappeared. Russell leaned back against a nearby tree and lit another cigarette.

“So, you like to play games, do you?” he commented with a slow smile devoid of humour. “Well, I can play those games too. Let’s see who ends up the winner.”

*******

“This could be the most serious threat you have faced so far.” Elliot took a turn around Father’s chamber. “You have no clue as to Diana’s whereabouts. None at all?”

“Someone killed those three men at the junction to get her.” Father ruffled his hair with an agitated hand. “But apart from her bag, we have found on trace of the woman. By leaving us the bodies to find, the killer showed, by his lack of need to conceal his deed, that he is obviously not afraid of discovery. Or he has a place to hide that no one has found. So, until we find Miss Bennett, or any trace of her fate, the whole community must remain on high alert.”

“And Joe hasn’t found any trace of her in the city either.” Catherine worried the leather thronging of her husband’s vest with restless fingers. “So we must assume she is still down here somewhere.”

“But, where?” Elliot looked at each of them in turn. “She could be anywhere by now. Hurt, disorientated and dangerous, if she isn’t found soon. Gabriel didn’t stand a chance once Bennett decided to go snooping into his world. And she never goes anywhere without her weapon these days. We didn’t find that either. Why are we just sitting here?”

“Because, it’s not that simple.” Shannon was perched on the edge of Father’s desk. “Mouse and Vincent will take a team each and begin a detailed search first thing in the morning. We cannot just go blundering around without some serious planning. You got lost quite easily, remember?”

“Shannon is right. It is no use dashing off in all different directions.” Father leaned heavily on his cane. “Our world has survived other threats, it will survive this one. If this woman cannot be made to understand our situation, then we will have to deal with that problem if and when it arises. If she is as resourceful as you say, she may find her own way out and count herself lucky to be alive.”

“I have interviews to organise for Joe.” Catherine stood. “We only have a few days before the Snapper strikes again. I do not want another child’s death on my conscience.”

“I’ll help where I can.” Elliot looked across the room at Catherine’s troubled face. “Just tell me what I can do.”

“First, we must eat and then get some rest, Elliot. That is all any of us can do until tomorrow.” Catherine leaned back against Vincent’s chest. “Then the hunt must begin in earnest.”

*******

When Catherine first came to live Below, Mouse had overhead her mentioning to Vincent that a long hot shower was the one thing she truly missed at the end of a tiring day. Immediately the tinker had set to work creating his latest masterpiece to please her. His new shower box for her was particularly inventive.

A natural basin in the floor provided the ideal place, the water running away into a drain that had been channelled through a pipe set into the floor. The same drain also served the huge bathtub Mouse had installed for Jacob to play in. Only Mouse knew where the water eventually emptied. But he assured everyone it would cause no unexpected floods, as had happened with his last water experiment. And, so far, the shower had worked true to his original plan.

The water was heated in a gas cylinder and piped in as required. Catherine’s profuse thanks had brought hectic colour to the tinker’s cheeks, and he had shuffled his booted feet in acute embarrassment, before escaping her grateful hug, muttering he had work to do.

Now, the water ran hot and soothing down over Catherine’s shoulders as she made slow progress across the warm skin of Vincent’s lower stomach, leaving a trail of molten kisses in the wake of her seeking mouth. Vincent watched her through hooded eyes, fascinated by the sleek ivory tones of her skin against his own. Outlined by the running water, the muscles beneath that smooth satin cream moved fluidly, as Catherine worked ever downwards, ever closer to her goal.

Vincent’s breath hissed through clenched teeth as she arrived at her objective and his hands curled deep into the wet length of her hair. By sheer reflex, one long, broadly muscled leg lifted in defense, bending at the knee with suppressed need, as Vincent sank back against the smooth wall of the shower cubicle, his face raised, straining and unseeing to the hissing stream of hot water.

Catherine chuckled deep in her throat, as she straightened to run the other hand up the slick smoothness of his inner thigh, one hand testing the hot satin length of him straining against her stomach, moving the other to cup the solid strength of his buttock in her slim palm. Instinctively, Vincent’s leg curved across her back, drawing her into him, before she had a chance to resume her intimate exploration, but also trapping her hand between them. The witch-fires of wanton intent gleamed in her eyes, as Catherine squeezed and flexed her fingers, testing Vincent’s limits, until a low growl rewarded her insistence.

“Vincent…” Catherine reached up then to nip at his chin with her teeth, while her fingers still described ever tightening circles across the tightly drawn flesh she cupped in her hand. “You are everything, I could ever be…”

“And you are a water sprite, sent to tempt me.” Vincent shook his head, trying to ward her off, wet tawny silk mingling with water darkened, ash blond, the growl gathering momentum, the sound muted by the flowing water.

His hands entwined through her hair, drawing her head back to expose the long creamy column of her throat. A frenetic pulse beat there, the pumping in exact time with the heartbeat above Vincent’s own, exquisitely undeniable.

“All my love…” With his thumb, Vincent tested that pulse, his nail leaving a momentary crease in the skin of Catherine’s throat, a rippled of sensation on their connection, before he bent his head to explore the mark with his mouth, nipping and testing with his teeth and tongue.

Moving against him in slow, deliberate circles, Catherine pushed further into the heated air trapped between them, her emotions trembling on the brink of fulfillment, vividly alive and undeniable.

Death, so much a part of life, had come close to their world, threatening all that Vincent and Catherine held dear. Only in the continuation of life could the dark veil be momentarily defeated, pushed back to the outer limits of consciousness. Their mutual need, one for the other, was a triumph over that dark forced and would be for all time.

Catherine brought her arms up then, to slide them around her husband’s neck and hugging him fiercely, protectively, as her lover and her child. The cold echoes of remembered pain at losing one of their family, eased slowly from Catherine’s heart and mind. Vincent, cradling her close as he threaded his fingers repeatedly through her hair, soothed and aroused her instinctive response to his warm caress.

Risen high on the points of her toes, Catherine begged mutely for his love, for the vast reaches of his soul that belonged only to her. Running her hands down over the bulk of his shoulders, smoothing over the hard planes of his chest, where whorls of golden hair clung wetly, Catherine told him with her sure touch of all she saw and found beautiful.

Vincent acknowledged her touch, as he bent over her, cupping the roundness of her bottom in the broad palms of his hands with warm intimacy before drawing her slowly, inexorably upwards, running her innermost intimate warmth against him with deliberate lassitude.

Catherine bowed her head over his, knowing the sure touch, the unique feel of her husband’s face nestled in the heated valley between her breasts as her legs parted to encompass his waist, her heels curling into the valley at the back of his thighs, as he held her easily. With her hands balanced on his shoulders, Catherine raised her face to the falling stream of water, rivulets snaking down the slickness of her body to run down Vincent’s flanks, to finally pool in the intimate joining of their bodies.

Closing her eyes, Catherine’s fingers blindly explored him, touching and testing, drawing the electrifying usage of both his lips and tongue to caress her here and there, moving constantly within the bounds of his secure grasp. Endlessly seeking the fulfillment of a promise, as her fingers played over the bunched muscles of his shoulders, sensing through touch and bond, the spiralling path of two souls inextricably linked.

Poised, trembling on the edge of all she most desired, feeling Vincent rising with her to that point of blind sensation, Catherine opened her eyes to gaze down again, deep into her husband’s eyes to where ran the dark balance of his soul, the other half of his incredible self that made him so completely who he was. She bent to place her mouth over his in a kiss that became a whirlpool communion of the indestructible spirit within each of them.

Whispered breath carried her unspoken thoughts across the connection as flooding warmth flowered deep within her, blossoming out to make her shudder and gasp for breath, complete within the safety of her husband’s embrace as he brought her in against him, the warm swell of her pregnancy cradled gently against him. And so, again the cycle of life was complete and the cold shadow of death once more urgently denied…

*******

Shannon sat on her bed, unable to sleep. She sat with her feet curled beneath her, the little stone figure of the unicorn held in the cup of her hands. The animal beamed at her, its head still held at the same quizzical angle. Its expression never altered, its smile was still insane, but Shannon loved him with all her heart.

Elliot stood in the doorway, watching her abstracted attention with interest. Catherine had told them all to rest. The following day would be gruelling at best, but sleep was an elusive thing that he had given up trying to woo. He had left the guest chamber to wander the tunnels, in search of…what…he had no idea.

Shannon looked up, suddenly aware of him. She met his gaze with doubt, her own eyes troubled and shadowed with pain. Closing her hand over the tiny figure in her palms, she swallowed convulsively and blinked away the tears crowding in behind her eyes. Elliot advanced two steps into the chamber and halted uncertainly at the edge of the brightly-coloured rugs strewn across the floor.

“You didn’t come to dinner tonight.” Elliot pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to prevent his reaching for her. “I came to find out why.”

“A cowardly reason.” Shannon felt the stone edges of the figurine bite into the soft skin of her palms. “In the end, I found I just couldn’t face you.”

“The Shannon I know is not a coward.” Elliot advanced further, looking about him with interest. “You have always met your challenges head on.”

“Is that how you see yourself, as a challenge?” Shannon uncurled her legs and slid off the bed to replace the unicorn on his shelf with unsteady fingers.

Footsteps sound close behind her and she backed up as Elliot moved closer again. His brow was furrowed in thought in his effort to understand her change in attitude to him.

“I have never pretended with you,” Elliot murmured, his intent gaze absorbing the wariness in her eyes, before she averted them hastily. “What we have together is real and I won’t tarnish it with any false promises or shameless begging for you to stay with me.”

“I know…” Shannon released her pent-up breath on a troubled sigh, her eyes returning to his, bright with unshed tears. “But, to be able to say all the right things, say that this life we have together is possible, would be a lie I could live with…for a while.”

“I don’t agree.” Elliot placed his hands against the wall at Shannon’s back, one of either side of her body, hemming her in, until he could nail down the point she was finding so difficult to say.

“I didn’t think you would.” Shannon raised her chin, meeting the steely quality of his concentrated gaze squarely, but with a mute appeal for understanding.

“It was beautiful, Elliot. But, what can we really have together, into the future? Could you ever be happy in this place, so far beneath all your dreams; all your hopes? I care for you too much to allow you to throw it all away. So, what do we have left?”

Elliot didn’t answer immediately and Shannon felt the chill of his reticence. He glanced away around the chamber, his eyes resting briefly on her collection, picking out unerringly, the unicorn with the silly smile and his own lips twisted into the same whimsical curve. Magic perhaps, his mind teased at the word that rose unbidden as he glanced back at Shannon, pinned against the wall, her eyes saying she was waiting for her dream to shatter, a love to be denied.

“What we have left…is each other.” Elliot took one hand from the wall to define the soft curves of her mouth, before tracing the line of her jaw unsteadily. “And a beginning…”

“And the end…for us?” Shannon asked tremulously, trying desperately to deny his touch, prevent her traitorous body from seeking to deepen the caress. “Where and when will that be?”

“I truly don’t know,” Elliot offered, truthfully. “But Vincent once told me, any journey always begins with the first step and I would guess we have already taken that the other night. The rest is for us to work out, as we continue on this adventure of ours. But, I know, I will not allow you to run away.”

“I enjoyed…the other night.” Warm colour mantled Shannon’s cheeks.

“Without regret?”

“I could never regret anything from that night.” She drew a steadying breath as Elliot’s increasingly intimate touch shivered through her on tendrils of fire and she willingly surrendered, the safety of the wall at her back, for the beguiling warmth of his embrace.

“We have time now…” Elliot breathed into the fragrant cloud of her hair, his eyes finding again the lopsided smile of the little unicorn. “Perhaps we should see if we can recapture a little magic…”

*******

Jacob stirred restlessly in his sleep, disquieted by the currents of unease in his small world. Vincent rose silently to his feet, disengaging himself gently from his wife’s encompassing arm and padding across the chamber to his son’s crib. Bright blue eyes gazed up at him, brimming with anticipation, the promised treat of a midnight stroll bringing the child to his feet in an instant.

“All right, but you must promise to be very quiet.” Vincent bent over his son and scooped him into his arms. “Your mother is still asleep.”

Jacob craned his head around until he could see the bed and Catherine nestled among the pillows and comforters. He pressed a fingertip to his lips, grinning, as he nodded solemnly, clinging tightly to his father’s shoulder and settling himself for the ride ahead. Vincent paused only to gather his boots and cloak, before they crept from the chamber together, Jacob bouncing in silent joy, his connection with his father vibrating with his unbounded happiness.

In the same instant, Catherine stirred and opened sleepy eyes. Watching their progress with a mother’s smile, she knew she could join their ramble if she chose, but the bed was too comfortable, the dreams too enticing to abandon. With a sigh, she turned over and burrowed deeper into the covers, waves of pure contentment pushing away the darker fears of the day ahead, as she let herself drift, the threads that held her connected to all her family entwined through her dreams…

*******

Mouse muttered over his project, adjusting, realigning, until even his exacting standards were satisfied. Sitting back on his haunches, he grinned with relief. The search for the missing policewoman from Above had threatened to drag him away from his work at a critical time, but now it was finished.

Arthur twittered at his side, paddling through his master’s tools to see if there was anything worth eating. Mouse scooped him up and showed the animal the finished project.

“Jacob will love this.” Mouse stroked the raccoon’s fur. The animal chattered and purred his pleasure. “He will like it fine.”

Arthur’s attention was soon diverted by an interesting stain on his master’s sweater and he began to nibble at it hopefully, his tiny black eyes showing his disinterest in the strange apparatus Mouse had erected within the confines of the small chamber that had once been a storage room. But, his master suddenly dumped him back in the dust with no regard for his protests and clapped his hands together in delight at his achievement. Arthur bustled away in a huff, going in search of better company and perhaps something to eat.

*******

There’s a place inside my heart

Nobody’s touched before

And when I found you

I found all that I’d been searching for

You turned my world around…

I might never have met you

In another time and place

Now I never could forget you

I could never walk away…

Joe Cocker

The pool sent rising tendrils of steam aloft into the cool air of the cavern. Diana knelt on the rocky edge and ran her hand tentatively through the dark waters. The heat beneath the limpid surface was surprising. But then, she remembered how far below the city they must be and how close to the earth’s molten core she had come.

The cavern was deserted, the silence only broken by the hissing of the lamp she held in her free hand. It cast a small puddle of yellow light, enough to see by, but not much else. The echoes of her approach had spoken of the vast depths unseen beyond the blackness of the water, the far shore of the pool invisible beyond the blanketing steam.

She sat back on her haunches and looked back towards the entrance to the cavern. Celine had disappeared, vanishing silently back to the passages beyond, even the demented sound of her constant cackling lost in the echoes of this place.

Until this moment, Diana had not been allowed to explore beyond her chamber. Her brief journeys to the bathroom across the passage were assisted by Celine, a small, incredibly wrinkled old woman who appeared out of nowhere and spoke not a word, but cackled endlessly over some vastly amusing private joke known only to herself. Her dark eyes, set deep in her thin face, shone with unholy merriment every time Diana attempted to question her. Her response was to shake her head and chuckle all the more. It was she who brought Diana a pile of old, well-washed shirts to wear, instead of her own clothing, which had been spirited away while she slept.

The shirts were very roomy and long, brushing her calves. Very serviceable as night attire, patched and mended in many places with odd pieces of cloth and thin leather. The sleeves she was forced to roll up, for they fell beyond her hands and she wondered at the size of the man who had originally worn them.

Diana pushed her hand through the dirty length of her hair, dismayed at its matted, gritty feel. Somewhere, on the way down to this hellish place, she had lost her grandmother’s antique comb. The loss made her want to cry. It had been a precious gift she had long cherished.

She dashed an impatient hand across her cheeks, turning to glare at the limpid water beside her. Why Celine had brought her here was obvious, but she was still reluctant to shed even the simple protection of the shirt she wore.

The bruised hurt of her body was tolerable as long as she moved with care, and even the brusque attentions of Azrael’s mother now failed to ruffle her calm. The other woman came to her chamber infrequently, her conversation stilted and belittling.

Diana needed to force her mouth not to respond to the other woman’s barbed remarks. She obviously was spoiling for a fight because of some imagined slight, and Diana was the chosen target of her spiteful venom.

As time moved inexorably forward without her ability to measure it, Diana became more and more determined to escape this place, get back to city and her work, before she went mad. She would achieve this aim with, or without, Azrael’s help. The thought of what was happening up there in her absence; was like a cancerous growth on her spirit, painful to the touch, but unable to be ignored.

On a short sigh, Diana watched the steam as it curled into fantastic shapes in the lamplight, streaming out to carry the scent of sulphur into the moist air. Setting down the lamp suddenly, she stood with reluctant decision to gingerly strip off the hampering folds of her shirt. The steam flowed and rippled with her movements, entwining her nude body in its damp tendrils as she stepped to the edge, looking down into the dark depths with trepidation. The whiteness of the bandage around her upper body, blended easily with the pale tones of her ivory skin. Its constriction added another layer to her impatience to be gone from this unearthly place.

“It is said to be bottomless.” The sound of a voice behind her almost made her overbalance and topple headlong into the pool. “But then, danger has its own spice, does it not?”

“Depends on how you look at it.” Diana didn’t have to look behind her to know who stood there. She could feel the prickle of awareness running the length of her spine. Slowly she turned her head to watch Azrael approach.

He is blind, after all, she reminded herself with wary relief, as she stood motionless, helplessly trapped against the rocky edge of the pool.

His face was bland, his eyes glimmering in the half-light shed by the lantern at her feet, the soft creaking of his leatherwork sounding loud in the stillness. He finally paused beside her, his height commanding, as he reached out a tentative hand to run one forefinger across the sudden rash of gooseflesh on her upper arm. “You are trembling….why?”

“You caught me by surprise.” Diana moved aside from his touch, suddenly unsure of his odd ability to pinpoint her position in with such unerring accuracy.

Bending down, she gathered the folds of her shirt, intending to pull if over her head and forgo the pleasure of submerging herself in the hot water of the pool, no matter how much she wanted to do so. But Azrael’s next words forestalled her.

“Please, carry on with your intention to swim. I did not come here to interrupt your pleasure. I once would come here to swim as a child. But that was before…” He sighed abruptly, his gaze clouding with memory and he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“This was your special place. That’s why I was brought here.” Diana hesitated, frowning in puzzled inquiry at the bleakness of his expression.

Against her better judgment not to become involved with these people, she moved to lay her hand on the bunched muscles of his forearm, the shirt forgotten in her hand. “I will listen…if you want to tell me why you find this place so painful now.”

One tentative hand, long fingered and elegant, rose to define the curve of her cheek, testing the smooth resilience of her skin, bringing a flush of heat to her cheeks. Then his hand fell away, dropping to brush lightly, for one earth shattering moment, against the swell of her naked breast.

For that fleeting instant, they both froze, before Azrael snatched his hand away as if he’d just encountered fire. A second sigh, bitter and long, moved through the tumbled length of Diana’s hair, before Azrael stepped back into the shadows, his voice low and uneven. “Have your swim. I should not have come here. When you are ready to return to your chamber, Celine will attend to you.”

“Wait…please…” Diana managed through the sudden dryness of her throat, unsure if Azrael was still there in the darkness or if she was simply talking to empty shadows.

But no movement, no sound acknowledged her words. Only empty silence prevailed. She sat down on the edge of the pool, dropping her head into her hands.

It was beyond time to leave this place: to go back upwards, towards the light and untainted air. They couldn’t prevent her from leaving. They were nothing but a blind man, and two old women. She was stronger than all of them. She would not be judged as a weakling and not worthy of their fear.

“That which does not kill us makes us stronger,” she quoted Nietzsche softly, her spine straightening and stiffening with resolve.

- Now, all she needed to do was get her hands on her gun…

*******

“She’s more trouble than she’s worth.” Emma Pater applied paint to the canvas before her with an impatient hand. “I don’t know what possessed you to bring her here.”

“So I should have left her to die, then?” Azrael took another turn around his mother’s chamber, its confines as well known to him as his own. “I applaud your sense of compassion.”

“Stop it!” Emma hissed. “You sound like your father when you speak like that! You should not have been up there at all. You know the risks and the dangers. You could have met any one of The Others and that would have been the end of you. And where would I be then?”

She abandoned her work with a sharp, irritated sigh. “But, what use can she be to us? What practical skills does she have? Do you know anything about her? She would soon become bored, working beside you in the garden. She has some dark and dangerous depths that you cannot see.”

“I can see them well enough.” Her son’s sightless swept over her, touching on her face with unerring accuracy and, not for the first time, she wondered if he truly could not see anything.

Emma had been against her husband’s experiments with her sons from the first time he broached the idea. But, he had overridden her objections, blinding her with his own twisted brand of logic, confusing her with scientific terms, which he knew, would only baffle and confuse.

Emma had loved John Pater with all her heart in the early days, those days of heady romance when she developed a taste for the easy life of wealth and privilege she had known as the young and pretty wife of an eminent scientist, a prospective Nobel prize winner for his research. But, that was before they were reduced to this place of darkness and forlorn hope.

John’s research had become more and more bizarre and his own mental stability increasingly unbalanced. He craved a place; somewhere he could be free to continue his work into the powers of the mind and their uses. Somewhere he would not be subject to the criticisms and interference of others. He had rejected several promising leads, until someone had told him of the wondrous caverns and tunnels that lay far beneath the city, beneath the subways. Places no sane person ever ventured, or returned alive.

Emma had resisted, of course. Begged and pleaded with her husband to change his mind. It was madness!  He had struck her then, telling her to choose…join him in this new and exciting life, or never see her sons again.

What choice did she have? Her children were her life.

The only comforts she’d been allowed to bring with her had been Celine, her servant and constant companion, and her love of painting. But the older woman had slowly gone mad down here. Unable to escape physically from the confine of the small world in which she found herself, she had retreated inwardly and had not spoken to anyone for the last ten years. Her constant chuckling now always managed to set Emma’s teeth on edge, so she’d assigned the old woman to their hostile and reluctant guest without compunction.

Azrael shifted now, attracting her wandering attention. “Diana’s mind is strong, I have sensed that. I know she could survive down here.”

“As your companion?” Emma jerked her mind away from her idle contemplation of the past. It never did any good to dwell on what could not be mended. It only twisted the mind and she had a patent horror of impending insanity.

“She will be as mad as Celine inside a month and a thousand times more dangerous. You can see that something is eating her up inside. She’s impatient to be gone, even if she has to crawl out of here, and you’d be a fool to try and restrain her. You will not chain her here with the rest of us. I’ve already tried to tell you, she is a danger to us, and to you. But you just can’t see that, can you?”

“We are not chained here, Mother.” Azrael moved to touch her arm gently, his black eyes finding hers unerringly. “This is our home. Do you feel trapped down here? Is that why you resent her so?”

“Once I would have clawed my way to the surface, dragged myself over broken glass to get there, if it was needed of me. But, I could not leave my boys and it’s too late now.” Emma jerked her arm from her son’s touch in exasperation. “Now, I have no desire to leave. Besides, I doubt I could function in that world anymore. And, I have my work…”

She glanced back at the canvas she had half completed. Darkness and tragedy were the main themes. Two tiny glimmers of light being slowly smothered by the encroaching gloom. With a flash of unaccustomed insight, she knew that those points of light were herself and her son.

“It does not have to be so.” Azrael murmured softly and Emma knew he had picked up on her thoughts, as he’d always been able to do since his father had taken his sight in one of his early experiments on his young son when he was only three years old.

John had sensed very early, the incredible telepathic ability that was so strong in his young son and was determined to bring it out, develop it for his own ends. He had some mad idea of playing God and creating a super race of intuitive beings subservient to his will. He had insisted on naming his sons after the arch-angels…Emma sighed, yes, it is far too late now…

Instead of the super being he’d craved, John had created a child he quickly came to despise for his sensitive nature and caring soul. After the stillborn birth of Emma’s third baby, due to her husband’s experiments on the unborn child, John Pater had become bored, and simply abandoned the tiny community, disappearing on his ceaseless wanderings of his subterranean world. He would return infrequently to oversee the education of his sons.

That both boys loved him. His long absences from their lives only served to heighten Emma’s fears and the distrust of her husband, and her anger at being abandoned in this place of no escape.

But, John had disappeared nearly two years ago, taking his older son with him. Since then, there had been no word, no evidence he still lived and would some day return. There was some evidence that The Others had been involved in his disappearance, but no concrete proof.

Emma thought privately, it would be just like her husband to completely abandon them all together on a whim, or because of a new direction for his research. Perhaps even a new wife and another family…

Over time, Azrael came to believe The Others had killed his father and brother, and he had sworn revenge. Emma had given up trying to make him understand. She no longer had the capacity to hate; it took too much effort to sustain such a cold, bitter hatred, as that which burned within her son.

“Talking about it now, don’t mend matters.” Emma turned off her son’s concern with a careless toss of her head. Better to display her contempt than to let him sense the despair in her heart that was eating away insidiously at her reason. “Where is the woman now?”

“Diana is down at the sulphur pools.” Azrael let his outstretched hand drop to his side. “I told Celine to take her there. She will come to no harm.”

“Do not keep her here, if she wishes to leave. And you know she does,” Emma pleaded suddenly, frustrated as usual by her son’s blank stare. “She doesn’t belong here. It’s a mistake to wish she will stay simply because you asked her to.”

“Perhaps, but soon it will no longer matter what any of us want.” Azrael gazed at her sightlessly. He could sense the turmoil of her mind, the ceaseless yearning for something she could no longer define. He had offered to guide her to the surface times beyond counting, but she had always refused. Shrugging off his concern with her usual acid sarcasm.

What good did it do to argue, his mother would not understand…for her now, this world of theirs had become a dark and soulless prison. For him, it was different. The only home he had ever known.

Emma returned to her painting, watching her son from the corner of her eye.

She had always refused to even consider returning to the surface. She knew he would not stay with her, up there; that he would come back down here, to the only home he had ever known. To the place where he was truly free. And then he would be alone, in the dark…

How could she abandon her child to be alone in this prison? But Azrael was right, soon, it would no longer matter what any of them wanted.

The ways to the surface were becoming alarmingly fewer. There had been some substantial rock falls in the last few months. One larger collapse caused, Azrael said, a large amount of water to seep down from above. The slips had blocked many of the tunnels and access routes to this place. Now there were only two pathways that were still usable, and they were no longer certain. Emma could feel the whole weight of the great city above her, pressing heavily on her soul and sanity. Soon enough, that great weight would bury them all…

“You’d better be about your work,” she snapped at her son. “The gardens will not wait for you to remember it needs attending. We still need to eat.”

“I’m sorry I cannot make you understand.” Azrael shook his head.

Conversations with his mother were becoming more and more difficult. One day soon, she would be free of this place, free to go where she pleased. He could allow her that one precious gift.

Soon he would avenge himself on The Others. He knew their soft places, where they were most vulnerable. He had been intent on this mission of discovery, when he had stumbled on Diana up at the surface. She could only be a momentary diversion from his purpose. The desire to exact revenge for his father and brother kept him warm at night.

What else could there be for him, where else could he go?

*******

John Russell stood outside the apartment block across from the park. Leaning casually against a lamp post he lit another cigarette, his sixth since taking up his position.

A cold rain sluiced down from an ashen sky, clouds almost seeming to touch the higher levels of the surrounding buildings. A long night spent out of bed, hunched over reports as his desk, did nothing to improve his temper and now the morning had dawned chill and unwelcoming to his jaundiced eyes.

Only the fact that he had finally gotten the jump on Bennett, beat her at her own game while she swanned off to God knows where, warmed the reaches of his narrow soul. Maxwell and Hughes could turn the city upside down looking for her if they liked. John Russell, the mayor’s new favourite detective, was on the job, night and day. And he was about to solve the case that would propel his career into the big time, see if it didn’t.

He snapped to attention as the blinds in the apartment he’d been observing all night were raised carefully, to an exact height, and the face of Simon Follett stared out briefly on the new day, before withdrawing. Russell recognised him immediately. Follett was the park attendant he had argued with the day the Klein girl was found, before Bennett came nosing around and getting in John’s way.

The detective drew back from view with a hard grin of intense satisfaction. All his hard work had paid off and now he was about to reap the rewards. He allowed his lips to relax into a rare smile of genuine pleasure. He was about to enjoy himself as never before.

*******

Catherine sat in her chamber carefully collating all the interviews she had just conducted. Her neat handwriting filled many pages of yellow legal pads Joe had provided. She questioned everyone who had known Sarah, all her friends from Below who were likely to have seen the girl on one of her many visits.

Patiently built, a pattern was now emerging of a young woman who was extremely careful in her movements, never using the same entrance twice in a row and always wary of prying eyes following her progress between the worlds.

Catherine went over and over her notes, her attention tinged with the awareness of Vincent, as he explored the farther reaches of his world, probing for any sign that Diana Bennett might have passed that way. Jacob played at his mother’s feet, his attention also diverted as he pushed half-heartedly at his toys, not even finding pleasure in Samantha’s determined attentions. His father was away and the disquiet that rippled through the bond he shared with his parents. It was a puzzling time for a small boy just coming to grips with his world and its problems.

Finally Catherine went to Sarah’s old chamber to look for clues, for anything that might give her a lead on the murderer. But a detailed search had revealed nothing, beyond a few cobwebs. Catherine stood in the doorway and surveyed it all with clinical detachment, trying to force an overlooked truth from its tumbled contents. A huge yellow balloon hung limply from the bedpost it was tied to, now deflated of its gases. The cheerful face painted on its surface seemed to mock Catherine’s determined efforts with a crumpled leer as the balloon fell in on itself.

“I thought the same as you, that there may be something here.” Mary approached Catherine, as she turned away from Sarah’s chamber. “This man is a pervasive evil. We must find him, Catherine.”

“He is a man without conscience, which makes him very dangerous.” Catherine sighed. “He will not stop, until he’s forced to.”

“Then we must do that.” Mary looked past her into the chamber. “For the sake of all the children, we must do that.”

*******

Simon Follett felt eyes boring into his back, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he could see no one observing him closely. With a shrug he went back to his duties as a park attendant, raking together the pile of candy wrappers and rubbish the morning breeze was endeavouring to sweep away.

As he worked, he whistled tunelessly, remembering the girl he had given the red balloon to yesterday. He could picture her fresh face and shy smile. The balloon trick had worked once again, as it always did. It always caught them off guard and appealed to their avaricious natures. They never pass up the chance to get something for nothing.

Now the girl from yesterday had promised to be in the park later in the day. This suited his plan very well. He knew the park intimately, all its secluded places and secret tunnels that led to hidden depths beneath the ground. What the blond boy and his companion had been doing down there still remained a frustrating mystery, but Pancho the clown was not adverse to a little extra company, if he was interrupted in his work.

If the child didn’t appear, then there were others to choose from, many others who would love to have a free balloon in exchange for a little favour. Today he would once again thumb his nose at the police and that damned nosey Diana Bennett, who seemed intent on spoiling his game. Follett couldn’t resist a small chuckle of satisfaction as he worked on steadily.

*******

“Last time I was here, I could’ve sworn no one had come this way in a long time.” Cullen squatted beside a trail of footprints leading down the tunnel, holding his torch close to inspect the evidence. “And there’s some drops of blood here too. Someone was hurt.”

He glanced around the others. “I still think this whole search is a waste of time and resources we don’t have. Woman’s probably dead by now, anyway.”

The surrounding darkness was almost absolute, lit only by the torches the small party of men carried. Their faces were lit into ghoulish casts by the flickering lights.

“We will have to go back and start again from the junction, and see where this trail comes in. We must have missed a turning somewhere. But, I’m all for packing this search in.”

“Father and Vincent said we have to find her.” Mouse set himself stubbornly. “Can’t stop now. Important.”

“Fool people, why can’t they stay up there, where they belong?” Cullen scuffed the toe of his boot through the dust and made a startling discovery. “Hey, what’s this?”

He bent to sift through the dust and came up holding an elegant tortoiseshell comb, usually used for decorating a woman’s hair. Set with gold, it looked very old and of great value. Mouse and the others crowded close as Cullen held it up to the light.

“Waste of time, huh?” Mouse nodded in satisfaction. “Father needs to see this. She has gone this way.”

“We don’t know if it’s hers.” Cullen looked at him in exasperation. “Could be anyone’s. Besides, no Topsider could have gotten this far down without help and none of us have even seen her. And this tunnel leads down past the bedrock beneath the harbour. No one goes there, no one with any sense anyway.”

“Have to show,” Mouse reiterated stubbornly. “Have to find. Must have gone down there. We need to, too.”

“If anyone has gone down this tunnel into whatever is down there, I doubt they’re ever coming back.” Cullen pocketed the comb with a fatalistic shake of his head. “That tunnel would only lead them to this side of hell.”

*******

When I was a child

There were flowers that bloomed in the night

Unafraid to take in the light

Unashamed to have braved the dark

And so here I am

Open arms and ready to stand

I’ve got the world in my hands

And it feels like my turn to fly

Though I may not know the answers

I can finally say I’m free

And if the questions led me here, then

I am who I was born to be

I am who I was born to be…

Susan Boyle

Greg Hughes spread his men throughout the park, as thinly as he dared. Increased mounted patrols and extra plainclothes detectives patrolled the park’s many walkways, scrutinising every passing face. The press were sniffing around the edges too, knowing that today might be the last chance the police had to catch their elusive quarry. Greg was of the opinion that all he was going to catch was a cold.

The early morning rain had slackened off, but a few rain clouds still lingered, shot through with watery sunshine. No killer in his right mind would come looking for trouble, with the police presence so obvious.

- But, where the heck is Bennett?

The search for her had proved fruitless and Greg feared the worst. He massaged his abdomen where he could feel the beginnings of an ulcer and grimaced with disgust, as Joe got out of an unmarked police car and came towards him.

“The ghouls and the tabloid press will live off this day for months.” Greg pointed at the hovering reporters with his chin. Hunched into his overcoat, he wished himself elsewhere. “Still no sign of Bennett?”

“No, not so much as a postcard.” Joe surveyed the gathering with resignation. “And we can’t do much about them, except move them on if they get too close. Freedom of the press, remember?”

“Five kids dead, and today is the day of the next event on the calendar.” Greg kicked at an offending drink can at his feet. It rattled along the shoulder of the road. “They’re even taking bets that the guy will quit after today. He stopped at six last time.”

“Forget all that.” Joe took his arm ad led him out of sight of the watchers among the trees. “We don’t have any choice. The killer picked the venue, but we set the rules. Where’s Russell taken himself off to?”

“Chasing after some lead of his own.” Greg watched the stocky figure of a park attendant in the distance. “He hasn’t shown his face today.”

He could have sworn the attendant wasn’t there a moment ago. Probably came from that drainage tunnel further out…

He was carrying something in his left hand, something he dumped into a nearby trash can, without looking, and passed on through the trees and finally our of sight. The echoes of his tuneless whistling came back to Greg on the shifting breeze.

“Well, when you find him, I want his full attention on this case.” Joe’s eyes were attracted to the tunnel entrance and he hoped Catherine’s secret world was still safe.

If Bennett doesn’t turn up soon, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about. How long could he conceal the knowledge? She had probably been murdered by a person or persons unknown beneath the park. He didn't want to set a whole squad of heavy-footed policemen clumping all over the world Below. Someone was bound to discover what he most wanted to keep hidden and safe from harm.

Joe sent up a silent prayer for Bennett to walk back into the investigation as abruptly as she left it. His stomach grumbled hollowly. Three cups of black coffee and no breakfast was currently his usual start to the day. His mouth already tasted like the inside of a garbage can.

And now, John Russell had gone awol as well. It was becoming an annoying habit with his investigators. Joe rubbed at the beginnings of an ulcer and shivered in the rising wind.

He looked again at the drainage tunnel. He needed that long weekend away Greg had demanded they take, now more than ever. But he knew where he would rather be…

*******

Diana ran her hands carefully over every part of her body, testing and retesting all her senses, all her physical responses. Apart from the constant, stabbing pain in her chest, every time she moved, and the stinging pain of her abused cheek, everything seemed to be intact. Resting back on the pillows at the head of the bed, she took careful stock of her resources.

But, aside from Celine, she had seen no one for some considerable time, perhaps even days now. Time seemed to telescope into an endless stream that had no beginning, nor end, in this of eternal night. The old woman came and went with trays of food, bringing fruit and endless stews of which Diana was rapidly becoming heartily sick. They were nourishing, but bland and uninteresting to someone used to spicier fare.

Diana sat up now, flexing her shoulder muscles and moving her head in small circles to relieve the tension crowding in at the base of her skull. That the Snapper investigation was going on without her, somewhere far above her head, brought a tightening of her lips and a frustrated consternation to her unseeing eyes.

- If she could get her hands on her gun…someone was going to pay for keeping her a prisoner down here…

By now, John Russell would be haunting Joe’s office, complaining about her lack of professional conduct and oiling the wheels of his own campaign to have her tossed off the investigation. The inactivity was eating away at her soul. Even the appearance of her unresponsive attendant would have been a welcome sight.

The empty plates of her midday meal still lay on the night stand beside the bed. When the old woman returned, Diana was determined to get some information out of her, force her way beyond the insane giggling, even if she had to resort to physical violence.

“You have finished?” a voice questioned from the doorway.

Diana looked up in startled puzzlement to see Azrael framed in the opening. She had seen nothing of him since the incident at the pool. Her morning ablutions were uninterrupted. All the things she wished to say to him, the diatribe she had been saving up for his exclusive edification, suddenly crowded into her mind at his unexpected appearance.

“You’re mad at me.” He hung back in the doorway. “I can tell.”

“I am frustrated and angry, but I’m not mad at you.” Diana frowned. “I do not want to be here.”

She discovered she could sense his uncertainty and was confused by it. Azrael’s dark, sightless eyes were fixed on her with unerring accuracy, though she had made no movement since his sudden reappearance.

“You are certainly a welcome change from my usual attendant.”

“You are healing.” Azrael advanced into the room cautiously, as if he expected her to attack him at any moment.

Why bite the hand that could rescue you? Diana had already decided. He was the only one who could take her back to the point where he’d found her. He alone was her ticket out of this place, and she was fairly sure he still possessed her gun. Her palms itched to possess it.

“Celine is harmless,” Azrael replied, picking up the discarded tray and turning away, heading back towards the door. “She is my mother’s servant. She agreed to attend you.”

“Do you have a servant as well?” Diana asked the first question that came into her head, hoping to forestall his imminent exit.

“You are safe here.” Azrael turned his blind gaze back to her. “The men who attacked you are—”

“I have met their kind before,” Diana cut in sharply, knowing she would have to force a confrontation, before Azrael slipped away again. “Occupational hazard, you might say. I can handle myself. What I need from you is a guide back to the surface. There will be people searching for me, even as we speak. Do you want them to find this place?”

“They will never come down here,” Azrael countered, with a shrug, turning away again. “You don’t need to go back to that place. You are safe here.”

“When they find my purse in the tunnels I’m sure there will be a search and perhaps they will find things you don’t wish to be found. Do you understand me?”

Yes…” Azrael turned back, his face thoughtful, his blank eyes reflecting the lamplight to a glossy sheen. “But you are wrong. The Others stand between us and the dwellers from Up There. They always take care of any intruders into their domain. No one will come here…uninvited.”

“Who are these Others you keep talking about?” Diana sat forward in frustration, ignoring the stabbing pain of her protesting ribs. “Are there other communities down here?”

“There are many who live beneath the city.” Azrael’s blind gaze shifted to the tray in his hands. “Our community is small and isolated. No one comes here, not even The Others. Anyone who searches for you will find no clues to your whereabouts.”

“Why did you decide to bring me here, Azrael? What did you hope to gain by saving my life?” Diana had only to reach out a hand to touch his arm.

He seemed to sense this and moved again towards the doorway, well out of her reach. His voice was low and uncertain as he turned to answer her.

“Because I am tired…tired of this place…tired of being alone. A future in this place is a limited thing at best. Now that the Master and Zadkiel have gone away forever, there is no one for me now. Do you know what it is to be completely alone?”

“Yes…” Diana answered slowly, her voice wistful, even to her own ears. She frowned. Get a grip on yourself, Bennett! “I have spent most of my life alone, through my own choice. I am not good with people.”

“But, why?” The question came back instantly and the plates on the tray rattled in sudden agitation. “Why would you, a beautiful woman, choose such a lonely path?”

Diana pursed her lips. She wasn’t about to ask how he knew what she looked like. This man made the hairs on the back of her neck stand with trepidation. It ruffled her composure deeply.

“Because it’s easier.” She didn’t stop to edit her reply. She compressed her lips. “It’s always easier to walk away from those who do not understand you, than to stay and force their attention on matters they could not have a hope of understanding.”

“Yes, it is easier…” Azrael’s voice had sunk to such a low pitch, Diana had to strain to hear him. “The Master never could understand why I could not be like him. Obey him without question, as my mother does. Why I do not share his views on certain matters, despite being brought up in his shadow.”

“This man you call the Master, you have spoken of him before.” Diana plucked the bare fact from his statement, a revelation he obviously had not intended to divulge. “You say his name with such pain. Who is he, did he live here with you?”

“He did…once.” Azrael’s voice was filled with raw emotion. “The Others murdered him. They took away his guiding hand from our lives and now we drift, alone and leaderless. He was all things to us and now we have nothing.”

He turned back to stare at Diana. “But, one day soon, they will pay. I will exact a revenge for what they have done. One day soon they will understand that he was my father and I am his son.”

*******

“It looks very old.” William craned his head to see over Cullen’s arm. “Don’t recognise it. How about anyone else?”

“It is very beautiful.” Mary fingered the comb where it lay on Father’s desk. “I’m sure none of the women have anything so fine. But I can ask around, if you really think it’s necessary.”

“Not ours.” Mouse chimed in. “Would have seen. Know all the best sort of gold, melts down real good. This is the best kind. Makes great wire.”

“You’re not going to melt it down!” Mary snatched up the piece and held it protectively. “It must be someone’s priceless heirloom.”

“Probably dead by now,” Cullen opined darkly. “Shouldn’t have come down here in the first place. There was some blood along with it. Women are always getting lost.”

“We do not!” Samantha had appeared in the doorway of the chamber, Jacob slung on her hip. “I know these tunnels better than anyone! Even Vincent or Mouse.”

Cullen shrugged. “Well, if the fool woman hadn’t come snooping around down here in the first place, none of us would have to go out looking for her!”

“Please! I should think the identity of the comb’s owner is without question.” Father rose form his chair to face the gathering, raising his voice to be heard above the hubbub of heated conversation. “The tunnel in which this comb was found leads directly from the junction, down to the lower reaches of the underground system, beyond the harbour and below the Maze. A Topsider, lost and confused, could have found her way to the point where this was found.”

“What happened then? Did she sprout wings and fly away?” Cullen thrust his hand into the pockets of his waistcoat and rocked on the balls of his feet, frowning in mulish discontent.

“I still say she must have been taken down from the junction by someone who knows these tunnels,” he continued. “Vincent and I have long suspected there are others down there. Someone’s been pilfering our supplies without being seen or caught, for years. That takes skill and an intimate knowledge of us and our systems. No one has figured out who clobbered James up at the junction before the bodies were found. He was hit from behind without seeing or hearing anyone.”

“But, all the sentries have been checked and double-checked, no one saw anything!” William placed his hands on his ample hips and glared at his friend. “And it’s just wasting precious time going over the same ground again. We have to find this woman and soon. And we won’t do that by standing around here arguing among ourselves.”

“William is right.” Father picked up the comb and smoothed the dust from its polished surface. “If Diana Bennett is dead, then we must find her body and return it to Joe Maxwell as soon as possible, and hope he can explain away the circumstances of her demise without involving us.”

He looked around the group. “If she is alive, and I am afraid I cannot see how she has survived for so long without help, then we must do everything in our power to ensure her swift return to the world Above. She is vital to solving Sarah’s murder. We must not lose sight of that one factor in all of this.”

“I, for one, do not want Sarah’s death to have been in vain.” Catherine stood in the chamber entrance, having come in behind Samantha. “Diana may be our only hope in this case. She has to be still alive. We cannot give up looking for her, until we know the truth.”

“Optimistic idea, but we can give it a shot.” Cullen shrugged and nudged Mouse with his elbow. “Come on, let’s get going. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. I still want to check those sentries who were on duty that day. Someone must have seen something, maybe they just don’t know it.”

“James says he didn’t see or hear anything.” William stood with arms akimbo, his face wrinkled in concentration. “He said he saw nothing out of the ordinary that day, before he was struck down. He said someone hit him over the head, knocking him to the floor. When he finally came to, all he saw was Vincent heading off down one of the other tunnels, away from him, carrying some sort of long parcel over his shoulder. He did think it was a bit odd at the time, that Vincent didn’t come to his aid when he called out to him.”

“That’s because Vincent was down below the Maze with me!” Cullen spaced the words slowly and distinctly. “He couldn’t have been up at the junction as well!”

His words fell into the sudden hush, as everyone stared at him with varying degrees of dismay. He looked from face to face in blank amazement before lifting his gaze to Catherine, standing at the top of the steps.

“If it wasn’t Vincent up at the junction, then who was it?” Catherine’s puzzled question fell into the well of silence. “And what was he carrying?” She felt the flare of alarm go through her, instantly answered across her connection to Vincent.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am getting tired of this mystery.” Cullen smacked his fist into his open palm. “I think it’s about time we all found out the truth.”

“I’ll go and find James, find out what he knows for sure.” William headed for the door.

“I will ask and see if anyone recognises this.” Mary snatched up the comb and followed William’s broad frame.

“Will need extra torches.” Mouse rubbed his hands together in agitation. “Need Vincent. Need map and food supplies. Could be a long time down there. Pity about the gold, makes great stuff for Mouse.”

“Vincent is on his way,” Catherine told Father, as the others hurried past her. “The comb is a slender clue at best, but it’s all we have.”

“What concerns me most is how James could have mistaken anyone for Vincent. Cullen doesn’t like mysteries, but this particular mystery is by far the most puzzling. There is no one Below who could possibly mistaken for my son, no one. And this impostor must have been wearing tunnel costume. So, who was it that James saw up there?”

*******

“I know that belongs to Diana Bennett.” Elliot stood with Vincent looking at the comb in Catherine’s hand. “She wore it once when she came to my office. I even remarked on it at the time.”

“Could the parcel you say you saw the stranger carrying, possibly have been a body?” William turned to James who stood uneasily beside him, fingering the long staff of his office as a sentry.

“It could’ve been,” he conceded, reluctantly. “Thought it was Vincent carrying something big, looking like a blanket or a cloak. No one told me he was down in the Maze.” He looked accusingly at Cullen and the others grouped about the spot where the comb was found.

“It’s the blood I don’t like.” Elliot ran his across his face, leaving a smear of soot in its wake.

He’d joined Vincent’s team in searching the tunnels below the subways and the dull beat of a gruelling headache had been his constant companion for the last few hours. The deafening roar of the trains passing overhead had taken his brain and kicked it into a quivering pulp inside his skull. The tantalising evidence of the lost comb at least brought some measure of relief that they were not longer looking for the proverbial needle in a very large and complex haystack.

“You are certain this is the comb you saw her wearing?” Father tapped his boot with the end of his cane, betraying his extreme agitation. “There can be no mistake?”

“Even if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, it’s still the best lead we’ve got.” Elliot glanced at Shannon standing beside him. “Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure she wasn’t found in a hurry.”

“Are you saying you think the Snapper killer had something to do with this?” Catherine grasped his point immediately. “How could such a person have the knowledge of these tunnels?”

“Shannon told me that there are others living down here in these tunnels, separate and apart from you.” Elliot shrugged. “Why couldn’t he be one of them?”

“Mouse has told me stories of others he’s seen before.” Shannon looked down the tunnel. “Paracelsus certainly knew of other communities, though he wouldn’t tell us where.”

“But…a man like that…living down here…among us!” Mary gasped out the thought in everyone’s mind. “It just isn’t possible.”

“The Outsiders were such as those Elliot speaks of,” Vincent put in quietly, looking at each of them in turn. “Their rules were simple and direct. Kill or be killed. How can we say our world still does not harbour such a man?”

“The park!” Catherine gasped. “All the murders were centred on the park! The drainage tunnel is virtually in the middle if the area Joe described as being the killer’s favoured ground.”

“So, Bennett came nosing around, looking for clues and meets up with more than she bargained for.” Elliot nodded slowly. “Then, the man James saw, and the Happy Snapper killer, could very well be one and the same person.”

“But, he wore tunnel clothes!” James burst out. “Cloak, hood, leather boots and he had long hair. That’s why I thought it was Vincent. How was I to know it wasn’t?”

“So, he is one of us…” Father’s voice was low and filled with disbelief. “Heaven help us all…”

“He is and he isn’t. There’s more here than we’re seeing.” Elliot looked down the tunnel into the depths beyond the circles of light flung by the torches. “Separate and apart, remember? I would say our truth lies down there. In that darkness you will find the answer. And Diana Bennett, dead, or by some blessed miracle, alive. Though I’m not sure which would be worse…”

“Who has been down there?” Mary shivered with a sudden chill. “This man has nothing to lose by defying us. If he has Miss Bennett, I doubt he will give her up easily.”

“If he has Diana I know he will surely be regretting it by now,” Elliot put in with grim humour. “She is not known for her reticence. Right now, he could be bringing her back up to us. Begging us to take her back.”

“If she is down there, and alive, she must be found and brought back,” Vincent stated simply. “If the killer is also down there, then he must be dealt with. We cannot allow this madness to continue if we have the power to stop it.”

“I think that about sums it up.” Cullen held up his torch. “And the sooner we get going, the sooner we will be back. We’ll need supplies and a lot of rope, just in case.”

“I’m coming too.” Elliot flexed his shoulder muscles tiredly.

“The way is dangerous, Elliot.” Vincent took his arm. You are not used to the darkness. You have nothing to prove to us.”

“If you find Bennett alive, you’re going to need a face she knows.” Elliot pointed at Vincent’s face. “You certainly can’t show her yours. And if she still has her gun near to hand, none of us will be safe. I would say she has had plenty of time to work up a fine temper. She could shoot us on sight, just for practice. You don’t know her like I do.”

Vincent glanced at Catherine and she nodded mutely, giving him her love and understanding that he had to do this, however dangerous it might prove to be. Vincent nodded silently, grateful that Catherine did not try to detain him, despite her fears and doubts for his safety.

“Mouse, Cullen, James, Elliot and myself.” Vincent glanced at the other for confirmation. “We will have to travel fast and light.”

“I’ll send Geoffrey with a message for Joe, advising him of our discovery.” Father leaned heavily on his cane. “I can only hope Diana is alive, somewhere down there.”

“I hope this all isn’t some wild goose chase,” Cullen addressed no one in particular, as he followed Mouse towards the chamber where they stored the community’s emergency gear. “I’d hate to think we’re wasting our time.”

*******

“I know this is going to be a waste of time.” Greg slumped in the back seat of the unmarked patrol car on the edge of the park. “Wild goose chases have a bad habit of ending up right back where they started.”

“Here, caffeine’s good for the soul.” The detective in the front seat passed him a plastic mug of black coffee. “Goes down better if you don’t try to taste it. Donut?”

Greg shook his head. “Wish I knew where Russell has got to.” He handled the scalding brew with respect. Police coffee was either stone cold or it scorched the enamel off your teeth. “What on earth do you use to make the coffee with, Meadows?”

“Told you not to taste it.” The other detective grinned. “Russell hasn’t reported in for hours. Seems he was up all night going through files at the station. Desk clerk said she saw him grinning to himself at four o’clock this morning. That’s always a bad sign.”

“Get someone to check his apartment.” Greg swilled his coffee experimentally, but nothing floated to the surface. He sighed sharply. “Probably he’s sacked out asleep after pulling an all nighter. I want him on the job, like yesterday. And if someone can find me Bennett, I’ll give them a medal.”

“Will do.” Meadows reached for the radio mike. “Any personal message you want to send him?”

“Nothing that’s printable.” Greg leaned forward and gaze out through the brief shower of rain scudding across the park. “But maybe he deserves to do a little foot patrol.”

*******

Diana lay back against the rocky edge of the pool and ran her hands through the long length of her hair. The loss of her grandmother’s comb grieved her more than anything else that had happened to her on this strange odyssey to the depths of the earth. She had searched for it, but it remained stubbornly missing. Another black mark against Azrael’s name for bringing her down here.

Pushing at the surrounding water with dissatisfaction, she watched the ripples fan out and become lost in the curling tendrils of mist. The comb had been one of a set her grandmother had given her just before she died and its value to Diana was far beyond any monetary value. It was a precious memory of happier times.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and slipped lower in the pool. The heat was enervating and she felt disinclined to move. Let them come looking for her, she was not about to make anything easy of them. Raising her hands, she threaded her fingers through the strands of her hair, spreading it out around her on the surface of the water. It needed cleaning, a good shampoo and conditioner. A ghost of a laugh rose to her lips. There wasn’t much chance of getting a great shampoo and set down here in the bowels of the earth.

“You are very quick to judge.” The voice in her ear made Diana start badly. She had not heard Azrael approach, but then she never did.

“And you shouldn’t eavesdrop.” She glanced over her shoulder to find him squatting behind her, but she didn’t feel inclined to question how he’d known what she was thinking.

He held an earthenware bowl between his large hands. It had been exquisitely sculpted out of dark red clay and then decorated with bold patterns of white and blue. It spoke of a zest for life; a fine appreciation for colour and Diana wondered who could have created such a beautiful piece in this place of eternal night.

Azrael tilted his head to one side and regarded her solemnly with his fathomless gaze. He held the bowl out to her. “Celine was bringing you this, but I decided I would.”

“If that’s lunch, then I’m not hungry.” Diana lay back in the water, trying to ignore him, though his bulk loomed large at the edge of her vision. “Or is it time for dinner? Keeping track of time is impossible down here.”

Pottery clinked softly on rock as Azrael put the bowl down. But he didn’t answer her acid remark.

Diana sank lower in the pool until only her head was above the surface, willing him to go away. Blind or not, she had no intention of getting out beneath his dark, enigmatic gaze. Closing her eyes, she released her breath on a long sigh of contentment and hoped he would take the hint and leave her alone.

“What are you doing?” The sudden sensation of his fingers stroking through her hair took Diana completely by surprise. She bucked against his touch, but he held her easily, subduing her with little effort. Short of leaping from the pool in fine indignation to confront him, Diana could do nothing, but submit. Her pride didn’t stretch far enough to allow her indulge in an argument stark naked, but she didn’t relax.

“If you give in, you will enjoy this.” Azrael addressed her stiff posture of disapproval.

“If you go away, I can get out.”

“No one is stopping you.” Azrael continued to work slowly.

Diana subsided into offended silence. A scent filled the moist air, clean and herbal, spicy and unknown. Azrael’s long fingers moved through her hair, smoothing out the tangles, easing the knotted ends into order. Against her scalp, his touch was electric and soothing at the same time and a shiver ran through Diana’s body, despite the heat of the water.

Rhythmically Azrael worked the contents of the clay bowl through every strand, drawing out the full length of Diana’s hair until her head was a froth of soapy bubbles. Then, placing both hands on her shoulders, he pushed her below the surface, rinsing away all traces of his work.

Diana rose slowly, her hair lacing around her in a silken stream. Once clear of the surface, she sank back to chin level, eyeing Azrael dubiously. He still squatted where she left him, hands dangling loosely between his spread thighs, the empty bowl at his feet. Absently he ran one long finger around the rim, his sightless gaze rising to study Diana’s face in detail.

He drew in and released a long, bitter sigh. “You want to go back, don’t you? You could not be happy here?”

“No, I could not be happy here.” Diana agreed slowly, looking into the depths of his black eyes and seeing the shadows of immense pain. They shifted and flowed, giving the impression of concentrated sight.

“I can see I was wrong to bring you here.” Azrael rose to his feet, the bowl in his hand. “I saved your life up there, you owe me that. But, I am simply repeating the mistake my father made many years ago. My own mother has become a prisoner, and now she cannot return to her old world. Celine went mad down here. I do not wish that to be your fate as well. When you are ready to leave, I will take you out.”

“But, what of you?” Diana rose from the water suddenly, silvery cascades slithering down her shoulders and flanks to pool on the rocky shore. “You also have a choice. You are not bound to stay in this place.”

“I have nothing to offer your world. I have only these.” He held out his hands, one cradling the bowl, the other empty. “There is nothing else. But my mother and Celine would not survive without me.”

“You cannot stay down here, any of you.” Diana bent to the crumpled pile that was her clothing and pulled her shirt in impatiently. “This is no place to live.”

“I told you I have my father’s death to avenge. The Others must pay for him. But, I do not want you to be anywhere near them. This is not your fight or your life.”

Azrael’s blank gaze seemed to consider her for a long moment. “Come with me.” He snagged her wrist unerringly, his hard grasp denying her the right to resist. “I want to show you something before you leave. Something no one else has ever seen.”

“This discussion is not over.” Diana placed her hand over his and his lean fingers turned to grip hers.

“I didn’t expect you to meekly agree with me.” His face lost its usual melancholy cast and his eyes sparkled darkly with anticipation. “That is why I made sure you never found that gun of yours. I know you’ve been looking for it.”

“And I won’t stopped looking.” Diana was struck anew by the awesome power of his masculine beauty. An unsteady laugh escaped her lips then, as she held back against the impatient tug of his hand.

“Do you think I might get dry first?” She shook her wet length of her hair and droplets of water sprayed out, dappling his face and clothing and, to Diana’s amazement, a laugh escaped him, low and soft, and she could only stare of him in disbelief.

*******

I cried a tear; you wiped it dry

I was confused; you cleared my mind

I sold my soul; you bought it back for me

And held me up and gave me dignity

Somehow you needed me…

Ann Murray

“Someone large and carrying something heavy.” Vincent leaned down next to Cullen and James, to study the footprint in the dirt of the tunnel floor. “Gone past maybe, four or five days ago, judging by the degradation of the outline. But, it is hard to tell down here, where nothing much changes.”

“Our mysterious man from the junction tunnel perhaps?” Elliot eased the burden of rope from his shoulder and massaged his aching muscles.

Stumbling down lightless tunnel in the bowels of the earth was not the sort of exercise he was used to. He wondered how the meeting with the money-men had gone far above his head, and he knew he would have to return soon, before they started to look for him. The prospect did not fill him with joy.

“He wears nailed soles to his boots.” Cullen fingered the crumbling outline. “None of our people do that. We always lace ours, see?” He pushed out one booted foot and held it up to the torchlight for Elliot to view. “So, this guy is not one of us.”

Vincent moved forward and sank to his haunches beyond the print and held his torch high over his head. In its light, he could see a series of black spots, balled and dusty, grouped in a pattern before the place where the roof of the tunnel sank low. Scuff marks suggested that the man they were following had sunk nearly to his knees there and struggled through under the weight of his load, past the lowered ceiling, his cloak dragging in the dust behind him. Vincent fingered a couple of the spots and they crumpled to black powder on his fingertips.

“More blood.” He looked at the others. “Someone bled here and there is more beyond. It fell beside the footprints and then behind. I do not think it is our stranger who bled.”

“If Diana is hurt, then it’s even more imperative that we find her.” Elliot followed the line of droplets with his eyes, until they vanished into the darkness of the tunnel before them. “There is no medical help down here. She could bleed to death, if she’s not already dead.”

“Goes down, way down.” Mouse consulted his map and shrugged eloquently. “Map only good for another three miles.”

“Three miles…” Elliot couldn’t suppress the groan in his voice. “I never did like your offbeat brand of humour, Mouse.”

“Don’t worry, city man.” Cullen clapped him heartily on the shoulder, as he and James moved on. “If it gets too rough for you, I guess we’ll have to carry you…or call you a cab.”

Elliot hefted his coil of rope without answering and set off after the others as they inched their way through the narrow tunnel, the flames of their torches making strange patterns on the walls. He found he didn’t like Cullen's brand of humour either.

*******

Joe sat at his desk reading through all the notes from Diana’s files. Somewhere in here, there had to be a clue, some idea of Diana’s movements before she went missing. The woman was so methodical, so there had to be something to go on. The intercom beside him buzzed and he thumbed the button impatiently.

“I thought I said no calls, Marion.”

“It’s Mr Burch’s office on the line again,” his secretary replied, apologetically. They won’t take no for an answer this time.”

“Okay.” Joe massaged his temples. “Put them through.”

He spent 20 minutes with Elliot’s senior advisor, trying to calm the man down and stall him from mustering an army to search for his missing boss. Joe found he was pulling at tufts of his hair, forcing down his rising anger.

“I don’t care if there are 50 prominent citizens of New York City missing right now, I have a massive investigation underway and I cannot sidetrack anyone to look for Elliot Burch! Okay, fine, call in Cleon Manning, great idea. Maybe he can find one or two of mine who’ve gone missing, while he’s at it!”

Joe could feel the veins on his forehead standing out and wondered where he could have gone so wrong in his choice of career. “No, fine, Yes, I apologise for my outburst. I am well aware that Mr Burch pays a substantial part of my salary. Yes, I know I’m an elected city official. I will get some men onto it as soon as I can free them up. Meantime, I would suggest that Manning’s agency is a great place to start. Yes, I know Mr Burch is a personal friend of the mayor’s. I certainly will. Good bye.”

Joe dropped the receiver back into its cradle and thumbed the intercom button again. “Marion, I don’t care if the Pope himself calls to bless me and wants to personally shake my hand! No more calls!”

“Yes, Mr Maxwell.”

Joe cut the connection abruptly and sat back in his chair, holding his head in his hands. He watched the bright colours swirl and merge behind his close lids and wondered if anything could truly ever be the same again. Tiredly, he sat forward again and picked up Diana’s report.

*******

“They are beautiful…” Diana breathed, as she slowly circled the tiny chamber Azrael had led her to. “Whoever painted these pictures has an incredible eye for detail.”

Azrael stood in the room’s narrow opening and followed her progress with his sightless eyes. This was a Diana he didn’t know. Dressed again in her clothes from Up There that he had told Celine to return to her, she even smelled different. Her confidence more assured and an air of quiet authority he had not seen since she’d fought with those men at the tunnel entrance. Already, she was no longer a part of his world, no matter how brief her stay. He felt the loss keenly.

He sensed her move to an oil painting of the Central Park carousel and heard her touch it lightly with her fingers against all the colours of the surface. He could see through her eyes, the summer light glinting on the children’s upturned faces, proud horses with manes tossing in the breeze, swirling patterns on golden poles, rising and dipping to the sound of music she was humming.

Diana shook her head in wonder. The painting lived and breathed its reality more than any she had ever seen. Shaking her head in wonder, she turned her attention to the rest of the canvasses. They filled every nook and cranny, every possible place was crammed with stacks of unframed work, leaning ten deep in some places. But she could see the best had been lovingly fixed to the smoother places on the walls.

“They belong up in the light, not shut up down here, where no one can see them.” Diana turned back to Azrael as he came up behind her, his face reflecting his pleasure that she had seen and appreciated. “Your mother told me her one pleasure was painting in oils, but I didn’t know how good she was. Surely, she must know she is very talented. She could make a good living with these.”

“My mother…?” Azrael reared back as if she’d just struck him. “This is not Emma’s work.” He frowned. “I brought you here to show you my work.”

“Your work…” Diana turned back to the canvasses. “But, how can you—”

“I have always doubted the work.” Azrael continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. He turned unerringly to a charming study of a young woman with flaming hair dancing a spirited pirouette under the bulbous shape of a bright green balloon.

In the distance, half hidden in the shadows of the trees, stood a clown with a shock of red hair, holding still more balloons in one hand, a massive collection of colour that stood out against the blue sky. But he held something in his free hand. Diana peered closer; something raised to his face, covering one eye, a small black shape without any real form…

“My favourite…” Azrael touched the edge of the canvas unerringly, moving across to pause against the girl’s painted cheek. “She was so beautiful, so alive…”

“Trudy Klein…” Diana breathed in disbelieving horror, looking from the canvas to the man at her side, his black gaze fixed on hers with troubled intensity, as he tilted his head to one side inquiringly. “How could you have painted her…unless…?”

*******

As the afternoon progressed, the sun won its battle over the rain clouds and shone down with benevolent warmth. Greg went to stretch his legs on the park, checking his men and scanning the faces of the people he passed.

His mood had soured with the long hours of inactivity, which he had never really gotten used to, even after 16 years on the force. Coupled with a solid dose of Meadows’ dubious coffee…He shook his head with discontent and walked on, hunched into the depths of his overcoat.

*******

Chantelle Collins slipped into the park, and hurried along through a group of nuns, gazing around in agitation. Russell had promised to meet her, pay her the money he’d promised for the next part of his little plan. He wanted to play further tricks on the clown. Chantelle’s childlike face was marred by a petulant frown as she scanned the distance, right and left, for any sign of the detective.

If Russell hadn’t promised her $200, she wouldn’t have come. But avarice had won out and Chantelle had come to collect what she was owed. But, Russell seemed to have done a disappearing act and taken his money with him. She didn’t like this…

*******

Greg strolled idly up to the refuse bin and peered into it incuriously. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but Diana’s words kept coming back to him, haunting his dreams, plucking at his waking thoughts. ‘It’s all right there in front of us, but we just aren’t seeing it.’

Remembrance of watching the park attendant drop something into the bin had been nudging at the edge of his consciousness all day. On the pretext of stretching his legs, he had come to satisfy his curiosity, without his men thinking he was a fool.

But, he wasn’t prepared for what lay on the top of the garbage in the bin…

*******

“Steps...” Mouse held his torch out over a flight of stone steps that spiralled down into the darkness. From the depths there came a rush of sound, like the last dying breath of a dinosaur, and the faint smell of sulphur suddenly permeated the air as the sound died away.

“Someone has travelled this way often.” Vincent bent to run his hand over the indentation in the middle of each step. “How far do they go down, Mouse?”

“Don’t know, will see.” He picked up a stone and cast it far out into the darkness.

For a long moment there was no sound, only the breathing of the sulphur laden air, then a clattering rattle as the stone hit the bottom somewhere far below. Cullen and Elliot exchanged worried glances, for once in complete accord.

“I’ll toss you, to see who goes first.” Cullen leaned out as far as he dared, his face screwed into lines of honest terror.

“If you lead the way, then I’ll have something soft to fall on when you hit the bottom.” Elliot eased in behind him, as the black depths yawned up like the mouth of the final pit of hell. “Or James can go first.”

“Don’t think so.” James peered over the edge. “I’m a follower, always have been.”

“Mouse leads, you chickens follow.” The tinker slipped beyond them and clattered down the steps with a fine disregard for the danger. “See, no problem.” His comment floated back on the sulphurous wind.

“I have always thought that Mouse’s gift for understatement is one of his more endearing qualities,” Vincent commented to his reluctant companions, as he eased off the top step and started down.

“Okay, Elliot.” Cullen inhaled deeply. “Just imagine this is one of your towers you like to build up in the city. Only on this one we go down, instead of up.”

Elliot watched him follow James into the darkness, with a jaundiced eye. “Oh, there is plenty of difference, all right,” he addressed the silence. “I usually take the elevator. Not try and scramble up the outside of the building and break my fool neck!”

*******

Father hobbled through the entrance of Vincent’s chamber to find Catherine changing Jacob on the bed. The old man eased himself into Vincent’s leather chair and watched her swift efficiency. Her calm assurance soothed his restless disquiet.

“You have no sense that they have found her?” he asked presently, tapping his fingers unconsciously in the table. “Do you feel anything at all?”

Catherine straightened, Jacob slung on her hip. She stopped to concentrate for a moment on the distant connection with her husband deep within her. His reassurance flowed back across the miles, touching her gently with the power of his love, but also with regret.

“They have found a whole series of chambers that appear to have been inhabited once. But, I’m afraid, nothing else. They were following the trail of blood, but even that had run out and the map is useless.”

“John Pater’s map.” Father moved restlessly. “I have looked at those maps and often pondered all the blank spaces he left on them. Were they a deliberate omission? Did he have something, or someone, to hide? In ancient times, blanks spaces such as those carried the legend ‘here be dragons.’ I wonder how many dragons John kept captive down there.”

He shifted his shoulders uneasily. “I also wonder sometimes about the other worlds he knew of and would not discuss with me. I suspect now that he kept others prisoner somewhere down there, out of sight and not visited except for his infrequent presence and his unholy desire for complete power. He fed on that need; that desire, to dominate everyone who crossed his path, manipulate them for his own ends. I shudder to think how they will survive now. If they still exist at all. To die alone, in the dark and the cold, waiting for a man who is your life and your master, but does not return…” His mouth compressed with suppressed sorrow. “I cannot bear to think it is so…”

“Please, don’t torture yourself, Father.” Catherine came to kneel at his side, laying her hands on his tense forearm as Jacob scrambled into his grandfather’s lap. “The past is dead, it is best forgotten, and Paracelsus along with it. He cannot harm us now.”

“I wonder…” Father played absently with Jacob’s curls, looking down into the clear brilliance of the boy’s sapphire eyes that gazed back at him so trustingly. “I wonder if, even in death, John’s evil can touch us still…”

*******

Greg took a pencil from his inside pocket and pushed at the contents of the bin. A revolver, the type favoured by the police force and their investigators, and a wallet, lay among the litter covered in unmistakable traces of blood.

Using the tip of the pencil with exaggerated care, Greg opened the wallet and looked at the gold detective’s shield inside with the cold featherings of premonition. But the detective’s name printed on the I.D. was not the one he had expected to see. Snatching his radio from his pocket, he put through an urgent call to Meadows and his team.

*******

“You think I am this man!” Azrael stumbled back in horror from Diana’s terse explanation of her disbelief. “This killer of children?”

“I don’t know what to think right now. You have this…this painting, this exact portrait of a dead girl. How can you have known her, unless…tell me about the painting. Who painted it and why?”

“But, I told you, I painted it…” Azrael came slowly back to Trudy’s painting and stared at it intensely. “I painted them all.”

“You!” Diana could not believe what she was hearing, but struggled to understand all the implications. “But, how could you…I mean, you cannot see. How can you create something as accurate as this, so far below the park?”

Azrael shook his head, the long length of his hair tumbling around his features, his face contorted with a kind of agony that was painful to see. “I can see…edges, lines…dark shapes. I know you are there, because your shape is human, rounded and symmetrical, against the straight lines of the paintings.”

He sighed abruptly, gusty and bitter. “I could see what you saw just now; the carousel and all the children laughing in the sunshine.” He touched unerringly on the child’s painted cheek. “I can see with my mind, I can touch the thoughts of others and see what they see. Their surroundings, especially if I can catch them in a moment of pure joy or pleasure.”

“So, you saw Trudy Klein, you saw her as you have painted her?” Diana frowned at his explanation, but understanding some of what he’d just said.

How many times had she tried to penetrate the minds of those she pursued in an attempt to capture their very thoughts, their mental pictures of their crimes. Having been robbed of his sight, Azrael had refined this ability to an incredible degree.

“I was in the park, I have a special place I can go before dawn and hide there all day, just absorbing all the pictures that come into my mind. The child, this Trudy, she was given a balloon; it made her happy. She began to dance. The picture stayed with me all the way down here until I could paint it.”

“I understand now.” Diana turned back to the painting, looking past Trudy to the tiny figure of the clown. She could see now that he was simply a part of the background, an unconscious part of the girl’s happiness. He was the giver of the green balloon and the black shape he held to his eyes was a camera.

“Something that you cannot see, because it is so much a part of the park, part of the scenery…” Diana mused in a whisper, wondering how she could have been so blind.

A wry smile touched her lips at the thought that came unbidden. And it took a blind man to show you, Bennett. So much for an I.Q. of 127, they must have botched the darn tests...

“I don’t understand…” Azrael’s dark gaze swept over her, his hands spread before him in supplication. “What is it that you see?”

“Take me back!” Now!” Diana captured one of his waving hands, tugging him towards the door. “Take me back up to the park, before it’s too late!”

*******

“Short, stocky guy. Black hair, about 30, 35…” Greg wanted to wrench the information out of the park supervisor by main force, as the man stood and thought deeply, his hand caressing his beard absently.

“Could be Simon Follett,” the man finally replied. “Sounds like him. Been on duty this morning, usually has Tuesday and Thursday afternoons off for his charity work. Left about three hours ago.”

“Where is he now, then? Where does he live?” Greg had to ball his fists inside his coat pockets to stop doing the man physical harm. “Do you have an address? I’ll send ‘round some men.”

“No need for that.” The supervisor looked offended. “Simon always comes back those afternoons he has off and does a stint as a clown for the kids. Kids think he’s great. Been doin’ it for nearly 14 years now.”

“Fourteen years…” Greg felt the bottom of his stomach drop out.

Right there in front of them all the time and they hadn’t even seen it. God, Bennett, you’ve got a lot to answer, if you ever show up. “Where’s Follett likely to be now, then?”

“Out there somewhere.” The supervisor waved his hand across the vast expanse of the park. “Why? He’s done nothing wrong, has he? I mean, he’s a good employee, punctual and courteous. Never had a moment of trouble from him.”

“I think all that’s about to change,” Greg muttered caustically, as he turned to the group of police behind him and began issuing his orders.

*******

Pancho the clown watched the scurrying of the police and knew himself safe. No one ever looked behind the face of the clown and found the truth. Pancho had worn masks all his life; strip off one and you would find another. The real Simon Follett had been buried long ago behind the clown’s tragic smile.

Pancho saw the straggle of detectives coming down the path towards him and a hard smile of satisfaction curved his mouth within the broad slash of his painted lips. He would pass them, acknowledge them with a wave and a bow and walk on, secure in his ability to blend into the background, disappear as if he had never been. He had even prepared the salute, a careless wave of the hand and a beautifully executed bow. Just as he’d been taught by his father, so long ago.

The men of the law paused and then surrounded him, and the carefully prepared smile slipped a little as he saw the hardness in the eyes the man in charge. Pancho tried to wave, but his wrist was seized and snapped behind his back, as the detective stepped up to him and peered into the clown’s frightened eyes.

“Simon Follett, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down…”

Pancho could only shake his head, as the detective’s voice droned on reading him his rights. This could not be happening…no one arrests the clown. The cloud of balloons he’d been holding slipped from his grasp and floated upwards on the freshening breeze.

The children, who will take care of the children?

From a converging path, Chantelle Collins watched the police march the clown away and the collection of balloons floating up into the sky, each exploding as they floated even higher. She really hoped Russell was happy with his joke. She was out two hundred bucks because she couldn’t find him and the joke didn’t seem to be all that funny.

The clown was crying…no on likes to see the clown cry…

*******

Between the desire

And the spasm

Between the potency

And the existence

Between the essence

And the descent

Falls the Shadow…

Thomas Stearns Eliot

Voices! Diana was halted by Azrael’s hard grip on her arm. They had come upwards without a light; save for the small candle Diana held, Azrael didn’t need to see his way in the darkness. Voices that echoed hollowly in the reaches of the cavern, held in the circle of torchlight that came their way.

Diana would have spoken then, but Azrael was pulling her back, motioning for silence as he dragged her into a nearby recess of rock, extinguishing the candle’s small flame between thumb and forefinger, plunging them into instant darkness.

Against her hand she suddenly felt the butt of her gun. He was returning it to her now. She could only guess at the reason why he wanted her to have it.

She accepted it, but tucked it into its holster, out of harm’s way.

“Why did you give it back to me?” Diana’s arm throbbed with the pain of his grip, his fingers biting into her soft flesh. “Who are they?”

“The Others.” Diana could feel the rigidity of his whole body, tense and ready to attack. “The ones who killed my father.”

“How can you know they are the ones?” Diana applied cold logic to his argument, not wanting to be delayed now, not now when she had the answer to the puzzle. “Were you there? Did you see them kill your father?”

Azrael turned his head. Diana could not see him, but she felt the movement and the puzzled intensity of his gaze. “I was…not there, I could not go among The Others. My father has forbidden any contact.”

“Seems your father forbade a lot of things,” Diana muttered sourly, as the voices drew nearer. “Doesn’t mean you have to follow what he said.”

She had to forestall Azrael from attacking them, as they came ever nearer. “So, how do you know that what you’ve been told was accurate?”

“My mind…” Azrael’s grip tightened again to the point where Diana nearly cried out in agony. “In my mind I saw him killed, as surely as if I’d been standing beside him. He died to protect us, our secret, our very lives.”

“I tell you I heard something,” one of the voices within the flare of torches rose above the argumentative tone of the rest. “And I know I saw a light, just for a second.”

“Elliot Burch…” Diana was stunned to the point of utter disbelief. “What on earth is he doing down here? Azrael, please, there is more going on here than you realise. I know one of these people.”

“How can you, they are The Others.” Azrael pulled back from her, his hand falling away. “Unless…you cannot, no, you are not one of them…I will not believe it…”

“No, I only know one of the men. I don’t recognise any of the others.” Diana tried to hold onto him, but in the darkness, she was completely blind. “Please, wait…where are you?”

“I trusted you…” Azrael’s voice spoke softly, but from a long distance. The advancing light flickered briefly over him, reflecting on the many buckles of his clothing and in the dark sheen of his eyes. “I trusted you and you are one of them. You would betray me…”

A brief whisper of sound and he was gone, melting into the darkness beyond the light of the torches. Diana wanted to go after him, drag him into reality, but her feet were like lead weights, holding her place. Her hand, raised in mute appeal, finally fell to her side and she turned to face the men behind her. She knew Azrael would not listen to her, not now…

*******

“How did you find your way down here?” Diana eyed Elliot’s rumpled and dishevelled appearance with professional curiosity. “This isn’t exactly Fifth Avenue. You look a mess.”

“Thanks. I had a very competent guide.” Elliot indicated the boy beside him, who was shuffling his feet in acute embarrassment. “But, more importantly, how did you get all the way down here? Hughes and Maxwell have just about torn the entire city apart between them, looking for you.”

“It’s a long story.” Diana looked beyond Elliot, but the others in his party had melted away into the darkness even as Azrael had done, leaving Elliot and his quaint guide to make the explanations.

She had been frustrated in her attempts to see the faces of The Others, particularly since Azrael hated them so, but they had swiftly vanished from sight. She shrugged off her disappointment. There would be time enough later to discover all that Elliot Burch knew and she was freshly determined to find out the truth.

“My guide had another appointment.” Diana turned aside Elliot’s inquiring glance. “He thought I would be safe enough with you. Now you can take me up. I have to get back to the investigation, before it’s too late.”

Elliot nodded, seeming to understand the urgency completely. Diana reflected that perhaps she’d misjudged the man. Perhaps there were another side to him behind the guise of the manipulating developer he presented to the world. With a final glance back at the blackness that totally enveloped Azrael’s world, Diana turned to follow Burch up towards the city far above, a strange reluctance dragging at her steps.

*******

“With Follett behind bars, I’ve had your lot, Burch, hammering on my door all day demanding a full police investigation into your disappearance…again…” Joe looked from Diana to Elliot in exasperation. “They’ve even been demanding I call out the National Guard. And now, I discover that you have been touring the underground together. I ought to throw the book at the pair of you.”

“At least, I was the one to find her,” Elliot pointed out reasonably, secretly amused at Joe playing the outraged D.A. to the hilt. “I would say I deserve, at least, your favourable consideration on the Brownstone project. It would go a long way to evening up the ledger. Quid pro quo, I believe is the term.”

“And I did solve the case, even if I was a little late with the delivery.” Diana shrugged. “You should take a holiday, Joe. You’ve gone a very strange colour.”

“I have a little something for you, I know you’re going to enjoy. Let’s call it a small reward.” Joe slid a folder across his desk to Diana, before his frustration got the better of him.

He knew very well where Burch and Diana had been, but he could not display any hint of knowledge, or his relief over her safe return in case Bennett read more into his words than he intended. She had a very uncomfortable habit of doing anything, but what you expected.

Joe’s portrayal of the outraged D.A. at the end of his tether was, therefore, as much from a desire to protect Catherine’s world, as it was from a very healthy fear of Bennett finding out the truth. That she had been down there at all, was going to give him many sleepless nights.

“Russell!” Diana looked up from the file Joe had given her. “Why are you looking for John Russell?”

“Been missing for two days now, since before we uncovered the Snapper. Follett won’t say what he’s done with him and apart from his gun and I.D. in the park, there’s no trace of him. I thought you might be able to shed some light on his whereabouts.”

*******

Diana found John Russell the next morning, extremely thirsty, thoroughly uncomfortable and highly disgruntled, trussed up in the back of the tunnel where Diana had been attacked by the drug addicts, days before.

“You look like a Thanksgiving turkey.” Diana sank to her haunches in the mouth of the tunnel and smiled at him.

What Russell said to this, was muffled by the white tape covering his mouth. It was also undoubtedly unprintable. Follett had overpowered him, and before Russell knew what had happened, had bound him securely to the iron railings before abandoning him to the rats and dismal decay.

The detective’s temper did not improve when Diana informed him that they’d already caught the killer. She savoured the moment to the fullest, before finally releasing her colleague from his bonds and assisting him out into the morning sunlight.

*******

Catherine lazily entwined herself around her husband’s body, lacing her legs between his, as they lay side by side in the bed. A hush had fallen over the chamber of the pool, the Wells family retreat she reminded herself with a gentle smile. She nuzzled Vincent’s chest and sighed in deep contentment.

“I think Diana Bennett has her own secrets to keep now.” She followed the line of his jaw with her fingertip. “I do not think she has sufficient knowledge to betray ours.”

“Elliot questioned her closely as he and Mouse took her Above and she would not reveal where she had been or who she had been with. Her saviour remains a mystery.”

“Perhaps Father was right, perhaps there are other worlds down there that only Paracelsus knew about. I wonder how they will fare now that he is gone.” Catherine turned her head to rest her cheek over the steady beat of his heart. “It’s sad to think there may be others who had to reply solely on John Pater’s twisted mind for guidance.”

“For our world to survive, he had to die.” Vincent stroked the soft curve of her face. “Even his memory carries a taint of corruption.”

“All his schemes turned to ashes in his hands.” Catherine rubbed her cheek over his heartbeat. “But, perhaps, out there in the darkness, he created something that was better, more human, than himself.”

“Perhaps…” Vincent agreed on a sigh, as the rhythms of their shared connection slowed and lengthened, allowing the tiny patter of another level of their bond to surface.

“Here…” Catherine took his hand with a gasp of surprised delight. “Tenderly she laid his large palm against the swell of her abdomen and Vincent could barely sense the flicker of movement.

“So small…” he whispered with awe, as the movement became a wriggle and the unborn child turned against his hand.

“There is time to grow,” Catherine murmured softly, her voice filled with joy. “All the time in the world for many things to grow and become…”

*******

And 0, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,

Forebode not any severing of our loves!

Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;

I only have relinquish'd one delight

To live beneath your more habitual sway;

I love the brooks which down their channels fret

Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;

The innocent brightness of a new-born day

Is lovely yet;

The clouds that gather round the setting sun

Do take a sober colouring from an eye

That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;

Another race hath been, and other palms are won.

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,

To me the meanest flower that blows can give

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

William Wordsworth

LITERARY REFERENCES

Dreams Of the Heart    Judith Nolan

Untitled    Emily Dickinson

The Picture of Dorian Gray    Oscar Wilde

Past The Point Of No Return    Phantom of the Opera

Thel’s Motto    William Blake

It Feels Like Forever   Joe Cocker

Who I Was Born To Be   Susan Boyle

You Needed Me   Ann Murray

Hollow Men   Thomas Stearns Eliot

*******

A Time To Love

- “A Time To Love”

A Story of “Beauty and the Beast”

By Judith Nolan ©

Artwork by Kathy Fidge

This story is the sequel to “Dreams of the Heart” It was written for all those who love the continuing story of Vincent, Catherine and all the people they care for and love. A love that transcends all the laws of time and space.

It is truly a love for all seasons...

Again, a very warm ‘thank you’ to all those who have joined me on this journey, I couldn’t have done it without you guys. But, especial love and ‘Vincent’ hugs to my tunnel sisters, Victoria and Jean. And an extra large hug to Carole – what can I say, except, please accept my eternal thanks for sharing the light and the love…always…

This story is also dedicated to everyone who has made the continuing dream of “Beauty and the Beast” possible. Without the dreams and the hope, none of our achievements would be possible.

So we will keep the BATB flame burning…forever…

(Please do not reproduce by any means, this story)

“A Time To Love” is an amateur fiction fanzine and, as such, does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of RON KOSLOW FILMS, REPUBLIC PICTURES, CBS TELEVISION, WITT THOMAS PRODUCTIONS or any other holders of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights.

Catherine – “I owe you everything…”

Vincent – “You owe me nothing…”

Turn! Turn! Turn!

To everything, turn, turn, turn,

There is a season, turn, turn, turn,

To everything there is a season,

and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, a time to reap

that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones,

and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to

refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;

a time of war, and a time of peace.

A time to be born, a time to die,

A time to fight, a time to heal,

A time to love, a time to hate.

And a time for peace, I swear it’s not too late…

To everything, turn, turn, turn,

There is a season, turn, turn, turn,

And a time for every purpose under heaven…

The Byrds

The rainbow comes and goes

And lovely is the rose.

The moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare.

Water on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But, yet I know, where’re I go,

That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

William Wordsworth

Azrael sat hunched forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, his chin held in the upraised cup of his palms, blindly staring at the painting before him. A painting he could see only in his mind, yet he knew in every intimate detail.

Every curve, every graceful line touched him anew with the exquisite pain of longing and the reality of hopeless despair. He had painted without rest for three days, to produce the final work.

Had he truly sat like this, for hours at a time, over the weeks since Diana had left?

He couldn’t remember clearly, the constant ache within his chest inhibiting clarity of thought, remembrance of what had gone before. Not even working in the garden, moving to the slower rhythms of the plants, tuning his chaotic thoughts to their easy measure, could ease his mind. He had abandoned the effort entirely a week ago.

So he sat and stared and waited. For what, he could no longer say…

“She won’t be coming back, you know,” his mother commented angrily, from the open doorway behind him, but he made no move to acknowledge her presence. “It’s been over a month now. If you’re expecting anything more from the woman, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. She was grateful to be gone from this place, and you.”

When Azrael didn’t reply, Emma advanced indignantly into the room to stand beside her son, running a disgusted, but critical eye, over the painting. Only this morning, she’d finally stumbled upon his secret gallery, when she could not find him anywhere. Not in the garden, which was looking sadly neglected, nor in any of the usual places he liked to frequent, keeping out of her way.

She’d been astonished at the quality of his work, it far outstripped her own. Horrified he’d been pilfering from her dwindling store of precious canvasses and paints. They’d been gifts from an absent husband who had not returned for more than two years now. She’d hoarded them like a miser’s gold, and now this…

It sparked an unreasoning anger within her. The boy was besotted and a fool!

He is blind, how can he see such things so clearly?

She wanted to destroy the paintings, every one of them. But, avarice over her precious canvasses would not allow her; they could be reused, if she was careful. Nor could she bring herself to finally sever the last traces of emotional connection with her son and possibly demolish her own fragile hold on reality.

But, this painting that he sat before now. He must have sat here like this, day after day, just staring and waiting. She wanted to attack it, rip it to shreds.

It isn’t fair! The woman had left of her own free will, but still she haunted them, gave her son no rest and her no peace.

Diana, the huntress…she drew a frustrated sigh and expelled it harshly. The painting was positively indecent!

Stepping delicately from the steaming waters of the sulphur pools, every line, every curve of the younger woman’s body had been lovingly portrayed, every naked detail carefully rendered, as if her son had actually seen her thus, wantonly exposed for all to see. Her arms were raised, fingers combing out the sodden strands of her hair, her whole stance, one of unconscious innocence and incomparable beauty.

“How could she…?” Emma’s lips curled in patent distaste at the woman’s obvious shamelessness before the blindness of her son. “It’s obscene.”

In the background, Azrael had painted himself. He stood watching, blindly staring, a decorated bowl in one hand and the other hand empty, both outstretched in a disgusting attitude of yearning supplication. For what?

What had they been to each other, in those long hours they were alone together, that he would portray himself thus? As if he’s lost something precious…

“You would not understand,” Azrael muttered.

He would not speak of what had led him to paint the woman like this, but Emma had her own suspicions of how Diana had persuaded her son to release her.

He hadn’t listened to his own mother, when she had counselled him to get rid of the woman. He’d been adamant she would remain with him. But suddenly, Diana was gone and her son would not explain why.

Emma’s deep annoyance showed in the sudden brusqueness of her clipped speech. “What can the likes of her be to you? You’re just a blind fool. You can’t see her for what she really was. She left you, remember?”

She turned to glare at her son’s down-bent head, but he still made no move to explain his actions. “And you also know that she is one of The Others. You told me yourself, the day you returned without her. Those same people, who murdered your father, destroyed the only man who could protect us from them. If you want to see her again, then go to them, make them pay. Let her see your power. Then she will understand.”

“If she was truly one of them, she would have brought them down here, by now. Perhaps I was wrong. They still have not come.” Azrael moved at last, his fathomless black eyes rising to stare at his mother. “She did not tell them of us. No one has come.”

“Probably some kind of sick game they’re playing.” Emma shrugged on a bitter laugh. “They will come when the time is right. For them. Your father always said they wanted to destroy all he’d created, all he had built up over the years. If you give them the chance, they will destroy us as well, and the blame will solely be yours, because you cannot get one stupid woman out of your head.”

“But, I know Diana is different.” Azrael’s eyes shifted sideways to the painting, to the portrait he had painted from the pictures he’d perceived in Diana’s own mind. “Perhaps she does not choose to remember the way down here. The Others have never come this far before.”

“But, they were searching for her, when you encountered them, so they must know the way down here.” His mother fell to pleating her skirt with restless fingers, her face haunted. “Each year they grow bolder, they come nearer. I can sense them watching me, talking in whispers, laughing at me. But, when I turn, they slip away.”

She shook her head. “Once, when I was walking with your father in the higher tunnels, we saw the one with the blond hair, the boy was talking to himself like a demented fool.”

She shifted her shoulders restlessly. “No doubt he is harmless, but he has come close enough to us to know we are here, and he can guide The Others here. Perhaps, one day, he will bring your father’s killer to you. Your father told me he’s their warrior-king, the one they call Vincent, the man with the face of a lion. The Master said, when he finally comes, he will destroy us all. You must not allow it! Do you not love me, at all, that you sit here and do nothing?”

“I will do what is necessary, when it is necessary.” Azrael turned his entire attention back to the painting, to the window of hope he had created out of bleak despair. “I will be waiting for them.”

“You never used to talk like this, until she came.” Emma sighed. “Perhaps it’s past time for just sitting here and waiting for them to come to us.” She bent down to peer into her son’s face, hidden by the curtain of his long hair. “Perhaps it’s finally time we made them pay for what they have done. Or have you lost your nerve?”

Azrael looked up to his mother’s set expression and, for the first time in many weeks, an emotion ruffled the numbness of his senses. But, it was not the same emotion that had driven him before, haunted him since his father had left. It was not a need, a burning desire for revenge against a faceless enemy, the bogeymen who inhabited the darkness. Now, he had seen the face of that enemy, that unknown someone who had destroyed his father and brother, and he could not forget what he had seen.

She had been beautiful…

No, the emotion that touched him now was fear. Fear of what he would be forced to do, fear of dying before he found Diana once more and told her of all that he’d kept locked deep in his heart for so long. And, if he had to go to The Others to seek her out, then maybe it was finally time to do that.

But now, a fresh fear of his mother had been born. She was slowly going mad with grief and loneliness, and could no longer see beyond her blind hatred of The Others. She would keep on pushing, demanding her revenge, finally forcing her son to take an action he could no longer accept as justified or right…

*******

“I feel like a fraud, coming down here to examine a perfectly healthy woman.” Peter Alcott straightened from Catherine’s bedside. “But, any excuse is better than none.”

Catherine laughed, as she sat up to pull the folds of her cotton shirt over her abdomen after Peter’s thorough examination. At five months pregnant she glowed with health and vital happiness.

“I wish we could see more of you.” She tilted her head at his, as she rose to her feet. “You work yourself far too hard. You should take a holiday.”

“My patients would all have strokes while I was away.” Touched by her loving concern, Peter turned her words into a joke against himself. “But you know me, I’m not happy unless I’m working. A holiday, with nothing to do, would be a nightmare.”

“Stay the night, then, at least. We need you.” Catherine came to take his upper arm with insistent fingers, and Peter slanted her a glance of inquiry.

Catherine smiled. “I know Father is keen to share some of the new advances in those magazines you brought him. Vincent is the only one of us who has the remotest idea of what he’s talking about when he gets started on them. And, at least, he can still beat you at chess. He won’t play with me now, because Vincent has sharpened my game, and Mouse’s play scares him.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Peter laughed, covering her hand with one of his. “I will admit to a desire to reacquaint myself with that son of yours. Every time I see him, I’m sure Jacob had sprouted another six inches.”

At his words, Catherine smiled, her thoughts turned inwards for a moment, concentrating on the two heartbeats that beat in a timeless rhythm with her own. Jacob was helping his father and Richard inspect the site for a whole new set of chambers for the ever expanding community, and his mind was full of importance, as Vincent helped him with the finer points of measuring and assessing the suitability of new site.

“Don’t be late home…” A warm smile of deep abiding love lit Catherine’s features.

Watching her, Peter marvelled anew as the strength of the connection Catherine shared with her family. He knew she was communicating with them through their special bond, a wordless communion that made him realise all his medical training had taught him nothing of the unseen connections of the human spirit.

Bringing her abstracted attention back to his lined face, Catherine touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips. “I’m sure Jacob will be delighted to see his Uncle Peter. Besides, Easter is coming in a couple of months. Surely even hard working doctors are allowed to rest on Good Friday.”

“Only those who don’t have patients intent on making themselves ill with too much celebrating.” Peter gently turned aside her loving concern with an indulgent laugh. “They never seem to sleep.”

“But, what of your own news?” Peter tilted his head. His eyes fell to the still slender contours of her body, hidden beneath the leather and cotton of her tunnel clothing. “Is it still to be a secret?”

“I think so, for now, Peter. Vincent and I have discussed it, and we want to keep it as a surprise. Father and Mary know, but no one else. We are aware of the risks involved, so we don’t wish to give our friends and family cause for concern.”

“Then, I shall make sure I’m here for the delivery as well.” Peter hugged her, kissing her hair. “I wouldn’t miss this event for the world. You do my old heart good, to see you so happy and content.”

“We will be fine, Peter. But, it will be wonderful to have you here this time.”

Peter cupped her cheek in his hand. “Your parents would be so proud of you, if they could see you now.” He envied this young woman her certainty, but at the same time he felt the wonder of all that Vincent and Catherine had accomplished together.

“I wish I had your certainty of all that life has to offer,” Peter spoke his thoughts. “All that you have accomplished, all you and Vincent have been through. And yet you did not turn away from the path, even when it became so difficult and extremely dangerous for both of you.”

“Love, Peter.” Catherine smiled at him gently. “All it ever takes is love. There is no other emotion so powerful, or all encompassing.”

“So true…” Peter bent his head to kiss her cheek lightly, before drawing her back into his arms to hug her with fierce devotion. “You always manage to give me hope for this tired old world of ours, that I usually view with a very jaundiced eye. Because of you two, I have even begun to believe in miracles again.”

“You should always believe in miracles.” Catherine drew back to smile up at him. “They are all around you. You only have to know where to look.”

*******

“I don’t believe in miracles.” John Russell sat slumped in one of the chairs before Joe Maxwell’s desk. “They’re for fools and dreamers. And for some investigators I know…”

He turned to glare at Diana Bennett’s cool air of self-possession, where she sat in the chair next to his. He grimaced, as he looked away again. “Nobody disappears, in very odd circumstances, for days and then manages to surface again, unscathed and without explanation. It’s against the laws of nature, not to mention common sense. I say it was all a cover-up, some ploy for sympathy. Or an excuse to her total screw-up.”

“You’d always manage to find the manure in the finest perfume, wouldn’t you, Russell?” Diana raised a denying shoulder. “Where were you, when I needed you? Keeping some rats company, right?”

“If you two want to scrap, then take it outside my office and on your own time.” Joe looked up from the papers before him. “The Snapper file is closed. Follett has plea-bargained himself out of the death penalty in return for a guilty plea. Diana’s contributions have been noted and approved and so have yours, John. So, let’s just leave it alone. We haven’t got time to go over old ground and silly grievances again.”

“Just doing my job.” Russell shrugged, taking instant offense at Joe’s tone. “Detective work, remember? It’s what I do.”

“Not very well, sometimes,” Diana murmured softly, well aware that all of the man’s grumbling and snide remarks stemmed directly from the fact that he still despised her for finding him trussed up in the back of the tunnel under the park. He’d been in a foul mood ever since.

“Still want to know who she’s protecting and why.” Russell addressed the ceiling. “Secrets like that can be dangerous things and Bennett has too many for my liking.”

Diana shrugged at Joe’s disgusted expression. Not once, since she had rescued him, had Russell spoken to her directly. It was always in asides and demeaning comments, that were calculated to cause the most doubt and damage. Diana smiled coolly at his obvious need to deride her reputation as an investigator.

Joe looked up to see them both studiously ignoring each other. He sighed and shook his head. They were like two alley cats, fur all on end, both seeking an opening to attack, as they stalked around each other, stiff legged and hissing.

He considered John’s comments for a moment and knew he was right. The secrets of the tunnel world far beneath their feet were dangerous, but only in the context that their potential discovery was the greatest danger of all.

He was simply grateful Diana had been brought back to the surface by Mouse and Elliot, without any real need for explanation of their presence Below. Burch said he told her that he’d followed the trail from her purse at the drainage entrance to the comb and the trail of blood that led ever downwards.

Curiously, Diana herself seemed disinclined to demand an explanation. She seemed to accept everything at face value, strangely reluctant to question anyone further. She remained closed mouthed about her own adventures.

Though Mouse would have taken some extra explaining away, he’d quickly melted into the darkness, the moment they had reached the upper levels. Diana had appeared to accept Elliot’s explanation that the tinker was some homeless boy, who knew the underground places like the back of his hand, and he was on Elliot’s payroll, for investigating the substructures and footings of any Burch Properties future projects. He said it saved time and a great deal of money.

Joe had laughed when Elliot had told him. “Please, don’t let Mouse hear you say that. I live in fear of that boy’s love of plastic explosive. If he gets to thinking he’s necessary to your line of work, he’ll no doubt come up with some fresh, crack-pot scheme to assist you in your new projects.”

“Lord, I hadn’t thought of that!” Elliot had passed a hand over his eyes. “I’ll keep it very much in mind.”

“We all have secrets,” Joe answered John’s snide remark now.

He glanced at Diana, looking cool and unruffled. Like she’s discussing the weather. He could see why her air of cool self-possession irritated Russell. It had grated in Joe’s own senses more than once.

Perhaps she did have more secrets than she was admitting too. She always played her cards extremely close to her chest. He reminded himself never to get involved in a game of poker with her.

“Secrets are my stock in trade,” Diana remarked. “I can keep them better than most.”

She looked up at Joe then, her eyes cool and considering. It took a moment for him to realise she was looking beyond him, frowning at some other place only she could see. For not the first time, he wished he knew just what she was thinking and seeing…

In Diana’s mind, John Russell’s words conjured up an image of a face. A face framed with long auburn hair. A face in which black eyes considered her with a helpless longing and a quality of bleak despair that haunted her dreams.

Try as she might, Diana could not rid herself of the conviction that, in some way, Azrael needed her, even more so after the month that had elapsed since Elliot Burch and his odd little companion had brought her back to the city. She was becoming distracted and given to moments of sudden contemplation of past events, and her work was beginning to suffer.

She didn’t believe for a minute that Burch employed the boy. What kind of a name is Mouse anyway?

She shifted in her chair; worrying at the thought she was being left out of something truly wondrous. There was far more going on here than anyone imagined.

Catherine Chandler and her mysterious protector were somehow linked with Elliot Burch and his odd assortment of companions - The Others who’d melted away the moment she’d stepped into the torchlight. Like they had something to hide and didn’t want to be seen or followed.

But, she had no way to reach Azrael, no way to allay her sense of unease, her growing fear that there was something was terribly wrong. No way at all that she could see, unless…

*******

“We see too little of you, Peter.” Vincent clasped the other man’s shoulder companionably. “You should come Below more often. And not just to visit Catherine.”

“He’s afraid his patients won’t miss him.” Catherine stood within the circle of her husband’s free arm, her gown of white silk and lace shimmering in the candlelight. “He likes to feel needed.”

“Well, I need him to explain some of these new medical advances to me.” Father limped up, carrying an armful of magazines Peter had brought down for him. “When I read these, I realise just how out of touch I can get in only a few short months.”

“Stick to what you know, Jacob.” Peter looked at the three of them, shaking his head as he looked beyond them, to where William and his helpers were setting out the evening meal. “You have created something far more enduring down here, than the fickle world in which I live.”

“What is wrong, Peter?” Vincent tightened his grip in his friend’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing, as he surveyed the doctor’s tired face and sensed his restless disquiet.

“I’m sorry…” Peter gave him an apologetic smile. “Holidays like Easter and Christmas are never a happy time for me. Too many memories…”

“Elaine?” Father asked, putting aside the periodicals on the table behind him. “Even after all these years?”

“Seems like only yesterday sometimes.” Peter passed a hand over his eyes. “I watch all of you. I see Catherine and her child.” His eyes dropped to her waist and his mouth twisted. “I see the promise of things to come. New life that has so much potential…and I cannot help, but remember that I could possibly have had all that too…once.”

“Your wife’s death was an accident.” Father sighed abruptly. “A simple accident. You could not have prevented it from happening.”

“I still feel guilty, even after all this time…” Peter looked from Father’s sympathetic eyes to Vincent’s intent regard and then down to Catherine’s concerned gaze. “You would think that, after so many years, I could begin to forget. But, then something happens to remind me and I can see her face so clearly once again. Surely a doctor should, at least, be able to save the life of his own wife.”

“Could I save Margaret from her pain?” Father thumped the end of his cane on the floor. “Do you think I didn’t wish that I had the skills, the knowledge to save her? Some things cannot be changed, Peter. Some things were always meant to be. No matter how much we strive against the cruel hand of fate.”

“But, it is that same hand of fate that gave two wonderful people a chance at living the love they share.” Peter moved his shoulder beneath Vincent’s clasp, feeling all the strength of this unique man’s love for his beautiful wife. “I’m sorry, I’m just being a depressive old fool on such a night filled with so much friendship and love. But, talking of the holidays made me realise how quickly they lost their magic for me a long time ago.”

“Then need to find.” A blond head inserted itself into the conversation, Mouse’s gaze deeply thoughtful. “Should always search for what is lost. Only way to find it again. Mouse good at looking and finding.”

“Mouse certainly has a way of cutting to the heart of the matter.” Father laughed suddenly, as he shook his head. “Come and stay with us for Easter, Peter. I promise you, you will be surprised. William creates the most stunning egg hunts, and you can always rely on the children to lighten your heart and your mood.”

“Easter, lots of William’s good food and drink. Christmas, lots of presents.” Mouse nodded sagely, his eyes sliding sideways to where Jamie was talking to Shannon, and then further to where Mary was feeding Jacob his supper. “Lots of good things to seek and find. Easter eggs are good to eat.”

“No surprises I don’t know about first.” Father admonished the boy, his frown promising dire retribution at the slightest sign that the tinker was not listening to him. “I have had enough of your big ideas.”

“Always tell Father.” Mouse bobbed his head and kept his own counsel.

You, know, you almost tempt me.” Peter laughed at Mouse’s pensive expression. “I don’t remember the last time I actually took a holiday.”

“Your patients will all be there when you get back.” Catherine took his hand. “And we will not allow you to become bored.”

“With Mouse in charge of the entertainment, I doubt anyone will have the time to be bored,” Vincent interposed smoothly, as he watched the tired strain ease from Peter’s face at the thought of another holiday he wouldn’t have to spend alone.

Catherine took his hand and kissed it, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Let’s make this a holiday to truly remember.”

*******

“You want what?” Elliot started up from behind his desk to stride around it and confront Diana, as she sat on the couch before him. “That’s impossible! And totally out of the question, as well. No, I won’t do it!”

“Why?” Diana shot back instantly, completely unintimidated by Elliot’s incredulous stare and aggressive stance. He didn’t scare her and she’d come for answers, and his help. “You presumably hired him, when you came looking for me. So, why can’t I do the same? You said he’s on your payroll, so where’s the problem? I’m prepared to pay his going rate. It can’t be that much.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Elliot’s mind raced to try and keep one step ahead of Diana’s quietly reasoned argument. “Besides, I don’t have the remotest idea where he is right now. I don’t have anything on at the moment that requires his…his area of expertise. He could be anywhere in the city.”

Desperate inspiration flashed into his mind. “He could have gone on holiday, for all I know. Or gone off to visit a sick relative in another state.”

“Look, I don’t have time to play games.” Diana raised her shoulders in frustration. “You manage to find some extremely odd-ball kid, a boy with the briefest vocabulary I have ever heard, to track me down beneath the city. By the strangest of coincidences, despite odds that I wouldn’t even begin to calculate, he actually pulls it off. Don’t you find that strange?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I may have been heading up to the surface at the time, but you were certainly on the right track in coming down that particular tunnel. And you have never explained just how you came to be there in the first place. There aren’t too many maps to that place.”

“I’ve already told you, more than once. We found your purse and then your comb. We looked for you for days. We took a wild guess about the direction. The blood trail took us a long way down before it ran out.” Elliot leaned his hips against the desk behind and folded his arms across his chest. “We could have easily ended up on the other side of Hell, for all we knew.”

“Oh, no, Mr Burch.” Diana considered him closely. “I think you knew exactly where you were going. I know I heard the boy mention something about a map to the tunnels down there. He bragged to you that he knew more than the man who compiled them. And, he seemed to be operating quite adequately without any map, when we first met. He didn’t look lost or scared. On the contrary, he looked as if he was enjoying himself immensely. An intriguing and curious Mouse, for sure.”

She sat back on the couch. “And he managed to disappear very conveniently, when we had found our way out again. At a wild guess I would say he was more at home beneath the city, than on its streets. Almost as if he lives down there.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about what he does in his own time.” Elliot shrugged. “Not my concern. Now if you don’t mind, I’m a busy man.” He indicated the door pointedly.

Diana’s frown deepened. “And you still haven’t accounted for the others you were travelling with. The ones who managed to vanish like smoke, as soon as I appeared. I suspect Catherine Chandler’s protector from the carousel, was among them.”

She raised a dismissing hand, when Elliot went to speak. “Don’t try to deny it. But, we will leave your explanations of them…for the moment, if you agree to what I ask.”

She sighed abruptly, pursing her lips at Elliot’s closed expression. “Now, I have no interest in where you found that boy. I don’t care even if he’s some sort of escapee from an institution. I am aware that you and Catherine Chandler have some sort of secret that only the two of you appear to share. Her child could be yours, for all I know. You were very close once, an old flame rekindled, perhaps?”

“Don’t go there, that is none of your business,” Elliot warned. “And Catherine’s life is also none of your concern. She’s a private citizen now.”

“Well, I still have my suspicions about that guy she’s been seeing for some time. His name is Vincent.” She watched Elliot for a single flicker of reaction, but his face remained disinterested. “Actually, I think he’s the father of her baby. But, he seems to have done a very convenient vanishing act too. Any comment?”

“Nothing printable.” Elliot shook his head. “So, I think we are wasting each others time, don’t you, Miss Bennett? Now, if you don’t mind…”

“I think this Vincent character eliminated the three men in the park, at the carousel that night, and also Steven Striker, Gabriel’s hitman. Notice, I did not say murdered. Joe and I could have been killed, if not for what Vincent did that night. More of a public service, just as I eliminated Gabriel. I don’t lose any sleep over that man.”

A momentary flash of awareness in Elliot’s frowning regard confirmed Diana’s suspicions in an instant, before he managed to mask the betrayal with a grimace of annoyance.

“Right…” Diana nodded. “I thought so.”

“What’s your point, Miss Bennett?” Elliot snapped.

“My point is elimination in the art of investigation. If I take away every other possibility, then, whatever I am left with is the truth, no matter how screwball or off the wall it may appear. I trust my instincts, and they tell me that Elliot Burch knows far more than he’s telling. You know exactly where that boy is, and you will tell me. I don’t have time for games.”

She pulled her detective’s shield from her shoulder bag and tossed into onto Elliot’s desk. It landed with a metallic clang that echoed through the silent office. “I can keep secrets, too. In fact, I am paid very well for just such a service. Now, I’m not here as an investigator for Joe Maxwell’s office or the city of New York. But, there are things I need to discover, things I need to find out and you are the only person I know who can help me do that. I don’t have a lot of time, especially if you won’t help me.”

She raised her shoulders eloquently. “If you don’t agree, then I shall be forced to find other means to achieve my goals. Do you think your secrets could stand up under the concentrated gaze of the D.A.’s office?”

“You certainly know how to deliver a low blow.” Elliot forced back an ironic laugh…Joe Maxwell investigating the world Below…he shook his head ruefully. “But, these things may not be so easy to arrange. I only stumbled on the boy by accident.”

“Then, set a trap for a Mouse,” Diana advised, shortly. “Surely, it can’t be that hard. Where does he live, sleep and eat? And please do not take me for a fool by saying he’s out of town, or suddenly got religion.”

“I would never accuse you of being a fool,” Elliot muttered. “But you drive an impossible bargain.”

“Time is an imperative.” Diana stood to retrieve her badge with a tight smile. “We both know you can stumble over the little rodent again. I will pay handsomely for his services. Don’t make me go searching on my own account, I might find things you don’t want me to see.”

“I’ll contact you.” Elliot straightened. “But, I can’t promise anything. It could take me days to find him, if at all.”

“Oh, I think you know exactly where to put your hand on him.” Diana slanted him a straight look. “I think you even know precisely where he is right now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And, for that matter, where Cathy Chandler and Shannon O’Neill have disappeared to, as well. My sources tell me you and Cole’s widow, have become quite an item. Now, she is one lady I would love to talk to. I have a million questions that need urgent answers.”

She paused, letting Elliot absorb her statement. She was grateful he didn’t try to deny it. “But, don’t worry, I have no interest in them…at present. I have more than a few secrets of my own, as I said. I know how to keep others. Just find me the boy and we will forget this whole conversation ever happened.”

“I have been threatened by experts, Miss Bennett.” Elliot circled his desk and sat behind it, going back to the work Diana’s arrival had interrupted. “You will have my answer in a few days.”

“Tomorrow, Elliot, tomorrow would be most convenient for me.” Diana turned away on an impatient grimace. “I get the feeling I am running out of time, fast.”

*******

She was a phantom of delight

When first she gleamed upon my sight

A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment’s ornament;

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight’s too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful dawn;

A dancing shape, an image gay,

To haunt, to startle and way-lay.

William Wordsworth

Sheltered within the drooping branches of the sprawling tree, Azrael leaned back against the abrasive trunk and closed his eyes. He kept the hood of his cloak pulled down over his face, almost to his chin. The sun’s light, even at dusk, was too strong for his eyesight, sending a dancing brightness to blind his inner vision, distorting the pictures he received from the many minds that still surrounded him.

He would wait out the comforting shelter of the night. When the new dawn finally began to break, he would creep back to the tunnels.

But, not yet…no, not yet…

He had come to the surface as often as he dared in the last month, since Diana had returned to The Others. Even now, he felt the keen loss of her going and wondered once more, if he had, indeed, been wrong about her.

Could it have been as she said, that she only knew the voice of the man who came to find her? That she was not one of The Others, at all?

This one question chased itself endlessly through his mind, driving him ever upwards to the city park, to try and discover the truth. On these furtive trips, he’d been acutely aware of other eyes watching him, assessing him, but he had kept to the darkest shadows where only he dared go, and he passed unmolested. No one had come to challenge him.

But, if he was mistaken about Diana being a part of The Others, then what else could he be mistaken about? Without the truth, he could not get any peace from the endless whisperings of his mind.

He could see her again, stepping from the sulphur pools, just as he had painted her. Diana and his special place…the black waters had been a refuge when his parents had fought bitterly and without a care for whom they hurt. And that had been often in those days, before his mother had finally subsided into resentful, sulky acceptance of his father’s domination. But, she loved him deeply in her own way, so she would obey.

Azrael had loved it there in the pools, in his innocence he had swum naked, loving the feel of the water flowing against his skin. When she discovered him, his mother had abhorred that pleasure as well, demanding he cover himself in her presence.

And then, his father had taken his sight and made his playground a place of fear and danger to his newly-blinded eyes. One terrifying time he had almost drowned, trying to reclaim what had been his exclusively…

His mother, terrified and screaming, had forbidden him to ever go there again. She could not live through losing another child…Azrael moved his shoulders now in resignation. Zadkiel was gone too and only he remained, to fulfill his father’s vaunting dream for his sons…

Seeing Diana there, at ease with the fathomless black waters, showing no fear, had given him back some of his childhood magic. He had seen it all anew, through her eyes. His chest tightened.

If only he could sense her in the park now…sometimes he almost captured fragments of her thoughts, fleeting and impossible to pin down. Her intuitive mind was still very young and untutored.

He was very aware of what had drawn Diana to the park before. But, the presence that hung there now, the evil that had permeated his inner vision was gone. Azrael could only wonder if Diana had found the killer she sought. Trudy Klein’s carefree image came back to into his photographic memory and he hoped she had not died in vain. But, he did not know…

That was the one point that troubled him the most. He did not know the truth and without speaking to Diana again, he would never know it…had he done enough, by releasing her back to her world, to save the children…

*******

Above Vincent, outlined in the candlelight, Catherine arched backwards in delicious ecstasy, as her husband moved beneath her, bringing his seeking hands up to define the rounded thrust of her breasts, tracing the blue lines of the veins beneath the satin skin with desperate urgency, as their bodies swayed together, rising and falling in a mindless rhythm.

Against the cradle of Vincent’s hips, Catherine’s fingers restlessly sought the heated communion of their bodies, relying solely on touch for the warm curve of her abdomen intruded into her line of sight. But, her blind seeking only served to heighten her awareness and, through her, was reflected into Vincent’s senses, then echoed in an ever upwardly curving spiral of sensation.

The shadows on the wall of their chamber danced with a frenetic pulse that flowed through Catherine, as she lowered her eyes to look down at him, her smile as blindly needful as the soft growl that escaped her husband’s tautly drawn mouth. Candlelight gleamed on his canines, his lips parting against the touch of Catherine’s restlessly seeking mouth, as she brought his hands up to her lips, running her tongue against his wedding band, before he grasped her shoulders, as her centre of gravity shifted forward.

“I love you…” He looked deeply into her half closed eyes, seeing the shifting shadows of a desire than was endlessly seeking fulfillment, a desire reflected in the intensely darkening depths of his own gaze.

A tender smile of knowing flittered across Catherine’s face then. “You are all mine,” she whispered.

“I cannot think of a time when I didn’t love you…” Vincent sighed, as her smile stroked across every part of his being.

“Together, we have everything…” Catherine moved forward and back, eliciting a softly tortured moan from him, glorying in the feel of Vincent’s broad muscles bunching and flowing beneath her, heightening her awareness as they sought a common goal together.

Gently, with infinite care, with hands that trembled, Vincent defined the ripening swell of Catherine’s belly, touching against that cradle of life with a need to understand and accept all the changes in her body.

“It’s too late to wonder how this happened.” Catherine’s smile bewitched him in the candlelight, her breathing shortening to short gasps as she linked her fingers through his and he supported her weight easily on his corded forearms.

“I can guess…” Vincent could sense the awesome power building within him once more, a wave of energy that seemed to fill every part of his being, flowing outwards into his extremities and beyond, into the supple body of the beautiful woman poised above him.

Ebbing and flowing, the shadows of their lovemaking rippled across the walls, seemingly stirred to more frenetic life as a soft cry echoed from Catherine, a formless whisper of longing and intense need. A need and a release coiled into itself inextricably, as she flew ever upwards, drawn and goaded onwards by her husband’s seeking mouth. He lowered her gently against him, his tongue at once both an exquisite agony and a sublime ecstasy against the burgeoning fullness of her body, as he sought to release them both from the torment of need.

On a groan, torn from the deepest parts of his soul, Vincent felt the world begin to tip and sway beneath him, the sudden, heated release of his desire impelling Catherine after him, into that place where nothing and no one existed but their own hearts and souls, linked one to the other in an unbreakable union that had stood the test of time…

*******

“This is not happening!” Joe lowered his forehead onto his upraised palms on a groan. “I do not have the patience or strength for this…”

Elliot watched him with a sympathetic gaze from his seat before Joe’s desk. “I’m sorry, Joe, but I couldn’t trust such a message to the telephone. Diana has to be stopped. She cannot insist on doing exactly as she pleases. Surely, you do have some power over her?”

“You are kidding, aren’t you?” Joe raised his head. “You tell me, how do you stop a runaway freight train?” He laughed in exasperated derision. “Bennett does exactly as she pleases, always has. Short of locking her up and throwing away the key…” He shook his head. “I am tempted…”

“Lean on her, then.” Elliot grimaced with frustration. “Get the city, the police commissioner, even the mayor, to order her off the case.”

“There is no case!”  Joe spaced the words clearly and precisely. “The Snapper case file is closed. Bennett is not operating on anything more than her own instincts. And, if she wants something this badly, it’s better not to stand in her way.”

“But, the woman must be stopped…somehow!” Elliot raised his hands in blind supplication. “Surely you have some authority to call her off the scent.”

“On any case I am currently dealing with, maybe.” Joe laughed shortly. “But, Bennett works privately, like your Cleon Manning. I don’t have the power to order her to so much as pour me a cup of the questionable coffee they serve around here. The part of playing God is taken, I’m afraid.”

“There must be something we can do.” Elliot blew a harsh breath, balling his spread hands into fists and shaking them impotently. “We can’t allow her to go trailing off Below with a serious oddball like Mouse for her guide. Lord knows where they’d end up.”

“Lost…” Joe expelled his breath through his nose. “Now there’s a thought. If only…so, how do you propose I stop her?”

“I’m fresh out of ideas,” Elliot complained.

Joe’s brows drew together in interrogation. “What I want to know is why does she want to go back down there, all of a sudden? What’s so all fired important that it’s waited for over a month, before she decides to do something about it, and now it’s like someone has lit a fire under her.”

“Good question.” Elliot shot back, with a tight smile, that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I might just do that…” Joe mused suddenly, looking into the middle distance for a moment. “What do we have to lose? Good idea, Burch.”

He searched through the organised chaos of his desk. “This should get us some answers.” He held up a bulging file. “This case is right up her alley. If she refuses to accept a role in the investigation, I’ll pull the indignant D.A. on her and demand to know what she’s playing at. She’s never refused a juicy case like this before.”

His lips curved into a grim smile of intent. “And, if she still refuses, I’ll add the sweetener, that if she doesn’t want to take it, John Russell will snap off my hand to grab it. And if she doesn’t swallow my arm whole to get at it, then I’ll know something is very wrong with her.”

“Good luck with that.” Elliot sighed. “In the meantime, I’ll put some of Manning’s best men onto watching her every move. Surely, she can’t slip past everything we throw in her way. She’s not that good.”

He shook his head. “And I’ll get a message to Vincent about this whole sorry mess. We can’t worry Catherine in her present condition. If you don’t come through, then I don’t know what we’re going to do. The safety and security of people we both care about will be at serious risk.”

*******

“You aren’t seriously expecting Father to sanction such an idea?” Cullen frowned direfully at Mouse. “There’s nothing down there, but darkness and giant rats.”

“I know what I know.” Mouse’s cherubic face was set into stubborn lines. “Diana Bennett has been down there and she knows. So, I want to know too. I have seen, people and things. Lights that shouldn’t be. Heard whispers, know they’re there.”

“You stay away from that Bennett woman!” Cullen took the boy’s shoulder in a hard grip. “She’s nothing but trouble, dangerous trouble. She’s police and you don’t want to get involved with them again. She’ll lock you up for sure. How would you like that?”

“Got to know, got to see.” Mouse twisted away from his friend’s warning hold, moving out of arm’s reach. “There’s one who hides from us. Goes Up Top. All dressed in black. Seen him, I know. He comes from way down there. Diana said, when Elliot found her, she said she had a guide from Down There.”

He nodded quickly. “He’s the one. He lives down there. Want to know where he goes and why. Need to see, need to understand.”

“You’ve seen someone suspicious and you haven’t told anyone!” Cullen started after Mouse, as he backed away hurriedly. “You little fool!”

“No problem.” The tinker turned into the darkness of the tunnel behind him with an offhand shrug, avoiding Cullen’s furious gaze. “He’s one of us. A Below person, just from further down Below. No harm, just sad, very, very sad. Mouse fix, Mouse knows how to.”

“Mouse!” Cullen roared at the shadows, as the boy vanished before his eyes. “You don’t know anything, you little idiot! Mouse! Come back here, right now! Father’s gonna want to know everything you know! And I ain’t gonna be the one to tell him that you’ve gone off on your own without permission again. Mouse!…are you listening to me, boy?”

“Got to see, got to know for myself…see you later, Cullen, perhaps.” Mouse’s disembodied voice floated back, on a flicker of moving shadow. “Tell Father, some other time. He’ll only yell at Mouse. Hurts my ears with all his talk. Talk, talk, talk, never stops to listen to Mouse…”

*******

“This whole affair is getting out of hand.” Father looked from Vincent’s considering eyes to Cullen’s angry face, with a sigh. “I knew Diana Bennett’s presence down here would only create trouble. Now, you tell me that Mouse has gone off on some crackpot expedition of his own. I can only hope he doesn’t come to any real harm, before I can get my hands on him and wring his foolish neck!”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way we can catch up with him.” Cullen looked across at Vincent hopefully. “I mean, he’s only been gone ten minutes or so. Surely he can’t have gotten that far.”

“Mouse knows the tunnels better than even myself. If he chooses not to be found, then he will not be discovered.”

Vincent straightened away from his position on the corner of Father’s desk. “I will send Zach to instruct Pascal to broadcast a message in the hope Mouse will hear it. But, I am not hopeful of his obeying my instructions to wait for us. Once his mind is made up, there is no changing it.”

“What could he possibly hope to find down there?” Father turned his gaze back to Vincent on a worried frown. “Surely he has explored as far as it is possible to venture, without getting dangerously lost. Perhaps, that is all it is. This man he said he has seen, perhaps he is simply lost, as well.”

“Once Paracelsus hinted that there was far more Below, than we have ever discovered. Other worlds, other realms to be explored.” Vincent raised his broad shoulders in frustrated puzzlement. “He lied about many things. Perhaps there are other secrets that we can only guess at. Diana Bennett survived, despite the odds, despite all reasonable explanation. Someone must have fed and housed her, cared for her, so she would survive.”

“Here be dragons…” Father pushed his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I cannot escape the conviction that somewhere, somehow, John Pater is laughing at us. He enjoyed playing the puppet master. That man had no conscience and fewer morals.”

“Perhaps he was simply protecting something he loved, in his own twisted way.” Vincent shrugged. “I can only hope Mouse doesn’t stumble onto more than he can handle. For my own sake, I will go and organise a thorough search of the upper tunnels, but I think Mouse will be far below by now. With luck, we may flush out his mysterious stranger who passes through our world with no one seeing him but the boy. If we capture him, there will be questions asked and he’d better decide to tell us what we want to know.”

“Thank you, Vincent.” Father passed a hand over his tired eyes. “That boy will be the death of me yet. Please, can you also ask Pascal to keep sending the message, until he receives an answer from Mouse. And I want to see that boy, the moment he returns. I have a few choice words I am keeping for his sole edification.”

“I’ll go and tell him. You get going, Vincent,” Cullen offered.

“Then, we will meet at the junction in ten minutes.” Vincent gathered up his cloak and left the chamber swiftly.

Cullen looked back at Father. “That boy needed to be hog-tied, until he learns a little common sense. Heaven knows what he’s up to, right now. Only hope he hasn’t gone and broken his fool neck so far down there, we won’t be able to find him.”

*******

Azrael halted abruptly in the shadows, sensing the sudden presence of the fair-haired boy, as he moved silently along the tunnel. He’d stayed far too long in the park, hidden beneath the tree, waiting, hoping for some miracle of sweet, forbidden contact.

The dawn had broken and the sun rising into the sky, before he could tear himself away. Now, it was almost too late to slip beyond the alert outer guards of The Others and down into the safety of his own world.

He felt the boy before him pause suddenly, heard him mutter, as he turned his shaggy head to scan the shadows in which Azrael had been impelled to seek refuge. He felt his gaze pass over his skin.

In the distance, the pipes clattered a repeat message and the boy stopped moving to listen to the staccato sounds. Azrael could feel the vibrations in the pipes against his back, as he pressed deeper into his scant cloak of concealment. He knew he should have learned their language, it was of vital importance now.

He felt the boy’s eyes pass over him again and the whirl of his chaotic thoughts nearly drowned out Azrael’s keen senses, as Mouse crept forward to investigate. Azrael held his breath, forcing his body deeper into the darkness.

Inwardly, he berated himself for lingering Up There and for putting himself and his mother in danger of discovery. The Others would not hesitate to kill him, if they discovered him in their midst. And now, this scrap of a boy with the jumbled, riotous thoughts was forcing him to remain in the proximity of imminent danger.

Mouse was sure he was no longer alone. Nothing moved, there was no immediate sound, beyond Pascal’s continuous message calling for him to return.

Mouse would return when he’d discovered the truth and not before.

There! He cocked his head. Metal scraping on rock, the faintest of sounds, the soft creak of leather and the scuffing of boots on the tunnel’s sandy floor.

“Vincent…?” Mouse questioned tentatively, taking another forward step towards the concealing shadows that seemed to hide a familiar bulky shape. “Is that you, Vincent?”

Vincent! Breath hissed unwarily between Azrael’s taut lips at the sound of that one hated name.

The boy knew his father’s killer!

Nails curling tightly into the palms of his hands, Azrael fought down the urge to explode from his hiding place and wreak longed for vengeance, to still the restless stirrings of his father’s ghost. His head was spinning with the pain of the boy’s crazy thoughts, images and impressions Azrael couldn’t control or understand, but—

“I’m over here, Mouse.” Vincent’s abrupt communication cut like ice across Azrael’s startled senses. “Stand still.”

He’d been concentrating so closely on the boy’s whereabouts, he hadn’t heard the others stealthy approach. Now, he was truly trapped, unless he took instant action to clear an escape route. The suffocating fear of being trapped galvanised him into action. As swift as thought, Azrael whirled around, lashing out at Mouse, who stood directly in his path.

“Hey! You’re not Vincent!” The tinker was utterly startled by the screaming apparition suddenly appearing before him, flinging him bodily against the wall with a sickening thud.

With an agonised cry of pain, Mouse collapsed to the tunnel floor, clutching his side, gasping for breath, as brightly coloured lights danced before his eyes. Above him, Vincent moved silently to stand guard, watching the stranger closely, through narrowed eyes, as he placed himself deliberately in the attacker’s path.

As large as himself, the stranger looked to be as dangerously powerful and deadly. But, he seemed oddly at ease.

Deep inside the shelter of his hood, his head turned questioningly in Vincent’s direction, as he moved his feet for a better stance and Vincent looked into the man’s eyes of utter blackness with wary curiosity. Dressed, like himself, in tunnel costume, but all in black, he presented an uneasy enigma.

Where had he come from and where was he going? Questions chased each other around Vincent’s mind, as he watched and waited for the stranger to make his next move.

He deliberately kept his mind and body as calm as possible, so he wouldn’t alarm Catherine. He had left her asleep in their chamber, and he was not going to have some dark stranger upsetting his world. With every fibre of his willpower, he kept the beast within him securely caged, as he circled and watched, looking for an opening to take this man down, because he wanted him alive.

“Vincent…” Azrael tested the name softly on his tongue, tasting the keen essence of it. “The conqueror,” he mused slowly, sensing the warrior-king’s puzzled thoughts at Azrael’s sudden appearance. “Do you truly have the face of a lion? Do you have a lion’s great heart, as well?”

He frowned, when Vincent didn’t answer. But, there was something else disturbing about him, a guarded calmness; an utter awareness of self that was completely at odds with the mind of the hardened killer, Azrael had been trained to expect.

There were dark places within this man, deep pain to be touched on only lightly, but these were overlaid with clear, tantalising thoughts of a woman and a child, their soothing touch reaching out, a spiritual connection warming and comforting the darker reaches of his great soul.

There were others there too, spirits yet to be…

“You will not deny me my revenge!” Azrael’s own soul twisted suddenly within his chest and a shiver of dread and loneliness flooded through his senses, leaving him bleak and alone.

Alone, except for his father’s killer...

The corrosive need to finally exact revenge surged through him, blotting out all reason, all whispering doubts. To kill this man surely would finally bring relief from the torments of his father’s ghost, and peace to his own troubled mind.

Vincent turned at bay, in the same instant Azrael struck. He dodged aside, leaving only thin air for the intruder’s powerful fingers to snatch at, as he charged past.

The tunnel wall was an unforgiving buffer when Azrael smashed into the rock surface, pain momentarily blinding his inner sense of sight. Turning slowly, on a groan of agony over his wrenched shoulder, he managed to orientate himself again on the quiet movements of Vincent’s costume and he stepped cautiously towards the sound, blindly aware of his shortcomings against a superior foe.

Balanced on the balls of his feet, assessing the likelihood of another rushing attack, Vincent watched him, more puzzled than ever. His attacker had made no effort to avoid smashing into the wall. It was as if he wasn’t aware it was there, until he crashed into it, so intent was he on his charge.

- It is almost as if he cannot see me…

Warily, he circled away from the other man, now deliberately blanking out his mind, concentrating on the staccato rhythm of the pipes to the exclusion of all else. Hesitantly, the stranger stalked the tunnel’s confines, finding Mouse easily and hauling the boy to his feet, despite his vocal protests of pain and chagrin at being roughly manhandled.

“This is between you and me, Vincent.” Azrael held Mouse firmly in his hands. “I’ll let the boy go, but you are mine. Do you understand? We have to end this, now.”

“There is nothing to end.” Vincent put one finger to his lips to still Mouse’s protests, as he eased away to Azrael’s right, still keeping his thoughts deliberately neutral. “You came here, uninvited.”

“You destroyed all that I lived for…” Azrael’s voice caught on a half cry of despair. “And you took away all I had dreamed about. Everything…you took it all and left me with nothing…but darkness and despair. It’s all your fault, Vincent, and you alone, must pay for that.”

“Let Mouse go!” Mouse squirmed in Azrael’s tight hold, kicking out at his captor’s legs, distracting his attention from his immediate surroundings. Azrael leaned in to subdue him, clamping his broad arms around the boy’s slight frame, crushing the breath from him with deliberate intent.

Suddenly, a deeper blackness flooded Azrael’s senses, a curtain falling across his inner vision, as he pitched forward towards the tunnel floor, blood starting to rush from the cut at the base of his skull, where Vincent hit him solidly with a lump of rock.

Vincent was taking no chances and his aim was brutally accurate and frighteningly sudden. A soft gasp of pain was the only sound Azrael made, as he slid to the floor in a heap of dark cloak and auburn hair.

*******

On my own

Pretending she’s beside me

All alone I walk with her till morning

Without her, I feel her arms around me

And everywhere the trees are bare

And I pretend that she has found me

Without me the world will go on turning

The world is full of happiness

that I have never known

I love her, I love her

But only on my own

But only on my own…

Michael Crawford

“So, you won’t take the case?” Joe sat on the corner of his desk, one leg swinging free. “You’re happy for Russell to get all the credit? That’s not like you, Diana. I demand you tell me why.”

“Why do I get the impression you’re trying to distract me from something more important?” Diana accused levelly. “That you also have some other agenda in all this. Don’t push it, Joe. It’s none of your business what I do on my own time.”

“I’m simply trying to say that this is a craziness that has to stop, before someone gets hurt.” Joe leaned down to place a warning hand on Diana’s forearm, where she sat in the chair before his desk. “If you carry on like this any longer, it’s going to affect your work. You should be grateful you escaped from that place with your life. Why, in heaven’s name, do you want to go back there?”

“Is that the best excuse you can think of, Joe?” She met his gaze squarely, her eyes challenging. “Tell me, why would Elliot Burch come running to you with such a trivial matter? I thought it was simply a private thing between him and me. It had absolutely nothing to do with you and yet, here you are, warning me off the idea. Why, Joe?”

Joe stood to retreat behind his desk to shuffle papers, his mind racing furiously. Why, indeed, Joe? He didn’t dare ask how she knew Elliot had been to see him. But he couldn’t deny it, not when she was waiting for him to betray himself.

“Okay, well, he…he was concerned about your welfare, that’s all. As I am,” he finally replied, somewhat lamely and earning himself a look of utter contempt. “You’re letting one little incident cloud your judgment. Your emotions are still too involved in this. That was a frightening position to be in, miles beneath the city and nowhere to run. You have to step back and get a better perspective on things. Then you will see that this idea of yours is totally unworkable. You cannot go haring off after some pipe dream.”

Even to his ears, it sounded like a reasoned argument. Women were such emotional creatures after all, and —

“Hogwash, Mr District Attorney of Manhattan.” Diana’s eyes blazed with cold fire. “Utter and complete hogwash. You and Burch are up to something. Something you don’t want to share with me. He didn’t waste any time in running to you with tales. Well, until you’re prepared to tell me what you know, you can take your concerns and insert them where the sun —”

“I told Burch, you wouldn’t listen to reason.” Joe raised one hand defensively. “It was more his idea than mine. I told him you wouldn’t take kindly to my interference, but I am concerned about you, Diana, even if you hate the idea. You haven’t been the same since you were kidnapped. I just wish you would confide in me. What happened to you down there? Do you need to see a shrink or take some time off?”

He raised his hands in appeal. “And, why, exactly, do you want to hire that nut-ball kid Burch found somewhere? What is this sudden obsession with some mouldy old tunnels below the subway? Surely, there’s is nothing down there, but rats.”

“Spying on me is not a good idea.” Diana got to her feet abruptly. “You might get more than you bargained for. Stay out of my business, Joe Maxwell, and I’ll stay out of yours…and Burch’s all too private affairs. I know he has things he likes to keep hidden. Where I go and what I do on my own time is my business. And tell Burch to call off his dogs, they’re getting on my nerves.”

A cold sweat broke out on Joe’s brow as Diana swept out of his office, shutting the door behind her with a decided snap.

Damn Burch and his fancy ideas!

Raking his fingers through his already disordered hair, Joe leaned his elbows on his desk and dropped his face into his hands. This day was no better than all the rest. Headaches from beginning to end and copious cups of black coffee didn’t seem to help.

Catherine…her sweet face hovered tantalisingly before his inner sight.

Perhaps it was past time to go Below once more and lay out all his suspicions and worries before Catherine and her husband. Surely Vincent could make some sense out of the whole mess.

If only Bennett hadn’t got so deeply involved in this whole crazy mess. “She’s just too nosy for her own good.”

*******

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it!” Cullen peered over Father’s arm in worried puzzlement. “From a distance, with his hood up, this guy could pass for you, Vincent.”

“This, at least, solves our mystery over who kidnapped Diana Bennett, after the fight at the junction door.” Father frowned. “This man must have knocked James out, as well. But, what was he doing up there?”

Vincent looked down with compassion, at the man stretched unconscious on the hospital bed. “We will ask him, when he wakes up. But, I have never seen this man before. He creates a dangerous mystery that could threaten us all. Where has he come from, and how many more are there like him? And why was he so intent on trying to kill me?”

“Well, his skull is certainly as hard as yours, Vincent.” Father straightened from his task of bandaging the man’s cut head, making a faint attempt at levity that fell flat.

His words were meant to cover his own worries, which were very real and frightening. Where there was one such stranger, there were bound to be more.

Was his fragile world now to be invaded from Below as well as Above?

“But, he’s so pale and sad.” Shannon stood beside Catherine at the head of the bed. “And I’ve never seen any man who looks this beautiful. He looks…so unearthly…” She reached out to smooth the shock of auburn hair from the man’s damp brow.

“Diana…” the man breathed in a wretched tone, turning his head restlessly beneath her touch. “Diana…?”

The name hung in the air, wistfully tentative, fraught with vibrant meaning. Father and Cullen started visibly.

“Surely, he can’t mean Diana Bennett?” Shannon looked from the man’s closed eyes to Catherine’s startled gaze for confirmation. “What could she know of our world down here?”

“It appears, more than we have guessed.” Vincent frowned at their mysterious patient. “And obviously more than she was willing to tell Elliot or Joe. When we rescued her, she was tight-lipped about where she had been held and who by. Perhaps, she too, has deeper secrets she wishes to keep. Undoubtedly this man was her guide to the surface. Does he now search for her?”

“If Miss Bennett knows of this man’s existence, then does she suspect ours?” Father turned the implications over in his mind, looking at each of his companions in turn. “She is far too astute for my liking.”

“I hope, for all our sakes, that she knows nothing about us,” Shannon replied fervently, looking back at the face of the man in the bed. “But, Elliot and Joe must know of this as soon as possible. We can only hope and pray that Joe has some influence over the woman’s actions.”

*******

Diana stood in the junction entrance to the tunnels, scanning the solid metal door with deepening frustration. As before, there were many scuff-marks going over the door sill, if she cared to take careful note, and she knew this was the way into Azrael’s world beyond. He had known how to come and go, through this door. It looked as if the whole world had crossed the threshold.

Everyone, but her…It only remained to find her way in and solve the mystery that had been eating away at her ability to concentrate on her current caseload.

Sitting and staring at her computer screen, her mind elsewhere, was becoming a tiresome habit. One she was determined to break. Get behind this door, discover the facts, settle her mind on the salient points, and then she could get back to her life.

Couldn’t she? Applying cold, hard logic, to an emotional obsession, was the only way to cure it. Azrael had probably forgotten all about her, by now, anyway…

“The Others…Up There…Down Here…” Diana whispered all the crazy phrases she’d heard spoken during her ordeal, and they still made no sense.

Just who were these Others, that Azrael feared so much, and how did their world relate to his? Diana reached to finger the antique comb in her hair.

Elliot Burch had said we, when he described how first her purse, then her comb and then a trail of blood had been found. She was certain that single, innocent word, hid far more than just Elliot and his odd, little Mouse character wished her to know. And Burch was too slow in contacting her. She could wait no longer.

She stepped up to the grillwork beside the door. Cemented in place, it looked totally immovable, but there was a recent disturbance in the dust beyond.

She glanced back towards the area where the three men, who attacked her, had been despatched by Azrael, with ruthless efficiency. It was as if they had never existed. Diana remembered back to the incident at the carousel and Cathy Chandler’s mysterious companions.

James and Matthew had dealt very efficiently with the bodies of the three gunmen up in the park, that night. Very efficiently…there had been no trace of the men by the time the sun rose. They would not tell her what they had done with them, after she had examined them. They too, had been tight-lipped and secretive, in their comings and goings. She could never catch them out.

“Catherine Chandler, Vincent and The Others…” Diana whispered, to the cobweb hung gloom. “Elliot Burch and Shannon O’Neill…” Her head began to ache.

Now, she’d even begun to suspect Joe Maxwell’s implicit involvement in this somewhere. What did he know? Why was he so afraid to confide in her?

It was all starting to make some kind of crazy sense. She knew all these people had some kind of bolt-hole, some place of secure refuge against the outside world. They had used it to keep themselves safe from Gabriel’s reach.

And now, they had put up walls, locked the door and yanked up the drawbridge to keep her out as well.  “Well, I’m going to find out the truth.”

They certainly had an off the grid kind of look about them. And as for Mouse…Diana shook her head. That boy was so far off-centre, he’d need a map just to get back to anything approaching normal…

“Damn the maps!” Dian glared at the grillwork. “And I hate mysteries!”

She frowned, craning her head forward to see better in the gloom. She pulled a flashlight from her purse and switched it on. Fingermarks on a rusted lever, an oily sheen on its inner workings…she attacked the grill with desperate determination, skinning her knuckles on the rough metal, until it finally gave under her hands.

“All right, now let’s see just what you’re hiding…” Eagerly, she dragged open the grill and propelled the lever downwards.

Silently, the steel portal beside her slid open to reveal the shadow-hung darkness beyond; lit in the distance by dancing lights. She could swear there was actually some kind of torchlight somewhere ahead, though that made no sense either. It looked like some medieval dungeon, with brick walls and a vaulted ceiling.

Suddenly, in the distance, a pipe clanged a metallic tune, not unlike what she’s heard when she was with Azrael. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn the clanging was some kind of message. After a pause, it repeated itself, in the same, distinct pattern…

“Azrael…” Diana’s heart skipped a beat.

Why is she down here chasing phantoms in the dark?

It wasn’t like her to let instinct or emotions rule the cool logic of her brain. Something drew her back, something she could not define, or perhaps, if she was being brutally honest about her inner voice of caution, didn’t want to define.

The empathic link she had shared with Azrael was still there, hovering just beyond her reach, a shadow that flitted away when she tried to pin it down. Sadness, a melancholy desire for something unobtainable, an unfulfilled yearning, a dark sense of ultimate purpose that was corroding both their souls. She was getting to the stage where she couldn’t eat or sleep, without dwelling on that nagging pain somewhere deep in her chest and heart.

“Well, you won’t find any answers standing here and just looking.” With unaccustomed trepidation, she stepped over the threshold and into the softly lit darkness that both beckoned and repelled her.

The answers she sought, lay somewhere ahead of her, that was the only fact she was sure of, and she was determined to seek out the truth, once and for all. She laughed briefly, staring ahead into the gloom.

Perhaps, she should’ve brought a bag of breadcrumbs…

She turned, about to look for the lever to shut the door behind her, when she heard someone talking. Somewhere ahead of her, down a side tunnel, someone was approaching. And from the muttered dialogue she could just discern, it sounded like she was about to have a fresh encounter with a rather large Mouse…

*******

Finally released from Father’s severe dressing down and stern lecture about his responsibilities, Mouse flitted through the shadows, intent on his own mission. As the sentry for the junction door, he carried the staff of his office importantly. But, a quick call of nature had hurried him away for a few minutes, only now was he returning to his post.

His sharp eyes scanned the tunnel floor, taking in the signs of Vincent’s recent struggles with the stranger now lying unconscious in one of Father’s hospital beds. He quartered the area like a bloodhound, casting from side to side, looking for clues.

“Man had to come from somewhere,” he muttered to himself. “Came from Up Top, but not a Topsider.” Mouse shook his blond bangs in disgust. “No Topsider ever came dressed like that. Came from Below, but not of us. So must be down there.” He jerked a thumb downwards at the tunnel floor.

He sighed gustily, backtracking the man’s movements with the ease of long practice. “From Below, but also from Up Top. Everything mixed up, too mixed up. Need Mouse to fix, as usual. Mouse, do this, Mouse do that. Mouse come look at something. Mouse, can you take this to Mary, to Father, to Vincent. Always need Mouse when he’s busy doing stuff. Can’t do everything at once.”

The tracks he was following now led away towards the junction door, which offered no clues. His gaze lifted and he froze in disbelief. The junction door was standing half open.

He turned, quickly scanning each of the intersecting tunnel mouths in swift succession. Nothing moved, except for the wavering length of his own shadow, but he still couldn’t shake the disquieting sense of was being assessed by unseen eyes.

His skin crawled between his shoulder blades, as he eased forward to peer into the junction beyond the open door. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, not even a rat. Everything was as it should be, but Mouse was sensitive enough to know that it was not.

“Where there’s one, could be more.” Mouse chewed his bottom lip worriedly. “Up Top should stay Up Top,” he opined, darkly. “Only good for one thing.”

He drew his head back in again. “Topsiders have no business being Below. Get lost, Mouse has to find. Again.”

Reaching up, he drew down the lever that operated the door internally and sighed with relief as the steel panel slid shut once more. Then he locked it with a deft twist of the lever’s handle, so only those who lived Below could open it again. “What’s in here now, stays in here,” he commented loudly to the shadows that gathered around him like old friends. “No going back Up Top to tell. Only way out now is past Mouse. Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

Rocking on his heels, Mouse waited until the echo of his words faded away into the quiet. He held his staff securely in both hands, keeping it out across his body, ready to do battle with whatever rushed at him from the dark. But, nothing moved.

“Going on patrol now. Gonna find what needs to be found…” Mouse challenged the fraught silence again. “Mouse not hurt you…”

No answer was given, but then he didn’t really expect any. Nodding his head in satisfaction, Mouse retraced his steps cautiously, ever watchful of the shadows on either hand. Shadows that might reach out and attack him at any moment.

His bruised ribs still hurt from the last encounter he’d had with an unwanted intruder. If there was someone in here with him, they were going to take the beating this time. He tightened his grip on his staff.

But, it wasn’t until his soft footfalls had died away into the silence, that a slender shadow finally detached itself from the rest around the tunnel mouth and followed stealthily after him…

*******

“She has gotten away from us, Joe. Somehow, she’s slipped through the net.” Elliot paced the steps down to entrance to the world beneath in his basement. “I set a handful of Cleon’s best men to watch her and she gave them all the slip, very neatly in the park, about three hours ago.”

“That sounds like Bennett, all right.” Joe dismissed his taxi with a curt nod. “You might as well try and catch shadows. She could be anywhere by now. And she wasn’t about to give up her crazy idea of getting Mouse to guide her down again, no matter what we said. She nearly bit my head off, the last time I spoke to her about it.”

“I’ve sent Vincent an urgent message, for all the good it will do now.”  Elliot shouldered deeper into his overcoat, against the spite of the chill wind. “If Bennett does manage to find them down there, there will be hell to pay.”

“Well, at least we will get to them, before she does.” Joe followed him into the basement. “At least we know the way down. Bennett will be floundering around in the dark for hours.”

“Obviously, you think as I do.” Elliot halted before the secret door, rapping the code Shannon had taught him. “That Bennett will find her way into the tunnels by the dint of sheer persistence.”

“Never known her to fail to find exactly what she’s looking for eventually. She’s like a dog searching for a stolen bone. She’ll dig up the entire city, if she has to, to find that one missing piece to the puzzle.”

The two men acknowledged the tunnel sentry, as they stepped over the threshold into the quiet beyond the door. “Let’s just hope we can lay enough red herrings across her path that she will end up chasing around in circles. Only way to make the woman give up, is to confuse her.”

“I can think of other, more direct ways,” Elliot muttered grimly. “I suppose kidnapping and a quiet disposal out of the country is out of the question?”

“As the District Attorney of Manhattan, I will forget you ever said that, Elliot Burch.” Joe shrugged eloquently. “But, as a concerned helper of all we hold dear, I would give you all the help I could muster, if we manage to find her. But Bennett is not someone I would wish on my worst enemy, much as the idea attracts me. She’s pure hell, when she’s mad. And, by now, she’s worked herself up into a fine snit.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Elliot grimaced sourly. “That woman has been on my case long enough for me to get a taste of her temper and her methods. Ruthless and efficient. But, she still needs to be convinced this is all nothing more than a figment of her imagination. The result of the trauma she has already been through. Anything it takes, to make her see sense.”

“Bennett only deals in the truth. Eliminate everything that doesn’t fit, and whatever you’re left with, must be the truth, however improbable.” Joe laughed shortly. “The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So God help us all.”

“Amen.” Elliot kicked at an offending stone with his well-polished shoe, as he matched Joe stride for stride, moving deeper into a maze that was not of their creating.

*******

Azrael opened his eyes to the accustomed silence of his world and could not find anything familiar, in either touch, or scent, that spoke of home. An overabundance of candlelight seared his searching eyes.

He groaned, shuttering them against the glare. Against his lower body, he could feel the softness of well-washed cotton and immediately knew he was naked beneath the thin concealment and this puzzled him.

Even in the face of his own blindness, his own mother abhorred all forms of nudity, insisting on the concealing layers of cloth and leather her son always wore.  His faithful painting of Diana at the sulphur pools had both shocked and horrified her. He knew she had wanted to destroy it, her anger and hate had leaped out at him like a living thing, vibrating against his senses.

He’d felt his mother’s unspoken questions, but he chose not to sully his precious memories, by allowing her to probe his inner thoughts and feelings. The silence inside his head, the only place in his world where he could be completely alone. Belatedly, he now realised, this was the first time he had ever denied his mother anything.

He kept his eyes closed in quiet anguish at his state of total confusion. He felt weak and disorientated, his limbs leaden and unresponsive to his urgent mental commands. He wondered what drug they had used to subdue him, to make him so helpless and impotent, in the face of their undoubted plans to torture the truth from him about his origins.

His head ached abominably and his ribs hurt, as if someone had punched him viciously. He remembered the wall and his inability to avoid it, confused as he had been by the boy’s crazy and chaotic mind…

- And then, there had been Vincent…the warrior-king of The Others…

“There is nothing and no one to fear here.” Movement and the cool touch of a hand against his hot brow drew his attention from his inner conflict towards the concerned thoughts of the older man who came to hover at his bedside.

A sense of deep strength and warm kindliness reached out to Azrael, inextricably mixed, stamped over by an easy air of keen authority. That this man was undoubtedly one of The Others, Azrael knew without question, but he did not fear one old man.

Jacob…the name came unbidden. It was a name of strength that fitted the old man well.

The cool hand was removed from his brow, hard fingers now encompassing his wrist and Azrael steeled his body not to flinch at the firm touch, but it was already too late. The other man cleared his throat, as he took in the sudden increase in the pulse rate Azrael couldn’t control.

“Father…?” a man’s voice, steel textured, but wrapped in a seamless velvet, questioned gently, and that same consciousness Azrael had made an unexpected connection with, in his first encounter with the boy and the man he’d called Vincent, probed his mind once more. Searching for answers to the questions that crowded his thoughts.

Instinctively Azrael knew this was that same man, the man he had sworn to kill in his father’s name. And, in the same instant, he knew that The Others’ warrior-king shared that unspoken knowledge and, though perplexed by its origins, was also unmoved by it.

Azrael bit hard on his inner lip in quiet desperation. Why does he not fear me?

“Vincent.” The man called Father turned. “Come in. Our guest is finally awake.”

“You should not be here, with him, alone.” Vincent moved closer. “We do not know what he is capable of, or why he hates us so.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve given him a strong sedative, just in case.” The old man confirmed Azrael’s dark suspicions. “The poor man looked as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. I wonder what drives him so, when he is obviously dead on his feet.”

Azrael’s breath hitched in amazement. How did the old man know this?

He could not remember the last time he had rested completely, without dreams and nightmares disturbing his sleep. Without images of Diana sending him to pace the tunnels and dark places of his world, before forcing him upwards into the unbearable light and distracting sounds of her world. Without his father’s ghost goading him, demanding appeasement.

“Well, Elliot Burch has sent a message down.” Vincent advanced to the bedside. “It appears their quarry has managed to elude them and the guards they set about her. Even now, she is finding her way Below.”

“That woman!” The old man banged what sounded like a cane, against the floor. “She seems to delight in causing us an inordinate amount of trouble. You have alerted the sentries?”

“An hour ago. I began a search for her, but I could find no sign. All we found was this man.” Vincent laid a hand on the even rise and fall of the stranger’s powerful chest. “We can do no more now, but wait for one of the outposts to report, if she appears. Also, Mouse has disappeared again.”

“And he’s only just survived being crushed by our unwanted guest here,” Father muttered, in a completely exasperated tone. “I suppose, I can expect nothing else from that dratted boy. No doubt he will turn up again, in his own good time. Wait here for me, Vincent. I need to fetch some more medicines. I will be back as soon as I can.”

“I will stay and keep watch. I wish to know his mind and heart. I can sense such pain in him, and his loneliness.”

Vincent moved to sit in the chair beside the head of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. He watched the man in the bed attempting, and failing, to hold his body rigid and uncommunicative, sensing he was trying to blank out his thoughts and feelings, leaving nothing for Vincent to grasp and understand.

In the tense silence, Azrael waited for the other man to begin. Of all The Others, this man was the most dangerous, because he could see into Azrael’s inner self. This man’s intuitive mind was incredibly developed and powerful. In an instant, he would know all Azrael’s thoughts and secrets, if they surfaced unbidden.

“We mean you no harm. We took your clothes, but only as a precaution.” Vincent was in no hurry to begin a conversation or interrogation. “But, I am going to disappoint you. A warrior-king, I most certainly am not. I wonder who put that foolish notion in your head, my friend.”

This uninvited guest to his world puzzled him and the other man’s thoughts, when Vincent had first entered the chamber moments before, betrayed him more than he knew. The icy fingers of the ghost of Paracelsus feathered their way down his spine.

Somewhere, somehow, in this whole drama, he knew Father’s old friend and sworn enemy still moved…even though he was no longer on this plane of existence. Vincent shivered again and felt the shadows closing in on all sides, as his eyes lifted to abruptly meet the other man’s questioning gaze. His eyes, sheltered and remote, behind his long lashes, were dark pools of fathomless pain…

*******

Mouse worked ever downwards, deeper into the realm of abandoned tunnels and cut-offs that only he and Vincent knew well. As he scampered along, Mouse began muttering to himself, a litany of question and excuse, preparing his arguments for when he would be forced to face Father about his brief abandoning of his post up at the junction door.

“Of course, no one can get in. Mouse locked door. Who’s in here, is in here. Not getting out, not without Mouse.” He was beginning to feel better about the whole idea. “Had to make sure they’re alone. Need Mouse to find. Always need Mouse to find…”

He trotted on, the wavering light of the torch he held beside him, marking his progress, his staff thumping hollowly on the floor. Ever cautious, a shadowy figure followed, probing over the stony walls with questing fingers. Mouse, his eyes more accustomed to the darkness, needed the torch only to check his progress downwards.

Diana, on the other hand, was virtually blind in the night of the tunnels. Only the soft scuffling sound of the boy’s footsteps, the tapping of his staff and the dancing light of his torch, kept her on the right path.

She had recognised the boy instantly. His unexpected appearance was an unlooked for miracle. That he had appeared to know where he was going, only confirmed her suspicions that Elliot Burch, and potentially, Joe Maxwell, had been lying to her the whole time. Secrets building on deception and bare- faced lying, and the truth was something to be pushed aside, if necessity warranted it.

She could not shake the uncomfortable thought that there was far more going on in this strange odyssey that anyone was telling her. She laid a questing hand on her gun, the cold metal giving her both strength and courage.

She glared at Mouse’s dancing figure in the distance, dismayed to see he had gotten further ahead of her, than she was comfortable with. She quickened her steps, her gun hand clenching involuntarily.

Maybe, if I just shoot him in the butt…At least that would slow him down…

Suddenly, she stumbled into an icy puddle of water that lapped over the sides of her shoes, soaking them in a chilling instant. Damp mould on the tunnel wall, beneath her reaching hand made her shudder, as the chilling needles of spray from a miniature waterfall cascaded over her head and shoulders, as she leaned unwarily close.

“Damn!” Diana muttered tersely.

Her mind skimmed back unerringly to the tiny comfort of the candle Azrael had carried to light their way. A twist of unaccountable pain knifed through her senses at the memory.

In the distance, a tiny titter of sound came back to her ears, as if someone had hurriedly suppressed a laugh. Now, she could see, the torchlight had dwindled into a tiny spot of light no bigger than her thumbnail. Shaking the water from her shoes and hair, she pushed her chilled body away from the wall.

Doggedly bringing her mind back to the cold reality of her present predicament, Diana battled on, the idea of getting her hands around Mouse’s neck and slowly squeezing the life from him, an irresistible attraction. She hurried to catch up, before she was abandoned to the eternal dark and cold.

Far ahead, Mouse was forced to slow his pace. The woman was better than Elliot Burch; she was faster and more determined. She would last much longer, before she quit and cried uncle.

But, if she wanted to kill him, she had to catch him first. And Mouse was enjoying the game far too much to give it up just yet…

*******

Catherine stood in the tunnel entrance, watching Joe and Elliot coming towards her. She surveyed Joe’s tired face with deep concern.

Beside her, Shannon moved gladly into the warm circle of Elliot’s arms to return his embrace, before burying her face in the expensive cloth of his overcoat.

“I have missed you so much,” she confessed, before they fell into a whispered, lover’s conversation.

“Hey, Radcliffe.” Joe smiled lopsidedly, as he took Catherine’s outstretched hand tightly. “It sees every time we meet lately, I bring nothing, but bad news.”

“For whatever reason you have come to see us,” she replied, with a smile. “It’s always great to see you, Joe.”

“You always had a way of making a guy feel welcome.” Gratefully, he slid an arm around her waist.

His world always felt right when he was with Catherine. The crazy tilt of its plane swung level again, under the warm concern that shone from her beautiful eyes. So sweet, so endearing, yet so powerful. He could see what Vincent had found so irresistible all those years ago, when they first met that dark night up in the park.

Once again, he marvelled at her beauty, both inside and out. Dressed in a tunnel costume of soft leather and lace, lit by the surrounding torchlight, the essential essence of her strength played over him, easing the chill of his deep concern for her safety. For her safety and all those other unique people Below, he had come to love and respect.

“Let’s get you home, to Vincent.” Joe’s arm tightened around her waist, as they turned to follow Elliot and Shannon. “I want to see Father and tell him about Diana Bennett. I’m afraid she’s taken it upon herself to retrace her steps down here. I’m deathly afraid of what she might stumble on. She is one very persistent woman.”

“I think we may have the man who has more than a few answers for you.” Catherine looked up into his questioning face. “A stranger…but he is neither of your world or mine. But, he has spoken Diana’s name in his delirium. As if he knew her well and cares for her deeply.”

“So, her mysterious guide from those benighted tunnels way down there, has finally surfaced,” Joe mused. “I wonder if he’s also looking for her. He might tell us where to look. But, he is still a danger to both our worlds.”

“Yes, and I don’t think we can allow him to leave, until he tells us the truth of who he is and where he’s come from. Father has sedated him, for our safety. But, he shows no inclination to tell us anything. Perhaps, we need Diana’s help after all.”

“And that thought scares me more than I think it scares you,” Joe stated honestly, after a long silence. “The idea of being forced to introduce Diana Bennett to your world scares the heck out of me.”

*******

Can’t say we’re lovers, can’t say we’re friends

Don’t even know if I’ll see you again

But against your warm body I felt so alive

And you got me over a heartache tonight

My heart was broken, my hurt was deep

I had lost something I wanted to keep

Lookin’ for comfort when you caught my eye

And you got me over a heartache tonight…

Dolly Parton / Billy Dean

The darkness was absolute. Diana had been working on total instinct in the blackness for so long now, it had taken on a comfort, almost a life of its own.

Where the boy had gone, she had no idea. He had simply gotten too far ahead of her, before vanishing into thin air. For all she knew, he had already doubled back on her in the darkness and was safely back at the surface, enjoying a good laugh at her expense.

Honestly, she could not blame him, if he had abandoned her. More than once, she’d been tempted to call his name, but her throat had tightened against finally disgracing herself in this cowardly way.

Consequently, she’d been stumbling around for hours now, time had telescoped into an endless tunnel of one foot in front of the other and, please God, don’t let me fall. She feared she might never rise again…

Somewhere out there in the darkness, dragons lurked, and the bogeymen of her childhood. The very shadows seemed to live and breathe. But, this time, there was no comforting bulk of Azrael’s strong shoulder to keep the whispering shapes in the dark at bay. More than once, she had nearly pulled her gun, startled by a sudden sound or whisper of perceived movement.

All sense of direction had long since fled. She only knew she was still travelling downwards. Bleak winds, blowing in from God knows where, feathered through her hair and body, chilling her to the bone, even through the protection of her damp clothing.

“So much for the sane reasoning of logic, eh, Bennett?” Diana breathed a frustrated sigh at her own foolhardiness.

For the first time in her life, she had allowed her heart to rule her head and now she was paying the price. Her heart? She turned the thought over in her mind, studying it from every possible angle.

Has her heart somehow driven her into this rashness?

Grimly, her lips curved into a self-derisive smile and she shook her head disbelievingly. Where had her well-exercised sense of proportion gone? She should have given up this idiotic crusade weeks ago, but sheer strength of will drove her ever downwards, to an undetermined fate.

Light! Sudden, blinding, deliciously welcoming light!

Nothing more than the flickering of a candle or lantern, but to Diana’s night accustomed eyes, it was a veritable beacon of undreamed hope and safety. Stumbling, suddenly bone weary, she picked up her feet, desperate beyond imagining, trying to reach the sanctuary of that one, tiny flickering flame.

Down here light could only mean one thing and a strange sense of homecoming overtook Diana’s conscious mind. Light, and the suggestion of a presence beyond the flame, that beckoned so warmly.

Against all sense of caution, Diana finally stumbled into the light, only to pull up short to gasp in horror at the sight before her…

*******

“Will you tell me your name?” Vincent requested, after a long silence.

“You wish to hear it spoken?” Azrael glared at him, before turning his head away from the bright glow of the candle flames. “Have it then. It is Azrael.”

“Azrael…Whom God Helps. The archangel of death…” Vincent shook his head. “You said before that this is between you and me; that we must finish it. But, you will not be allowed to ply your deadly trade here, among us. You must know we cannot release you, until I understand why you hate me so,” Vincent continued softly, after a lengthy silence frayed Azrael’s nerves. “Unwelcome intruders are always a danger to our world.”

“As it is in ours,” Azrael was betrayed into retorting sharply. “But, it does not stop you intruding where you are not welcome. That boy has been seen in our tunnels.”

“If Mouse has intruded, then he will be forbidden to do so again. But, we are aware that there are many other worlds which share this hidden realm below the city with us,” Vincent countered reasonably. “We all share the common goal of trying to keep our lives apart from those Above, who do not understand us and our ways. They would seek to destroy us, or make us wish we were dead, if they ever discovered our places of refuge.”

“Fine words, but they offer no assuagement,” Azrael sneered, his eyes still closed. “It is you who does not understand. We must remain apart from you. The Master forbade all contact years ago.”

“And yet, you do not hesitate to steal from us. We have known of the pilfering that has gone on for those same years. That is also an unwanted intrusion on your part.”

“You…have things, things that we need.” Azrael tried to avoid the delicate, seeking touch of the other man’s astonishingly intuitive consciousness inside his mind, but it still managed to touch him on levels he had never known existed within him. “We produce all else that we must have to survive.”

Icy tendrils of fear sliced through his very being. He tried to rise, to escape, but his leaden limbs betrayed him still.

This warrior-king of The Others was older, and obviously wiser in the uses of the mind and his ability to control it. Azrael fought a mental battle, trying to twist away and escape into some darker place within himself, shut his mind away from this insistence probing, lock all the doors and make his consciousness as neutral as possible, as Vincent had done to him back in the tunnels.

But, it was no use…

Shadows began to form; unwanted pictures began to circle inside his mind. First, a blond child and then a beautiful woman, slender and graceful, with a will of pure steel. A powerfully built, lion-faced man stood behind them, both protective and protected, as his arms encircled them, holding them against his chest, his sapphire eyes looking back at Azrael’s inner sight with deep compassion…

“I don’t need or want your pity!” Azrael spat out, clenching his fists.

“I am trying to make you understand…”

“Go away! Leave me alone!” Azrael twisted in the bed. “I do not wish to understand anything! I want nothing from you! I wish to be gone from this place and you!”

But, he could not escape the images in his head. In this new image the child was asleep in a cot in the corner of another darkened chamber. An old woman kept watch, mending clothing by candlelight...

Then, another image formed. The beautiful young woman now stood with the lion-faced man, turning within the circle of the warrior-king’s arms, she was obviously his queen. Gleaming candlelight teased along the woman’s sleek limbs of ivory, as the man slid the cloth of her gown from her shoulders, exposing the sweet lines of her upper back. At the same time she reached her arms up and around his neck, drawing his mouth down to hers, rising on her toes, craving a deeper connection, a promised fulfillment beyond all words or imagining…

“Catherine…” Azrael breathed, striving to void his mind of a fresh image that was forming unbidden, but equally as potent. He could watch no more, and yet…

“Catherine.” Vincent nodded. “My Catherine…my heart, my soul, my very existence.”

“Please, do not show me any more…” Azrael begged, but he was too late. He could feel the man’s light touch seeking insidiously through his memories, knowing, understanding…everything....

Try as he might, he could prevent nothing, deny anything. Diana stood again before his mind’s eye, slim and gleaming from the waters of the pool. He wanted to cry out then, lunge from the bed and make the pain stop, forever.

But the drama played out once more before his mind’s eye. The bowl; the cleansing ritual; his hands on the warm, slick skin of her naked shoulders, as he pushed her gently below the surface of the pool.

How he had ached to touch her like that once more, burned to say all he could not say, for fear it would damn him forever. How could he do what he must and expect her to love him?

His love for her could only serve to blunt the keen edge of his desire for revenge. Against the anguish of memory, Azrael threw a hand over his sightless eyes and found the lion-faced man waiting for him in his mind again, but this time he was alone.

“Diana…?” Vincent questioned softly.

“Leave me…” Azrael twisted his head away, trying to escape that touch which attempted to subvert him from his life’s purpose; his whole reason for existing. “Kill me now, I do not care any more. You have beaten me.”

“I once thought as you,” Vincent continued quietly, as if the other man had not spoken. “All the words, all the poetry in the world was just that, empty vessels, they offered me no consolation. I could see nothing ahead for myself, except bitter, lonely darkness. That is all you see for yourself now.”

A smile suddenly lifted his voice, colouring it with a million different shades of meaning and love. “And then, Catherine came into my life…and my heart. I found I was not alone, there in my darkness. She drew me into the light of her love, her passion and her belief in all that I could be, if only I would allow her to guide me to that one, all encompassing truth.”

His voice dropped. “Once, I fought against that knowledge, believing it could never be for me. Now, I would lay down my life to keep everything I hold dear, safe from harm, from you, the angel of death. Your kind will have no dominion. I will not allow your twisted will to hold sway over any of us.”

He reached to touch Azrael’s arm. “From what I know of her, Diana is a strong woman. Are you so sure she will turn away from you?”

Azrael snatched his arm away from that electric contact. He was tired of playing these mind games. This man saw too much and suspected a great deal more.

It is only a matter of time before…

In the confusion of his mind, the lion-faced man and the man he had sworn to destroy, the faceless image he had carried within him for so long, began to blend into one and the truth was cruelly obvious. His father had perverted the truth, for his own ends. But, surely he had his reasons…

Azrael’s restless fingers plucked at the covers that barely concealed his nakedness. In his confusion he’d forgotten he was as bare as his tormented soul.

The thought of his mother’s patent horror the few times she saw him thus, made his skin crawl with distaste. But, he would not beg to have his clothing returned.

“How can I forget what you did?” He suddenly abandoned all attempt at prevarication, the connection between his own mind and the man sitting so patiently beside him, strengthening and deepening with every passing second.

Soon, he would know all. “My father was all I had. He was the only one who truly cared for me. And you destroyed him utterly.”

“Paracelsus would have destroyed myself and all that I hold dear, if I had allowed him to do so…” Vincent kept his voice low and even, though his mind seethed with troubled confusion. “Can you truly say that he did not try to do the same to you? Who took away your sight, Azrael? Did I, or any of my people? Or was if the man you called Master? The man you said loved you.”

“There were reasons!” Azrael spat, his voice roughened with pain. “Reasons you could not understand. My father did love me. He only wanted to make me stronger, better than other, lesser men. More like him.”

“He loved you, in his own twisted way, perhaps.” Vincent’s tone lowered further, so Azrael had to strain to hear him. “But, his true love was for ultimate power. Utter and total domination over those who served him. Without that power, he was nothing. He wanted you only to serve that lust for power. To make good his threats, even after his death. You are not that man, Azrael.”

Vincent allowed images of Azrael’s father to flow into the other man’s mind, both terrifying and painful.

“Think, Azrael. He did not know how to love selflessly and honestly. At some point in his life all the love he had inside, all the compassion and goodness was twisted into something dark and evil. It was then, I think, that he found he could not share anything of himself with anyone else.”

“My mother gave up everything to follow him, to be with him.” Azrael hauled in a deep breath, expelling it harshly. “She gave up a world of light and colour to go with him, to be with him in that darkness you seem to fear so much. There are other, worse things in this life, Vincent, besides blackness. My father became my mother’s entire world, her only existence was for him, and she was happy, once. Then, you took it all away from her…”

“Those of us whom became entangled in your father’s web did not escape easily, if at all.” Vincent stood then. “Perhaps your mother was no longer able to leave, once she was committed to your father’s twisted visions. If she still waits and hopes for him to return, she will never leave that place. But, you still can.”

“No!” His mother’s voice reflecting in Vincent’s words brought Azrael to his knees with an agonised snarl. The hard truth it mifght be, but it stung like a painful slash across his pride, none the less.

But, surely, his father’s way could not have been wrong all these years…it was unthinkable…

“I will not fight with you.” Vincent stepped back from the range of Azrael’s blindly reaching fingers. “You will know the truth and it will set you free… if you will only allow it to do so. You are not your father, you never will be. You cannot allow yourself to be his instrument of revenge or atonement.”

“Then, what am I?” Azrael cried, as he struck out again. “What else can I be?”

“Only yourself…” Vincent sidestepped, swatting the other man’s hands aside, pushing him back against the side of the bed.

“Then, I am nothing…” Azrael stumbled, his limbs betraying him again. “You might as well kill me now…”

In a final act of defiance, he opened his arms and his eyes. Light seared across his vision, spreading through his tormented soul on bright points of agony. He screamed in his rage and pain. “End it now!”

“No. You can all you wish to be, and more.” Vincent circled him, watching for his next move. “You only have to believe…”

“Vincent!” Catherine cried out in alarm, as she stepped through the curtain of the hospital chamber in time to see their unwanted guest lunging for her husband, with the obvious intention of harming him as brutally as possible.

A swirling blackness reflecting from Azrael’s tortured mind tore through Vincent’s vision, as he managed to sidestep the other man’s off balance attempt to grapple with him and his opponent’s fingers became entangled in the folds of his cloak, as he whirled back to confront him.

Elliot and Joe, bursting into the room in the same moment, rushed to seize an arm each to drag Azrael back against the side of the bed, pinning him securely between them, as he bucked and fought against their restraining holds.

“Let him go,” Vincent ordered quietly, his eyes coolly watchful. “We were only talking.”

“Vincent, no!” Catherine tugged at her husband’s arm. “Look at him, he wants to kill you.”

“This guy isn’t fooling,” Joe panted, as he struggled against Azrael’s superior strength. “You can’t afford to tangle with him again.”

“I know his mind.” Vincent shrugged off his cloak and held it out. “Cover yourself, Azrael, and then we will talk. There is so much you must learn, before we can afford to allow you to leave us. We have no need for the angel of death here. But, Azrael can have a place with us, if he wishes it to be so.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think conversation is the first thing on this guy’s mind.” Elliot felt the surge of hard muscle beneath his hands and he tightened his grip.

“Release him.” Vincent’s voice was mildly commanding, but his tone brooked no interference with his will.

Slowly, carefully, against their collective better judgment, both men eased their grip, but they stood back only fractionally and made no move to leave. Catherine interposed herself between her husband and his attacker.

“I will not allow you to fight.” She leaned back against Vincent, forcing him to acknowledge her. “It is senseless stupidity.”

“It seems I was mistaken…” Azrael swung the cloak about his shoulders, drawing the folds together to cover his body decently and the hood down over his face, to give his eyes the blessed relief they craved.

He was suddenly unable to breathe. The drugs they had given him; muddled his thinking, making it slow and confused.

But, somehow, he knew this was all wrong. He’d come here to avenge his father’s death, not to become involved with a man’s family and friends. But, he had sworn an oath on his father’s memory that he would not leave this place alive. He lowered his head in defeat, his long auburn hair completely concealing his contorted features.

But again, there were fresh pictures crystallising in his mind. He sensed that Vincent’s Catherine was pregnant, the soft rounding of her abdomen speaking to him of wonderful joys to come. In a powerful moment of self-realisation, he knew he wanted to reach out and touch her, to understand this evidence of new life and know some sense of release from the darkness of his own inner pain and ultimate isolation.

He no longer wanted to be alone. He wanted…? He shook his head in bafflement.

Vincent had been right. That internal darkness was a place of bitter loneliness and despair. A place where souls were irretrievably lost for all time…and the sense of it was frightening beyond all contemplation.

But, if he released all his anger and hate, what else did he have now to fill the achingly empty places within him…?

*******

Emma Pater knelt beside the pile of paintings, endeavouring to encourage a small fire with the flame of her candle. But, the canvasses were damp in the gloom and refused to catch immediately.

She had dragged them all out of Azrael’s secret hiding place and brought them to the edge of her small world where a great, deep cavern yawned beside her. Around her, the echoes of a vast emptiness beyond the fire’s light spoke of frightening depths that led down to infinity.

Madness, insanity, was eating insidiously away at the edges of her reason. The fragile mind of her maid and companion of all these lonely years had finally snapped completely and she had run off two days ago, gibbering and laughing into the greater darkness that lay beyond the narrow confines of her world.

Long after the echoes had faded away, Emma was sure she could still hear them on the endless wind that sighed through the lower tunnels. The sound brought a chill that would not leave her, unbalancing her mind.

Now, it appeared Azrael was lost to her as well. Having gone Up There once more, to seek a communion with That Woman, who had scorned and left him, he had not returned. Her unravelling mind picked at the problem endlessly.

Obviously, she concluded, he had finally met with the fate she had been training him for, the fate his father had ordained for him, if John Pater did not return one day. Destroy the Others and their warrior-king, had been his urge and his autocratic command. It echoed from beyond the grave. She had done all he had urged, and more. But, Azrael had not become the man she had wanted him to be.

Now it was too late, Emma suddenly wished she’d taken up her son’s offer to show her the way to the surface. If only to feel the sun on her face and smell the flowers one last time. They had the garden to sustain them, another of her husband’s ingenious creations, but the many artificial suns that shone there, did not gift the same perfumes and delights as she remembered.

And if there had been a chance to avenge herself on one of The Others on her journey, she would have welcomed the opportunity. Her son was too soft, too quick to forgive those who had hurt him or his family. If only Emma had an instrument of destruction close to hand, she would have attempted the difficult journey to the surface.

She bit her lip in frustration as she returned to her original task, destroying these abominations that her son had created. The canvasses were useless to her now; she would always see Diana’s face, every time she attempted to reuse them.

Carefully, she tended the fire’s small flame into a large blaze that would consume a lifetime’s work. It was better that way.

She picked up the painting of Diana stepping from the pool. There would be a cathartic release in this one being the first to be destroyed.

“No!  You can’t! I won’t let you!”

Diana stepped from the darkness and for a moment Emma thought her unbalanced state of mind was making her see things. But the slim hands that wrested Azrael’s painting from her nerveless fingers were real enough.

“You!” Emma snarled, as she sprang to her feet. “You have no rights here. You do not belong!”

“Where is Azrael?” Diana stood back from the blazing hatred in the other woman’s eyes, the painting held between them like a shield.

“Gone!” Emma spat, eyeing her with contempt. “Gone to fulfill his promise. To avenge his father! You’re too late and I’m glad of that!”

“I don’t believe you.” Diana lowered the painting to the floor and closed her hand on the butt of her gun.

“I don’t care what you believe!” Emma watched her closely. “My son is no longer any concern of yours. He has gone to his destiny. A glorious destiny that does not include you. You will find there is nothing for you here. And I am glad of that. He is not for you!”

“You’re lying.” Diana scanned the shadows beyond the firelight. “Your son is old enough to make his own decisions. I didn’t choose to come here the first time. He brought me here, against my will.”

“No, but you chose to come back,” Emma guessed shrewdly.” But, how you found your way back here, is a mystery. A mystery we have all the time in the world to solve. And we will solve it…in time…”

In one swift movement, Emma was on her feet and throwing a handful of fine dust from the tunnel floor up into Diana’s startled face. Convulsively, her hand tightened on the butt of her gun and more from instinct, than conscious thought, Diana drew and fired in one fluid movement.

The report, in the echoing vastness of the place, repeated itself endlessly, but the sounds of a fading scream and then a falling body were unmistakable. Her eyes streaming at the irritation of the dust, Diana put her back to the tunnel wall behind her, but turned quickly towards the sound of stealthy footsteps coming towards her.

“Don’t shoot Mouse!” came a frightened voice from somewhere to her left.

“Stand still!” Diana commanded, as she tracked the sounds of movement with her gun, clearing her vision with her free hand.

“Mouse is standing still.” Swiftly came the words of reassurance, as Diana could finally see her previous quarry lurking furtively across the small fire.

“You!” Diana’s gun hand tightened instinctively, causing Mouse to dance out of the way hurriedly.

“Mouse doesn’t like being shot!” the boy assured her breathlessly. “Hurts too much. Not good for Mouse.”

“I know what’s good for Mouse,” Diana replied hardly, as she herded him against the wall. “Where did the woman go?”

“Over the edge.” Mouse’s hand described an arc, as he pointed into the blackness of the echoing depths behind them. There was nothing to hear, but the tormented sigh of the sulphur winds that blew up from the impossible depths below.

“Goes all way down.” Mouse leaned forward to peer over the side. “Bottomless, maybe, maybe not. But, never come back up again.”

“Foolish old woman.” Diana shivered suddenly, more from reaction than fear.

Emma and her festering hatred were gone, but the questions that hung over her wasted life still remained. A more violent shiver took her, as she saw the painting she had snatched from the other woman’s hands.

It was a painting of her, long-limbed and naked, stepping from the waters of the sulphur pools. Painted with such loving care for detail, that was unmatched in any of Azrael’s other works. It made her heart contract painfully, to see him standing alone, in the painted background, hands outstretched in supplication.

“That’s you.” Mouse craned his head over her arm to stare open mouthed at the painting. “Nice work.” His wide eyes darted back to hers. “Good use of colour. Great balance. Skilled artist.”

“Thanks.” Diana felt a flush rising in her cheeks. “Since when did you become an art critic?”

“Mouse knows, seen stuff. What you gonna do now?” Mouse edged away. “Can’t stay here.”

“Come back here, you.” She seized one of Mouse’s arms and pushed him into line before her. “We’ve got some searching to do and, just remember that I have the gun and my patience has been worn incredibly thin by your antics. Believe me, when I say, I would enjoy making you suffer.”

“Okay, good, okay, fine. You’re not a nice lady.”

To Mouse, with one eye on the way ahead and the other trying to look over his shoulder at the barrel of Diana’s gun which looked enormous in the light of the small lantern she carried in her free hand. The skin between his shoulder blades contracted in sympathy, as Diana prodded him into motion.

No, Mouse was not enjoying himself at all.

*******

Oh, the stars got in my eyes long time ago

And I’ve lived my life like a lovesick clown

In a bittersweet cartoon

Just a dreamy eyed kid slow dancing with the moon

Somehow my heart never grew up,

no one ever burst my balloon

So here I am swirling in star dust, s

low dancing with the moon

Still believe someday my wildest dreams

will come true

But, until then,

I’m slow dancing with the moon…

Dolly Parton

“I still cannot believe that you managed to get through to him,” Catherine said with wonder, as she nestled into the curve of her husband’s powerful body.

“You got through to me once.” Vincent stroked the soft bangs from her eyes. “It only needed someone to understand his pain. Azrael has a lot to offer those who are willing to listen. His isolation was his prison, he knew no other way than to hate what he did not understand. John Pater taught him too well.”

“But, he was ready to kill you.” Catherine shivered at the memory. “How could you reason with a man like that?”

“You reasoned, by reaching out to him, Catherine. He had no defense against your kindness. He knew then, that we meant him no harm. That he had been lied to, all these years.”

Catherine shook her head slowly, delighting in the feel of Vincent’s naked skin against her cheek. But her sigh was heartfelt.

“And now…what?” she questioned helplessly. “He cannot possibly go back to his life of solitude. He cannot allow his father’s corrosive influence to finally destroy him. He is a decent man, and a very sad man.”

“He wishes to find his mother.” Vincent pressed a kiss into her hair. “We cannot deny him our help now. Tomorrow, Cullen and I will try to find Mouse and we will go with Azrael. If we can do no more for him, them we must do that. After that, the path is his to choose.”

Catherine caught his hand, carrying it to her lips to press a kiss to his palm. “He looked so sad, so alone. I wish…”

“Yes, I know.” Vincent smiled down at her. “You wish to mother the whole world, my sweet heart’s desire. But, I am afraid that is just not possible. Not in this lifetime.”

“Then, I will simply have to work on those closest to me.” Catherine’s answering smile glimmered mischievously. “Starting with those most near and dear to my heart.”

Vincent could not quarrel with that, as Catherine rose over him to play her lips across his mouth, drawing a soft growl from the very depths of his being. And, in the aftermath of their loving, he had no strength to raise even the mildest of protests about anything…

*******

“Will you come and live with me…Above?” Elliot sat with his back against the rock seat of the waterfall; Shannon nestled comfortably against his chest, safe once again in his arms.

The question rose, unbidden, surprising them both with its boldness and simplicity. This half-life they were leading of stolen moments and unsatisfactory meetings could not go on forever. And Elliot loved her too much to contemplate a life without her.

“I want you there, with me, in the morning. I want your face to be the first thing I see, when I open my eyes each new day. Is that too selfish a wish to have?”

If he could only get her to understand how much he needed her with him, to care for him and make his world bearable.

“I…don’t know if I can,” Shannon faltered into speech, after a long moment of fraught silence. “To be together, we first needed to…be apart. I wish I had all the answers, but I don’t.”

“Can, we at least, try?” Elliot’s tone was softly entreating. “I realise your roots are here, beneath the city that I love so well. But, if I had to choose, then there would be no question of my returning Above without you.”

“But then, here with me, you would be truly miserable for the rest of your life.” Shannon reached to cup the bearded texture of his cheek. “And that would make us both deeply unhappy. I could not allow our love for each other to force us into making the wrong choices. Like Vincent and Catherine, where we are together, is where we are most happy.”

“Is that an answer?” Elliot frowned in puzzlement, his heartbeat picking up.

“I don’t know,” Shannon admitted honestly. “But, all I do know is that without you, there is truly nothing for me, nothing at all. I am truly miserable. Once I thought I could no longer function in the harsh light Above, but with your love and trust to guide me…and protect me…”

“Ah, Shannon…” Elliot adopted a beguiling Irish accent that stole her heart all over again. “If you be a comin’ with me, I’ll be protecting thee with the last breath of my body…forever…”

His last words were sealed against Shannon’s lips as he leaned down to kiss her with tender passion. With his hands encircling her throat, he looked down into the emerald depths of her eyes with awe for her having the courage to believe in their love.

“There can be no more than that, lass.” He smiled at the shining trust he saw in her gaze and he felt as if he owned the world. “For that is all there is in this life, for us now.”

*******

The stone rooms that had once contained Azrael and his mother were deserted, dark and cold. Mouse found another lantern and lit it from Diana’s. Though her gun was no longer pointed at his kidneys, the boy was still intensely aware of its existence. He hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself as small as possible.

The hot pools steamed in limitless silence and there was no sign of Emma’s servant. Diana longed to sink her aching body into the warmth of the black waters, but Mouse was hovering in the chamber opening, obviously wishing he were elsewhere.

If she weren’t careful, he would dart away and leave her to her fate.  Resolutely, she pushed the weight of her hair from her face and turned to her reluctant companion.

“You still haven’t told me why you led me down here.”

“Looking, finding.” Mouse shrugged his shoulders as he shuffled his feet in the dust. “What to know. You followed. Shouldn’t have done that. This is not your place. No one’s place, it looks like. No one here, anyway.”

“There are several things I shouldn’t have done.” Diana’s small stock of patience had run out long ago. “Following you was not one of them. But, now I’m not sure what to do.”

“Mouse knows. Can take you back Up Top. No problem. Take you up, everything be okay again.” Mouse fairly hopped with excitement. “No one needs to know we were here. Go now?”

He began to marshal his mental arguments. Maybe Father wouldn’t yell at him after all, if he fixed everything right again. Could be okay, if—

“It would serve you right if I shot you where you stand.” Diana drew her gun to emphasis her point and Mouse’s navel shrivelled accordingly. “No, I think you are going to show me where you come from. There are too many mysteries here and I’m getting very tired of being treated like a fool.”

“Not allowed.” Mouse screwed up his face in honest puzzlement and waited. The gun was still trained on his midriff and he wasn’t about to do so much as twitch in defence. “Got to be invited.”

“Fine, consider me invited. First, we have to go back and collect the paintings.” Diana waved Mouse forward with her gun hand. “I think you look strong enough to carry them. They should slow you down a bit, so I can keep an eye on you.”

Mouse strongly disagreed, but he wasn’t about to say so. He trudged glumly back up the pathway, back to the small, guttering fire at the edge of the living area.

The paintings were still scattered around. At Diana’s urging, he gathered them grudgingly, stacking them into some semblance of order.

“Not fair.” Mouse groaned in distressed protest, some time later, as he stood swamped beneath the stack of paintings wrapped in blankets taken from one of the chambers. As light as they were, they were still bulky and awkward to carry.

“This way, I can keep an eye on you,” Diana replied.

The cold steel of her gun poking him in the ribs forestalled any further protest Mouse might make. Grudgingly, he set out to lead to way back Above and to a certain, warm reception from Father. He decided he would rather be shot than contemplate his welcome in Father’s chamber. His day had definitely taken a turn for the worst and his scowl deepened as they drew ever nearer to the home tunnels.

*******

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s claws,

And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;

Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger’s jaws,

And burn the long-liv’d phoenix in her blood;

Make glad and sorry seasons, as thou fleets,

And do whate’er thou wilt, swifted-footed Time,

To the wide world, and all her fading sweets;

But I forbid thee one heinous crime;

O carve not thy hours my love’s fair brow,

Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;

Him in thy course untainted do allow,

For beauty’s pattern to succeeding men,

Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,

My love shall in my verse ever live young.

William Shakespeare

The Others...

Azrael stood with Father, as Vincent and Cullen checked their equipment for the journey ahead. He felt strange and off balance, unfamiliar voices and crowded thoughts tumbled through his mind. He had been too long alone, to feel comfortable in a group. He had always been an observer, until now…

His clothing had been returned, cleaned and mended. He kept the hood of his cloak pulled down over his eyes, against the lights he was not yet used to, and his left hand clasping Alex’s young shoulder. The boy had volunteered as Azrael’s guide, while he was in the upper tunnels.

Azrael’s whole world had been changed forever in the matter of a day. Things had shifted and altered, things that had seemed as immutable as the stone walls and the tunnels only hours ago.

The Others were not as his father had said, they were not the demons and bogeymen of his childhood dreams. But now, what else lay ahead for a blind man without a purpose in his life to carry him forward into the future.

“I hope you can persuade your mother to join us.” Father placed his hand on Azrael’s arm. “John Pater was wrong to keep you both imprisoned by his own fears and hatreds. He was once my very good friend, I was sorry to see his son still held in his thrall, so long after his death.”

“Thank you, Father.” Azrael turned his head. “But, I am afraid my mother is not a woman to be easily persuaded,” he continued quietly, his mouth turning down at the corners. “I do not think she will agree. She loved my father without reservation. She believes in his will and commands implicitly.”

“Well, tell her she cannot stay down there on her own.” Mary appeared from the tunnel behind them, carrying a sack of provisions, which she handed to Cullen. “The lower tunnels are no place for anyone to live.”

“To my mother they have become her home.” Azrael shook his head. “I can only hope she can be talked into seeing a different point of view. If not…” He shrugged eloquently.

“I hope so,” Mary breathed, on a troubled sigh. “She must be made to realise that there is more to life than a bitter feud that should have been dead and buried for many years now. You both deserve better than that.”

“Thank you, Mary.” Azrael shared her concerns, but he also knew his mother.

He could not help but wonder if she would turn against him now. He was bringing the enemy straight to her door. She would see his defection to The Others as traitorous to his father’s memory.

But, what choice did he have, if she refused to come back with him? He could not abandon her to a lonely death, with only a madwoman for company. His entire soul cried against the injustice of it all, but he could not leave her down there.

Vincent laid his hand on Azrael’s shoulder, causing him to start from his introspection. “We are ready to leave. We will follow your lead.”

Azrael nodded gratefully, fully aware that Vincent could read his mind and was deeply concerned over what he found there. He made no attempt to hide his dark thoughts.

“I wish…I wish we could have met under different circumstances,” Azrael managed with difficulty. “At least, I know that… whatever happens down there, we will part as friends.”

“Yes.” Vincent nodded. “We are all friends here. And you are welcome any time.”

“Thank you,” Azrael replied, his emotions threatening to choke him. He turned away towards the tunnel mouth, before they overcame him completely.

“Don’t know what’s keeping Mouse,” Cullen grumbled in honest protest, as he shouldered his load. “That boy needs some discipline.”

“I, for one, feel a whole lot safer without him,” Elliot said, as he gathered his gear and prepared to follow Vincent’s lead. “I still don’t know why I volunteered for another of these crazy adventures.”

“Travel broadens the mind.” Joe grinned, as he followed Elliot down into the darkness. “I’ve always wanted to know exactly what lies beneath the city. Now I have a chance to find out.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Elliot replied caustically, as the darkness engulfed them. “You have to be at least half insane to even attempt such a journey.”

“The whole world is mad, except me and thee,” Joe quoted on a laugh. “And I have my doubts about thee.”

“Very funny.” Elliot snorted in disgust, before the tunnel angled downwards and he needed all his attention just to stay on his feet. “Very funny, indeed.”

*******

“If you’re leading us in circles…” Diana bit her lip in frustration, as she surveyed her surroundings. “I will make you very sorry.”

Nothing looked familiar. She decided that all rock tunnels looked the same, sounded the same and smelt the same. Mouse, crouched under the weight of his load, peered around at her morosely.

“Mouse knows,” he commented, plaintively. “Mouse always knows where he is. This way is the only direct way up. Can’t get lost with Mouse. Know everywhere.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d lose me, if you could.” Diana surveyed the tunnel ahead by the fitful light of their last candle.

She had no desire to be plunged back into darkness, once the candle had finally expired, leaving her unwilling guide free to disappear on her again. Resolutely, she took Mouse by the collar of his shirt and urged him onwards.

“Just remember who has the gun,” she reminded him grimly, keeping hold of him. “I have no intention of being left behind again.”

“I don’t like you.” Mouse rolled his eyes at her, before setting off once more.

He would almost welcome one of Father’s scolds, if it meant he could finally escape Diana Bennett’s determined clutches.

*******

Vincent was the first to detect them. Diana scolding, Mouse complaining, both could clearly be heard in the narrow confines of the tunnel, as they quarrelled their way to the surface. The oddity of the situation caught Vincent’s sense of humour, even as he stepped back into the shadows and retraced his steps to Elliot’s side.

“It seems we have found more than we bargained for,” Vincent commented, with a wry smile, as he drew the concealing hood of his cloak over his hair.

“It does have a certain sense of déjà vu.” Elliot shook his head in disbelief, as the quarrelling voices became louder. “Where did she find him?”

“Diana…” Azrael stood rooted to the spot, his head turning from side to side, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Joe, shouldering his share of the load, bumped into him and Cullen stumbled over the pack Azrael had dropped. His explanation of annoyance echoed loudly, causing an abrupt silence in the tunnel ahead.

“If I know Diana, she will be armed.” Elliot pushed his way forward. “I think you’d better leave this to me and Joe, Vincent.”

But, he spoke his thoughts to thin air. Vincent had simply melted into the greater darkness, as if he’d never been.

“I don’t understand…” Azrael whispered, advancing slowly, unwilling to believe what his senses were telling him.

Mouse came shuffling out of the darkness, shouldering his awkward load with a decided air of ill usage. Behind him, a wary shadow studied the party grouped in the middle of the tunnel, before she advanced into the light of their torches, her gun held in both hands, ready for action.

“You certainly are a sight for sore eyes.” Joe grinned at the grime and dirt that marred Diana’s usually immaculate appearance. “Odd place for us to meet.”

Elliot, helping Mouse with his load, forbade to comment, as Diana fixed each of them in turn with a withering glare. She looked deeply displeased, and didn’t lower the gun very far.

“Tomorrow, you and Mr Burch are going to have a great deal of explaining to do.” Diana dragged at her coat, trying to reassemble her dignity, when Azrael stepped from the shadows, his hands held out before him with his palms uppermost.

“Diana…?” he said again, as if unable to believe she was actually with him again.

“Azrael…?” Diana’s voice trembled with disbelief. “I…how did you…I mean, where did you come from. I don’t understand…”

“That makes two of us,” Joe commented in perplexity, as Azrael moved forward hesitantly, seemingly convinced Diana would disappear at any moment.

“Tell her nothing of us or our place in this world.” Vincent’s voice echoed into Azrael’s mind. “She is not ready yet, to know the ultimate truth. Allow Elliot and Joe to take her Above, and we will talk again soon, you and I.”

“To see her again, to talk with her, is all I ask for now,” Azrael replied. “I will keep your secrets, Vincent. I owe you that and so much more, my friend. But, if you will permit, I have something to show you. My father was many things, both good and bad, but he did create something unique in this dark place. Please, follow us and observe. My world can still contribute something to yours. I think Mouse will be happy…”

“Nothing about this whole place amazes me anymore.” Elliot folded his arms, shaking his head. “Just when you think you understand things, it goes and surprises you again. But, it’s getting a bit crowded. I wonder who else we’re gonna meet down here. Maybe Elvis?”

“I, for one, am getting a bit tired of looking for the lost ones.” Cullen chipped in with his opinion on the matter. He glared at Mouse, who looked offended.

“Not lost, always knew where Mouse was.” He shuffled his feet in agitation, anxious to be gone. But, he wasn’t sure Diana wouldn’t shoot him, if he tried to disappear again.

Next time he would go exploring on his own!

He didn’t dare ask why his attacker from the junction entrance was now an accepted part of Vincent’s search party. Nothing made sense any more. He just wanted to go home!

“It’s okay, boys. Look, I’m putting it away.” Diana finally holstered her gun. She could see Joe and Elliot watching her warily. “I’m just glad to see you.”

“As I am glad, to see you again.” Azrael moved closer, until he filled her vision.

“I need to talk to you.” Diana drew a long, deep breath, expelling it slowly.

She began carefully, not trying to gloss over the facts. She told him the simple truth, that he no longer had a home down there. The unwilling part she’d played in his mother’s death, and that there was no sign of Celine, was a distressing truth she tried to ease with her hands clasping his so tightly, she felt she might never be able to let him go again.

“I am sorry for my mother. That she died in that way, full of hatred. Perhaps it is for the best.” Azrael inhaled deeply. “Can you bear to return to my home, once more, with me? I have something to show all of you.”

“If that is what you need from me, then of course.” Diana didn’t hesitate.

She looked past Azrael’s shoulder to where Mouse hovered, his expression now thunderous with displeasure at the new delay. “But, I think my erstwhile guide would rather I shot him.”

*******

“How do you feel now, about surprises?” Joe turned to look at Elliot. “This has to rate as the mother of them all…”

“This place is incredible…” Elliot turned slowly, taking in all that was spread out before him. “You could make a fortune out of bringing tours down here. I’m truly envious.”

He caught Cullen’s horrified expression. “Sorry, only joking, but it’s still truly amazing.”

“This is where I would come, to escape.” Azrael stood with Diana, his face almost entirely concealed beneath the hood of his cloak, shielding his eyes against the brightness of the variety of artificial lights that filled the enormous cavern with brightness and warmth.

The cavern stretched from their vantage point on a small outcropping, into the distance, sheltering an enormous garden of fruit trees and plants. Gravel paths had been cut among the trees, neatly bisecting the areas into islands of green. Everywhere water flowed, adding spray and freshness to the air.

Diana gasped as she watched the flight of a group of bees humming quietly about their work. There was a line of old fashioned, dome shaped beehives lining the boundary of the garden.

Surely, it wasn’t…couldn’t be possible, and yet…here it was…no dream, then?

“It looks like an Eden.” She shook her head, looking up at Azrael. “But, how did all this come to be, all the way done here?”

“As I said, my father was many things, one of them was a gifted engineer. Once he had the idea, he refused to allow the cavern to defeat him. It took us years to create all this. But, what did we have, but time…”

“Hey! There’s even a waterwheel down here!” Mouse’s excited voice floated up from the far depths. “This is way too cool! There’s another one up the stream! Father’s gotta see all this! I can make all this, too!”

He went on chattering, moving slowly along the course of the stream. It appeared he was holding a conversation with himself, as he often did. But Azrael knew the boy was not alone down there in the ocean of green foliage.

Vincent moved silently along with him, keeping to the shadows, out of the line of sight from the observers on the hill.

Azrael smiled at the tinker’s boundless enthusiasm. He turned to Diana. “My father diverted an underground stream to the surface, converting its waters into electricity with a series of waterwheels coupled with some wind turbines in the lower tunnels. My brother and I helped him construct all this over many months, using old timbers and electric cabling we found up in the many abandoned areas of the subway system. The soil is very rich here, from all the minerals in the rocks. It just needed the light to make everything grow.”

He shook his head. “My mother said she missed all the colours and beauty of the world Up There, so my father tried to make her happy, in his own way. I can see now, it was his way to control her once more. If she had all this, then she would not wish to leave. He wanted her to keep her here, exactly where he left her, whenever he chose to return to us.”

He exhaled sadly. “And I am the one, who is blind…”

“I’ll admit to wondering where all those fruits and vegetables kept coming from.” Diana took his hand. “But, your eyes…how can you work down there, with all this light?”

“Simple, I just did this.” Azrael grinned, reaching to throw a switch on a control panel hidden among the nearby bushes.

“Hey!” An indignant voice shouted from the distance. “Not fair! Who turned out the lights?”

“And then…” Azrael shrugged, restoring daylight to the garden.

Diana sighed. “This is truly breathtaking. But, surely, you will have to leave all this now. You cannot remain here, alone.”

“No, I cannot stay here now,” Azrael agreed. “But, I think Mouse might have a few excellent ideas…”

Vincent, this is my gift to you, my friend. I am sure Mouse can put it all to good use. All you will need is some strong men and time to recreate it in your world. I will help where I can…

It is truly incredible, Vincent replied. The system you have created for making electricity is ingenious. I doubt we will see Mouse again for weeks…

Azrael nodded. Finally, my father can do some good for you and The Others. Thank you, Vincent. I shall never forget you…or your kindness. You have truly given me back, myself…

*******

“What will you do now?” Vincent stood with Azrael, looking out over the waterfall. “You do have a home here with us, if you wish it so. Mouse is in raptures over the whole garden project. He would have pestered you day and night, if Father hadn’t restrained him.”

“So Mouse keeps telling me, every time we meet.” Azrael laughed. “He is most offended, not to be allowed to constantly pick my brain. But, I must keep our association to a minimum. Diana is already too suspicious. She does not know that I still come Below to see you, to help with the garden. Or, if she suspects, she says nothing, for now. She has collected all my paintings and taken them Above.”

He lifted his face to the cool spray of the water. “She has plans to sell them on my behalf. I never dreamed it could be so. Diana is sure I can live in the city, with the money I make from selling my work. The idea is strange to me, but not unwelcome. Elliot has generously gifted me an apartment in one of his buildings.”

His shoulders shook. “He has even employed a housekeeper for me. To ensure I do not incinerate myself, or his property. I have so much to be thankful for, to all of you.”

He turned to Vincent. “So, now I have Diana in my life. She is… all that I have searched for all my life…all that I have dreamed in my darkest hours, and yet…somehow, she is more. Does that make any sense to you, Vincent?”

“Perfect sense.” Vincent placed a hand companionably on the other man’s shoulder, with a warm smile of complete understanding. “So, perhaps one day, you can finally bring her Below to meet us. I think she can be trusted with our secret in time. She has worked hard enough to uncover it.”

“She thought I would hate her for killing my mother.” Azrael adjusted the wrap around, designer sunglasses he now wore instead of his cowl. “But, I see now that my father killed my mother many years ago. They both drowned in a dark sickness that had no cure. My mother died an old woman who could not believe in the essential goodness in people. I think it is better that she is gone. I have nothing to reproach Diana for. But, I do have a lot to thank her for. I could never forget her kindness to me…or yours.”

“You do understand…” Vincent gripped Azrael’s shoulder. “You are aware, that when your father came here, attempting to claim my soul for his own dark purposes, and spread his poison within our community once more, your brother was not with him. We did not see him. We did not know of his existence or yours. We had our suspicions about what John Pater knew and kept hidden from everyone, but we had no proof. Twisting the truth, lying and falsehoods were his stock in trade, the basis of his quest for power. Sometimes, I doubted if he even knew the whole truth anymore.”

Vincent’s grip tightened with unspoken sympathy. “We were aware of your pilfering from our supplies had been going on for years, but even Mouse could not track the intruders. You did move like a ghost among us, leaving little trace. And then Cullen and I found some evidence of your world a few months ago, down below the level of the pipes. Steps and passageways leading down into the deeper places, where even we dared not go without good purpose. So we knew Paracelsus had not lied when he intimated there were things and worlds of which we knew nothing. But we have no idea of your brother’s whereabouts, his fate, or even if he still lives. You must believe me.”

“Yes, I know that now. There be dragons…” Azrael’s breath rushed from him in a tumultuous sigh. “What you have shown with me, through the visions we have shared, the facts I did not wish to see, I understand and know to be the truth. My father’s death was not your fault. He went to it willingly, trying to create something abominable from the pyre of his own destruction. His final, sick triumph.”

His gaze turned to Vincent’s and he lifted his own hand to grip his where it rested on his shoulder. “I am truly glad he did not succeed, my friend.”

He looked away, his lips tightening. “But, my poor, deluded brother…” His hands clenched. “Zadkiel did not survive the last of my father’s experiments on him…intact.”

He bent to pick up a stone, hurling it with all his repressed anger far out into the rushing water of the falls. “His brain was damaged, his intellect impaired. He became my father’s servant, his unquestioning shadow and his loyalty was beyond reproach. My father…felt vindicated. He said he had created something special out of base clay. He revelled in Zadkiel’s blind obedience, as much as he came to despise my distressing ability to see what my father did not wish me to see; the essential goodness in people, in those I had been trained to hate.”

“And yet you survived.” Vincent shook his head. “Paracelsus cared only for himself and his schemes. Your brother may not have been so lucky.”

Azrael grimaced. “It was only after my father went away that last time, in my confusion about what was the truth and what was falsehoods, I came to blame you for his death. I had no proof, only rumour and things I overheard whenever I ventured into your world. Perhaps in that blackness of despair I was subconsciously wishing for my own death. To be released from the torment of my existence. From the aloneness I could see in my future. Or what future I could see.” He laughed bleakly, raising a frustrated hand to his eyes. “My mother was going slowly mad, but I could not abandon her. However, once she was gone…” His voice broke and he dropped his chin to his chest, unable to continue.

“I know the path you have travelled has been long and torturous.” Vincent tightened his grip. “I hope, from now on, it will be a journey of discovery for you, without regret. You cannot undo what has been done. But it is over now.”

“I hope so, Vincent.” Azrael’s mouth tightened. “I must believe, this time, it will be. But, if it is not…”

“Then we will be here for you, my friend; all of us. We will not abandon you. You are one of us now.”

Azrael smiled. “Thank you, Vincent.”

*******

“How much longer do you intend to keep us waiting, Mouse?” Father fiddled with his cane in agitation.

“Got to get it right.” Mouse’s head popped through the curtain that concealed the entrance to a small storage chamber. “Got to be sure.”

“He’s taken months over this and he’s still not sure.” Father addressed the small crowd gathered behind him. “That boy will be the death of me yet.”

“Mouse has always been a model of precision.” Vincent commented mildly.

“But, he has now decided he cannot possibly wait until Christmas. There is too much to be done with the waterwheels and the garden. Even Mouse can only stretch himself so far. So, this project has now been rechristened as an Easter present.”

Catherine gripped Father’s arm in warm sympathy for his agitation. “I’m sure, whatever it is, it will be harmless,” she assured him.

Father shook his head. “When you have lived with Mouse as long as I, you will learn to expect anything. Anything is possible and nothing is surely as it seems.”

Jacob, secure in his father’s arms, bobbed up and down with delight, intent on the current disturbance in his usual routine. Jamie slid from behind the curtain and bowed dramatically.

“Finally!” Father cast a glance heavenwards.

“Patience, Jacob,” Peter Alcott murmured. “You must remember your blood pressure.”

“Around Mouse, my blood pressure is always elevated.” Father replied grimly, as he followed the others into the chamber.

“Oh, Mouse…” Catherine breathed, as she saw what the tinker had created. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

All around the chamber, curving in and out of the nooks and crannies was a complete model railway. Bridges and tunnels, stations and stockyards, all carefully crafted and laid out with complex precision. Everything a little boy and his playmates could ever want.

“Works off its own electricity supply. Mouse found, Mouse fixed up. Mouse put it all together.” The tinker grinned happily. “And Jamie helped sometimes,” he added quickly, when his friend elbowed him in the ribs.

“Mouse, I don’t know what to say.” Father stood looking around the room in amazement. “I believe you have finally excelled yourself.”

“Okay, good! Okay, fine!” Mouse bobbed his head. “Mouse is happy now.”

With the events of the last few days firmly in his mind, Mouse hopped from foot to foot with glee, as his friends and family explored the layout that had taken him so long to put together. Everyone in his world was happy again, therefore everything was right with his world.

At least, until Father found out about his next project. But, if Arthur didn’t tell him, then Father wouldn’t find out until it was too late…

*******

Once the realization is accepted that

even between the closest human beings

infinite distances continue,

a wonderful living side by side can grow,

if they succeed in loving the distance between them

which makes it possible for each to see the other

whole against the sky.

Rainier Maria Rilke

It was the lights that Catherine remembered so vividly, the dancing, glittering lights. They swept into her vision each time she closed her eyes against the pain. The end of her pregnancy was near and her baby was impatient to be born now.

Father and Mary were consulting with Peter, in whispers at the end of the bed. Catherine could hear them, discussing the secret they had kept until now.

“I’m sure everyone will understand, when we explain.” She turned her head to smile at Vincent, as he knelt beside her, both his hands clasped tightly around hers.

His wife…every day, Vincent repeated these two simple words to himself.

Every day he marvelled at the beauty and wonder this slender woman had brought into his life. Every day, he was reminded anew of just how strong Catherine really was, as they moved through life together. This inner strength flowed through their bond now, calling upon the hidden depths of their mutual bond, sending it humming with vibrant new life.

“I love you.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I think Father will recover in time.”

The intervening months, since Vincent and Catherine’s wedding at Winterfest, had flown by and the simple pleasures of it all had been beyond counting. But, the fact that they were now together, after so much unhappiness and heartache brought a slow, answering smile to Vincent’s lips now, as Catherine surveyed him quizzically, her eyes lightly teasing as the pain ebbed away once more.

“Lena’s new baby will have another playmate, or two, soon,” she whispered, as Vincent smoothed back the fall of damp hair from her forehead.

“Yes.” Vincent nodded.

A month ago Lena and Simon had welcomed a baby boy into the tunnel world. Lena’s daughter, Catherine, had voiced her opinion that now Vincent’s new baby would have to be a girl, so Catherine’s new brother could get married one day.

Jacob had sat solemnly playing blocks with Elliot and wisely kept his own counsel. But, his sapphire eyes had sparkled with suppressed knowledge that he, personally, had shared with his parents. He could wait for the imminent arrival of his sibling’s birth, to share with the rest of the tunnel community in the great surprise that awaited them all.

Slowly, the pain swept upwards again, tumbling through Catherine, before reflecting into Vincent’s conscious mind, spilling over to pound along with his heartbeat. He closed his eyes and rode the wave, carrying Catherine with him through to the heights, before tumbling back again to the relative calm of the birthing chamber.

“Nearly there,” Father murmured encouragingly, as he and Peter went swiftly to work. “This is going to require quite a bit more effort than last time.”

“They say this gets easier with practice,” Catherine replied, her breath coming in short gasps. “They must have been men who said that…”

She relaxed her grip on Vincent’s hand and let her mind drift with the myriad sensations that coloured her connection to her husband. Memories, sweet and light, to be touched on with a gentle caress, memories so full of promise that it seemed as if all that had gone before was nothing but a dream.

She thought of Gabriel and the people, both good and bad, who had been hurt or destroyed in his quest for ultimate power. Paracelsus and Azrael, his blind son, both lost in their own way, never knowing the true strength unselfish love could bring.

Perhaps Azrael could find that path with Diana. His work was selling well and his life was forever changed.

Vincent followed her thoughts, gently calling her back to the present, reminding her that they had each other now, and all that was in the past, was tinged with the bittersweet knowledge that it had to have happened for their love to survive at all.

“So that we can truly be together,” Vincent said softly, for Catherine alone, the words filled with the wonder of their enduring relationship.

“Together…” Catherine acknowledged, as she drew down within herself and the pain flared again.

“Now, Catherine! This is it!” Father instructed in a voice cracking with emotion. “Push down now, hard!”

A cry of great indignation rent the air, as a tiny wrinkled body slipped into Father’s waiting hands and a laugh of pure joy escaped him. He well knew that whatever the outward appearance of this second child of the union between his son and his beloved Catherine, the child would be accepted and loved as much as any child in their underground community. If not more so, because of the uniqueness of the child’s existence.

This child was small, but perfect in every way…

But, before Father or Peter could congratulate each other, Catherine went into the throes of another contraction and all their attention became focused on her once more, as Mary dealt with swiftly with the newborn infant Father handed to her…

*******

“Twins!” William’s face was a picture of incredulous astonishment.

Father stood in the curtained doorway of the birthing chamber, sliding his surgical cap from his head with a tired smile. “Twins,” he agreed softly. “Identical twin girls. I don’t think I have seen children who looked so alike at birth.”

William let out a great shout of delight and slapped Pascal on the shoulder, nearly felling the smaller man. Pascal shook his head in disbelief, his dark eyes shining with joy. Absently, he tapped his communicating sticks against one palm, as if he was already tapping out the message for the wider community.

The crowd that had been gathering in the tunnel outside the chamber had grown sizable in the last few minutes and there were many murmurs of wonder and astonishment. Father raised his hand for quiet and their voices slowly subsided into silence.

“Though this pregnancy has been amazingly easy for Catherine,” he began slowly, “the babies are a little small. We have had keep a close watch, these last few weeks. She didn’t wish to worry all of you, until she reached full term. I can’t tell you how glad I am that it’s all finally over.” Father laughed shakily, passing a hand over his eyes.

“Besides, I’m not too good with secrets.” He grinned hugely.

“We do understand, Father.” Shannon moved to the front of the crowd and kissed his cheek gently. “You must be very proud.”

Father smiled mistily, wiping a hand across his damp cheeks. “And very tired. But, I cannot think of a moment in my life when I have been any more proud…of both of them…and all of you, my friends and family.” He placed an arm around Shannon’s shoulders and hugged her with delight. “This is a truly wonderful day.”

*******

In the chamber behind them, Catherine lay propped against a pile of pillows, a baby cradled in each arm. Mary was busily tidying the chamber, her back firmly turned towards them, to give Catherine and Vincent as much privacy as possible. But, the smile on her face beamed out her joy. Outside the chamber, the babble of voices grew louder, as Father imparted the great news.

Seated now beside the bed, Vincent’s eyes dwelt on the wonder before him. One of his new daughters yawned widely and blinked at him, waving one tiny fist in the air, while her sister slumbered. Vincent had once said that he was not one to deny that miracles did happen, but this particular miracle left him bereft of words to express his jumbled thoughts and soaring emotions.

“It’s all right.” Catherine smiled at the confusion that raged through their bond. Her babies were beautiful, perfect miniature editions of Jacob when he had been born, blond hair and blue eyes.

She knew Vincent had worried, perhaps even more than before Jacob had disproved some of the theories that Vincent had harboured about himself. Catherine had felt all the private disquiet that her husband had tried to conceal from her, the doubts had troubled his sleep some nights, more so recently, as Catherine’s time drew ever nearer.

“Whatever happens, whatever comes…know that I love you, always. Remember, Vincent?” Catherine voiced the words softly.

“I remember…” he answered slowly, reaching out one finger to slip it beneath the baby’s waving fingers. Instantly, the tiny fist closed tightly around him and a laugh of pure contentment escaped Vincent then.

“They will carry your beauty and your spirit within them, always…” Catherine whispered, as her new-born daughter attempted to draw her father’s finger into her mouth.

Vincent looked up at Catherine. “How remarkable you are.”

“Nothing was ever possible without you, Vincent. You saved me that first night, you made everything possible.”

“You have made it possible,” Vincent avowed softly, as he raised his other hand to cradle her cheek.

“I’ll just go and fetch Jacob.” Mary appeared beside them, her eyes on the twins, her face bright with happiness. “He will be bursting with impatience by now.”

“I have a feeling that Mary and Father are still going to have arguments over our children.” Catherine smiled, as Mary disappeared through the curtained doorway. “No matter how many we have…”

“I fear you may be right.” Vincent bent forward, until his lips were only a breath away from his wife’s tender mouth. “Even if we have a whole tribe of children, I think they would still find cause for dissension.”

“Is that a proposition, Mr. Wells?” Catherine breathed, her gaze captured by the dancing lights in Vincent’s eyes.

“So many wonders…” Vincent murmured, as he kissed her lingeringly, with infinite tenderness.

“And all you had to do was open your arms, for them all to be yours, Vincent.”

Catherine drew back only fractionally from the sweetness of his kiss.

“I know that now, Catherine. Always…”

*******

I arise from dreams of thee in the

first sweet sleep of night

When the winds are breathing low

and the stars are shining bright

I arise from dreams of thee and a spirit in my feet

Has led me – who knows how? –

to thy chamber window, sweet!

The wandering airs they faint on the dark,

the silent stream,

The champak odours fall like

sweet thoughts in a dream,

The nightingale’s complaint it dies upon her heart,

As I must die on thine, O beloved as thou art!

O, lift me from the grass, I die, I faint, I fail!

Let thy love in kisses rain on my lips

and eyelids pale,

My cheek is cold and white, alas!

My heart beats loud and fast.

Oh! Press it close to thine again,

Where it will break at last!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

*******

- SHE

She

May be the face I can't forget

A trace of pleasure or regret

May be my treasure or the price I have to pay

She may be the song that summer sings

May be the chill that autumn brings

May be a hundred different things

Within the measure of a day...

She

May be the beauty or the beast

May be the famine or the feast

May turn each day into a heaven or a hell

She may be the mirror of my dreams

A smile reflected in a stream

She may not be what she may seem

Inside her shell…

She who always seems so happy in a crowd

Whose eyes can be so private and so proud

No one's allowed to see them when they cry

She may be the love that cannot hope to last

May come to me from shadows of the past

That I’ll remember till the day I die…

She

May be the reason I survive

The why and where for I'm alive

The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years

Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears

And make them all my souvenirs

For where she goes I’ve got to be

The meaning of my life is

She, she…

Oh, she…

LITERARY REFERENCES

Turn! Turn! Turn!   The Byrds

536 Ode: Intimations Of Immortality   William Wordsworth

She Was a Phantom of Delight   William Wordsworth

On My Own   Michael Crawford

(You Got Me Over) A Heartache Tonight      Dolly Parton / Billy Dean

Slow Dancing With The Moon     Dolly Parton

Sonnet  # 19       William Shakespeare

Letters to a Young Poet     Rainier Maria Rilke

I Arise From Dreams of Thee    Percy Bysshe Shelley

She     Elvis Costello

*******

A World To Believe In

- “A World To Believe In”

A Story of “Beauty and the Beast”

By Judith Nolan ©

This story is the sequel to “A Time To Love.” It is the continuation of the series of six BATB fanzines I first wrote in the 1990s, telling the story of Vincent, Catherine, and all the people of their Tunnel World and Above.

Enormous ‘Vincent’ hugs to my tunnel sister, Jean Pratt, for her humour and encouragement. Extra large hugs for all those who have said I must keep going —thanks, guys. Thank you, everyone, for giving me back my Tunnel World to believe in once more…

This story is once again dedicated to everyone who has made the continuing dream of “Beauty and the Beast” possible. To Ron, Linda, Roy, Jay, David, Ellen, Armin, Ritch, Jo, and for my beloved Edward…Vaya con Dios, my sweet, beautiful man…I miss you more than I can say…

So we must keep the Tunnel World in our hearts…always…

(Please do not reproduce by any means, this story)

“A World To Believe In” is an amateur fiction fanzine and, as such, does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of RON KOSLOW FILMS, REPUBLIC PICTURES, CBS TELEVISION, WITT THOMAS PRODUCTIONS or any other holders of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights.

*******

You Gave Me A World To Believe In

‘I've seen the tears and the heartache

and I've felt the pain

I've seen the hatred in so many lives lost in vain

And yet through this darkness there's

always a light that shines through

And takes me back home, takes me back home

All of the promises broken and

all of the songs left unsung

Seem so far away as I make my way back to you

You gave me faith and you gave me

a world to believe in

You gave me your love to believe in

And feeling this love I can rise up above

And be strong, I'll be whole once again

I know that dreams we hold onto

can just fade away

And I know that words can be wasted

with so much to say

And when I feel helpless there's always

a hope that shines through

And makes me believe, makes me believe

And I see for one fleeting moment

a paradise under the sun

I drift away and I make my way back to you

[chorus]

Life goes on, can leave us with sorrow and pain

And I hold on, to all that you are, to all that will be

And I can go on once again you gave me a world to believe in

You gave me your love to believe in

And feeling this love I can rise up above

And be strong, I'll be whole once again

You gave me a world to believe in

You gave me your love to believe in

And feeling this love I can rise up above

And be strong, I'll be whole once again

'Cause your love hears my soul once again

I can live, I can dream once again

'cause you make me believe…’

Celine Dion

Father once spoke of an angel…

I used to dream she’d appear…

Now as I speak, I can sense her…

And I know she’s here…

Phantom of the Opera (paraphrased)

Vincent stood motionless in the drainage tunnel entrance, arms folded beneath his mantle. He tipped back his head to stare up into the night sky. Far above him the moon floated, clear and bright, accompanied by its endless battalions of twinkling stars. How many years had it been since he’d seen that remote and unattainable lady for the first time? How long had it been since Devin had drawn him from the safety and security of the tunnels and shown him a world and a nightscape which, until that glorious moment, he did not fully realize existed? A world he came to claim as his exclusive domain.

“I have been one acquainted with the night…” Vincent quoted the Robert Frost poem softly. “I have out-walked the furthest city light…” He shook his head, drawing a deep, wistful sigh. Must it always be so…?

He moved forward, looking around him. The sounds of the night teased his senses. A soft, sighing wind, someone walking far away in the park and then he heard the sad call of one of the few birds that thrived in the darkness. All these filtered through his great soul, bringing a sense of restlessness he didn’t wish to define. But as before, whenever his thoughts turned in this direction, the truth was inescapable…

His questing eyes traced the luminous lines of the pathways and tracks that criss-crossed the park. He glanced to the roadway, where the little girl had seen his face from a passing car, in that long ago moment of frozen horror before she had begun to cry. Briefly, he touched on the uniqueness of his nose and mouth. To be able to walk among them, hand in hand with his family, through the hordes of people who thronged to the park in daylight, without drawing any attention or curious glances. To feel the sunlight on his face and know all the colours that shone in the daylight. This was the precious, unattainable dream that had given rise to the puzzling nightmare of his and Catherine’s shared vision, centred on the park. It was a simple wish fraught with so much difficulty and danger.

Catherine had once planned for the two of them to go away to the lake house in Connecticut her family had owned. It had all come to nothing, of course, except for a similar type of nightmare about what could happen if he was ever discovered. What could come to pass if his world was ever exposed to the ignorant city far above it? It had been almost unbearable.

“So much for dreams…” He sighed now, reaching back to draw his hood over his hair, his cloak whispering against his legs as he moved forward into the sheltering night. That same sense of restlessness had drawn him from the warm comfort of his place beside Catherine in their bed. He didn’t wish to disturb her slumber with his inability to rest easy. As he left the home tunnels, he had clamped a tight rein on his roiling emotions, not allowing them to flow along their bond. The confusion was his alone to bear, in silence and solitude.

Summerfest would be here again soon, another face of the park would be revealed, its warm, soft heart becoming green and verdant. Just as it had been in the shared dream about the innocent victims of the Snapper case…

“If wishes were horses…” Vincent’s mouth compressed at the memory of that long-ago night at the carousel when he and Devin had nearly been caught by the police horse patrol. It had all seemed so easy then, to go out and not think they could be discovered, to move around with the ease of innocence.

But the resulting incident had confirmed the worst of Father’s worries and concerns for his adopted son’s safety. He had forbidden any more forays into the park. He would not sanction Vincent’s need to be endlessly roaming in places he could be seen and potentially caught. Of course, his son had not listened to the sage advice of his troubled parent…

Vincent crested the nearest hill, stopping to stare out across the moon-bathed landscape of black and silver, towards the place he had found Catherine on a long-ago night. That night he had found the other half of his soul, and everything else that had come to pass flowed through his senses from that night to this very moment. He did have so much to be grateful for. He should be content.

But still it did not feel like enough. Surely there had to be more. He turned to look back. Behind him, far beneath the earth, cocooned in its fragile heart, his newly-born daughters, his young son, and his beloved wife slept unhindered by disturbing dreams. He dropped his chin to rest on his chest, closing his eyes. Drawing deep and steadying breaths, he allowed the slow rhythms of their sleep to flow through him, calming and comforting his agitation.

But the need remained, quiescent for now, but alive none the less. To give Catherine everything, everything she wanted or desired, had always been his guiding hope and wish. In that, he and Elliot were in total agreement, with different ideas of what everything might be. Even when Vincent had been trying to distance himself from Catherine, to gift her with another life free from secrets and furtive meetings, his had been the best of intentions.

But Catherine had told him he was all she’d ever wanted. Nothing else mattered but their love, one for the other. Everything else would fall into its place, in time and with patience. All he had to do was open his arms, for them to be his.

“If it was only that easy…” Vincent raised his hands, palms uppermost before him, dispassionately studying the long fingers, with their pointed nails and soft clothing of fur. He raised them ever higher into the moonlight, turning and flexing them like a penitent supplicant before an ancient, unknown god.

He drew another, deeper breath, making a silent wish upon the moon looking down on him with her serene white face and careless beauty. Somehow, some day — he had no idea when or how — he would make that dream come true. He and Catherine, along with their children, could walk and laugh in the sunshine...and no one would look twice…

*******

“Okay yes, okay all right. I think…” Mouse sat back to study his creation.

His secret world slumbered peacefully around him, underscored by the rhythmic chatter of the pipes. Messages received and answered, reassuring the citizens that all was well for another night. But, try as he might, Mouse couldn’t rest. He had long ago abandoned his bed for more interesting pursuits than sleep. Besides, there was too much to do, too much to work on, for the tinker to rest easily. Sleeping was such a waste of precious time!

“Got stuff to do…” Father’s Summerfest present was finally complete. Mouse moved back to study it critically. He nodded, liking what he saw. There was only one very small concern — almost too small to be bothered about. But it niggled at him none the less.

“Well, okay, one tiny problem…” Mouse finally admitted to himself, raising a denying shoulder and blowing a discontented sigh.

Months before he’d discovered the mahogany bookcase abandoned in a heap of rubbish Up Top. “Topsiders throw away the best stuff,” he’d muttered as he took it carefully apart and carried it piece by piece Below, his fertile brain already buzzing with ideas and plans. Now with its newly-installed, hidden shelves and hand-cranked, revolving units the ornate bookcase was just a touch too big to be removed from the clutter of his chamber in one piece. Well, perhaps more than a touch. To transport it to Father’s chamber would require the bookcase to be completely dismantled and reassembled once again.

“Okay, Mouse can do that…” The tinker grimaced. “Well, with Vincent’s help. And a lot of others’ help. But then they might tell someone. Could be problem. Father must not know.”

It had all begun when he’d overheard Father speaking with Cullen at the meal table. He was complaining about his memory. He’d stated it was well past time he remembered to ask the woodworker to construct something for Father’s chamber. Some shelves to store his ever-growing over-supply of books that threatened to cascade down on his head at any moment! The area where he slept was the only place left uncluttered.

Cullen had nodded understandingly, but he’d also pleaded the pressure of a more urgent project requiring his immediate attention. That needed to be completed before Summerfest. However, he did promise to come and do some measuring in the near future. Father had accepted the postponement with a philosophical shake of his head and a sigh, but he didn’t look at all pleased.

Rubbing his hands with glee, Mouse had hurried from the Long Gallery, leaving the remains of his meal untouched, intent on making Father’s request a reality as soon as humanly possible. He’d gone Above to search for inspiration, and had soon found what he was looking for.

He wondered why Father hadn’t asked Mouse in the first place...

He jumped up now to pace the chamber, talking to himself. “But Vincent and Catherine just had two babies. Maybe Vincent too busy to help. Catherine might not let him come to help Mouse. Got to think.” He sat down again, chin propped in his upraised hands. “Could ask Cullen or maybe even Richard. But then they would know Mouse’s secret, and Cullen might get mad. Father asked him first. But he did say he was too busy.”

Arthur came to sit beside him, chittering plaintively. He paddled his black paws against Mouse’s arm.

“Arthur needs food?” Mouse looked down at his pet. “Okay, Mouse hungry too. Will need to think some more about this. Maybe ask Azrael…”

He turned to lay his hand against the lightning ball beside his chair, laughing at the flickering blue bolts of electricity as they followed the contact he’d created. He was endlessly fascinated with the device, ever since Catherine had given him the parts to make it. He frowned. Well, of course, this was the replacement for the one Charles had broken when he’d gotten lost and scared in the Mousehole years ago.

But Mouse had forgiven him for that. Charles was Devin’s friend, and Devin was good to Mouse. Sent him all sorts of wonderful things every month in the mail Peter collected and brought Below. Devin said in his last letter he was coming home for a visit from his vineyard in New Zealand soon. Mouse would like to see that place where Christmas was full of sunshine and no snow. He frowned, shaking his head. It didn’t seem right somehow. It turned the whole world upside down.

“But that’s for later. Not for now. Mouse gotta think.” He sighed, frowning at the lightning ball. It was a pity the tunnel community couldn’t bleed power off the main lines from the city. It had always been a project very dear to his heart. “But too dangerous. Men will come to see where it’s gone. Could be discovered, Father said.” Mouse pulled a face of discontent. “And Vincent said no, too. Too bad.”

He sighed again, then brightened. He was excited about the possibilities of the power they could generate from the water wheels and wind turbines from the garden Azrael had helped them create far below Mouse’s feet. The project was almost finished. A few more days and they could have all the power they could ever need, and no one Up Top would ever know. He’d been working on plans for Elizabeth’s Painted Tunnels too. Get better lights for her to see by.

“Need lots more cable, more supports. Gotta be sure. Need to last forever.” Mouse jumped up, shuffling to a nearby table where a mess of plans and blueprints were strewn about. He rustled through them, frowning and smiling by turns. “Gotta be made right by Summerfest. Big party, everyone gonna come to see.”

Arthur scurried after him, chattering his displeasure at being ignored. But his master was far too occupied to notice.

“Mouse…? Are you in here, my friend?” A familiar voice asked from the chamber door.

“Vincent!” Mouse started. “Can’t see bookcase. Not till Mouse says so. Big secret.”

He grabbed at a pile of blankets and sheets carelessly thrown into a corner.

“Be out in a minute, Vincent,” he called in reply. “Can’t come in now.” Hastily, he covered his creation. “Big, big mess in here.”

“What are you up to this time, Mouse?” Vincent asked mildly, when the tinker came scampering out of the long tunnel leading to his chamber.

“Nothing…” Mouse tried to assume an innocent look that didn’t fool his good friend for a single second. “Just talking to Arthur. And thinking. You’re up early…”

“And you do not look as if you have slept. You worry me when you look too innocent, Mouse.” Vincent placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Is there anything in your chamber I need to know about? Anything that may cause Father sleepless nights?”

“No.” Mouse shook his head in strong denial. “It’s all good. Just working on garden plans. Got to make sure all okay. Almost done. Azrael coming back down in a couple of days. Gotta be ready. Summerfest going to be great this year.”

“Well, please remember the last time…” Vincent lifted a hand to pass the pad of his thumb across the twin arches of Mouse’s missing eyebrows before touching on the lack of hair above the boy’s forehead. “All this will take time to grow back. You were lucky it was only your hair that got incinerated. Perhaps we should ask Elliot to give you lessons in how to handle plastic explosives before you do any more blasting work.”

“Mouse learns always from mistakes. Just need to be faster.” He grinned upwards at his larger friend. “Big bang!” He waved his hands expressively. “Like when we saved you and Father from the Maze. Just a touch too much. But got the work done in half the time. Now it’s good to knock off digging out new chambers for a while.”

“Very good indeed, Mouse,” Vincent acknowledged. “But perhaps you should come to me before you decide to use any plastic explosive again. It’s not good for everyone to be woken up by your blasting projects. And you may draw unwanted attention to our world down here.”

“Okay cool, okay great.” Mouse bobbed his head. “Babies need sleep, I know. Catherine needs to sleep too. But what do you need now, Vincent?”

“Your companionship, my friend.” Vincent smiled down at him. “And the loan of your impressive brain, along with your ability to find stuff. I have a project in mind that I also need Cullen and Winslow to help with. They already know their parts and are willing to assist us.”

“Is it something for Catherine?” Mouse asked eagerly. “Something special for Summerfest? For the babies?”

“Yes, something for Catherine to celebrate the safe arrival of our babies,” Vincent acknowledged, smiling.

“Catherine, Vincent’s Catherine…yes, we can find something very special indeed. Mouse can do it. What do you want, Vincent?”

“That is where I need your mind, Mouse. I have an idea, but I need your help to make it a reality. But we need to keep it all a big secret. Only the four of us need to know for now.”

“Need anything, just ask Mouse.” The tinker grinned. “Everybody does. He can fix it. And he likes secrets. He knows everything…”

*******

“I am trying to decide just exactly how angry I am.” Seated before the fireplace of her drawing room, Lady May Heathcote-Smythe held her diminutive frame rigidly erect, her hands resting on the ornate gold head of the ebony cane grounded between her feet.

The elderly widow of an aristocratic English industrialist, who had settled in New York many years before and proceeded to enlarge his already immense fortune, May was still a formidable force in the city’s social scene. Her parties were legendary, and she had an opinion on everything … which she never failed to express at every opportunity.

She stared frostily at her unwelcome visitor. “To make you come all the way to the surface on the slight matter of a trifling chest pain. It is insupportable, Jacob. I thought you knew me better after all these years. When I wish to avail myself of your advice, I will ask for it.”

“Olivia and Mary were deeply worried about you.” Father stood in the middle of the room, his medical bag in one hand, leaning on his cane, not daring to sit until he received permission. He felt like an errant schoolboy being grilled by a stern headmistress and found wanting. “The last time they visited, you were unwell. Your young charges have said you have not been yourself lately. And they also told Olivia you haven’t seen a doctor in months. The last time you managed to come and see us Below was for Vincent’s birthday party. That was nearly three years ago. I well remember a time when I had to force you to return Above to keep us all safe. You were young and wild then.”

“Well, they should know better than to gossip about me now I’m old and crotchety,” Lady May snapped. “And it was simply a small matter of my doctor choosing to die before me. Since then, I have not found anyone suitable to my requirements. I may be old, but I am neither a fool nor am I senile. And I will not be treated as such by some young shave-tail just out of short pants with the ink still wet on his medical degree.”

Father’s lips twitched at the all too accurate description, but he managed to retain his grave expression. “So you choose to ignore your ongoing symptoms rather than ask for help. You know how vital you are to us. To our world.”

“You simply cannot do without me to keep and train those among your young girls who wish to have a life Above. I am well aware of that.” Lady May sighed roughly. “Oh, sit down, for heaven’s sake! You’re giving me a stiff neck, making me look up at you standing there like some homeless penitent hoping for alms.”

“Thank you.” Father grimaced as he subsided thankfully into a nearby chair. “You simply must learn to take better care of yourself, May. That is all we ask. We care very deeply for you. And I wish you could come Below more often. We all miss your visits.”

“I am well aware of the passage of time, Jacob.” Lady May inclined her head and compressed her lips. “I must tell you Shannon brought her young man to visit with me last week. Elliot Burch is an interesting choice for our little songbird, but a good one. At least, from what they told me, he cares about her and is well able to protect her from the dangers of any unwanted attention. Not like that ghastly beast of a man she married, putting her on show like some exhibit. God rest his foolish soul. Of course, Burch once tried to buy my house, for some awful development or other he was planning.”

She thumped the end of her cane on the floor. “I wasn’t so nice to him in that encounter. I sent him away with a very large flea in his ear and I swore he would never darken my door-sill again. But, for Shannon’s sake, I consented to receive him. And this time he paid his respects with just the right amount of civility and proper courtesy. Therefore, you will be pleased to know, the match has my blessing.”

“Thank you, May.” A relieved smile curved Father’s lips. Of course, it had been under his advice that Elliot and Shannon had made a point of visiting May, to make peace and amends. The old lady hated to be left out of anything, despite her recent, self-imposed isolation.

He knew very well the obstinate rod of pure steel that ran through one of his oldest friends and most valued helpers of his world. He had also come to know Elliot Burch. The man could charm the birds from the trees, if he chose to do so, and one elderly lady would not be immune to his considerable address and deft handling.

“And you must tell Vincent to bring those lovely children of his to visit me, as soon as Catherine is well enough to travel,” May commanded. “You know how much I love the little ones. It has been too long since I’ve had babies here.”

She shook her head. “A grandfather three times over now, Jacob. It is a true miracle. I wish I could attend the naming ceremony, but it is a long way down to the home tunnels, and I’m not so young anymore. Now that Vincent is well settled and happy, all we need to do is find a suitable wife for Devin. Where in the world is my naughty boy now, by the way?”

Father knew a delaying tactic when he heard one, but he decided against pushing the issue for the moment. “The most recent letter I received was from New Zealand. The last time he was there, I believe he tried his hand at adventure tourism, with some considerable success. This time he writes of taking over an island vineyard and making a go of it. He does talk of coming home again soon. I’ll believe that when it happens.”

“Excellent.” May nodded. “Then you must tell my boy I wish to place an order for ten cases of his first vintage. I know his taste will be exquisite. I will not be disappointed, and I will also make sure the good word gets around. He can count on me to ensure his success.” She spoke without conceit.

“Thank you, May. I shall tell him. But discussing my family will not allow you to escape the purpose of my visit. I will not leave until you change your mind.”

“And even if I asked you to respect my wishes, you will not consent to go away until I allow you to examine me.” May lifted one shoulder dismissively. “You do like to try my patience to its limits, and it is simply unfair. I am, after all, just a frail, old lady. You are taking unfair advantage.” Her firm chin might have trembled and her face become pensive, but her blue eyes glinted with a deeply rebellious look.

Father watched her with resignation. “It is only because I love you very much, May. You know that. And you are not as frail as you like to make out. Please save that line for those who do not know you so well.”

“Oh, very well. Give me your arm then, young man.” May stood, extending her hand imperiously. “Afterwards, when you have decided I will live for a few more years, you will take tea with me and tell me all about the latest happenings in your world down there. I wish I could be that young woman once more and open to such wonderful adventures as you and I had.” She sighed.

“That day, I accidentally discovered the entrance to your world, right down there in my own wine cellar, was the happiest moment of my life. In those times I could be truly free in the tunnels. And Lord knows there were never many of those moments back then.” She smiled sadly, wiping away a tear with an impatient hand. “But I do have my memories. And what times we did have together, when we thought the whole underground world was ours and we could never grow old.”

“You will always be young to me, May.” Father kissed her soft, wrinkled cheek as they left the room arm in arm. “And very beautiful…”

“You, sir, are an incorrigible flatterer…” May tapped his arm warningly, but her eyes twinkled with delight.

*******

Vincent looked up when Father limped into his chamber. “You have been away a long time and you look very tired. How is Lady May, or should I not ask?”

“Oh, May is as stubborn as ever.” Jacob shook his head wearily. “And just as hardy. A little indigestion from eating too much rich food, coupled with a decided unwillingness to slow down or compromise her lifestyle. I cannot believe she is nearly 75. I remember a young woman who could run the legs off any of us, once upon a time. She virtually lived in the tunnels whenever her husband was away overseas on business. Many times I had to force her to go back Above and put in an appearance in her own life. She only went because she knew her presence here compromised our safety. I know she would rather have stayed. She said we made her feel alive and loved. We were the family she never had.”

He sighed as he moved closer, placing a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “She loved all the tunnel children like they were her own. You, in particular — she couldn’t get enough of you when you were a baby. She and Mary often disagreed over your care…” He shook his head. “May won more times than not. And she often aided and abetted Devin in some of his more outrageous schemes too. It is a shame she never had any children of her own. She is a natural mother. Now she looks after those of our girls who choose the life up there.”

He set down his case before crossing the chamber to look down at Vincent’s three-week-old twin daughters sleeping in their adjacent cribs. “She insisted I stay to take tea with her and regale her with the tales of all our doings. But at least, before I left, I managed to secure her agreement allowing Peter to take over as her physician. She is not happy with me for telling her a few home truths about her condition.”

“I can well imagine. And I wonder if Peter will still be speaking to you at next month’s Summerfest.” Vincent laughed as he came to stand beside his parent, placing a comforting arm around his slumped shoulders. “You have succeeded in a very difficult task. May is not the easiest of people to deal with.”

“She requested — no, make that commanded — that you and Catherine must visit as soon as you are all well enough to travel. May said your children are a true miracle.” Jacob stroked one of the sleeping babies softly on the cheek. “And I agree with her. Have you and Catherine decided on names yet?”

“We have.” Vincent nodded. “We were waiting to talk to you about the naming ceremony.”

“Of course, when you are ready. Everyone is looking forward to it. It was such a shame Jacob’s ceremony had to be so private and held under such impossible circumstances, with us all in hiding and afraid of our own shadows. I cannot tell you how glad I am for all that to be behind us now. We are finally free of the past, so we are going to celebrate in style. And, despite my misgivings over her state of health, I think we should do our best to see if May can attend this one. She expressed a wish to revisit her youth and I’ve a mind to help her realize the dream.”

Father looked around the chamber. “Where is Catherine? I hope she is resting as I ordered?”

“Yes, Father.” Vincent laughed and nodded. “Shannon has gone Above to spend the weekend with Elliot. She insisted Catherine use her chamber whenever she needs to do so. Last time I checked on her, she was asleep. Mary is reading a bedtime story to Jacob in her chamber.”

“Good, at least one of my patients has listened to my advice.” Father picked up his medical bag. “So now I must go and write a referral to Peter on May’s behalf, before she has time to reflect and change her mind. She will not escape this time. I’ll send Geoffrey Above with it, first thing in the morning. Good evening, Vincent. I can only hope you will sleep better than l will tonight.”

“Good luck, Father.” Vincent kissed his forehead before the older man left the chamber, shaking his head and talking to himself.

*******

“So explain to me, exactly what is all this?” Joe stood in Diana’s loft apartment frowning at the two large bulletin boards she had set up.

He’d arrived at her door in the early evening, overworked, harassed and driven by a nagging doubt Diana had not let anything go. She had been very reluctant to admit him, claiming she was working on something important and couldn’t spare the time. Whatever he wanted, she wasn’t interested. She’d only acquiesced with a fulminating glare when he’d refused to budge from her doorstep and threatened to make a scene fit to disturb her neighbours and bring the NYPD down on both their heads.

Now all his nagging doubts and suspicions had crystallised into uncomfortable reality. He wondered what else the woman was keeping from him. From what he could see, he didn’t doubt she’d copied all the files on Cathy Chandler’s case before she had brought him the originals for disposal.

“Just work. It’s what I actually do for a living when I’m not needed by the D.A.’s office,” Diana replied as she crossed the room to stand before one board — blocking Joe’s view of it — while pointing to the other. “I am still working my way through the maze of Gabriel’s companies and shady dealings. I never stopped, even during the Snapper investigation. I just pushed it all onto the back burner. I have some extremely powerful and very impatient clients waiting for the results. They want to know how and where they are implicated. And what damage control they need to do to distance them from it all. They won’t wait much longer. Time is money.”

“And this one…?” Joe waved an imperious hand, indicating he wanted her to move aside before pointing to the second board with his chin. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the other, does it? More secrets, Diana?”

Diana lifted a denying shoulder. “It’s just something I’m working on for my own satisfaction. There are still too many unresolved questions and issues around Catherine Chandler and her relationships. Nothing adds up like it should. Just when I think I have it all, it slips away again like smoke. Even where she lives now is a complete mystery. And who with. What do you know, Joe?” She slanted him an inquiring look.

“I don’t know anything. But I thought I told you to drop the Chandler case,” Joe growled. “This looks to me as if you’re disobeying my orders.” He surveyed the board and all it contained. “Dates, times, places…are you launching another crusade against a very good friend of mine? I won’t stand for it, Diana. I told you to bury all this and walk away. It’s over.”

“Since I do not work for you, Joe, I can’t see how I am disobeying you. This is what I do in my own time. I still have a living to make. And it’s not a crusade; I only want answers.”

“But if you ever want to work for my office again, you will drop whatever it is you think you’re doing here. Cathy deserves to be left in peace. It does no one any good to rake over what’s well dead and buried.”

“Perhaps, but I still have those unanswered questions.” Diana spread her hands. “I still want to know what happened at the carousel that night and why. Where did James and his friends come from and go to? A pair of refugees from a pantomime, as you once said. Remember, Joe? And how did you and Elliot Burch find your way all the way down to me in virtual darkness without maps or any other signs to guide your path? And you didn’t look at all concerned. And where did you find that Mouse boy? Who is Cathy’s lover? That is the biggest question. She loved him enough to bear him a son. That’s a matter of public record.”

She took a turn around the room. “Her lover is the most puzzling thing in all this. Azrael and his mother managed to live all the way down there. I would guess her lover does as well. But where? Is she also down there with him? I’ve asked Elliot, but he swears he knows nothing, and now he’s blocking all my calls. I wish the two of you would stop treating me like a fool. I’ve seen the Manning operatives who dog every step I take outside this apartment.”

“They’re for your own good. I asked Elliot to keep an eye on you. I don’t want to have to rescue you again from the consequences of your own nosiness.” Joe thumped his fist into an open palm. He didn’t dare tell her their secondary reason — their mutual need to know where she was at all times — to make sure she wasn’t making an effort to find her way Below once more.

“Why can’t you just be grateful you survived everything? Leave it alone, Diana. I’m warning you for the last time. Why must you continue to chip away at things you have no business investigating?”

“Because I’m curious about what you and Burch know and what you’re not telling me. I saw you two and Azrael all huddled together at the new gallery opening the other night, whispering behind your hands like a gaggle of schoolgirls! You should learn to share and play nice. And as for Shannon Cole…”

She drew a steadying breath. “And don’t insult my intelligence by trying to tell me any of you were discussing the paintings. Azrael goes all squirrelly on me and won’t open up when I try to get some answers out of him. He disappears regularly, sometimes for days on end, and then reappears like magic. Where’s he been and exactly who has he been with? It leads me to think you all have something to hide. Something incredible and mind blowing, and you won’t — or don’t — have the courage to trust me enough to share in it. So I make do with what I have.”

“For Pete’s sake, Diana, you really do need to see a shrink.” Joe shrugged on a bitter laugh. “Now you’re sounding paranoid. I don’t have any secrets, and you know more about Azrael’s life than I do. Can’t say the same for Elliot Burch, but then we’ve never seen eye to eye on anything anyway. His secrets I would love to know. How about setting up a board on him?”

“Rubbish!” Diana snapped, turning away to her desk and sitting behind it, her face set and determined. “You and Burch know too much. You tell me what I’m missing, what this is all about – then I’ll leave it alone. Until then… goodbye, Mr. District Attorney. Don’t call me, and I won’t bother you.”

“Diana…” Joe advanced warningly. “Drop it. Now!”

“Get out…” Diana pointed at the door without looking up from her computer screen. “Make sure you shut the door behind you on the way out.”

“Very well,” Joe conceded grimly. “But you haven’t heard the last of this. I’ll make sure anything you dig up is inadmissible — the product of a deluded mind — and I’ll bury it so deep, even you won’t be able to find it again.”

“Fine!” Diana flung him a look of contempt. “You play your games and I’ll play mine, and we’ll see who wins in the end. But I’ll be here when you change your mind. Unless, of course, you decide to tell me the truth before it’s already too late. I get results; I always do.”

“Save me from all the do-gooders and mad crusaders,” Joe snapped, flinging his way out of the apartment and slamming the door behind him.

Diana sat and stared at the closed door for a long time. Suddenly, her shoulders slumped and she felt unaccountably close to tears. She sighed, shaking her head before she went back to work, more determined than ever to solve a puzzle that was eating away at her ability to sleep or eat or even concentrate.

But after trying to make any kind of sense of the work and failing, she looked up to frown at the closed door of her bedroom. Hung in there, safely out of sight of anyone but herself, dwelt the nude Azrael had painted of her stepping from the sulphur pools. It was the first thing she saw in the early morning when she opened her eyes and the last thing she saw at night. Its raw, elemental power still gripped her, just as the many secrets it concealed distracted her from more important work. She still could not bear to part with it. But the secrets it held had begun to invade her dreams…

The hints were all there, cloaked in the multi-layered shadows that hung in the background behind Azrael’s broad shoulders. Darker places that looked like tunnels or doors and — if she peered close enough — she could almost swear there were lights flickering in their depths and what looked like tiny, animated figures...and other things too small to identify.

How many times had she stood before it, trying to make those shadows speak to her? Azrael was an extremely gifted painter, and he used his incredible photographic memory of what others saw to great effect. But Diana had begun to doubt the evidence of her own eyes. Surely, he wasn’t that good and she was simply imagining things.

There were worlds down there, places and things she knew existed. And people… She frowned over the memory of the night at the carousel and Catherine Chandler’s lover. Him she definitely wanted to meet, if only to thank him. She just needed to find the right door and open it… Sometimes she even missed Mouse, with his wayward charm, weird speech and even crazier personality… He had made her laugh, a rare talent.

“It’s so unfair…” She clenched her fists, turning to stare at the telephone beside her, wondering what Azrael was doing right now or even where he was. Seeing him — talking with him — on a daily basis was fast becoming a necessity, a habit she didn’t wish to analyse too closely. She had always been a loner. She didn’t need anything…or anyone...

“Come on, I’ve told no one of what I know, Azrael,” she muttered. “I would never harm your world. So you can trust me, you know. If you truly loved me — like you say you do — you would tell me all you know…”

She sighed, swiping away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She knew he was not in his apartment or at the newly-opened gallery where his artwork was being displayed and selling very well. The whole world seemed to be clamouring to know the history of a blind man who could paint so exquisitely. Diana had checked with the manager several times over the last few days, but Colin said he hadn’t seen Azrael for some time. Diana was not the man’s keeper, but it irked her that she didn’t know where he was and he did not wish to inform her.

Following Azrael was not an option. Firstly, she didn’t wish to expose wherever he went to the intense scrutiny of the Manning operatives who were, in turn, following her with a dogged determination that she couldn’t shake. She knew Burch must share some secret knowledge with Azrael, because when they’d met on the night of the gallery’s grand opening two weeks ago, they’d spent quite some time laughing and talking together, quickly turning their whispered conversation to mundane matters whenever Diana tried to get close enough to overhear what they were discussing.

She also knew they were watching her, seeming to also be discussing her as she circulated through the crowded gallery in her self-appointed role as Azrael’s unpaid PR person. But when Joe had arrived later in the evening and immediately joined them in their whispered conference, Diana had known an intense longing to fetch her gun, corral them into a secluded corner, and demand they all talk. It irritated her beyond reason that they still had secrets they were not willing to share with her.

Azrael, of course, had looked disturbingly handsome in a black tuxedo. His long auburn hair, tied back at the nape of his neck with a black silk ribbon for the evening, coupled with his wearing one of a number of designer sunglasses Diana had first purchased for him when he moved up into the city, made him look remote and mysterious.

A powerful magnet, combining a quaint, old world courtesy with a wary, diffident charm, he drew the women at the opening like moths to an exotic flame. He tried his best to keep their fawning attentions at arm’s length, but often he was forced to retreat behind the certain shelter of Burch’s urbane protection, whenever anyone sought to become overly familiar or pressed too close for his comfort.

Diana had watched him longingly, wishing they could be alone together, instead of being trapped in this seething crowd. She knew she should be grateful for the interest they all showed. But she — who’d always prided herself on needing no one — found she was coming to depend more and more on having Azrael around, understanding him and knowing he would be there for her if she ever asked for his help. To be near him made her feel less confused and alone.

However she’d soon discovered he would always shy away from true intimacy with her, whenever she got too close. She quickly realised the disturbing trend of her thoughts — as well as her body language — were all too easy for him to read, but she couldn’t help it. Being near him stirred deep levels within her. Places she had been unaware of until now. Needs that shifted and flowed like quicksand, trapping her in the flux of uncomfortable, emotional turmoil.

But Azrael was always quick to put distance between them, as if he were still not sure of his ground with her, or how to respond in kind. But he had an ongoing dislike of discussing his reasons, which left Diana feeling more than a little frustrated and very short-tempered at times. After all, in a manner of speaking, he’d already gotten to see her naked. There was certainly no room for modesty in that painting. But patience was not one of her virtues…

But lately, she had become aware of him watching her, as if she were a puzzle he had not yet worked out to his satisfaction. That gave her some hope. He wasn’t immune to her; she knew that. The half-finished gestures that he quickly abandoned whenever he sensed she was turning towards him. The sudden catch of his indrawn breath as he quickly withdrew from her immediate vicinity, and the swift exits, when it was obvious he could no longer remain close to her without completing the tentative journey and actually laying his hands on her.

Diana remembered his unusual upbringing and the crippling physical and emotional boundaries imposed on him by his late mother. The mad woman was deeply revolted by the painting that she had wanted to destroy in the fire. Diana sighed and shook her head.

It was so easy to enjoy Azrael’s company and his unique perspective on life in a world that was still very alien to him. His comments made her see the city in a whole different light, understand many of its hitherto-hidden places and the curious ways of its more unusual inhabitants. But she knew he was not ready to share all his secrets, any more than he was willing to share her bed. She must learn to be patient…for now…

At the gallery opening, Diana had stood still, enviously observing the easy interplay between Burch, the worldly-wise billionaire, and the young artist, with a jaundiced eye. The designer tux Azrael wore was a gift from Elliot. It was another open-handed gesture from a man well known for his unquestioned ability to extract every last drop of blood from Manhattan’s schist bedrock in reciprocation for his help. He did nothing — for nothing — for anyone, without payment in kind, and a steep, compounding interest rate.

And yet there he was, gifting property, advice, and clothing to a once penniless outcast from a very different world, with jaw dropping generosity. As if he actually cared for the man, as a friend, certainly as a confidant. It made no sense at all that Diana could see. It was yet another link in the strengthening chain of their mysterious involvement with a hidden world.

And, of course there was the frustrating case of Shannon Cole — or, as she preferred to be called now — Shannon O’Neill. Another of Burch’s charity cases, though this one was fabulously wealthy in her own right. Perhaps that was her attraction, her considerable ability to contribute some serious financial help to his schemes. Though now, it seemed the woman was planning to use a large part of her wealth to set up shelters and new charities for the poor of the city, and Elliot appeared to be actively assisting her in this ambitious venture.

Things just keep getting weirder wherever anyone becomes associated with Catherine Chandler, Diana decided with a sigh. Recently, Shannon had been very carefully shepherded by Elliot and Joe Maxwell through the maze of questions and answers demanded by the D.A.’s office, and the voracious media still probing the mysterious death of her late husband. Diana had been allowed one brief session with the widow, closely flanked by Burch and six of his large bodyguards.

The men had all crowded into the airless interview room, standing virtually shoulder-to-shoulder, exuding a ton of testosterone per square inch, armpits bulging with hardware, and they would not leave the room, refusing to allow Diana to conduct a one-on-one interview with the opera singer. Burch had even demanded to see her list of questions, which irked Diana immensely. She marked him down for special attention when she was free – Elliot Burch and that oddball young employee of his, Mouse.

In the end the interview had been short and intensely dissatisfying on Diana’s part. But she had been forced to settle for what little more Shannon could tell her that she didn’t already know.

And that woman was another component of the mysterious group clustering around Azrae,  that excluded Diana from everything they knew or understood.

Shannon O’Neill had been on Burch’s arm the night of the gallery opening, looking stunning in a full-length silver designer gown and dripping diamonds that must have cost Burch a fortune. Azrael had hugged and greeted her like a very old friend. Towards him, Shannon was warm and animated, laughing at something he said, taking his hand on occasion to emphasize some point or other. Quite unlike the stiff, virtually unresponsive woman Diana had tried to interview the previous morning.

But while Diana fumed about Burch and what he might know, she had no idea what Manning knew, what his boss may or may not have told his chief investigator. As much as she was tempted to do so, she wouldn’t risk exposing whatever their secret was by going after Azrael on one of his mysterious disappearances. She had come too far and gotten too close to jeopardize it all now by being stupid.

And there was also that annoying disadvantage that Azrael could sense Diana any time he chose to concentrate on her thoughts or her whereabouts. His perceptions of the world around him were highly tuned and inescapable. He would know instantly if she tried to tail him, and he’d been quite forthright in telling her she was not to try. She just needed to bide her time…

“Which leaves me sitting here, crunching numbers, and getting nowhere…” Diana returned her gaze to the boards, contemplating the biggest secret of all — Catherine Chandler and her lover.

The man had saved them all from certain death at the carousel that night, without a doubt. Diana was enough of a realist to know that it was really Catherine he was saving. Simply, their close association with her had rescued Diana and Joe. But Catherine had also loved this mystery lover enough to have a child with him. And then vanish so completely with him to somewhere unknown and unseen. Was it to some magic kingdom where no one died and everyone got along together without greed or envy?

“Get a grip, Bennett. You don’t believe in fairy tales. Well, not many anyway…” Diana sighed, her gaze going out of focus as she chewed distractedly at her bottom lip. Something in this case had to give and soon… Damn you, Azrael! Where are you?

*******

Azrael placed his hand on Mouse’s shoulder. “What do you think, my friend? How does it all look? Will everything stand the test of time?”

“Built strong. Made to last.” Mouse nodded. “Will be good for all time. They will say one day, we did fine things here.”

“Very well.” Azrael smiled. “I think we can live with that assessment. So I think we can finally declare the entire project a success.”

“Okay good. Okay fine. Must go and tell Father. See Vincent.” Mouse hopped from foot to foot. “We need to have a party. Celebrate. Everybody can come.”

Azrael laughed. “Yes, I think a party would be an excellent idea.”

The pair was standing on a ledge overlooking an echoing cavern where many of the tunnel dwellers had laboured ceaselessly over the months, since Azrael had shown Mouse and Vincent his garden. During the intervening time, they had transferred much of the garden to the higher levels of the tunnel system. The water wheels and the wind turbines had been simple to disassemble and then reassemble where Mouse thought they would be most effective. Even the bees had co-operated without too much fuss. Except Mouse had been stung several times by his new charges, and he’d complained extensively to anyone who was prepared to stop and listen.

It irked him immensely that Vincent and Azrael seemed to be immune to the bees’ anger. The insects had swarmed around them, but never attacked the two men as they laboured to transfer the beehives to the higher levels. Set up once again along the far rim of the cavern, the industrious bees quickly settled into their new home and now provided endless entertainment for the Tunnel children. But Mouse disavowed there was any further need for him to become a full-time beekeeper. That task was finally delegated to a roster of the older children, whom Azrael had trained extensively in their new deployment. They loved the work, and were more than willing to help out.

“Azrael…” Jamie appeared beside them. “Father asked to see you. I will take you to him.”

“Thank you, Jamie.” Azrael nodded, smiling at her.

He could sense her watching him closely, but she didn’t speak again. She seemed to be assessing him for some reason of her own. The arrows in the quiver slung at her hip rattled softly, as she shifted from one foot to the other, as if she were impatient to be getting on with more important business than being his unofficial guide. But she was reluctant to leave him to find his own way. Azrael had some idea of the reason, and he could understand it completely.

“Good, go to see Father. Tell him, all done. Good job.” Mouse seized Azrael’s arm. “Mouse will go down into garden, talk to Winslow and the others. Tell them all it’s fine. Go home now and rest. Then will go tell Vincent. He will want to come and see.”

“Very well, thank you, Mouse.” Leaving Mouse to scurry down into the garden to inform the men working there, Azrael followed Jamie down the tunnel towards the home area.

Even without the benefit of sight, he now knew the way instinctively, but he sensed some of the other Tunnel dwellers, like Jamie, still didn’t entirely trust him, and they liked to keep an eye on his activities whenever he came Below. His unfortunate relationship to the late Paracelsus was still a topic of ongoing discussion and much comment. Azrael was sorry for the pain and suffering his late father had caused this hidden community, but he could do nothing about the past. He could only hope that, in time, Jamie and the others would come to trust him and approve of his ongoing involvement in their world.

Unlike Mouse, who had accepted him immediately and wholeheartedly, not pausing to question his help or presence. But then they shared the common bond of being on the outside for some years, dwelling on what they could scavenge or steal from the community’s storehouses and resources, without being seen or caught.

“Ah, Azrael. Come in, please.” Father looked up from the book he was reading. “Sit down with me. Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

“Thank you.” Azrael accepted the offer. “You asked to see me, Father?”

“Yes, I did. Thank you, Jamie.” Father dismissed the girl with an acknowledging smile before he poured the tea and pushed the cup near to Azrael’s hand. “There you are.”

He sat back to consider his guest. “I have wanted to talk with you for some time now. But you have always been with Vincent or Mouse and the work crew, and you all seem to be coming and going with such purpose and concentration.  I didn’t wish to intrude on your efforts for our world. And I must thank you for them, as well. You have performed a miracle.”

Azrael inclined his head, accepting the older man’s words. “Thank you, Father. Your world is now my world. Apart from my new life among the Topsiders, which is still strange and mysterious to me, this is where I come when I need to escape the city life. I belong down here, and I’m simply grateful you have accepted me as you have, despite my background and parentage. Some among your people still find my recent connections unfortunate.”

“Yes, I have often wanted to talk to you about your father…” Father shuffled the papers on his desk. “Many years ago John was my good friend. He helped us found this whole community. We owe him a great deal for those early years. But I am afraid John soon outgrew us and our need to remain a shared community, and not a dictatorship with him in undisputed control. Once he even imagined having the Great Hall as his own chamber. He always did things on a grand scale. He was endlessly recreating himself.”

“Yes, Vincent told me what happened.” Azrael shook his head with sadness. “He also told me many other things about my father, in words and also mental images that said so much more. He allowed me to experience some of what you and your community were forced to suffer because of my father’s obsession with power and control. I understand now what happened was not your fault, even though that is what I was taught to believe all my life.”

He raised an impatient hand to his eyes, concealed behind the wrap around sunglasses he habitually wore now. “He took my sight. He tried to make me more than I was born to be.” Azrael sighed. “And I know he tried to commit the same crime against Vincent. He tried to create some tortured soul who was never meant to be. His obsession with trying to mold him into something he truly never was, for John Pater’s own ends, was terrible. I have no words to excuse his crimes.”

“Nor should you try to do so. They were never yours. But I am afraid your father may have lied to you as well.” Father fiddled with his teacup, searching for the right words. “Your mother…Emma…, I’m afraid she was grossly deceived into thinking John could ever love her, or truly care what happened to her. As far as I can ascertain, John’s first wife was Anna, a woman who lived here Below, with us. She died some years ago and is buried down by the Whispering Gallery. I never knew John had married again or brought his family Below. But then, he loved to keep his secrets, and I know he came and went between our worlds as he pleased.”

Father paused and then continued. “He also invented another life in the city above us, one where he commanded wealth, power and position. I know he always had plans — great things he wished to do and create. Your world, the world he created down there in the bowels of the earth, we suspect was simply one of many he held under his remorseless sway. Now we wonder how they continue to survive. Or if they now survive at all. I shudder to think what has become of them.”

“There be dragons…” Azrael shook his head. “Yes, Vincent told me of your suspicions. The need to control and have mastery over everything my father

touched or cared for in his own way, was everything to him. My mother was simply another tool to be used or abandoned at whim. But she was utterly blind to his faults because she loved him. And my brother may have fled to one of these other worlds. I have no idea what became of him after he left us.”

“And there it is. We have come to the whole centre of my troubled thoughts.” Father pushed his cup aside. “As far as I was aware, John could not father a child. I know he and Anna tried for some time, but the fault, he finally told me, was with him. Now I have the evidence of you before me, and I do not know what to believe any more. And you have told us about your missing brother. There lies another mystery. Was John simply trolling for sympathy with such an admission? Or was it a fact that he tried to get around by some other means. He had some medical training after all..”

“Are you saying…?” Azrael’s hands clenched. “Are you intimating that John Pater may not have been my biological father after all?”

“I have come to understand that anything is possible where John was concerned. But I simply do not know…” Father raised his hands helplessly. “Again the mind games he played, the twists and turns within his consciousness were diabolical. I doubt any of us could truly follow or hope to understand them all. He was a master of manipulation, and he gloried in his superiority over lesser men. His insanity had no boundaries. He had to win at all costs.”

He leaned forward to place his hand over Azrael’s, where they lay clasped tightly together on the table. “As I said, I have wanted to talk with you, but each time I try to approach the subject, I have no words. I am aware you share the same depth of empathetic intuition as Vincent. Perhaps you have your own suspicions from what he has told you or allowed you to see through the link you share. Perhaps we shall never know the whole truth. But I needed you to be aware of what I do know. And that we will always be here for you…always…”

“Thank you, Father.” Azrael returned the pressure of the older man’s hand. “My mother’s relationship with my…” he paused, frowning before continuing, “…with John Pater was not bound by love, but by some kind of dark, greedy sickness. As if my mother desperately needed to believe in what he had told her, in what he made her believe. That somehow, down there, in the depths of the earth, they were creating a new and better Eden, perfecting some great experiment for the betterment of man. Impossible, I know. But they fed off each other in an endless cycle of co-dependency. Many times, I ran away from home whenever my father would return. I felt unable to tolerate being forced to listen to their constant arguing. I feared I would become my father in time.”

He passed his free hand wearily across his eyes. “Perhaps it is better that we consign it all to the past. And do not speak of it again. The memory of my father only seems to cause pain. For me it was another life now — a place I do not care to revisit for the sake of my own sanity.”

“Then that is what we will do.” Father nodded gratefully. “John Pater will no longer be granted the space in our memories to threaten all that we have built here. I believe it is for the best.”

“Then it shall be so.” Azrael sat back. “Mouse insisted I inform you that the garden project is finished. He has sent the workers home, no doubt to their relief. The work has been hard and not always straightforward. But Mouse is sure we now have an excellent excuse for a party.”

“Any excuse is good enough for Mouse,” Father acknowledged on a laugh. “I’ll admit I’m anxious to see the garden for myself. I know William is planning all sorts of gastronomic delights now we have our own supply of fresh produce. Do you feel up to giving me the grand tour?”

“Of course. And we shall have to make sure we do not disappoint William.” Azrael got to his feet, reaching to assist Father.

“And what of Diana?” Father worried, as they left the chamber together. “Is she still intent on discovering all our secrets?”

“I am afraid we may have to disclose our existence in the near future,” Azrael admitted ruefully. “She is fully capable to finding out the truth on her own. I know she does not rest; she works day and night. She was extremely short tempered at the gallery opening. She watched me talking with Elliot and I could sense she was eager to know what we were saying. And when Joe joined us later in the evening…”

“Then we must leave that to your judgment. Come and talk to Vincent or me when you judge the time is near. I know the woman is determined and resourceful. But we do have a lot to thank her for in exposing Sarah’s killer and disposing of Gabriel. Perhaps she has earned the right to know of our existence. If you think she can be trusted, then the council will meet to consider it.”

“I will, Father.” Azrael laid his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I promise to give you fair warning. But my time spent down here is limited by her need to know more. After we have seen the garden, I must return Above before she becomes too suspicious over my present whereabouts. I can only hope Diana will be satisfied once she knows the truth. She is not an easy woman to please. But now that I know the truth about my father, perhaps she and I…” He shook his head helplessly, leaving the rest of the statement unsaid.

“Do not give up!” Father seized his arm in a tight grip. “I once advised Vincent to forget Catherine. I told him she would only bring him unhappiness. He said then he would be unhappy because he could not forget her. You have seen the evidence of how sage my advice can be sometimes.” The old man shook his head ruefully. “Diana is an astute woman who deals in the truth. Do not be afraid to ask for what you want.”

“You have given me much to think about…” Azrael exhaled slowly. “My poor mother went mad with grief and loneliness. But if it is true about John Pater not being my father, then the taint of true insanity has been removed from my blood. Perhaps there is hope, after all…”

*******

“We’re being twenty different shades of decadent here, you know.” Lying naked on her stomach on a sun lounger beside the pool, Shannon propped her chin in her hands to watch Elliot going through some papers at the table before her. “I mean, a private jet to Jamaica for breakfast, and then a helicopter to your own secluded island hideaway for lunch. I know you said we should get away for a long weekend…”

“I felt we needed to get away from the city. From all the media attention…” Elliot looked across at her somewhat absently before returning his attention to the paperwork. “That Bennett woman was just too nosy. She needs to cool off a bit. Joe telephoned yesterday to say she’s still running a private inquiry into Cathy. He only found out by accident. He’s trying to shut her down for good this time. We may have to fly back sooner than I’d planned.”

“Yes, well, on the night of the gallery opening, Azrael said he didn’t know how much longer he could keep her from discovering the truth. Short of kidnapping her and taking her out of the country, I don’t see what more we can do.”

“Joe and I have discussed disposing of her once before.” Elliot grimaced, shaking his head. “Her best attribute — her excellent detective skills — are becoming a liability now. But we do owe a great deal for using those same skills to save us, and all we care for, from certain destruction.”

“Well, we must leave it to Joe and Azrael’s judgement of how much more we can tolerate.” Shannon rose from the lounger, tucking a large cotton sarong around her body and beneath her arms as she walked to his side to look over his shoulder at the papers he was studying. “But what has got you so distracted in these?” She tapped the paperwork with her fingertip.

“An old mansion on the Upper East Side…” Elliot mused, tracing a finger down the page he had been studying. “Overlooking the river. It’s one of the last of its kind. My real estate investment company has been buying up properties there over the last few years, as they became available. Now my agent assures me they are an excellent investment opportunity and it’s a great time to sell up. We had been discussing how soon we could pass them on for a substantial profit. It will need some renovation work done on it first.”

He looked up at Shannon, studying the picture she made in the sunlight. “That was two years ago, before I met you. Now my agent is getting restless, and I’m stalling for time while I think about it all.”

Shannon gently smoothed the hair back from his forehead with a loving hand before bending to kiss the tip of his nose. “Thinking about what? Tell me…”

“So many things...” Elliot put aside the papers and reached to pull her down into his lap, placing a line of lingering kisses across her naked shoulder. “Thinking about the man I was before I knew anything about you and your world. Before meeting Vincent and knowing Catherine loved him, such an incredible human being, with all her heart. Wondering what I could do for them to repay them for what they have given me. I’ve been sitting here studying the provenance of some of the properties and I found something interesting...”

He reached for the discarded paperwork. “I found this.” His tracing finger stopped at a name. “It appears that Charles Chandler once owned this house. It looks like it’d been in his wife’s family for years, until she died. Then, within a year, he’d sold up. I don’t know, perhaps the memories were just too painful for him to go on living there without her.”

“Charles…you mean Catherine’s father?” Shannon turned to frown at the notation. “Surely not…”

“Well, I know Cathy lived on The Upper East Side; she told me so herself. I can only assume this is the same house. It all fits. The last owner sold it to me because they couldn’t afford the on-going upkeep. It needs a lot of work.”

“But…” Shannon moved to cup his bearded cheeks between her palms, staring down into his warm grey eyes. “Think of the possibilities… Do you… I mean, could we make something of this, for Vincent and Catherine…and their children? It would be wonderful if we could. It fits so neatly with the rest of my projects. It would make an incredible gift for everyone to enjoy.”

“That’s exactly what I was contemplating.” Elliot nodded thoughtfully. “It would take some doing. First I want to know how deep beneath this area of Manhattan the bedrock schist goes. It would be interesting to get hold of a map and see exactly what is down there, below the basement level. What accesses exist and what could be created. An old house like this must have some kind of steam tunnel beneath it. Perhaps even an old subway connection. Some of these old houses used to have their own lines once, back in the day. Whatever the access, it would have to be made very secure to work for them. Though I bet Vincent or Mouse would know exactly what’s down there. Maybe I should employ them, after all…”

“Have I told you recently how much I love you, Elliot Burch?”

“Not in so many words, not within the past few hours.”

“Then we must remedy that oversight immediately.” Shannon leaned down to capture his smiling mouth in a deep, intoxicating kiss.

The paperwork fluttered unnoticed to the tiled pool surround as they surrendered to the sensual pull of their mutual desire. Surging to his feet, in one fluid motion, Elliot stood to carry his love across the tiles towards the billowing white gauze curtains that concealed the oversized bed inviting them into the cool, shadowed interior of the bedroom…

*******

‘I took her hand in mine,

And we went out of the ruined place.

And, as the morning mists had risen long ago

When I first left the forge,

So the evening mists were rising now,

And in all the broad expanse of tranquil light

they showed to me,

I saw no shadow of another parting from her.’

Charles Dickens

“I haven’t lost the use of my legs, you know,” Catherine observed with a loving smile, as Vincent carried her through the candlelit quiet. “I will not break if you put me down.” Despite her protests, she fully enjoyed the sensation of being carried in her husband’s strong arms. It made her feel safe and very secure.

They had shared a simple evening meal in Shannon’s chamber. Now as they returned to their own chamber, most of the other tunnel folk were dining in the Long Gallery, or going about their evening duties. A soothing quiet shrouded everything, underscored by the tapping on the pipes. Pascal was still hard at work. The dreaming silence exactly fitted Catherine’s drifting attention.

“I do know that.” Vincent shifted her higher in his arms, bending to place a soft kiss on her parted lips. “But Father ordered you to rest as much as possible. And I am here to see that his orders are carried out to the letter.”

“Poor Father, I feel so sorry for him. Olivia told me about his trip up to see May.” Catherine shook her head, before resting her cheek gratefully against the solid warmth of her husband’s neck. “He’s only trying to reassert his authority down here because he found he had none up there. May is one very stubborn old lady.”

“Perhaps…” Vincent laughed softly. “But it is good advice. He wishes to invite May to our babies’ naming ceremony. And the idea seems to have grown organically into a combination with Summerfest and Mouse’s garden celebration. Everyone is invited.”

“Now that is a wonderful idea…” Catherine murmured sleepily. “We shall have to arrange it. We owe so much to May and her care of the girls from our world.”

“Yes…” Vincent nodded as they entered their chamber stealthily, and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I doubt we could keep her away now. She is looking forward to revisiting her youth, and Father didn’t have the heart to dissuade her. He is going to fix it so she can come this time.”

Immediately, Samantha rose from the homework Vincent had set her on American history. She had been seated at the table, taking her role of chief babysitter very seriously. She smiled, pressing a silencing finger to her lips, as she gathered her things and left the chamber on stealthy feet.

Vincent placed Catherine down on the bed, turning to pull off his boots and then stretching out beside her. “I would judge we have a few hours of sleep, before the twins awaken again,” he whispered against her ear, drawing up a comforter to cover them both. “I think we must make the most of it. Jacob asked if he could stay the night with Mary. I felt you could do with the extra rest.”

“Have I told you lately how much I love you, Mr. Wells?” Turning to settle her cheek on the broad expanse of his chest, Catherine flung one arm across his body drawing him against her. “At least we have the reassurance that we know when the twins are about to wake.”

She settled closer, finding his hand and threading her fingers through his. “You know, you are the best thing that ever happened to me…” she murmured drowsily, closing her eyes. “The very best thing. I just wish my father could be here to see us all now. I know he would be very pleased. He only ever wanted me to find love and be happy. Sometimes I feel he is hovering quite near to us, just watching and smiling…”

She raised her head to gaze regretfully at the silver-framed photograph of her father on the night-stand beside the bed before settling back again. “I miss him so much…” In the photo her father was younger and smiling in happier times.

“Then know he is close by. I have sensed him as well. With love anything is possible…” Vincent kissed her forehead, listening to her breathing as it deepened and lengthened. “I love you, Mrs. Wells. Sleep now.” He drew her closer still, carrying her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to each finger in turn. Wrapping his arms around her, he too closed his eyes and drifted away...

It seemed only moments later that the sudden staccato chatter of the pipes jerked him awake again. An intruder alert was being sounded, followed by a question from the nearest sentry, asking for identification. The answering code and password used was at least six months old. After listening for several more minutes, Vincent finally allowed his body to slowly relax again. Whoever the intruder was, they obviously belonged Below because they knew the language of the pipes, even if their password was outdated. The sentry on duty in that area could handle the rest.

He settled back again. Catherine rolled over in her sleep, murmuring softly. Vincent brought her close against him once more, her back now curved into his chest and abdomen. He rested his chin on the top of her head and breathed in her subtle perfume. Her warmth and beauty wrapped themselves around his senses, lulling him back to sleep on a deep sigh of contentment.

He knew if he were needed, he would be summoned. But for now there was only Catherine and their children, the intertwined strands of their ever deepening bond speaking only of much-needed rest and a deep sense of peace…

*******

Tony Gilbert turned to look back the way he’d come. Nothing about this part of the tunnel system was as he remembered it, even though it had been barely more than half a year since he’d last been home. He was well aware of Father’s driving need to constantly change the layout, close up the old and open new ways to the world Below. Keep it all as safe as he could from harm and unwanted discovery. He respected that, but it could be confusing to the uninitiated and the tardy visitor.

Tony also knew he was being watched. He could feel the unseen eyes studying his progress. “Or lack of it,” he remarked dryly, scratching his closely shaven head as he turned to look back the way he’d come.

Any moment now he expected to be confronted. He wondered if they would send Vincent, or was his good friend away far down below, exploring all the hidden places and secrets of the deepest caverns. It had been a long time since the two younger boys had gone with Devin to discover the Nameless River, that ran so deep below the home tunnels. They had found an icy cold torrent of endless black water rushing heedlessly through the darkness that had chilled them to the bone.

A search party had been put together by the time they had worked their way back up to the tunnels again. Devin had taken a real tongue lashing over that escapade from Father, for endangering the lives of the other two boys. Vincent had tried to stand up to the old man, tried to say it had all been his idea to go exploring, but Father hadn’t listened. He hadn’t spoken to Devin for days after that incident. It was another of the many emotional wedges that had been driven between them, finally forcing Devin to leave the tunnels for good.

“And now it looks like I’m lost again. I bet Father will have something to say about that when I finally get to see him…” Tony turned full circle once more, hands raised in defeat. “Okay, where are you guys?”

He’d stopped to tap his reply to the question posed about his identity after the intruder alert had been sounded. He’d kept the code simple and used the only password he could remember. He knew Father would have changed that as well by now. But he was unconcerned as he rounded the next bend. He knew he would have company soon enough and the guide he needed to find his way to the home tunnels. It felt good to be finally going home again after so many months away.

“Who…?” A familiar voice questioned as a tousled head suddenly popped out from a hidden sentry station. “Got password wrong. You know today’s one?”

“Sorry, Mouse. You’ve got me there.” Tony shrugged. “The last one I remember is Chili Dog. Guess that’s not much use to me now.”

“Very old one. Last year’s.” Mouse scowled. “Moved on now. So, who?”

“Mouse, it’s Tony. You do remember me surely?”

“Tony…? Okay, wait there.” Mouse withdrew his head, and there was a furiously whispered conversation. Mouse shrugged as he reappeared. “Tony who went away to London? That Tony? Or another Tony?”

“That Tony.” Tony shook his head on a short laugh. “You can’t gave forgotten me that quickly, Mouse. I showed you all sorts of neat stuff Up Top.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Look different somehow. Lost weight. A lot. Too skinny now.” Mouse edged out of his hiding place followed closely by Jamie, crossbow at the ready, her eyes assessing and distrustful. “But I remember the singing.” Mouse clapped his hands over his ears. “Too much noise. Day and night, always making noise. Worse than Father’s talking at Mouse.”

“Sorry about that, Mouse. But a man’s gotta practice his art.” Tony grinned. “It is good to see you again, too. So, are we cool?”

“Could be, could be not.” Mouse shrugged. “Don’t know the password. Have to take you to Father. He decides if you stay or go.”

“Fair enough.” Tony tried hard to keep his voice neutral, his amusement in check. He watched Jamie with the crossbow. He figured she knew her way around the weapon by the way she was holding it. Now was not the time to make any wrong moves. “Lead the way, Mouse.”

“Okay good, okay fine. Jamie stay.” He waved a dismissing hand at the girl who scowled furiously at him before retreating slowly back into the hidden lookout.

“So, how are you, Mouse? Have you asked Jamie to be your girl yet?” Tony inquired, as Mouse led the way towards the home tunnels. “You do like her, I can see that. I think she’s sweet on you too.”

“Me…?” Mouse jumped and frowned. “Jamie is…Jamie.” His shoulders hunched and his chin sinking to his chest, he waved his hands in the air before they settled back into the large pockets of his coat. “Jamie is my friend. Good friend. The best.”

“Okay, Mouse.” Tony grasped his shoulder. “I get the picture. It’s cool.”

“Well, anyway, today’s password. Dutch Courage.” Mouse brightened. “But no need to remember it. Tomorrow’s will be different. Better ask Father. It’s his turn to pick.”

“And Vincent…?” Tony asked. “How is he? Still the same?”

“Vincent is Vincent.” Mouse bobbed his head. “Vincent and Catherine got more babies now, two of them. Girls. More noise.” He sighed. “Too much noise.”

“Good Lord…” Tony whistled through his teeth. “Well, well, things have certainly gone ahead around here. It seems I’ve been away too long. Last time I was here they only had Jacob. Seems like it’s way past time for a long family catch-up.”

Father looked up from his evening meal as Mouse clattered down the short flight of steps into his chamber. The tinker turned, beckoning at someone behind him. “Brought you the intruder. Says he’s Tony. Tony who went away to London months ago. Singing Tony. But he don’t look like that Tony.”

Tony entered, his mouth curved in a wry smile. Mouse pointed at him. “Father know?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mouse…” Father put aside the medical journal he was reading and rose from his chair. “Sometimes I wonder where your head is.” He held out his hands. “It’s good to see you home again, Tony. Though I must admit, you do look somewhat different. You’ve lost a great deal of weight for a start.”

“Sorry about that and the hair.” Tony laughed, running an apologetic hand over his head. “There were a lot of sacrifices I had to make for my latest role in a major movie. It called for me to be bald and half-starved looking, since I was playing a stow-away on a dead ship lost in space. I figured Mouse wasn’t too sure about me. In the dark I could’ve been anyone.”

“Oh, yes, remember Tony now.” Mouse clapped his hands. “Took me Up Top. Went to see all his stuff at the Phantom theatre. Good stuff, all radio-controlled and computers. Gave Mouse lots of ideas. Like this Tony.”

“Thank you, Mouse.” Father shook his head on a short laugh. “Perhaps you had better get back to your duties. I think Tony will be safe enough with me.”

“Oh, okay good, okay fine.”

As Mouse clattered out, Father indicated a chair at his table. “Please, sit down, Tony. Have you eaten? Can I get you anything?”

Tony held up his hand. “Thanks, but I’m fine. I grabbed something at Shuman’s before I came down. But please go on with yours before it gets cold.”

“None of us have forgotten the magic of our night at the Phantom,” Father remarked as he resumed eating. “It was a truly wonderful evening. The music, the atmosphere — everything was incredible. We can never thank you enough for sharing it all with us.”

“I am truly glad Elliot and I could organise it for you.” Tony smiled. “And that Vincent and Catherine got a romantic night out together. We should do more of it now that I’m back in town. I’m sure something could be arranged.”

“A good idea.” Father frowned. “But perhaps only for the young ones. It was too much excitement for me to do it all again at my age. So tell me, what of you?” He looked up from cutting his food. “Are you back in New York for good, or is this just another flying visit?”

“They’ve asked me back to Broadway this time to portray Raoul in Phantom. It’ll make for an interesting change of pace.” Tony put a hand to his shaven head. “I’ve been granted a month off to grow this back and put the weight back on. I figured William would like to help with that. So I thought, what better way to spend it than at home with the folks.” He shrugged. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t be here for Vincent and Catherine’s wedding. That must have been a very special night. But after Les Mis, the offer of a movie role in the UK was just too tempting. But at least I’ve made it home in time for Summerfest again. Last year’s was truly special. I’m sure I can talk Shannon into singing with me again.”

“Well, I know Angelo will be very happy to see you.” Father smiled. “He has not stopped talking about you ever since you gave us your brilliant performance at the last Summerfest in the Great Hall. He was so sure you could magic Mr. Lloyd-Webber out of thin air. He’s been waiting impatiently for you to return.”

“Oh, I’ve already told Andrew all about him,” Tony replied. “He’s keen to see what Angelo can do when he’s ready for the world Above. Just need to fine-tune a few arrangements and make sure the lad is ready for the outside world.”

“Excellent. Then you must tell him so. But leave that until the morning. You should go and rest. I know everyone will want to talk to you tomorrow. Summerfest is going to be an event this year. I am glad you have come home in time for it.”

“Well, I’m not that tired. I think I could find the time for a little chess…” Tony watched Father speculatively. “Or are you out of practice?”

“I’m sure I still know enough to beat you.” Father pushed his plate aside eagerly. “Care to make it the best of five? The night is still young…”

*******

Securely settled on his father’s hip, Jacob clung to Vincent’s vest as he ducked through the cavern’s small opening into the echoing darkness beyond. Complete trust in his father’s excellent abilities to find new treats and exciting adventures made the boy wriggle with anticipation, but he had been told to be silent, so silent he would be. He leaned his cheek against Vincent’s, his blue eyes shining with excitement as the pair peered into the darkness, both blessed with enhanced eyesight well beyond the normal range. Still Jacob could see nothing of interest. Frustrated anticipation got the better of his limited self-control.

He turned to place his lips against Vincent’s ear. “Where are they…?” he whispered.

“Wait, you will see…” Vincent breathed, laying a cautioning finger across his son’s lips. “We have disturbed them. They just need time to settle again.”

“Oh, okay…” Jacob mumbled against the silencing finger.

He settled back as Vincent eased silently away to the right, leaving the narrow entrance to the chamber and its faint light for the deepest shadows. His father crouched down onto his haunches, cuddling his son’s small body into his lap. Again Jacob placed his cheek against Vincent’s, a long-familiar habit that made his father’s heart swell with love. Jacob called this action wanting to see what his daddy sees...

The boy’s quicker heartbeat pattered along beneath Vincent’s. His father’s inner awareness of the twins and Catherine added their own rhythms to a calming sense of time and place. It felt good to relax and allow the quiet to seep in. Far below them the tunnel world went about its business, most dwellers taking their evening meals or doing necessary chores. Jacob and his father had slipped away for some precious time of their own. Soon it would be bedtime for a young boy. But not just yet…

“There, do you see?” Vincent pointed into the gloom.

“I see…” Jacob wriggled in his excitement. “Ohhh, pretty…”

In the cavern’s inky blackness tiny lights began to wink on, one by one. Then thousands of miniature illuminations began to appear, glow-worms angling for their supper, complete with a sticky lure and a light to fish by. Soon the whole cavern was filled with a soft, unearthly white glow, illuminating its craggy walls, high ceiling and the still, black surface of a small seep-water pool against the far wall.

“Now watch…” Vincent clasped his son’s small hands between his own and clapped them together once. The sharp sound echoed around the cavern and immediately every one of the tiny fishing lights winked out again.

“Oh, where’d they go?” Jacob frowned in his disappointment.

“Just wait,” Vincent whispered.

The little boy froze, barely seeming to breathe as he waited. After a few moments of darkness a few lights winked on again. Then they were followed by more until the cavern was fully illuminated again. Jacob looked at his father for approval and Vincent nodded. Grinning with excitement, Jacob clapped his hands together and everything went dark again. Giggling, he tumbled back into the warm security of his father’s welcoming embrace.

“Neat adventure.” He giggled. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You are most welcome. Uncle Devin used to bring me here when I was about your age.” Vincent kissed the top of his shaggy head. “Is it time for bed yet?”

“No, not just yet…” Jacob settled back into the familiar position with his cheek pressed against his father’s. “Just a couple more, please. Mummy won’t mind.”

“Just a couple more it is, then,” Vincent agreed as the pair settled in to wait for their unwitting quarry to light up once again.

*******

“Cathy Chandler, I’m so tired of being kept in the dark…” Edie sat staring at her computer screen. “You can’t go on treating me like a mushroom. She doesn’t call, she doesn’t write, anyone would think she’s ignoring me.” Edie pulled a discontented face as she began to tap the keyboard. “Catherine Chandler, let’s check you out…again.”

An hour later she whistled softy. “A baby boy and a man who didn’t hang around after the birth. But I like what you’ve done with the trust fund. Wish I had a rich old daddy.” She blew a discontented sigh. “Geeze, girlfriend, I thought I taught you how to pick ‘em. Did you finally go all out for one of those deep, mysterious types who’d rather hold your hand and gaze soulfully into your eyes? Tell you all the things you wanted to hear instead of taking good care of you and your baby? Where’d ya go wrong this time? I tried to warn you about that sort. Now let’s see what else I can find…”

She scrolled quickly through the rest of her files. But no matter how deep she dug, she could uncover no current address or even a phone number. Nothing that could give her any sort of clue as to her friend’s immediate whereabouts. It was a frustrating puzzle. Edie detested puzzles of any kind.

“And it looks like you’re still hanging out somewhere secret, some place you don’t want to tell me about. You just up and disappeared on me again…” She shook her head regretfully as she carefully erased all she had found from her computer. “One day soon you’re going to get in touch with your Auntie Edie again, and boy am I gonna give you a piece of my mind. You Up-Town girls think you’ve got it all figured out. Big mistake. You can trust me, you know. With whatever it is you got to hide. I can keep secrets.”

Then her own sense of guilt attacked her. She realised it had been too long since she’d visited her grandmother, an old lady who ran a small convenience store on the edge of Chinatown. Joe Maxwell and the Snapper case he’d run had kept the whole department extra busy, but now there was no excuse. Edie made a mental note to make time to go and see the old lady the very first weekend she had some free time.

It was well past time she went home again anyway. Maybe on the way she’d drop in at Joe’s office, dig around some and see what she could find out. Grill the man a little. What could it hurt, right?

*******

Joe slumped behind his desk. It was the end of the day at the finish of an impossible week and he was beyond dog-tired. He hurled a dart at the board, missing it completely, and burying the projectile deep in the door frame. He grimaced sourly, thinking that about summed up his entire life. Wide of the mark in all areas…

Diana’s ongoing refusal to cease her investigations into Catherine’s new life was disturbing his ability to rest, or even sleep these last few days since he’d discovered what she was up to in her apartment. The weekend loomed with no hope of his being able to make the woman see reason.

“I guess it’s time to call in the heavy troops.” Joe glared at his telephone. “Maybe Elliot can make the woman see sense. Heaven knows I’ve tried…”

He figured if he couldn’t warn her off, maybe Elliot could buy her off. Or come up with some new plan to divert Diana from her chosen course before she sunk them all.

Kidnapping her and transporting her somewhere far away out of the country was such an attractive plan, Joe dwelled for several entranced seconds on the idea. He only abandoned the daydream after deciding that whoever was unlucky enough to end up with Diana, would soon be sending her right back again. Besides, Azrael might object to having his girlfriend transported to places unknown. It was no use. They were in a bind, and they would just have to make the best of it. He lifted the receiver and began to dial…

*******

Diana sat and stared at the thick folder in her hand. It had been in a small box hidden among a larger pile of file containers hand-delivered to her from the local FBI office. Using every means at her disposal, she’d cast her net as wide as she dared, hoping to pull in some new information about Gabriel’s dealings she had not previously uncovered. Her powerful clients were getting increasingly restless, and she needed to find a way to close the case and soon. Time was a luxury she didn’t have.

It was well past midnight before she finally reached the smaller box. Lifting it onto her desk, she could see immediately it was different from all the others. She did a quick check and found it wasn’t even on the list she’d signed for. She could only assume it had been added to the collection by mistake. Probably by some over-zealous file clerk keen to escape early for the weekend, and deciding that sending over one more box than she requested would keep her quiet until Monday.

Scanning the box again she suddenly felt an odd prickling of anticipation. She shivered as something stirred — whispering — in the back of her mind. Was someone trying to tell her something…?

Given the lateness of the hour and her tired state of mind Diana had already half-decided not to bother with it, but the rising sense of premonition prompted her to lift the lid and look inside. What she saw made her heart race and her blood run cold.

“Gabriel King…” Diana opened the folder on top of the pile within the box and then stood staring at it with disbelieving eyes. “Well, the man certainly thought highly of himself…” She lifted the file out carefully, handling it as if it would explode at any moment. “Some people just won’t lie down and admit they’re already dead and buried. This should be interesting...”

She placed the file in the middle of her desk and sat down to read it carefully. The more she read the wider her eyes became, and when she finally reached the end, her mouth was wide open with disbelief. If what the file said was true, she had finally uncovered the mother of all mother-lodes. This could settle the Gabriel case once and for all. If only she could find a way to bring it all to a head. Get access to the unbelievable source mentioned in the file…

“But how?” she murmured, considering her options, which were few and far between right now. She’d ruffled too many official feathers recently. Even the mayor was backing away from any further involvement. “Maybe I could ask Joe… If he’s still talking to me, that is.” She blew a discontented sigh.

She’d just turned back to the beginning, searching for any clues she might have missed, when the sudden sound of impatient knocking on the door of her apartment made her start badly. She closed the file with a snap, getting to her feet, muttering her impatience.

“This had better be good…” She unlocked the door and kept the chain on as she opened it a crack to glare out into the hall. What met her frowning gaze made her want to smile with a sense of deep satisfaction, but she managed to keep her expression neutral. So she was finally getting somewhere…Joe’s impressive back-up had arrived on her doorstep looking decidedly put out and furiously angry…

“Good evening…” She undid the chain and stepped back, opening the door wider. “Well, well, Elliot Burch…how very convenient. Just the man I wanted to see.” She looked past Elliot’s shoulder to the looming shapes of his two large bodyguards. “This time you can leave your pit-bulls on the doorstep. I want to talk to you in private. Come on in. I have something here I know you’re really going to want to see…”

*******

Vincent paused, lifting his eyes from the book of Rilke poetry he had been reading. He thought he could hear music, someone playing the piano with effortless skill. He paused to listen, but the passing of a chattering subway train quickly drowned out the elusive sound. Perhaps it had only been someone’s radio.

He shrugged, turning his attention back to the book. He had left Catherine and their children sleeping in the sheltering dark of the early morning. Jacob had been tired but happy when they returned from their most recent adventure. He had chatted about it long into the night, until sleep finally claimed him.

Vincent smiled. He had risen early, sensing a pull — a need to walk the tunnels and corridors of his world, making sure everything was safe and secure. It was the time of day he most enjoyed, when few were about and he could walk alone.

Earlier he had discovered Father and Tony playing chess by the light of Father’s treasured, battery-powered Tiffany lamp, neither man willing to admit defeat. Father looked up as Vincent entered. “It’s taken me all night, but I finally have him on the ropes. It’s five games all, and I’m winning this one.”

“Who says I’m not letting you win, old man.” Tony stretched languidly as he grinned at him, before rising from his chair to embrace Vincent. “I had one or two lessons from an old Russian chess master back in London.”

“Well, I hope he gave you your money’s worth.” Father scowled at him. “Because I don’t intend to be beaten this time. Not now…” He returned his frowning gaze to the board, chewing on his bottom lip as he considered his next move, extended his hand, paused, then changed his mind. He hunched his shoulders in concentration.

“Perhaps I’ll return in time to challenge the winner. If, finally, there is one.” Vincent smiled as he left them to their friendly feud.

The quiet chatter of the pipes, the greetings of the few tunnel dwellers who were already up and about attending to their chores, underscored the deep sense of peace that moved through Vincent’s entire being. He had rarely felt so restful. Even the memory of his recent unspoken promise to the moon’s serene white face could not disturb his present sense of calm and well being.

He was passing through a poorly lit area of the tunnels, where few dared to venture, the open book his sole companion as he ambled along, having no particular destination in mind. He quoted softly the lines of the poem he had just read.

‘For whenever the hero stormed through the stations of love, each heartbeat intended for him lifted him up, beyond it; and, turning away, he stood there, at the end of all smiles, -- transfigured.’

“Transfigured…” He shook his head, repeating the rest of the lines softly once more before his attention was distracted again by the sound of a piano being played, somewhere beyond the wall beside him. He turned to frown at the thick barrier of old brick and crumbling mortar, reaching to press one hand against the wall’s rough surface. He leaned closer – Chopin, if he was not mistaken. He stood listening to the pure notes being skilfully played by an unknown hand. It didn’t sound like it was coming from a radio…

Voices from the tunnel behind him made him turn to look back. Kipper, Eric and Angelo, along with a group of their friends were coming towards him with skate boards tucked under their arms, obviously looking for some place to make their fun away from adult supervision, before they were summoned back for their morning chores.

As the children greeted and surrounded Vincent, the music beyond the wall swelled and flowed seamlessly. Angelo leaned closer to press his ear to the brickwork, his attention also caught by the music. He smiled, reaching to tug at Vincent’s sleeve.

“Chopin?” Vincent questioned. “Someone is playing it?”

“Yes…” Angelo nodded with delight, his hands dancing through the air. “Much better than the radio. Piano Concerto Number One in E minor,” his fingers spelled out the words. “The playing is brilliant, a true artist. Beautiful…” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“We’ve actually seen a man,” Kipper said, pointing at the wall. “Up on the street and once in the upper subway tunnels. He looked like he was searching for something, like a door, maybe. Or some way down to the lower levels. But when he heard us coming, he went away again. Like he didn’t want us to see him. He was wearing a big black hat, and he had a scarf covering his face.”

Kipper looked away along the tunnel. “Mr. Rossini up at the grocery store says the guy bought an old brownstone on East 70th Street last month. He said he was going to do it up, but he’s done nothing since. Gets all his stuff delivered to the door and hardly ever goes out. That address is somewhere right above us now. I’ve heard him playing the piano before. Sounds pretty good.”

“Better than good.” Angelo’s hands flashed his scorn as he scowled at his friend. “A maestro. I wish I could play like that…” He shrugged. “Would love to meet him some day…”

“Well, if any of you see this man in the tunnels again, come and find me,” Vincent told the boys. “We must be sure he does not find his way into our world without our knowledge. We have no idea what he could want.”

“Okay, Vincent.” Kipper shrugged. “I’ll make sure we send a message.”

Vincent watched the children run on down the tunnel, laughing and chattering as they went. He leaned one shoulder against the wall and closed his eyes as Angelo had done. Beside him, the haunting music flowed and crested for several more glorious minutes before finally dying away into silence and then there was only the clattering of a passing subway train to fill the void. Vincent sighed and straightened, placing one hand flat against the brickwork and wishing the unseen artist well. He would come here again to listen. He would also bring Catherine when she was stronger.

Then the dreaming silence was suddenly filled with a summons on the pipes, signalling a message for Vincent. Could he go immediately to the drainage tunnel entrance? He had a visitor who needed to speak with him urgently.

Abandoning his wanderings, Vincent tucked the book of poetry into one of the deep pockets in his great mantle. He turned and hurried back towards the surface, wondering who the visitor could be.

*******

“I’m not sure I even know where to begin…” Elliot passed a distracted hand around the back of his neck as he stood in the early morning shadows of the Central Park drainage entrance. “But I knew it couldn’t wait. I’ve been up all night thinking about it.” He glanced up at Vincent’s set expression. “You two have been through so much already. It seems grossly fair to burden you with this now, but I have no choice. This is just too big and unbelievable. You needed to know immediately.”

Vincent placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, stilling his agitation. “You sent the message Below, asking me to meet you urgently. You also said it was something you wished to discuss privately with me, without Catherine’s presence or knowledge. Tell me, then. What is it?”

“Yes…” Elliot released his breath in a rushing sigh. He reached to grip Vincent’s hand with his own. “I wanted to tell you first.”

“Then do so, Elliot,” Vincent encouraged. “Tell me what you find so difficult to say.”

“Joe. It was Joe who sent me down this new road.” Elliot stepped away to take a short turn around the entrance before walking back again. “He was getting nowhere with trying to divert Diana’s attention from the mysteries she cannot solve. She wants to know what we know. Joe thought I might be able to buy her off if I offered her enough money. I went to see her tonight.”

“A novel approach that smacks of desperation,” Vincent commented dryly. “If I know Ms. Bennett, I doubt it worked.”

“Yes, the whole idea was a total bust. She laughed at me.” Elliot shook his head. “She’s convinced Azrael, Joe, and I, know more than we are willing to impart; which, of course, is the truth. But when Joe went to see her last week he discovered she’d begun another investigation — had new boards set up and everything. Joe tried to reason with her and got nowhere. So he thought if I went to see her, I might persuade her she’s wasting her time. She’s looking into everything, including what happened that night here at the carousel and you. You, most of all. She is aware that you saved her life that night.”

He frowned. “But last night…suddenly she’s all pleased to see me and invites me in. Then, right out of the blue, she offered up a sweetener. She said I must be sure and tell you. Didn’t believe me when I said I had no idea who she was talking about. She said from this moment on, we’re to stop treating her like a fool. The deal is, if Joe and I get you to tell her everything she wants to know, she’ll give you access to some new and incredible information that she’s just uncovered in her investigations. I’m not sure I even believe it myself.”

“What new information could she possibly have to offer?” Vincent spread his hands wide with frustration. “What does she think she knows that would encourage us to allow her access to our world, before we are ready to admit her? Allow her into all our secrets. Does she imagine we are that gullible?”

“That’s what I said, and then she came right out with it. And that’s the incredible part of all this.” Elliot spread closed fists with impotent frustration. “If I hadn’t seen the information for myself I would never have believed her. But she swears it’s all true. And she can prove it. Said she found it by accident a few hours ago.”

“What, Elliot? What is it?” Vincent seized his shoulder as the other man was about to swing away for another agitated turn around the space before them.

“If you can believe what she says, it’s about Cathy’s dad, Charles Chandler.” Elliot’s grey eyes looked deep into his friend’s frowning gaze. “I don’t know. It seems utterly…incredible. But it appears he’s not dead after all. It was all a government cover-up…”

“Not dead…?” Vincent echoed in stunned confusion. “How can he be not dead? What does that statement even mean? If he is not dead, then where has he been all this time? It doesn’t seem credible.” He forced down his sense of disbelief so he would not disturb Catherine through their shared connection. He knew he must discover the whole truth first.

“That’s all Diana would tell me.” Elliot’s mouth thinned with disgust. “She said she knows she owes you big time for that night at the carousel, but she wouldn’t divulge anything more about the case until she gets some answers. She was watching us all talking at the new gallery opening a couple of weeks ago, and I swear she looked like she wanted to shoot us one at a time. I’ve never seen her look so angry. Not even down in the tunnels when Mouse brought her back up lumbered with all those paintings. And when she demanded to interview Shannon about her late husband’s death, I went along to make sure no one got too close. She didn’t like that either.”

“She is an excellent chess player,” Vincent commented dryly. “She is bringing our queen into play earlier than we expected and now the next move must be ours. She has called our bluff, knowing that we are most vulnerable where Catherine is concerned.”

“Yes, and now she’s got us right where she wants us.” Elliot shook his head. “I managed to get hold of Azrael and left him manning the fort for as long as he can hold out. But I know he’s almost at the point of running for cover again down here in that garden of his. We need to do something and soon.”

“I don’t understand any of this.” Vincent’s brows pulled together. “But if Diana has that kind of information, I don’t think there is anything we can do but agree to her terms. To give Catherine back her father, I would risk everything possible. But only if you are satisfied her information is genuine. This is about Catherine after all.”

“Well, what she showed me was official looking enough. A whole stack of FBI files pertaining to witness protection, she said. Someone must have slipped up when they gave it to her. Or maybe there’s someone with a conscience who knows the truth and finally wanted to share. But it seems our late and unlamented Gabriel had a hand in this somewhere. Something about Charles getting caught up in some nasty corporate dealings with Gabriel’s dummy corporations and shell companies.  And then he had to go into hiding, for his own safety, when he tried to blow the whistle on it all. And I thought what that man did to me was bad enough. But this…”

Elliot’s lips thinned with disgust. “The authorities had to make his death totally believable or Charles would’ve been hunted down and killed. Apparently the FBI smuggled him out of the hospital in the coffin we saw buried later, and put him on a private jet bound for L.A. He’s never been allowed back since that night. He’s been told it’s just too dangerous. That they’re not sure Gabriel’s empire is fully dead and gone, and they want more information from him. But that’s all bluff.

“They seem to think he has more to tell and he’s holding out on them. Some kind of insurance policy, I guess. That’s all Diana would allow me to see for now. But she was all for driving to L.A. to collect him, right then and there. I said that was out of the question. Leave it to me and Joe to deal with officially. But we’ve got to move on this before word gets out.”

“Gabriel…” Vincent breathed the name on a note of intense disgust. “First Paracelsus rears his head again in our world, and now the spectre of Gabriel must haunt us once more. I have no idea what to do with the information. What am I to tell Catherine that will not cause her tremendous worry and concern? Especially if Diana is mistaken in any of this. I will not allow my wife to be upset by some nebulous information and speculation. I will need to see this definitive proof.”

“Diana seemed very sure of herself.” Elliot shrugged. “She was quite determined she was correct in all she’s saying. And I will admit I have never known her to be wrong. She did allow that if I was going to be any help at all, it would be to arrange a meeting between the two of you. Then she would divulge more of her source and give everything she has to Joe and the D.A.’s office. She’s sure he can make it possible for Cathy to be eventually reunited with her father. Those are her terms, take them or leave them.”

“She knows full well we will take them.” Vincent walked slowly to the tunnel entrance to stare out into the new dawn. “We have trusted her with the knowledge of Azrael’s world deep beyond ours, and she has not betrayed that trust. And she has not tried to force her way back into our world and she does know the way. She is patient and methodical.” He looked back, shaking his head. “As I said, she’s an excellent chess player.”

His shoulders lifted and he sighed. “If it were only for me, I would say we should wait for more proof, but for Catherine’s sake there can be no question of that. It would mean everything to her to see her father again. To have him back in her life and meet his grandchildren. She’s believed he’s been dead these last few years. I have no idea what to say now.” His broad shoulders rose and fell.

“Then I will see Joe, and together we will arrange everything for you.” Elliot came to stand beside him, taking hold of Vincent’s arm. “We will organise this meeting far away from the tunnels, somewhere neutral. I have a few abandoned buildings to choose from. And we will all be there, Joe and Azrael and I. I’ve already put through a phone call telling Manning to pull his operatives out of the field. They cannot be involved in any of this now. We must trust Diana will not do anything stupid. If it is only a meeting with you that she wants, then that’s what she’ll get. Beyond that, I will not allow her to intrude any further into your world until we’ve gained access to everything she knows about Cathy’s dad. Don’t worry, Vincent.”

“Thank you, Elliot.” Vincent gripped his hand. “But how can I not worry? I cannot tell Catherine any of this and any meeting with Diana will cause Father to worry. We knew this day must come, but not so soon. And until we have settled this matter and seen all the evidence, we cannot decide what to do for the best. Everything Charles Chandler knew about his daughter and her life has completely changed. And that night Catherine took me to see a man she had been told was dying. Even if it has been nothing but a cruel charade we still told him everything about us. If he was aware of us on any level, beyond whatever state they had placed him in medically, he knows the truth. What can we tell him now if he is alive?”

“That Catherine is truly happy and doing fine. I’d tell him she’s loved and cared for. I think that is all he ever wanted for her. I guess the whole truth is all we have now.” Elliot shook his head. “So we must make the best of it with what we have. It will be all right, Vincent. I won’t let anything happen to you and those you love when I am there to prevent it. I will put Cleon onto finding out the truth. He’s the best at what he does.”

“Then go and tell Diana we agree to her terms. Inform me of the time and the place and I will be there. And she is to come unarmed. You must make that a stipulation. For Catherine’s sake, I pray this new information is correct. But it does seem impossible. And now I must go and tell Father…”

*******

“Alive…?” Father dragged down his reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger in agitation. Tony had finally retired to bed, triumphant after taking out the last chess game to beat his erstwhile opponent. Father’s previously jubilant mood had consequently soured.

“Alive…” He stared at Vincent seated across from him and dropped his hand. “How can he be alive? Catherine was told he had a stroke that he did not survive. Surely this new information is nothing more than a fishing expedition to force our hand. Make us tell that woman the truth she has worked so hard to uncover.”

“Elliot assured me it is not,” Vincent replied quietly, pressing his fingertips together before his lips. He spread his hands and shook his head. “He says he has seen the proof and it all appears to be authentic. I think Diana’s terms are quite reasonable, given the circumstances. A meeting is all she asks for.”

“Reasonable!” Father slammed the flat of his hand down on the table, making the chess pieces jump. “Sweet heaven, if this is some sort of trap… Vincent, are you so sure we can trust her? We are allowing her to set the rules here.”

“We must, for Catherine’s sake.” Vincent leaned forward. “There can be no greater reason than that. But we will choose the meeting place.”

“Yes…” Father sighed gustily. “You are right, of course. But Vincent, you must be very careful. Do not trust her any more than you need to. She is forcing us into a corner for her own ends. She could have handed over the information to Elliot in good faith, in return for your having saved her life from Gabriel’s killers. I would have thought better of her then. But you have no obligation to reveal yourself to her. Just answer her questions and get out of there as soon as you can. Let Azrael and the others take care of the rest.”

“So far she has shown no inclination to act on the knowledge she does have,” Vincent repeated what he had said to Elliot. “She has kept all our secrets, every one of them. I think it is time we trusted her, a little more. She has earned that right, at least.”

“Trusted who?” a soft voice questioned from the chamber entrance.

Vincent knew his wife was standing there even before she spoke. He glanced up at Catherine. He felt Father stiffen beside him and heard him clear his throat in warning.

“It seems Diana Bennett is once more coming far too close to us and our secrets.” Vincent stood, inviting Catherine down into the chamber with his hand outstretched. “She is giving Joe and Elliot no peace, and driving Azrael to distraction. We were discussing the timing of finally introducing her to our world before she finally digs her way down to us.”

“About time, I say.” Catherine nodded, sliding her arm around Vincent’s waist and reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We have trusted her so far with everything she has discovered by herself and she has not betrayed us, even though she has had the opportunity to do so. I say it is time we allowed her to know the truth. She has been down to Azrael’s world after all. She is almost halfway here.”

“Very well.” Vincent put both his arms around her, drawing her close against him and kissing the top of her head. “Have I told you lately how wise you are?”

“Not in so many words.” Catherine returned his embrace before drawing back to look up at him quizzically. “What is it, Vincent? What has made you look so worried? I can sense your unease. You can trust Diana, I’m sure of it. But there is something more, I can feel it. Something you’re not telling me.”

“I am only concerned about the depth of that trust we must explore now.” Vincent shook his head. He would not lie to Catherine, but nor would he share the knowledge that could potentially be nothing more than a clever ruse. He would not upset her at this time and give her the slimmest cause to hope where there very well could be none. It was his burden to bear alone for now.

“Joe, Azrael, and Elliot are all going to be at this meeting,” Father put in, his eyes filled with concern. “Vincent will not be alone. And Ms. Bennett will not be armed; that is a stipulation we must insist on.”

“And when is this meeting?” Catherine took Vincent’s arm.

“Elliot will set the time and place as soon as possible and then inform me. It will be somewhere safe and secluded far from here.” Vincent cupped her face. “Please do not worry. I will not let anyone harm what we have now.”

“I know that, Vincent.” Catherine leaned into his palm. “And Father and I will wait until you get back. I’m sure Diana has guessed most of what you have to tell her anyway. She is a very astute woman.”

“I’m afraid that idea gives me little comfort,” Father remarked morosely, staring into the middle distance and fiddling with the chess pieces before him. “But it seems now we have been left with no choice.”

*******

“What is this place?” Diana looked around her with deep suspicion, probing the darkness with her flashlight.  “I thought you were rich. So how come you haven’t paid the electricity bill?”

“This is a safe place.” Elliot stood watching her with narrowed eyes. “Far away from prying eyes and nosy neighbours. And we have all the light we need. We have no wish to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Well, it looks like a fire trap to me.” Diana frowned into the shadowed depths of the cluttered old warehouse. “I can’t believe anyone would want to meet up in a moldy old place like this in the middle of the night. So…since you’ve decided to call off Manning’s men, am I finally going to see Catherine Chandler’s mysterious lover? Or have you brought me here under false pretenses?”

“You’ll meet him,” Joe growled from behind Elliot. “But first there are some rules that you will agree to, or the meeting’s off.”

“Then Cathy will not get to see her father again.” Diana frowned at him. “I have copies of everything right here. Joe gets it the moment I get what I want.” She tapped the large hold-all she carried slung over her shoulder. “I know you think I’m running my own agenda here, but I just want to know, guys. Let me in. Tell me all the things you keep whispering about. You must know I can be trusted by now, surely. I haven’t told anyone of what I know already.”

“If only it were that easy.” Azrael moved to her side, taking her free hand and holding it tightly. “There is so much to learn. So much, that you might not believe even the half of it. We must be sure you understand the scope of the secret you are asking us to share. This is only the first step.”

“Aw, come on, guys…” Diana threw up her hands in disgust. “I saw where you lived, Azrael, and I coped with that just fine. I don’t scare easy.” She jerked a thumb at Elliot and Joe. “I met up with these two halfway to the centre of the earth, and they looked like they were coping just fine, too. Like they’d done it before. I get it that there are other places, other worlds, down there. I just want to know what you know. Share and share alike — quid pro quo and all that. Now where is he?”

“I am right here. Good evening, Ms. Bennett.”

Diana swung around sharply to look behind her. She did not know what she was expecting, but the man who stood in the deepest shadows of the warehouse’s cluttered recesses she had not imagined. For a start, he was far bigger than she had ever visualised, mysteriously hooded, and dressed in an odd assortment of clothing that surely belonged in another century far removed from this one. He’s dressed just like the Mouse boy. More fairy tales…

But his voice… An odd tremor passed right through Diana, leaving her confused and on edge, a disconcerting feeling she didn’t like. She frowned, taking a halting step towards him, trying to see him better in the gloom beyond the flashlight. “I want to see you…”

“That’s far enough.” Azrael’s hand settled warningly on her arm — when she would have raised the flashlight to see her quarry better — and he did not release her. “You can ask what you need to know from here.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” Diana frowned up at him, as Joe and Elliot moved up on either side, virtually surrounding her. “I want to know everything. Why can’t I see him properly? What do you have to hide that you won’t step into the light?”

“You demanded to meet me, Diana,” Vincent replied quietly. “For Catherine’s sake, I agreed to that only. You will come no closer.”

“Oh, you’re good,” Diana acknowledged dryly. “Yes, a fine legal point. Fair enough, I guess I have no choice for now. I do owe you one concession for saving Joe and me that night back at the carousel. But you will answer all my questions or the deal’s off.”

Vincent nodded. “I will answer your questions as far as I am able to do so. But some of our secrets are not mine alone. You must understand that.”

“Fine, I can live with that. Relax, boys.” Diana glanced at each of her watchful guardians in turn. “Take a load off and chill. Vincent and I are just going to talk.”

“How do you…?” Joe gasped.

“And you thought I didn’t know his name.” Diana grinned at Joe as she indicated Vincent with a sweep of her hand. “I heard you, that day back in your office when we were on the Snapper case. I walked in and you were talking to yourself. Bad habit, Maxwell.”

“Well, we’re here if you need us, Vincent.” Elliot eased back slowly, taking the other two men with him. They didn’t move very far away.

Diana cast them a disgusted look. She reached to pull an old packing crate forward and sat down. “I don’t know about you, Vincent, but I’m beyond tired of all this cloak and dagger stuff. I’ve come here tonight, ready to deal.”

“I must agree with you on that point.” In the shadows of his hood, Vincent smiled. He had his doubts about this meeting, but he sensed it was going to be all right after all. He glanced at Diana’s frowning jailors and nodded. It was time to get down to the real business of the night.

*******

‘No, the heart that has truly lov’d never forgets.

But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets,

The same look which she turn’d when he rose.’

The Irish Tenors

“Vincent…?” Catherine stirred sleepily as her husband crept into their chamber and sat on the edge of the bed. “Did everything go according to plan?”

“Yes.” Vincent pulled off his boots before changing quickly into his night-shirt.  He drew aside the comforter before swinging his legs up into the bed. He lay down with a sigh as he covered them both. “I think Diana is satisfied with all that we were able to tell her. For now.”

“Good.” Catherine cuddled closer, settling onto the broad width of his chest. “It will be all right, Vincent,” she assured him drowsily. “She is almost a part of us already. For all she has done for us, she deserves to know.”

“Go to sleep…” Vincent urged softly. “It’s late. We will talk more in the morning.”

He settled deeper into the bed and stayed awake long into the early morning, keeping vigil over his wife’s rest, wondering just how he was going to break the news to her that her beloved father was indeed alive.

According to everything Diana had showed and told him, it was an inescapable fact. But from everything she had also discovered, it appeared Charles Chandler had been convinced by his handlers he must never return to New York, and his old life, for fear of putting Catherine’s life in potential danger after his carefully orchestrated fake death. Vincent remembered the supposedly dying man lying in the hospital bed, as Catherine held her father’s limp hand and cried for what she thought she was losing. Her heart had almost been broken then…

“And now…what?” Vincent whispered, shaking his head. It was so unfair that Catherine and her father should still be living apart. Now so much had happened and come to pass, so many things had changed that he was completely unaware of. And Charles was living another life, on the other side of the country, far from New York City and the fragile world that lay beneath it all…

*******

“You have never been afraid to tell me the truth before, Vincent,” Catherine said quietly.

“I know…” Vincent jerked his frowning attention from his contemplation of Father’s deeply concerned face and turned back to his wife’s unblinking gaze.

Catherine spread her hands. “Then why do you find it so hard now? I can sense everything inside you is in confusion and turmoil. I can feel it in here.” She pressed a hand to her breast. “Let me in, Vincent. Tell me what it is that worries you so. Please. I need to know because I cannot help you unless you let me in.”

They were all seated at the table in Vincent and Catherine’s chamber. Mary and Olivia had taken charge of the children so they could be alone. Father cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “You must tell her, Vincent. The simple truth is all you have.”

“Then the truth it shall be.” Vincent reached down to gather Diana’s bag from the floor beside him. “It’s that…I…have been given information about your father.” He laid it carefully in the middle of the table before pushing it — two-handed — towards Catherine. “Information I only received last night.”

“My father…? What is this?” She took it with a questioning frown. “My father is dead, Vincent. You know that.”

“Yes…” Vincent gathered a long breath and released it slowly. “The meeting I had with Diana last night…was to answer some of her questions, and she seems satisfied for now. But it was also a trade for information. Quid pro quo, as she described it. She came across some new information she knew we would pay dearly to possess. I couldn’t tell you before. I needed to make sure first.”

“What sort of information?” Catherine opened the bag and looked inside. “FBI…” she breathed, extracting the folders one at a time. “I don’t believe it. What do they have to do with my father’s death? He had a stroke.” She looked to Father for verification. “Didn’t he?”

“That was what you were told.” The old man grimaced, pushing his hands across the tabletop, linking his fingers in agitation. “But it seems you have been lied to, Catherine. It appears we have all been kept in the dark for far too long.”

“Gabriel King…” Catherine frowned at the name on the folder topping of the pile. “What has that awful man to do with anything now? He is dead and gone.” She looked up, suddenly tense and wary. “Isn’t he?”

“Yes, that part is, at least, still true.” Vincent put his hand over hers, stilling their movement of opening the file. He shook his head. “When your father died you came to me filled with misery and confusion. You wondered then if you should ever go back Above. I said that our time was yet to be.” He removed his hand slowly. “Now it seems, it is as Father just said. We have all been lied to about many things. Important matters.”

Catherine’s questioning green eyes tracked his movements. “You said these files are about my father. Are you asking me to believe he was linked somehow with Gabriel?” Her head went back and she clenched her fist. “I cannot believe you!”

“I am afraid the truth is far worse than that.” Vincent took her hand between his. “Your father did stumble upon Gabriel’s dark empire. That part is correct. With his expert knowledge of corporate law, he chose to plumb the depths of it all and discovered the awful truth. He could not tell you, it seems, because he was afraid for your safety. But he knew he must tell someone. Unfortunately, in that moment of certain knowledge — when he revealed what he knew to those he thought he could trust — he became a marked man. Gabriel had informants everywhere, and there was an attempt on your father’s life almost immediately. We now think Striker was behind that. So Charles had to appear to die, before Gabriel discovered the true extent of his knowledge and finally succeeded in killing him.”

“Appear…?” Catherine questioned in wide-eyed horror. “Are you trying to tell me my father’s death was all a fabrication? But I saw his body, I held his hand and kissed him goodbye. We had the funeral…”

“Yes, I know…” Vincent nodded bleakly. “But your father did not die that night. His faked death was very carefully planned. It had to appear real and final, or he would have been hunted down and eliminated. For that reason, you could not be a party to any of it or your life would have been forfeit as well. Even now he lives in fear of that coming to pass. He cannot risk betraying you by returning here to New York. That is the reason he has never tried to make contact with you again. He loves you that much.”

“All these years…” Catherine opened the file slowly. “I don’t believe it. Surely, it must be someone’s idea of a cruel joke. Despite everything, my father would have found some way to get in touch me by now. He loved me. He would not want me to suffer such a loss after he saw how it affected me when my mother died.”

“Joe assures me the evidence is genuine. He spent last night reviewing everything before sending these copies down with Geoffrey. It seems your father was placed in witness protection, under strict instructions that he can never return to this city. It seems there are still some concerns that those associated with Gabriel will stop at nothing to find him. He was told your life would be in danger if he ever tried to see you again. And there are those for whom Diana works, who demand to know the extent of their exposure. It is a dangerous minefield.”

“But so much of what Gabriel built has been dismantled…” Catherine began to read. “Surely they cannot believe our lives are still in danger.”

“Government bureaucracy…” Father watched her with helpless concern. “The wheels grind so slowly. I know too well the power and the paranoia of their many departments. And they hate to share with each other. But what they possess, they are very reluctant to release. They seem to think your father knows more than he has previously revealed. I doubt they ever intended to free him enough to come back to you. They’ve lied to him as well.”

“That his life is still in danger does appear to be no longer true.” Vincent sighed. “Diana is convinced no such threat remains, and she knows the case intimately. Under the circumstances, your father will be as safe as any of us. We will all make sure of that. Joe said to tell you he was going to see your old friend Edie over at the Data Centre first thing this morning. He assured me that tracking your father’s whereabouts by computer will be the fastest way. He’ll tell her to be discreet, but to put a rush on it.”

“That’s the best idea.” Catherine nodded slowly. “If anyone can pull the information out, Edie can. I wish I could have seen more of her, but everything got so hectic and now...” She frowned. “I will owe her a great deal. And Diana. Diana most of all.”

A fraught silence descended as Catherine read through the files. Finally reaching the end she closed the last folder with a sorrowing sigh. “How could they have been so cruel? To have him alive and in our lives…To meet his grandchildren… It would mean everything to me. Everything…”

“Your father agreed to their draconian terms to keep you safe,” Father replied softly. “He loved you that much. I would have done the same for both of you without hesitation. But it doesn’t make any of it right or morally just.”

“And now…what?” Catherine’s eyes filled with unshed tears. She wiped them away impatiently. “I must see him. Bring him back to us. I have to go Above and see Joe. Find out what’s being done. I need to see Diana and thank her for —”

“No, Catherine.” Vincent stood, drawing her up into his close embrace, stilling her agitation. “Azrael will bring Diana to see you, if that is your wish. But Joe has already set the legal challenges in motion to free your father. He will inform us when everything has been arranged. He said to tell you he will do everything in his power to bring Charles home to us. Elliot’s private jet is standing by, ready to fly at a moment’s notice. That is all we can do for now. You need to conserve your strength for later, when he comes home again.”

“Oh, no…that night…” Catherine drew back to look up at him, her hand flying to her parted lips. “When we told him everything about us. He knows about you, Vincent. He saw you. What if he remembers, wonders about what he saw that night? What we allowed him to know. Bringing him back to this city could be dangerous if I am not there to see him, to talk with him. I must make him understand…”

“Lady May has offered to make her home available to you,” Father informed her gently. “For as long as you may need. Your father will have a private suite with access to our world. Once we know he is on his way you can move up there and be with him for as long as you need. We will take care of everything else.”

“Yes…” Catherine stood pensive, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked up at her husband, who was watching her with deep concern. The depth and warmth of their mutual bond reached out to surround her with love and acceptance of any decision she might make now, just as the solid security of his arm around her waist anchored her in this new and unbelievable reality.

“Vincent…?” She reached for his hand, her love shining from her eyes.

“Yes, my love…” Vincent laid his hand in hers, clasping her fingers tightly as he waited for her to continue.

“I think it’s time…” Catherine returned the loving pressure. Her tears began to flow freely. “I think we must do this…together. There have been too many secrets, too much precious time wasted. I wish… I want my father to know everything. About you and me. About all of this, our world.” She swept her free hand around the room and glanced at Father who nodded. “I think he has a right to know since he gave up so much because of his deep love for me. He deserves the truth.”

“Then we will tell him everything, Catherine. Everything…” Vincent lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back softly. “It is your decision to make. Whatever else may come to pass, it will flow from that.”

“To have my father back with me…” Catherine settled her head into the broad sweep of her husband’s shoulder and closed her eyes. “It doesn’t seem possible. It’s beyond all imagining or belief. A truly impossible dream…”

*******

“You say this information is for Catherine…” Edie eyed Joe with frowning suspicion later the same morning. Her mouth settled into a mulish line. “First the girlfriend up and vanishes on me without a trace, and then she’s back without as much as a postcard. But she doesn’t visit me now. Saw her once and that was it. I saw more of Diana Bennett, when I was working on the Snapper case for you. I know Cathy was a part of it. So what gives? Why does she need my help all of a sudden? Where’s she living now and who with? I tried to find out a few days ago, but I drew a complete blank. She keeps her secrets right close to her.”

She held up a denying hand when Joe tried to interject. “A lot of questions, yeah, I know. But I hate mysteries, and I’ve had a ton of time to think, so don’t treat me like a fool. I know, for one, she’s been down to City Hall to register the birth of her child and set up some kind of fancy trust for him. A boy, first name, Jacob, last name, Wells.”

She pointed to her computer screen. “Now I’ve looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find anything on any guy called Wells associated with Cathy. Not so much as a parking ticket or a cancelled check. No jury service, nada. It’s like he never existed at all. I did manage to turn up something about a research doctor who had the exact same name as her son. But he can’t be her baby’s father. He went missing a ton of years ago, after he was blacklisted for speaking out against the atomic program. He was brought up before the Un-American Activities Committee and got struck off. That was a very nasty business, way back then. But he’s never reappeared either.”

She waved an impatient hand. “What is it with people around Catherine? They keep disappearing without explanation. Elliot Burch vanished completely for months and he’s still not talking. Nor is Shannon Cole. Where did they meet and where do they hide out?”

She arched her eyebrows at Joe, but he merely shrugged. Edie pursed her lips and continued, “Okay, so, I want to know who and where’s the baby’s daddy? Looks like — if he existed at all — he ran out on her at the first sign of trouble. I thought I’d taught her better than that. These uptown girls are supposed to have it all going on, real smart like whips, ya know?”

“I’m really sorry, Edie.” Joe sighed, slumping into a nearby seat, running a frustrated hand up and around the back of his neck. “Honestly, if I could tell you I would. But those secrets are Catherine’s, not mine. However, this is really important and it needs to be kept quiet. We’re going to be cutting through a heap of red tape and stepping on some serious toes here.”

“Okay, you’ve got my attention.” Edie fingered her keyboard, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “So here’s the deal. If I do this for her, you need to do something important for me.”

“If I can…” Joe watched her warily.

“Just tell the girlfriend I miss her and I really want to see her. We had some good times. Ask her to call me; we’ll do coffee or something. I just want to reconnect, make sure she’s okay and happy. I had thought we were friends. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“I’ll tell her.” Joe glanced around, making sure no one was taking too close an interest in their whispered conference. “I’m sure Catherine will be happy to see you again.” He opened the briefcase at his feet. “But right now I need to find someone, someone very important to Catherine, and time is against us. I need to know like yesterday.”

“Now you’re talking my language. Just like old times.” Edie took the file Joe held out and flicked through the pages. “Charles Chandler…but, hang on, he’s dead…” She whistled softly, her dark eyes growing wide as she came to the end. “Wow…I love taking on the FBI, but this is insane. After all these years her father’s actually alive...” She blew a disbelieving breath. “Oh, Up-Town Girl, this is gonna cost you big time. Leave it with me, Joe. I’ll call you, as soon as. For this my price has gone way up. Tell the girlfriend she’s gonna owe me the all-you-can-eat buffet special at my favourite eatery in the Village. And a bottle of their best champagne…no, make that two. From what I’ve seen, she can sure afford it.”

*******

“First you want my guys to dog every step that Diana Bennett makes, and then suddenly you decide you don’t need to know any more.” Cleon Manning stared hard at Elliot. “Now you’ve got some hare-brained idea about Catherine Chandler’s father still being alive. What gives, Elliot? I think you do need to see a shrink. This is getting way out of hand. The guy’s been dead for years. We even went to the funeral, remember? Dead is dead in my book.”

Cleon sat on the edge of Elliot’s couch, fingering the FBI folder his boss had just handed to him. His intense curiosity burned brighter than ever. Ever since Gabriel’s hired killer had tried to exterminate Burch that long ago night in the park, the man had changed into someone his chief investigator and good friend hardly recognised anymore.

Like his making considerable time and resources available to a penniless blind artist who appeared from nowhere without explanation. A man who kept Diana Bennett way too close for comfort. Was probably sleeping with her by now too, Cleon thought sourly. Which was way more action than he was getting these days… He sighed, well aware he was starting to forget what Jeannie looked like. His wife was used to having him home at night, not taking care of business. He was no longer a field rookie with something to prove to his new boss.

He moved uncomfortably, mentally ticking off his list. No matter how he twisted the facts, some things just didn’t add up. Mr. Azrael no-last-name had no past, no nothing, that Cleon could pin anything on. And he’d dug halfway to China to see what he could find on the guy. Zip, zero, nada.

And then Joe Maxwell was suddenly to be kept informed on everything. That made no sense either. Since when was the D.A.’s office their new best friend? Now Elliot seemed to be on some mad crusade to change the entire world. Screw with everything that had been the right and proper order of things since time immemorial...

And as for that episode a couple of years ago, when Elliot had gone all out to collect a stack of maps detailing the underside of the entire island of Manhattan… What the heck was that all about? Once collected, they all went missing. Months of detailed work just up and vanished. Like a lot of other things around here…The Great Burch Manhattan Project… Cleon scowled at his boss, wishing for the thousandth time that Elliot would trust him enough to tell him the truth for once. Like, where had he been all those missing months?

Cleon approved of Elliot’s relationship with Shannon O’Neill. Having a rich, good-looking woman on your arm did your reputation no harm — even if the woman now seemed to be determined to squander her immense fortune on setting up charities and shelters for the penniless and homeless of the city.

Her money, her choice!  But Elliot still refused to say where he’d met the woman or when. They just seemed to appear, already fully involved as a couple, without any true explanation or indication where they had hidden out together for those months Elliot had been missing, presumed murdered on Gabriel’s orders.

“Just do what I pay you extremely well for.” Elliot looked up from his own paperwork. “And I want the answers yesterday, Cleon. We’re working with Joe Maxwell on this one, but in a private capacity. Make sure you keep him in the loop on everything. But I want to know the instant you find out the truth. Then the rest will be up to Joe to sort out; from the legal angle. Our job is to get the man home safe, to his family.”

“To Catherine Chandler, you mean. That’s another mysterious connection of yours you refuse to share.” Cleon scowled, but Elliot only shrugged. The investigator grimaced as he dropped his eyes to the folder in his hands.

“Whoa, witness protection…” He whistled low and long, scanning the file’s contents quickly. “You surely do know how to step right into the most dangerous quicksand. The FBI won’t thank you for your interference. And, if I may ask, how did you come by this new information...?”

“Let’s just say Ms. Bennett is a very resourceful woman, as we all know.” Elliot put down his pen. “Get on with it, Cleon, and be very discreet.”

“My middle name…” Cleon shrugged as he stood and stretched on a dissatisfied sigh. “But, one day, boss, you’re gonna tell me everything. One day soon you’re gonna tell me exactly what the hell is going on with you these days! I warned you once about getting tangled up with strays and charity cases. They screw with your whole perspective on things and have an alarming tendency to clutter up your life. In the end, they’ll just suck you dry. You’ve already been down there once, and I know you didn’t like it.”

“Maybe one day, I will tell you everything…” Elliot gazed at him levelly. “But for now, Charles Chandler is your number one priority. Find him, Cleon. And get him back to New York ASAP. My jet is standing by to collect him the moment you dig him out of whatever God-awful hole they’ve buried him in.”

“Yes, Boss.” Cleon touched a fingertip to his forehead in a mocking salute before turning on his heel and leaving the office, closing the door behind him with a decided snap of discontent.

*******

“What is it, Elliot?” Shannon came to stand at his side before the huge window of Elliot’s penthouse overlooking the lights of the city’s glittering nightscape that spread out in every direction. A myriad of lights glowed far out in the night-shrouded distance. “What is troubling you so?”

Elliot released his breath slowly on a troubled groan. “I was just thinking about how sometimes seemingly impossible things, such as Catherine finding her father again after all these years, can come to pass. And yet the simplest things are often the most difficult to express. And right now…” He shook his head and shrugged, dropping his gaze to the expressive spread of his upraised hands. “I have no words…” He let his hands fall again.

“That is a very enigmatic statement, Mr. Burch.” Shannon moved to stand before him, taking his hands in hers as she brought his troubled focus to her face and loving look. “What is it that you find so difficult to say?”

“I have climbed all the way from the dockyards to the very stars.” He indicated the night sky beyond the window with a lift of his chin. “I thought I had it all. I thought I knew myself, and exactly what I wanted and where I was going. And yet, I was always walking alone.”

He looked down at the floor. “My father’s greatest life lesson was that emotions are an expensive commodity. He said I’d better be sure I can afford to pay for them.” He grimaced. “He taught me that lesson well; perhaps too well. I soon learned nothing was for free in the life I had chosen to lead. And I paid dearly for that knowledge.”

His breath left him in a rushing sigh. “Therefore, it was easier for me to live within myself, and I managed to overcome my inner doubts, by deciding I was better off in my walled solitude. No one could reach me there, make me second guess myself and the hard decisions I needed to make. Then, when I first met Catherine, I hoped that perhaps she might…” He exhaled sharply. “But that was not to be. She loves another, and I respect her choice.”

He looked back to Shannon watching him silently, her warmth and beauty reaching out to enfold him. “And then one night, in a strange place deep beneath the earth, I awoke to discover a beautiful angel sitting beside my bed. A bed I was sure I would never rise from again. But there you were, sitting so quietly, as if one unkind word from me would cause you to vanish. You looked so haunted and very afraid. And that mark on your cheek from where he had hit you...”

He moved his hands to enclose hers, leaning close to kiss her unblemished cheek. “I swore then that if I ever managed to get out of that damn bed, I would make sure such things never happened to you again. Not while I lived to prevent it. I think I fell in love with you at that moment, but I was still blind to the truth.”

“And I saw a man who once thought he could order the world and it would all fall neatly into place. The great Elliot Burch, brought so low and in such pain.” Shannon stroked his cheek.

“And yet I felt sorry for you. I truly believed you had lost yourself. But I didn’t think I could ever love you. You represented everything I had left behind and I was afraid, but not of you. I was afraid that if I let myself feel again, where would it take me? I tried so hard not to love you and yet…Oh, Elliot, we are a sorry pair of fools, are we not?”

“To live without you, to not have you in my life…” Elliot’s face paled as he brought her hands up to his lips, kissing each finger in turn. “Sometimes, even now, I wake in the night — when you are Below — and I wonder if it’s all only a dream and I’m alone again. I would have done anything to make you stay. You said you needed my love to guide and protect you…”

He leaned closer to kiss her with lingering thoroughness before sinking to one knee at her feet, looking up at her with everything he was feeling mirrored in his grey eyes. “Marry me, Shannon, please. Save me from myself… from all the dragons that still haunt the dark places in my soul.” He drew an old-fashioned ring box from his trouser pocket and opened it before holding it out.

“Ah, Elliot… Now was that so hard to say…?” Shannon whispered lovingly, tears running unheeded down her cheeks as she took the box in one hand and drew him up again to stand before her once more with the other. “Sometimes the most impossible things are the easiest to ask and answer. I truly do love you more than life itself.”

“Um, okay. But is that a yes?” Elliot frowned in puzzlement, looking more than a little alarmed. “I mean…if you…”

“Yes… yes… yes and yes…” Shannon breathed happily, going up on tiptoe to kiss his forehead and erase all doubt. “For now and always, Stosh Kasmarek. You are the very heart of me. How could I ever say no to you?”

She held out the box and Elliot opened it to lift out the simple diamond ring — holding it up to the light — before slipping in onto her finger. “This ring was my mother’s. Dad had kept it all these years in a safe deposit box along with some other things. He saved every penny he could scrape together to buy it. My mother always said it was the best thing he ever gave her, apart from me.”

“Then I shall love it as much as I love her son,” Shannon vowed. “It’s lovely.”

“I do so love you…” Elliot raised her hand to his lips and kissed her ring. “And thank you,” he whispered before bending to sweep her high into his arms. “I promise you, you will never regret it. Not for a single second.”

“I don’t plan to…” Shannon smiled happily, settling deeper into his embrace and allowing him to take her where he willed…

*******

“I’ve already taken down the board on Cathy Chandler.” Diana frowned at Azrael, as she came to a halt beside him a few days later. He’d phoned, asking to meet her outside an old abandoned building with a boarded up frontage, not far from her loft apartment. The constant rumble of the city’s evening traffic made conversation difficult.

“There will be no more investigation on my part. I’ve taken everything over to Joe’s place. You all trusted me the other night, so I’ve returned the favour. You don’t need to check up on me, you know. Once I’ve wrapped up the Gabriel case, it will all be behind us. Then I think I’m due for a nice, long holiday.” She glanced at him speculatively, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

“That is not why I asked you to meet me here tonight, Diana.” Azrael shook his head. His right hand was resting lightly on the shoulder of a slim, raggedly dressed boy who watched Diana with narrowed eyes filled with wary distrust.

Diana looked the child over with interest. Unlike Azrael — who was dressed in black jeans and a dark roll-neck sweater beneath his leather jacket — the boy seemed to share the same crazy, patchwork tailor as the frustrating Mouse boy. She murmured her frustration. Despite finally meeting Vincent, there were still questions to which she had no answers.

Like where do they all live? Where was Catherine Chandler now, and why was she still in hiding? The need to be secret had past. So was there more she was keeping hidden besides herself? Those questions Vincent had been very reticent about, saying those secrets were not his to share. He’d refused to answer when she pressed him, and he had ended the meeting there, once she’d told him all she knew about Charles Chandler.

“What happens now?” Diana spread her hands. “Why are we here? I have given Catherine Chandler back her father. Surely that scores me some good points. The rest is up to Joe and Elliot.” She held up the small black hold-all she was carrying. “On the phone you said I needed to bring a change of clothes, some essentials, my toothbrush, and sensible shoes.” She glanced down at her sturdy, lace-up boots. “Are we going on an overnight camp?”

“You’ll see. This is Alex.” Azrael smiled as he introduced the boy, who continued to watch Diana closely without speaking. “We’ve spent a few hours making some purchases for the people Below.” Azrael indicated the large bag of neatly wrapped parcels at his feet. “Alex is my guide in this world when I need to visit unfamiliar places or buy gifts. Now, in return for your help in discovering Catherine’s father is still alive, she has asked to see you. Alex and I are here tonight to guide you down. You see, you only had to be patient.”

“Down…?” Diana echoed, momentarily at a loss. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she looked around at the dilapidated building. “How far down this time? I only brought an overnight bag.”

“All in good time,” Azrael replied cryptically. “Catherine wishes to thank you for finding her father. It is a miracle she never hoped for. She knows that you want to see something of her new world, of the place where she lives now. She feels you have earned that right. Also, there is a freedom and acceptance down there that you do not possess in your world.”

“And she lives down there with Vincent?” Diana latched onto his deliberate omission. “He was very cagey the other night when I asked him. I want to know everything this time.”

“Yes, with Vincent.” Azrael nodded as he stood aside, indicating she was to go before him towards the building’s boarded-up entrance. “And many others. It is a safe place that must remain a closely-guarded secret for its own protection. It is a world far more fragile than mine.”

“Okay, if I go with you, do I finally get to see Vincent this time? He’s not going to be just another shadow among many? As I said, I am getting tired of all this cloak and dagger stuff.”

“That is for Vincent to decide, but, yes, he will be there.” Azrael waited while Alex produced a set of keys to open the three different locks on the outer door before they could pass through into the building’s dark interior. “Take my hand.” Azrael came close to Diana as she stood irresolute in the darkness and she closed her fingers around his gratefully. The physical connection reignited the emotional turmoil deep within her. And she could sense he felt it too, a shimmering bridge that made her skin ripple with awareness and her knees start to cave in.

She glanced up at him. “So I’m guessing there is a whole world down there that no one up here knows about. Just like your world, Azrael. A fairy tale place full of possibilities.”

“Yes, but the miracle of this place is far greater than mine,” Azrael replied. “You will see soon enough. It will take your breath away and make you believe. Even you, Diana. Trust me.”

“Oh, I trust you…” she replied, drawing him closer in the warm darkness, and for the first time he didn’t immediately try to back away. Progress…she smiled secretly.

“It’s our home down here; it’s where we live,” Alex told her, as he made sure he’d locked the door again before leading the way deeper into the smothering darkness. “Some of us have nowhere else to go. When I was four years old my father sold me to settle his drug debt, but I refused to go. So he tried to force me by burning my back with cigarettes. Instead, I ran away and Mouse found me hiding out in the subway tunnels. He saved my life. In return, I help to keep our world safe from harm and unwanted intruders.” From his scowl, the young boy seemed to include Diana in that last statement.

“And Alex is only one of many children this hidden world protects and cares for.” Azrael followed confidently, not needing his young guide’s help now. He was sure-footed in this world of night. But Diana was glad of his support, so she kept close to him, almost treading on his heels, as he led her deeper into the blackness.

And again, he did not draw back. It seemed he had finally made up his mind about her. Her breath hitched with dawning excitement. She hadn’t felt this giddy since her first prom date. And that hadn’t ended so well. The boy had torn her dress in his pathetic eagerness to kiss her and she had never spoken to him again. No, this new adventure, she determined, was going to end differently. She would make sure of it this time.

Wrapped in her chaotic thoughts, she walked into the solid strength of Azrael’s back as he stopped. It was all she could do to prevent herself from reaching for him right there and then, assuage the rising turmoil rampaging through her by testing his limits of endurance. She wanted him to kiss her — she wanted to kiss him! Make him understand fully, what he was doing to her.

“Are you okay?” Azrael put out a hand to steady her and she could feel his gaze on hers, like a physical caress, in the darkness.

“No, not really…” Diana used the moment to draw closer, going up on her toes...reaching for him…

“Diana…” Azrael breathed in a tormented tone. His hand moved from hers to unerringly cup her cheek, his thumb tentatively defining the shape of her parted lips. “I once thought that there couldn’t be a future for us. But now I—”

Suddenly, there was the scrape of a match being struck and a lantern flared to life in the gloom. Alex held it high and turned to frown at Diana, who dropped her hands and quickly stepped away from Azrael. During the last few moments she’d forgotten the boy was there. She could sense Azrael’s accelerated breathing and she was satisfied. For now... She wondered what he had been about to say.

“Follow Azrael and do as he tells you, then you’ll be okay,” Alex directed, surveying them both with narrowed eyes. “He knows the way down from here.”

Picking up the bag of gifts he’d been carrying, he turned away to duck through a low door, before leading the way down some crumbling steps into the basement. Azrael briefly left Diana’s side to help the boy push aside a large storage unit. Behind it, a narrow opening had been chipped through the basement’s brick and plaster wall. Alex glanced at Diana, before bending through the hole and disappearing into the echoing darkness beyond.

“Down the rabbit-hole we go once more,” Diana remarked dryly as she stepped through after her guide. “This had better be worth it. I don’t have time for any more wild goose chases…”

“You need to learn to trust a little.” Behind her Azrael turned back to pull the storage unit back into place, blocking the hole once more from prying eyes. He pushed a steel bar into place across the back of the unit, securing it to the brickwork, before he came to take her hand again, and Diana didn’t demure. It felt so right to be with him again. If she were being honest, she missed the time they had spent alone together down at the sulphur pools. She smiled…

He’d already seen her naked anyway! It was way past time she caught up! They stood side by side in the warm darkness, as the light of Alex’s lantern faded into the distance.

“He’s going to leave us behind if we don’t hurry.” Diana stared after the diminishing figure, but she made no attempt to follow him. In the lantern’s light, the large bag of gifts slung over the boy’s shoulder cast an ever-moving shadow across the tunnel walls, making him look like an eldritch Santa Claus.

“Don’t worry. I know the way down. The darkness is my friend.” Azrael shrugged. He removed his sunglasses, pushing them into the pocket of his jeans as he moved closer to link both their hands together, watching her with his fathomless black eyes that surely saw far more than was possible.

“You forget the first time we met I did not need illumination to find my way in this world. When we met I was alone and, even though I tried, I could see nothing for myself or us. My father’s insanity had defined my future and it was only filled with darkness and despair. But the truth I now know is John Pater may not have been my father. So once again I am truly alone. But I am also finally free to be myself and make my own choices.”

In the distance, a subway train rumbled along, and a soft tapping, like someone banging on the pipes, echoed into the rush of its passing. Then only the sound of the metallic tapping remained. Diana remembered hearing that sound before, as she had followed the Mouse boy down into the gloom of the underworld.

Her breathing hitched. “I do understand that feeling of being alone. Of always being on the outside, looking in at what others have. But mine was a conscious choice.” Now she and Azrael were finally alone, her courage to say what she was feeling had suddenly fled. She looked away into the darkness where Alex’s tiny illuminated figure was now barely discernible, the large sack on his back swaying rhythmically with each step. “But your aloneness was imposed on you by your parents. That was unforgivable, and I’m sorry it happened to you.”

“Diana…?” Azrael brought her attention back to him with a questing fingertip beneath her chin. “Do you trust me to lead you through the darkness once more? To take you where you most desire to go…”

“Ah, now there’s a leading question…” Diana breathed, her heartbeat accelerating, tripping over itself. “It looks like I don’t have much of a choice,” she mused with a soft laugh. “You’ve tried to keep me out of it for long enough. I guess I’m running on trust now. A unique feeling, I must say. I don’t trust easily.”

“Nor do I. But you trusted me in the darkness the first time we met. Even though you also longed to recover your gun and shoot me.” He laughed softly. “We all respect the fact that you have kept our secrets. You could have so easily betrayed us for your own advantage. But I said you would never do that.”

“You should know you can trust me. I could never do that, especially to you,” Diana whispered, losing all definition of his face in the deepening gloom. But she knew he was still watching her, probing her thoughts and emotions with the deft touch of a skilled surgeon. He could read her mind like an open book, and she could sense his satisfaction at what he found there. She didn’t even try to hide anything from him. It was pointless anyway.

“But I would be lying if I said wanting to know where you were going and who you were with — when you kept disappearing on me — wasn’t driving me crazy. You boys really should learn how to share. I’m guessing Elliot Burch and Joe have their own entrances to this world. They have probed all its secrets.”

“They are both our helpers, yes.” Azrael nodded. “They keep this place and its secrets safe from harm. We trust them implicitly, as we have come to trust you.”

“So, is that what I am now? A helper?” The thought made her more than a little scared. What if she couldn’t measure up to such a huge responsibility?

“Yes, if you choose to become one.” Azrael raised her chin on the back of his fingers before cupping her face in both hands. “But it is a huge responsibility and a privilege that some people would rather not take on. Our entire fate would lie in your hands. You could destroy us with one incautious word or thoughtless action. It is an enormous responsibility.”

“I wonder how Mouse would feel about that. I don’t think he likes me very much…” Diana teased softly, her breath becoming jammed somewhere high in her throat as Azrael’s thumb moved gently back and forth across her parted lips once more.

Several times, he’d come close to touching her like this, but he’d always shied away at the last possible moment when she was sure he’d been about to kiss her. That night at the gallery opening, she had badly wanted to get him alone, to take him back to her apartment and make him aware of her as she was becoming so intensely conscious of him. Make slow passionate love with him beneath the blind gaze of her painting and know he would be there beside her in the morning. She wouldn’t be alone again…

Her body heated at the thought. It seemed like an eternity since she’d physically loved anyone – anyone who’d wanted to hang around afterwards, that is. All of her previous relationships had been mercifully brief and ultimately unsatisfactory…until now…

She sighed ruefully. Of course, her crazy work hours didn’t help much. She was away a lot, chasing down leads and suspects. And then there were the things she couldn’t show just anyone. Her home was also her office, so bringing back some stranger for a one-night-stand when she was feeling down and lonely was just not possible. Besides, John Russell would love to get some dirt on her. He was quite capable of setting her up with some random date so he could trap her into betraying herself so he could —

“Diana…?” Azrael questioned the troubled trend of her thoughts. “Stop it. Stop being so hard on yourself,” he whispered. “You have so much to give… You just have to believe, as I have come to believe, that there is a future for us…”

“Ah, you and your fairy stories…” Diana shook her head. “Funny thing is, right up until this moment, I’d always prided myself on my self-sufficiency. It’s a hard habit to break, to let someone else into your life. Care for someone else's opinion for a change…”

Her body tightened with a wanton need she could no longer deny. Now was the time for Azrael to run, if he was going to…but it was as if the surrounding darkness had given him a renewed confidence. Diana remembered the times they had shared down at the sulphur pools and her skin heated with conflicting emotions. There was a raw appeal in remembering those times, when her life and liberty had hung in the balance. And she realised how much she wanted him to kiss her, to show her that obviously sensual side of himself that he’d always kept hidden and under tight control.

“I am sure Mouse would recover from his disappointment in time…” Azrael slowly lowered his mouth to hers, drawing her up against the full, hard length of him under the softly tenuous contact, teasing and eliciting a response Diana could not deny him...even if she wanted to do so.

She wound her arms around his waist, blindly following where he led, responding to his gentle teasing with an intense need first born in that impossible darkness far beneath where they now stood. It felt as if she were coming home. To whatever home was meant to be, when you finally dared to share a little of your guarded heart with another human being…

*******

Catherine stood waiting quietly. She had finally chosen the bluff overlooking the newly-finished garden, as the best place to meet Diana. It was familiar territory to the investigator and sufficiently far from the home tunnels that she would not find her way there easily if she did not agree to their conditions. And Azrael knew the way here intimately. Alex had told them the couple were on their way down. He’d been sent on to alert Father.

Mouse hovered anxiously at Catherine’s side. He wasn’t sure he trusted that that Diana Bennett. She’d been told to leave her gun at home, but Mouse wasn’t sure she would do it. The skin between his shoulder-blades crawled with well-remembered unease, and his face crumpled into a frown of deep mistrust. He glanced behind him with concern.

“What’ya think, Vincent?” He demanded of the deepest shadows. “We gonna be all right? Sometimes she can be mean.”

“It will be all right, Mouse,” Vincent replied from beyond the reach of the lantern Mouse was holding up. “I think we can trust Diana to do as we asked.”

“Mouse not want to be shot again,” the tinker complained in honest disgust. “Not good for Mouse. Hurts too much.”

“Don’t worry, Mouse.” Catherine smiled as she put an arm around him and hugged his hunched shoulders. “I think Ms. Bennett is more interested in what we have to show her now. You will be safe enough with me.”

“Okay good, okay fine…” Mouse’s brooding expression didn’t waver.

“Maybe… but Mouse glad Vincent is back there. And James and Richard in the other tunnel. And Father’s coming soon. Good to be prepared. Just in case…”

“They are here…” Vincent said quietly.

Suddenly, there was movement in the outer darkness along the main tunnel leading to the garden area. Azrael shadowed up out of the gloom, leading Diana by the hand. He nodded when he sensed Catherine waiting and watching for them.

“Finally…” Diana was glad to see the light. Stumbling around for what seemed like hours in the dark, even with an attentive Azrael as her guide, was not the most pleasant experience. She moved quickly forward to stand beside Azrael, watching Catherine closely. Though she was dressed like the others in an assortment of leather and fabric, she made her simple gown of soft tan linen look like the best couture.

Beyond Catherine, the Mouse boy hovered uncertainly, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else but here. Diana smiled ruefully. She didn’t really blame him. She had been hard on him from necessity.

“Welcome, Diana.” Catherine extended her hands. “It is good to see you again. It has been too long.”

“Thanks for finally inviting me.” Diana accepted and returned her warm embrace, before drawing back to glance around at the shadowy gloom. She could discern no one, but she knew Vincent was there. She felt that same prickle of awareness, just as she had first been conscious of him that long ago night at the carousel.

“The news about my father…” Catherine shook her head and compressed her lips before continuing. “Is a debt I can never hope to repay. But I sincerely hope our trust in your word, about what you see here soon, will recompense you in some small measure.”

“I’m here now, thanks to you.” Diana nodded. “I can guess what it has cost you, to trust me this far.” She glanced out over the extensive garden. “You know, when I first saw this, I never dreamed it was even possible. Now you have brought it all up to where you live. Truly amazing.”

She turned back to Catherine. “But please know that I could never betray you. Or Vincent.” She looked again into the shadows behind Catherine. “I guess the scales are about even now. Azrael has filled me in on quite a few of the details.”

Footsteps sounded from yet another tunnel entrance, accompanied by the businesslike tapping of a cane. Alex appeared, minus the sack of gifts, accompanied by an older man with a stern, upright bearing and an uncompromising frown. They both moved to stand beside Catherine, and Diana found herself under the intense scrutiny of the old man’s cool, blue eyes. He looked more curious than welcoming.

“This is Father,” Catherine introduced him. “He is the patriarch of our world. He has agreed to meet you, to explain a few things to you about how we live down here and where. You must agree to our terms before we continue.”

“Then please tell me. I am more than ready to learn.” Diana looked the older man over with interest. “Thank you for the trust you have placed in me. I won’t let you down.”

“I will admit to being deeply curious to finally meet you, Ms. Bennett,” Father acknowledged with a slight nod. “You have haunted the edges of our world for long enough. But you have intrigued me for quite some months now. You are a woman of excellent courage and infinite resources. I do not know many who would have gone out of their way to help us as you have done. I did wonder how our world would benefit from having ongoing contact with you. I am pleased to admit that, so far, I have not been disappointed.”

“Threatened to shoot Mouse,” the tinker grumbled honestly. “That was not so nice.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that, Mouse.” Diana grinned, holding out her hand towards him. “Friends?”

Mouse stared at her hand for long moments of indecision before he took it gingerly. “Okay, maybe. Have to wait and see. For Father to say so. Where’s your gun now?”

“Back in my loft. Okay, I can see this is going to be a hard sell.” Diana linked her fingers through Azrael’s where he stood silently beside her, listening to the interchange. “Thanks…” she whispered for him alone. “I won’t forget this.”

“I know…” Azrael breathed, his fingers tightening around hers in warm possessiveness. “You can thank me properly when we get back Up Top. I have a few ideas that I do not think you would disagree with…”

“Fair enough.” Diana ducked her head and smiled, her face heating with colour.

“There are some things we need to discuss before we take you any further into our world, Diana.” Father drew her attention as he looked around the small gathering. “We hold this place in trust for those who have nowhere else to go or cannot live in your world. And we cannot allow anyone to break that sacred bond. That would spell the end for us all. We must be able to implicitly trust those who help us and keep us safe from discovery or harm. We keep each other safe, down here. This is our home and our sanctuary.”

“Then I will do all in my power to make sure nothing happens to you all,” Diana told him. “You can trust me never to betray your presence here.”

“Then may I bid you welcome to the world Below, Ms. Bennett.” Father inclined his head before indicating the tunnel he had appeared from with his cane. “May I show you something of our world, Diana? I think we might just surprise you a little.”

“Thank you, I would like that.” Diana linked arms with Azrael as she glanced once more at the deepest shadows where she knew Vincent was still standing. She could barely discern the glint of a belt buckle and the sheen of watching eyes reflecting in the light of the lantern. She raised one hand in acknowledgment and thought she saw an answering movement in reply.

“Can I finally see you now, Vincent?” she asked the shadows. “Have I done enough to earn your trust as well? I mean you no harm.”

“I am not what you may expect,” Vincent replied quietly. “I do not look like other men. We are not sure you are ready to see everything.”

Catherine came up on Diana’s other side. “We all protect Vincent. He is the reason we all must keep this place a closely-guarded secret. There is nowhere else for him to go. This is the only home he has.”

“I’ve already worked that out for myself.” Diana nodded. “I know he was with Mouse down in the lower tunnels looking for me and Azrael, and at the carousel that night he saved you from those gunmen. And I know there is something about him that is different. Otherwise, why all the need for such secrecy? I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“She has a point there, Vincent,” Father offered thoughtfully. “I do not think Ms. Bennett is at all afraid of what is different.”

“Very well…” Vincent replied as he advanced slowly into the light, pushing the hood of his cloak back from his head.

Diana’s grip on Azrael’s arm tightened as she watched Vincent approach. Her heart rate picked up, and it felt as if she’d been holding her breath for countless minutes. Her intent, unblinking gaze took in everything about him, from his unique and incredible face, his tumbled mane of tawny hair, before her eyes dropped to study his unusual assortment of clothing. Then she met his solemn gaze, and she smiled.

“Hello, Vincent. Nice to finally see you at last. You look truly amazing. Thank you for trusting me.” She glanced at Catherine. “There are many things I never dreamed were possible, until this moment. I am more than ready to be really astonished now. So boys, show me what you’ve got hidden down here? No chance you’ve also got Elvis stashed away down here somewhere, is there? I mean, now that would be really amazing.”

“Then come with me.” Azrael smiled down at her. “Now we will show you something truly breathtaking. Even you will be astonished.”

“I think we are going to be in for an interesting evening.” Father watched Diana warily as she and Azrael walked past him, and then he turned to follow, shaking his head. “Or am I just growing old. Maybe May is right after all…”

“So who’s this Elvis you’re all looking for?” Mouse grumbled huffily, following in Father’s footsteps and disappearing into the tunnel, still muttering. “Elliot said that too. That time we went way down Below to find Azrael. No one tells me anything. I’m always the last to know stuff. Don’t tell Mouse. He don’t need to know. Look out, here he comes. Watch out for Mouse…”

“I think that went very well.” Catherine turned to Vincent the moment Diana and her escort were out of sight.

“I’m not sure Mouse is convinced.” Vincent laughed softly, as he looked after the party, before he came forward to slide his arms around her waist, drawing her in close against him from breast to thigh. He leaned down to kiss her with a deep longing and urgent passion.

Catherine groaned as she responded in kind, running her hands up through the rich texture of his mane to grab handfuls. She lost herself in the rising heat of her sensual awakening to the raw power that surged and flickered like sheet lightning through the many layers of their mutual bond, colouring it with a million different hues.

Everything inside her danced and flowed, building ever upwards towards that realm of light where their spirits were joined. It would always be like this… She found it hard to wait until they could be truly together again. Even now she was laying her plans to get her husband entirely to herself in the near future…

“Always…” she whispered raggedly against her husband’s mouth before they drew back fractionally from each other, resting forehead against forehead.

“To give you back everything you thought you had lost…” Vincent ran questing fingertips down the curve of Catherine’s cheek, his claws whispering softly against her skin. “I would have done everything and anything…”

“I know. But how much longer do we have to wait?” Catherine turned her mouth into his palm, planting a series of lingering caresses. “I cannot bear it.”

It has been too long already.”

“Elliot and Joe are working as fast as they can.” Vincent drew her back into the warm shelter of his close embrace. “We can only pray the end is finally in sight.”

“I will try to be patient…” Catherine looked up at him. “We have so much to catch up on…”

Going up on her toes she sought the warm welcome of Vincent’s sensuous mouth once more, and the world turned and fell away beneath her feet, leaving her with only the certain security of his tightening embrace to cling to and keep her safe from harm…

*******

“I don’t understand any of this, or why you’ve brought me here.” James Chambers sat in the luxurious surroundings of Elliot Burch’s plane and refused to be mollified. “There must have been some huge mistake. I’m just a simple building contractor from LA. I don’t have any connections in New York.” He indicated the cityscape rising beyond the confines of the airport. But there was an underlying current of fear in his voice. Like he wanted to be anywhere else but here right now.

“It won’t be long now. Everything will be explained to you.” Cleon Manning sat at his ease, legs crossed at the knee, watching his reluctant companion with wary respect.

The guy was good, very good. He’d doggedly maintained the same tired story all the way from LAX. He had the act down word perfect. He almost made a believer out of Cleon. Almost… But whenever Chambers renewed his protest that same under-tone of fear crept into his voice, as if he did have something to hide and he was terrified of being caught out in a lie…

And he certainly looked considerably older than the first time Cleon remembered seeing him. It had been at some expensive charity function Elliot had held, years ago. Cleon frowned, trying to remember… Yes, that was it. It had been a party where his new boss had gifted a whole art collection to the Metropolitan Museum. Cleon’s agency had been providing the security that night, their first major contract for the Burch Group. Elliot may have decided to give the paintings away, but he didn’t want them stolen beforehand.

Cleon shook his head, frowning at a resurfacing memory. As it became clearer in his mind, his eyes narrowed as a fresh revelation hit him. Catherine had attended that function with her father. But when Charles had left early to attend another business event, his daughter had chosen to stay behind.

And that was the first time Elliot had seen Catherine, and he’d been immediately intrigued. Especially after she’d accepted a ride home with him in his limo, and had given him her card. That first evening had held such promise, it seemed. Elliot had been quite sure of it. Cleon had never seen him so excited over a woman before. Usually, it was only buildings that animated his powerful new boss, stirred his blood, and made him restless to begin anew.

But in the end, that promising relationship hadn’t worked out either. Somehow, this seemingly perfectly-suited power couple had drifted apart. Cleon knew it had something to do with Elliot’s great tower project. Another curious issue he’d refused to discuss. Or had they been torn apart by outside influences, over which they had no control…

Cleon exhaled sharply...had this whole, incredible world of secrets and half truths, clandestine meetings, mysterious disappearances and downright craziness, started from that one encounter? And what did Catherine’s father know about any or all of it?

The investigator brought his attention back to the present, and he cast a speculative glance over his visibly reluctant companion. He longed to interrogate him, but it wasn’t in his brief. Find him and bring him back to New York — those had been Elliot’s instructions, pure and simple. But Cleon’s clinical detective mind itched now more than ever to know the truth.

But seeming far too thin and a great deal more careworn, with his silver hair close cropped now, and dyed a rather drab brown, the man before him looked nothing like the rich and successful corporate lawyer of old. The witness protection people had certainly done their job well. Perhaps too well. The poor guy looked as if he was about to pass out or have a heart attack at any moment…

Cleon tried again. “Joe Maxwell and Elliot Burch have put a lot of time and effort into finding you and bringing you home. And they’ve copped a heap of flack by doing so. They’ve had to soothe a lot of ruffled feathers and fill out a mountain of paperwork in triplicate. They’ve had to guarantee they’d be responsible for your safety if they brought you back here. Joe will be here soon, to escort you into the city.”

“Who’s Joe Maxwell?” James stared at him levelly, though his hands were shaking. “As I said before, you’ve got the wrong guy. Now, look here…” He sat forward, hands raised in frustrated supplication. “You said you wanted me to quote on a building contract in Napa for some rich client of yours.” He pointed out the window. “Kidnapping is a federal crime, you know.”

“The offencs was to take you away from the one person who truly loved you.” Cleon drew a folder from the briefcase beside him. “And to keep you separated beyond what is permissible, after the threat to you both has been removed some time ago. There is your crime.” He held out the file. “This is your way back to the truth and your old life. If you choose to accept my word and understand I mean you no harm.”

“What’s this?” James stared at the folder suspiciously, only accepting it when Cleon finally pushed it into his hands.

“Relax, you’re among friends here. I think it’s way past time you went home, Charles, don’t you? They do say home is where the heart truly is.”

“Maybe, but my home is back in LA. If this is some kind of trick, some ruse to get me to admit something to you…” James reluctantly opened the file. “I can tell you now, it won’t work. I’m not who you think I am. I don’t know any guy called Charles…”

“Read that and then tell me you’re not Charles Chandler,” Cleon advised quietly. “Then maybe I’ll finally believe you.”

Despite his protests, James frowned as he scanned the pages quickly, his increased rate of breathing sounding harsh in the ensuing silence. Finally, he looked up from the open file and his ashen face crumpled.

“Catherine…” Tears of silent regret and unfathomable pain welled up in his faded blue eyes, and he began to cry.

*******

Diana stood in the warm, semi-darkness of her bedroom, before her painting of the sulphur pools. She frowned as she reached out to touch a forefinger lightly against the painted background where the deepest shadows hung, suggesting there were places unseen and unknown. It had been five days since she’d first visited the secret world beneath the city, and her mind was still full of images and more questions.

And a wish to return as soon as she’d wrapped up the Gabriel case. She prayed it would not be long now before she could interview Catherine’s father and finally put the whole sorry affair behind her once and for all. There was so much living she was suddenly impatient to get on with.

Sensing what she was seeing, Azrael moved closer against her back, sliding his arms around her naked waist before burying his face in the russet fall of her hair. “In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors,” he quoted softly against her fragrant warmth. “I’ve always loved that line. I’ve tried to make it real in my work. Paint in all the doors of possibility.”

“That’s William Blake, isn’t it? It’s one of my favourites too…” Diana shook her head. “I never quite believed it before. But now I can see it is so true. You know, I have searched my whole life to find those doors. I had thought I was someone who could never believe in magic. I deal in facts and figures; they don’t let you down. But all this…”

She traced a reverent line down the painting before turning within the circle of his arms, reaching to cup his face in her hands. Without the shield of his sunglasses, his eyes gleamed ebony witch-fire in the darkness. “I used to stare at it at night, trying to figure out its secrets. But you’ve painted in more questions in there than there are answers. I thought what you had created down there where you lived was incredible enough. And then you showed me this new world…”

She shook her head in bafflement. “It took my breath away. It is truly incredible. Thank you for finally opening all the doors for me and allowing me in.” A shiver feathered across her skin. “Even now, it still seems unbelievable…”

“You are most welcome.” His eyes gazed unerringly into hers, the loving glow in their depths suffusing her whole body with heat. “And yet it’s all so fragile. One unwise word could bring it all crashing down.”

“Then we must do our very best to make sure that never happens.” Diana reached to kiss him slowly and lingeringly. “But I cannot wait to go back. There is so much more I want to see. And to understand.”

“Well…” Azrael trailed a line of kisses from the side of her mouth down the long column of her neck. “We do have an invitation to a party. It’s a triple celebration and everyone is invited. Would you care to go?”

“And when were you planning to tell me this? What else have you been keeping from me?” Diana drew back to stare at him, her heartbeat racing as he smiled at her, a slow smile that promised so much.

“Sometime…” Azrael’s hands travelled down to cup her butt, bringing her up close against his naked body. “There is a certain appeal in getting to know you better first. Before I must share you once more,” he teased. “There is so much you still must teach me. And show me. I thought I knew you when I painted this…” He indicated the painting. “But now I know I was wrong. These last few days and nights have been a…revelation.”

“I think that’s the understatement of the century…” A sensuous warmth mantled Diana’s cheeks as she chuckled. “I’m amazed we’re still standing…”

For a man who only a couple of days ago professed to never having made love before, Azrael had an unerring talent to find just the right places on her body. Exactly where to apply precisely the right amount of pressure or questing touch, to force abandoned cries from her on more than one occasion. No man before him had ever come close to making her lose herself as completely.

Of course, he was an artist, a blind man who worked with his hands and the intuitiveness of his incredible inner vision. He saw what she saw and felt everything she was feeling. But she had started to wonder what the neighbours must think about the orgasmic noises coming from her place.

Maybe they needed to move… She and Azrael hadn’t left the apartment for three days. The take-out deliveries were starting to get a bit boring. Not that they ate very much of anything…

“Standing is okay, but I’d rather go back to bed,” Azrael murmured, nipping gently at the side of her neck.

“Is there a request in that statement?” She ducked her head, burying her face in the solid strength of his chest. “Or shall we eat first?”

“What I am hungry for does not come on a plate,” Azrael breathed, his long fingers defining the flare of her hips before rising with deliberate slowness to enclose the full, firm roundness of her breasts. “Of course if you do have food in mind, perhaps we could order more take-out?”

“No…no, not right now…” Diana managed to breathe as his fingers began to tempt and tease, sweeping back and forth across her skin, trailing fire and making her squirm.

“Excellent…” Azrael laughed softly. “I think it is past time for another lesson…” he said, as he bent his head to capture her mouth and sweep them back into that secret world far beyond that newly discovered door, where only they existed…

*******

‘You were once my one companion…

You were all that mattered…

You were once my friend and father —

Then my world was shattered…

Wishing you were somehow here again…

Wishing you were somehow near…

Sometimes it just seemed,

If I just dreamed,

Somehow you would be here…’

Phantom of the Opera

Charles Chandler stood irresolute in the middle of the very expensive Persian carpet. Facing the living room’s closed door, he knew a restless need to pace. He wanted to move, to do something — anything — to assuage the anxiety of this endless waiting. Instead he stood rooted to the spot, staring at the door. Finally he glanced back at his hostess, a diminutive old woman sitting ramrod straight before the fire flickering in the ornate marble fireplace, watching his agitation with calm blue eyes.

He knew her well enough from his previous life in New York. Over the years he’d attended several fine social events, and some of the lavish parties she’d held at her home. But back then they’d been on the same social level. Now it seemed as if they were poles apart. He'd had no idea she had any links with his beloved daughter. It was all a very frustrating puzzle, but he was far too tired to speculate right now.

Charles ran an agitated hand over his short-cropped hair and swore softly. He prayed his daughter would recognise him after all this time. He knew he didn’t recognise himself, not the old Charles anyway. In the shaving mirror this morning he’d looked as if he was a hundred years old with every care in the world heaped upon his slumped shoulders. It had been too long since —

“It will be all right,” Lady May offered. “Catherine will be here soon. You must be patient.”

“My dear lady…” Charles passed a weary hand over his face. “I have been patient for a good few years now. I don’t wish to wait a moment longer. To see her again…” His voice broke on a stifled cry. “I do not deserve her…”

Now so much had happened and come to pass, so many things had changed that he was completely unaware of. He remembered fragments, snatches of conversation that were like elusive dreams. Catherine seated beside his hospital bed, holding his limp hand and crying. He’d desperately wanted to reach for his beloved, darling girl, wipe away her tears and comfort her. Tell her he would be all right. But the medically-induced state of his catatonic body had betrayed him. He found he couldn’t move or speak. He could only watch and battle an ever-deepening spiral of despair. What had he done…?

And then, that last night…Catherine brought the man she said she loved with all her heart and soul. She’d wanted him to finally meet her dying father… Charles frowned… But was he a man? He sighed with frustration. What was the truth, and what had been the product of the stupefying medication they had filled his system with? He had no clear idea of anything anymore.

But he remembered staring up at a face, an awesome, unique face framed with a wild cascade of tawny hair…and hearing a voice…the soft rasp, the deep, warm timbre that enhanced the intensity of the deep love that had underscored every word. The owner of that voice had promised to love and protect Catherine with every fibre of his being, to the end of his days and beyond… A lover’s role and a father’s...

The memory of that voice had haunted Charles’ dreams to this day, or had it all been only a product of his nightmares? But beyond the danger and confusion and everything that had happened as a consequence, he did remember that Catherine had said the man she loved was named Vincent...

“Forgive yourself…” Lady May stood slowly from her chair to limp over to stand beside him. “You did the right thing, even though the price has been unbearable.” She threaded her thin fingers through his, clasping his hand tightly. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack, worrying so about things that cannot be changed. Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves -- regret for the past and fear of the future,” she quoted softly. “Look to the future, not the past. It does you no good.”

“But if I hadn’t gone snooping into things I didn’t understand, if I’d just kept my nose out of Gabriel’s dark empire, I would have still had my life. I would still have Catherine and I —” Charles froze when the door suddenly opened and a beautiful young woman walked in. She halted on the threshold, her shoulders braced, as if expecting a heavy blow. Her eyes met his immediately and tears welled up in her green eyes, spilling down her cheeks.

“Dad…?” she questioned. “Is it really you after all this time?”

“Oh, Cathy, my girl…” Charles breathed raggedly, taking several halting steps forward, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m just so glad to see you again. I never dreamed it could be possible. I can’t believe this is real…” He held out his arms.

“Oh, Dad…” Catherine stumbled forward into his close embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist as if she feared he would vanish if she released her hold.

“My beautiful, darling girl, I do so love you.” Charles buried his face in the warm fragrance of his daughter’s hair and clung to her like a drowning man. “I’m just so sorry it had to be this way. I never intended to lie to you. If I hadn’t been such a fool to think I could make a difference. That I could beat that awful man…”

“It’s all right, Dad. I understand. But I have so much I need to tell you.” Catherine pulled back to look up into his face. She smoothed gently at the lines creasing his forehead and worried he looked so thin and care-worn. “And there is so much to show you. So many things have changed in my life since you … since you were taken away from me. After the night you… died, I felt you all around me. Once I dreamed you came to see me, to talk to me. I talked to you, about everything. It all seemed so real. I have always wanted to see you again, to tell you I am all right. That I am loved.”

Lady May approached them and took Catherine’s hand. “I’ll be in the next room if you need me,” she said quietly. She glanced at Charles. “What Catherine has to tell you will seem quite fantastic and impossible. Believe her, and know it is the truth, and that there is nothing greater in this life than the power of love. It conquers everything, even the past.” She hugged Catherine and kissed her cheek before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind her.

“Come and sit down.” Catherine linked arms with her father, taking him with her to a couch before the fire. She sank down beside him.

Charles looked her over with loving curiosity. She was dressed in a loosely- belted, yellow silk blouse over a calf-length black skirt which gave her the air of a more mature and confident woman than the young, hard-working lawyer he had last seen. His gaze fastened on the ring finger of her left hand, and his brows drew together in confusion.

“What’s this?” He touched a questioning fingertip to the plaited gold band. “You’re married?”

“For almost a year now,” Catherine replied steadily. “I love him so much. He is my life. There are so many things I need to tell you.”

Charles threaded his fingers through hers. “There’s something about you, a look and a serenity that wasn’t there before… before I went away. You look so much like your mother. You look… happy. I only ever wanted your happiness, Cathy. I tried so hard to do the right thing for you. I didn’t think I could fail myself and you.”

“I know. As I said, Dad, so many things have changed in my life. For a start you need to know that you’re now a grandfather. I have three beautiful children.”

“Three…?” Charles looked startled and then he smiled wistfully. “I always knew you would make an excellent mother, just like Cathleen.” He touched her cheek. “I just wish your mother could see you now. And the father — your husband — is he here too? Will I get to meet him?”

“In a little while, after we talk. Dad…” Catherine drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “Do you remember anything of that night…that night I came to see you. I brought someone to meet you. Someone very special to me. Someone I could not tell you about before that night.”

“Ah…yes…” Charles grimaced sadly before inhaling deeply. “Catherine, I understood so much more about you after that night. What you have with Vincent is a rare thing indeed. I was such a fool to put it all at risk. I can’t say how sorry I am. If only you had told me sooner.”

“Oh Dad, I’m so sorry, but you were never to blame. I just wish I could have told you sooner…I wish you could have met him years ago. It would have saved us both a lot of heartache. But we needed to be so careful. Where he comes from, where he lives, is so very fragile.”

“You had to be patient until I was ready to let you leave me. You needed to wait until I was old enough to understand. You were my whole world, and I worried about you so much. I wanted to keep you with me always. But I could not put your life in danger. I knew you would be safe if I went far away.”

Catherine’s breathing hitched on a sob. “Did you understand what we said that night…?”

“I understood everything he said, and I understood everything you said. It made it easier for me to leave you behind. I knew he would take care of you. That he would love you as you deserve to be loved. He could protect you where I could not. But I wanted so much to be there for you…”

“And I just wanted you to know how much I love him. And how much I loved you.”

“You know, if I could have stayed I would have done so. But here were circumstances, forces beyond my control. For you to have the life your mother always wished for you, a safe and happy life, I had to leave. Your love made it easier for me to let go.”

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Honouring Mum’s memory?”

“What you have found is so special, it is a true miracle. A lot of people have worked such miracles on our behalf. I never dreamed I would see you again. So do you…” He looked squarely into her eyes. “Do you think I am old enough to finally meet him properly?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Dad.” Catherine wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood. “Wait here.”

She hurried to the door and opened it, looking into the passage beyond. She beckoned to someone, and as Charles rose slowly to his feet, he found he was holding his breath. He released it slowly on a grateful sigh as a tall, powerfully-built man walked silently into the room.

And once again, Charles stared up into that unique and awesome face and felt humbled. And then he looked into sapphire blue eyes that considered him with a calm serenity, which warmed him and made him so very proud of his little girl who was now all grown up and a mother.

He held out his hand. “Hello, Vincent. It is wonderful to finally meet you. I never forgot you, or that night. But I never thought this day would ever come. I owe you all so much more that I cannot ever hope to repay. I knew you would take good care of my girl.”

“The debt has already been paid.” Vincent took his hand and the two men assessed each other closely, each knowing that in their own way, they both loved a truly remarkable woman. “Welcome home, Charles.”

*******

“We gonna be home soon, Dev?” Concealed beneath a black wig with dark glasses covering a large part of his face, and wearing a long, loose shirt over easy-riding jeans, Charles excited very few comments, except about his size.

He blended well into the chaotic airport scene.

Devin shrugged. “Soon, Charles. After Customs, I just need to hire a van, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Fly in big plane all the way from New Zealand. Lots of water and then lots of land. But good to be back in New York. Good to come home and see the folks again, eh, Dev?”

“It is indeed. We’ve been away too long.”

“Can’t do much with grape vines in winter.” Charles shrugged. “It’ll all be right there when we get back.”

Devin smiled. “Just as well. When Father wrote and said we had to come home for Summerfest, or he’d write me out of his will, I knew he meant it this time.”

“Father wouldn’t do that, Dev?” Charles looked anxious. “Would he?”

Devin shrugged. “The old boy’s got a really big hole in the ground and a whole pile of old books to leave me. Oh, and his chess set. That I might be able to sell, if I ever get really short of cash.”

“Not the chess set, Dev.” Charles reared back in horror. “Can’t sell that. Father’s best one. He loves it.”

“I was kidding, Charles.” Devin sighed. “The old boy probably hasn’t even got a will. And Vincent and I would go halves in everything anyway. Can’t sell half a chess set.”

“Oh...” Charles looked confused then his expression cleared. “Very funny, Dev. Maybe Catherine could make one for him. A will, I mean. She’s a good lawyer.”

“Maybe, indeed. Yes, my little brother did well there. He certainly married a classy lady. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.” Devin took his companion’s arm. “Right, come on, now we just got to clear customs and we’ll hire that van. I think Lady May had better be our first port of call, or she might cancel her order for those first ten cases of next year’s vintage.”

“Good idea then, Dev. Gotta keep the old ladies sweet. Good for business.”

“Charles…” Devin tugged at the older man’s sleeve as they approached the customs hall. “Just exactly what have you been doing behind my back?”

“Nothing…” Charles blinked in honest surprise. “Just talking to people. Making customers for us.” He grinned. “Looking to the future, Dev. It’s important. Gotta make connections, do network and stuff. We gonna be rich, Dev.”

“Well, don’t go looking too far ahead or you might not see where you’re going.” Devin punched him lightly in the arm as a Customs officer beckoned them over to his station.

*******

“So that’s everything you have? Everything you can remember?” Diana frowned at Catherine’s father. “There’s nothing else?”

“That is all of it. And I am glad to be rid of it.” Charles looked at Catherine and Vincent who had both been watching him write out page after page of facts and figures for the last five hours under Diana’s direction. “That man hid himself so well that sometimes I used to wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if I’d only dreamed it all. What a fool I was then. Such a stupid, arrogant idiot, to think I could make a difference.”

He reached for Catherine’s hand, looking deep into eyes that reminded him so much of his late wife’s he felt like crying. “But even then I didn’t realise the scope of it. Though I knew I couldn’t involve you in any of it, Cathy. It was far too dangerous. I found such an incredible maze of third-party lease-backs and a veritable minefield of holding companies and shell corporations, that it would have taken a whole team of lawyers years to uncover the truth. But even then, Gabriel didn’t want me to discover anything about him. He moved in the shadows and he liked it there, safe from discovery; the ultimate puppet-master pulling all our strings. But that’s when the nightmare really began. He tried more than once to have me killed. I wish now…”

He sighed, shaking his head wearily. “I wish now I’d had the good sense to have left it all alone, not tried to be such a hero, a crusader for the greater good. Look where it got me.” His shoulders sagged. “I’m so very tired of constantly having it on my mind and always looking over my shoulder. Now I am finally free to begin again.”

They were all seated at one end of the huge oak table in Lady May’s dining room. Charles slumped back in his chair, releasing Catherine’s hand and allowing his to fall down and hang at his sides. He looked utterly exhausted.

Catherine reached for him. “You can’t blame yourself. You tried to do what was right, Dad. And I love you for that. Even if it took you so far away from me, we’re here now, together at last. And nothing will part us again. Nothing, I swear.”

She glanced at Diana. “I think we will leave it there.” Catherine turned to watch her father anxiously. “It’s getting late and we’re all exhausted.”

“Well, I think I have enough now to finally close the investigation.” Diana nodded, collecting everything on the table in front of them and pushing it into her large hold-all. “I’ll admit I am tired of it all as well. I think I need a long holiday. Somewhere warm and sunny. I might even take a friend. Show him a few of the things he’s been missing for some time.” She smiled slowly.

The door to the room opened, and a maid walked in carrying a heavily laden tea tray followed closely by Lady May. She surveyed the group at the table. “You’ve been cooped up in here for hours. I thought you could all do with a refreshment break.”

“Thank you.” Vincent got to his feet to take the tray. “But we are finally done here.”

“Excellent. Then I am just in time.” May dismissed the maid with a smile and closed the door behind her. “I have a surprise waiting for you in the other room. But I didn’t wish to disturb you until you were ready.”

“As long as it doesn’t require more paperwork,” Charles begged, passing a weary hand over his face. “I’m sick to death of all that.”

“Oh, I think you’re going to like this one.” Lady May smiled as she poured the tea, passing the filled cups around the group. When she had finished she picked up the small silver bell on the tray and rang it with brisk authority.

“I feel like the butler being summoned in a Hitchcock movie,” a man’s voice complained, as the door opened again to admit Devin, closely followed by Charles. “Geez, I see the gang’s all here already then. Well, that saves me a trip down Below.”

“Devin, you pirate, when did you get in?” Vincent was on his feet and only took three strides before enfolding his big brother in a crushing bear hug.

“Hey, easy, little brother, mind the ribs…” Devin complained as he hugged him back just as heartily. He drew back to look past Vincent’s shoulder. “And Catherine too. And she’s just as gorgeous as ever. Things are certainly looking up.” Devin moved to hug her as well, planting a warm kiss on her cheek. “Now, who’s this?” His frowning gaze took in both Diana and Catherine’s father.

He swung back to Catherine. “What gives, Radcliffe? Have I missed something really big here? I mean, that’s your Dad, isn’t it? I thought, I mean… And I have no idea who she is…” He pointed to Diana. “But I get the feeling she’s dangerous. Interesting company you keep when I’m not around, little brother. Care to fill me in?”

“You have missed an awful lot by your tardiness, boy,” Lady May told him briskly. “So sit down, be quiet, and we will tell you all the details.”

“Gee, it’s so good to be home again.” Devin laughed, drawing out two chairs, one of him and the other for Charles, who sat down quickly and tried to look small beneath Lady May’s imperious stare. “Okay, guys, tell me everything. And make it good. This has got to last me until the next time I come home.”

“Which had better be next year and with my ten cases of wine, or you’ll have me to answer to,” Lady May reminded him stoutly before she took a chair at the table and poured a fresh round of tea. “All right, who’s going to speak first?”

*******

“Well, here’s to new beginnings.” Elliot raised his glass of wine to toast his fellow diners. “And to the very best of friends.”

“And here’s to a wedding I know we are all going to enjoy.” Catherine raised her glass of orange juice with a smile. “It’s about time you made an honest woman of Shannon.”

“He had to wait until I was ready.” Shannon laughed softly.

“I am sure Elliot will make an excellent husband,” Vincent commented, as he raised his own glass. “Of course, if he needs any advice...”

“Give it a rest, guys.” Elliot held up his free hand in surrender. “I think I can figure it out. I’ll let you know.”

“There is an art to taking good care of your lady,” Henry Pei assured him as he pushed his way backwards through the door leading into the private room he and Lin had created at the back of their restaurant for certain, very special visitors. He placed the heavily laden tray he was carrying on the revolving platform in the middle of the table.

Fragrant steam rose from the many dishes it held. In the next moment Lin appeared with a tray carrying individual dishes for each of the four diners. As she shared them out she asked, “Is my husband giving out free advice again?”

“Elliot has asked Shannon to marry him. Isn’t that wonderful?” Catherine shared the good news.

“Oh, it’s about time.” Lin nodded. “Let me see the ring. When’s the wedding going to be?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” Shannon held out her hand for her to admire, and the three women spent several companionable minutes discussing various plans. The men sat back, talking among themselves, knowing full well their input was neither needed nor desired.

It was only later, after they had finished an exquisite meal and Henry had cleared the dishes cleared away, that Elliot broached the true reason for the evening’s get-together. He reached beneath the table and brought out a large portfolio case. He laid it in the middle of the table.

“I have something here that I think will interest you,” he began, opening the case to display its contents of blueprints and real estate print-outs. “I have discussed my plans with Shannon and she approves of my ideas.”

“What is this?” Vincent leaned forward to shuffle through the plans. “A property on the Upper East Side.” He identified the location immediately. “On the river.” He looked impressed. “An impressive address, too. Your new house, perhaps?”

“Yes, it overlooks the river,” Elliot agreed, watching Vincent closely. “It’s one of the last of its kind. A seven bedroom home with four bathrooms — main ensuite — and set in its own extensive gardens. It’s all very private and secluded, and it’s not overlooked by anyone. It was destined to be a major part of a package I was intending to sell, but when I saw the name of a previous owner, I told my real estate broker to cancel the sale for this one.”

“Why, Elliot?” Catherine stood to see the plans better, drawing them around so she could study the views of the house. “Dunrowan House…” she said slowly, leaning closer, running a finger across the legend. “But this…this is… It can’t be…”

“It’s your childhood home.” Shannon took her hand and held it. “We discovered the truth on that long weekend away we took. Elliot found your father’s name on the list of previous owners. We just knew it would be perfect.”

“Perfect for what…?” Catherine sat down hard.

“As a place where you and Vincent can be together out of sight of any prying eyes. It will be a lovely second home for you and your children. And your father. He could live there too. There’s a ton of room as you know.”

“But the cost, Elliot…” Vincent shook his head. “It would considerable.”

“Oh, there is work to be done,” Elliot assured him with a dismissing wave of his hand. “It’s in a bit of a sorry state at present, so it needs a complete renovation for a start. The roof will need looking at, and the ivy will have to be taken right back. But first we need to know exactly what lies beneath it. If there are any usable tunnels beneath the cellars of the place, or it we have to cut new ones. For that we will need Mouse and some strong backs. That’s where you guys come in. That will be your contribution to the project.”

“I meant the cost to you, my friend.” Vincent held up a hand. “We cannot allow you to do this. It is too much.”

“I disagree. It is not enough, Vincent,” Elliot assured him, his grey eyes locking with his. “This is what I do. This is what I am good at. I know of your hopes and dreams for you and your family. Shannon has told me some of it. I understand you better than you think I do.” He grinned crookedly.

“You have given me more than I ever believed possible. But most of all you gave me back my self-respect. You reminded me of my beginnings and how far I have come. I can be who I am now because of your trust and friendship. That is a debt I can never hope to repay. Not in a thousand lifetimes. So you will allow me to do this for you…for all of you. I guess you could call it a belated wedding present. Sorry I couldn’t gift-wrap it for you.”

“It seems as if your mind has already been made up,” Vincent replied, after considering him for a long time. “Then we must accept your most generous offer. But it is more than I ever dreamed possible.” He thought of his promise to the white face of the uncaring moon, and shrugged. Fate moved in mysterious ways…

“Good!” Elliot beamed. “Great! You had me worried there for a moment. I thought I was going to have to arm-wrestle you into agreeing.”

“Now, that would have been interesting…” Vincent shook his head and laughed.

“That’s my old room…” Catherine touched a fingertip lightly to an upper window looking out onto the garden below. “That would be the perfect room for the girls to grow up in.” She moved around the table to throw her arms around Elliot neck and hug him tightly. “Thank you, Elliot. This is a truly wonderful gift.”

Elliot smiled as he cupped her cheek in his palm. “Anything for the Wells family. It will be my pleasure.”

*******

“Ah, at last, child, you have come back to me. I knew you would eventually.” Elizabeth put aside her brushes to pat Catherine’s cheek with her care-worn hand. “It has been too long since the last time, when I painted the Up Top story of your life. What do you have for me now?”

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” Catherine smiled in apology. “There have been so many things that have happened since the last time I came here. I have wanted to come back before now, but my father…”

“Ah, yes, your father…” Elizabeth indicated a section of the Painted Tunnels. “He’s here too. Now that he’s a part of us, I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Mouse, and he fetched that photograph you keep of your father beside your bed. He returned it immediately when I was done with it, of course. Please, come and look.”

She drew Catherine to a painting of her father as he once had been. His hair was thick and a soft, dark blond; his open face unlined. Proud and upright, he was smiling as he was gazed up at a much younger Catherine seated high up in a tree in Central Park. She was laughing and waving, but the older Catherine could see, even though her father was waving back, there was visible tension in every line of his body and upraised arm. As if he was intending to catch her if she ever lost her grip and fell from the tree. He had always been there for her, just like that.

“Don’t fall…please, don’t fall…” Catherine whispered, touching a fingertip to her father’s laughing face. Her eyes burning with unshed tears, she looked back at Elizabeth. “He was so worried about me. But he still allowed me to climb trees every Saturday in the park. He couldn’t deny me anything, you see.”

“Yes, Vincent told me.” Elizabeth nodded. “Bring your father to me one day soon and he can tell me his story. I have so much more room now. Come and look at this. I only finished it last week. I had to wait for some new supplies of paint and brushes and some expert help. Mouse has been very busy on my behalf, bless him. He takes good care of me.”

She led her farther along the painted tunnels towards a new area Catherine hadn’t noticed before. It had been screened off with an old, ragged sheet. Elizabeth swept it back and led Catherine beyond into a whole new section of tunnel that looked like it had been freshly cleaned and swept. Everything was illuminated by stands of spotlights that appeared to be electrically powered.

“Do you like them?” Elizabeth reached to tap one. “Mouse found them and rigged them up only last week. They run off all that power generated from the new garden. They are so good for my old eyes, better than candles. They make the colours sing. Now I have to force myself go to bed at night. There is so much still to do…”

She clapped her hands together with happiness. “Mouse and Devin’s Charles, they insisted I needed more room to paint my stories. Mouse brought Winslow, Cullen, and Kanin, and a whole host of other men, including Charles, and they spent days clearing out the rocks and debris that had been blocking the end of the tunnel for as long as I’ve been here. They uncovered another whole section of concrete tunnel that had been left unfinished and abandoned. Mouse said it must have been blocked by a flash flood years ago and no one had bothered to clear it, until now. He was brilliant. He figured everything out and made it all work, so now I have three times the area I started with all those years ago and new lights to paint by. Mouse said I better make sure I’m around for a few years to paint it all.”

Her grey eyes twinkled with delight. “I had to promise him I would be. He’s such a good boy.” She took Catherine’s hand again. “Now come and see this…I painted it all just for you, child. Azrael helped me with some of the higher things. I’ve been waiting for you to come and see it before showing it to anyone else.”

She led Catherine farther down the tunnel to where a large mural ran from floor to just above her head-height and covered a wide area of the newly-cleaned tunnel wall. “A long time ago Vincent told me of your dreams of sharing the sunshine with him. How you longed to walk in the sunlight together. I think all this works just fine. Don’t you, child?”

“It’s truly beautiful…” Catherine breathed after a long time of simply looking. She moved her hand carefully, her palm hovering just above the concrete surface of Elizabeth’s painted tunnel wall. “The colours are amazing. How did you do it?”

“Oh, I have a lot of help, child. Azrael brings me such gifts whenever he comes Below. He came back to see me after Diana’s first visit, to see what I needed. Azrael’s such a sweet, sweet boy. He understands a lot more than he lets on, I think, and he knows exactly what I like. He helps me paint in the backgrounds sometimes too. He likes to put in the hidden things, tiny doors and windows. Who knows where they may lead. That’s part of the magic of what he does. He says it relaxes him to be with me, seeing what I see.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “And that nice Joe brought me a whole pallet of fresh paints just the other day. He said he’d been meaning to do it for a while. Such a lovely man, but I think he’s very lonely. It’s a shame he doesn’t have a lady in his life. Then I could paint them both. I would like to do that.”

Catherine glanced at her and smiled. “I think you’ll find Joe is married to his work. But I know what you mean. He needs to get out more. I’ll see what I can do.” She looked back at the painting beneath her hand. “But this…this is special.” She began at the closest edge, walking slowly from one side to the other to take it all in.

The scene the tunnel’s artist had painted looked like an enormous Gainsborough pastoral landscape, except it was filled with people. On the nearest edge, there were Jamie and Mouse setting up strings of coloured lights through the lower branches of the trees. A whole host of the tunnel’s younger children were splashing and laughing in a shallow pool in the foreground. Catherine looked closer. In the bottom corner she could see Father and Devin playing chess beneath a wide umbrella keeping the sun from the board, Charles leaning over Devin’s shoulder, watching the game intently.

Next to them there was a large barbeque being expertly supervised by William, while Winslow turned what looked like an entire sheep on a roasting spit, with Cullen applying layers of gleaming marinade. She could even detect the beads of sweat on Winslow’s wide brow, as he laboured to turn the spitted beast. Mary, seated comfortably in an old deckchair next to them, was expertly peeling vegetables, while Olivia and some of the other tunnel women were making large bowls of salads, assisted by some of the older boys and girls. Beside them, Lady May, sitting prim and erect in a folding chair, with her back to the women, was supervising the younger children’s shrieking water play with a satisfied smile as she leaned on her cane. Seated cross-legged at the old lady’s feet, Ellie was shelling green peas into a large wooden bowl.

Beyond Father’s shoulder, Catherine could see Elliot and Shannon setting out games, marking off the wide expanse of green grass with ribbons and stakes driven into the ground, while Elliot was expertly wielding a hammer, assisted by Pascal, who was wearing a very worried frown as the hammer headed towards where his thumb was wrapped around the peg he was holding. Zach and Geoffrey were stringing the ribbons along the neat lines of stakes.

Further along the lakeshore, there were tunnel men and women setting out tables and chairs for the feast to come, and Alex was helping by putting up umbrellas. Beyond them Sebastien was using his hands to weave stories for Rebecca and Peter as they covered the tables with cloths before laying out the cutlery. Wearing an enormous grin, Lou was placing heaped bowls of gaily wrapped chocolates on a side table.

Elizabeth had added a charming piece of whimsy, by painting Kanin trying to catch a fish in the other end of the pool. Beside him, Joe stood in the shallow water, fishing net in hand and trousers rolled to the knee, looking every inch the fisherman Catherine knew he was not. She smiled as she touched lightly on her friend’s harried expression as he watched for any sign of a fish. She made him a silent promise right then.

Farther along, there was Elizabeth herself wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat, painting a miniature scene of the whole affair. She appeared to be in competition with Azrael, who was also standing at a much larger easel creating an incredible landscape of tunnels and half-opened doors leading into quirky little chambers filled with magical things that gleamed in the faint candlelight leaking around the doors, while Diana stood beside him with her arm around his waist, laughing at something he had just said.

“Playing in the sunlight and no one looked twice…” Catherine shook her head with wonderment.

Elizabeth took her hand. “Vincent came here the other day to tell me of your home up there. The one that Elliot has just given you both as a wedding present. I thought that was such a lovely idea. Vincent showed me some pictures and said it was very special to you. That it was where you were born, and the place where you could all be together in the sunshine. I was wondering how to paint you and Vincent…” She carefully pushed aside another old paint-stained sheet and drew Catherine forward. “So I created this for all of you.”

Beneath the sheet, Catherine’s old home was revealed in all its former splendour, filling almost the entire second half of the mural. Newly-painted and reroofed with red tiles, with all the overgrowth of ivy and weeds stripped away, the old house shone in the sunshine, its open windows and doors appearing to smile benevolently on the scene before it.

“You have made it all look so real…” Catherine caught her breath as she leaned closer.

In the foreground, she and Vincent were seated together on the grass, reading from a book of poetry — her husband behind her — cradling her against his chest between his spread knees, one arm slung over casually his upraised leg as she had so often seen him sit. In the bright sunlight, his tumbled mane shone like spun gold tipped with fire, as he inclined his head to smile down at her. Catherine had her head thrown back against his shoulder, laughing up at him.

Before them their three children played. The babies kicking out on blankets in the sunshine, while a laughing Jacob raced along after a high-flying kite, ably assisted by Kipper, Eric, and Angelo. And there was Samantha, in her usual place as chief babysitter, seated cross-legged beside the blanket, keeping a close watch over her charges as she read to them from a picture book.

Behind the girl, Catherine’s father sat in a lawn chair, watching over them all and smiling with approval. Everywhere Catherine looked, there was love and acceptance.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.” She hugged the old woman close. “It is a lovely story.”

“Ah, but there are still so many chapters to come…” Elizabeth inclined her head. “This wonderful story is by no means told.” She waved her hands at the fresh, unpainted expanse of tunnel walls. “And I have so much more room now…” She smiled happily. “You must come and see me again, very soon. And bring Vincent and your children next time.”

“I will. I promise,” Catherine vowed, before walking back to the edge of the mural and starting again…

*******

“So, what do you think, Vincent? Can it be done?” Elliot stood anxiously at Vincent’s shoulder several days later; beside where he crouched over the plans spread out on the tunnel floor.

“It is possible.” Vincent looked up at the stone wall before him. “But we will have to break through into the cellar beyond. There are no usable tunnels near enough.”

“Take a lot of work,” Mouse commented, going slowly over the tunnel wall with his hands spread wide. “Solid bedrock is harder than bricks or concrete. Don’t think anyone’s been this way before. Virgin stone. Good stuff. Maybe we have to use plastic explosive…” He swung back to frown at Vincent, the flashlights strapped to either side of his old football helmet clanking and rattling. “What’ya say, Vincent? Time for some more, big boom?”

“Plastic explosive…?” Elliot’s tanned face paled. “I thought you used it all to rescue Vincent and Father from that rock-fall some years ago. After the wedding, Joe did tell me you had more. But I thought he must have been mistaken. I’m not at all sure about this. Where did it come from?”

“Found it.” Mouse shrugged nonchalantly. “Plenty more there. Won’t miss it. Mouse knows what he’s doing. Got new eyebrows.” He swept a hand across above his eyes. “Not planning to lose them again anytime soon.”

“Someday, boy you are going to get so deep in trouble, even we won’t be able to dig you out.” Elliot threw up his hands in disgust.

Winslow appeared from his investigation of the furthest reaches of the tunnel. “This is still the best place to tunnel upwards to the basement level,” he said, dropping to one knee beside Vincent and his map. He frowned up at Mouse. “And you’ll leave any blasting to Elliot. At least he knows what he’s doing. You’re way too slap-happy with that stuff.”

“Mouse can learn.” The tinker looked offended. “Gotta make it right for Catherine and the babies. Gotta last for all time.”

“It’s you who won’t last if you go off half-cocked again, boy,” Winslow opined darkly. “Be glad it was only your eyebrows that went missing last time. You’ll check with any one of us before you do anything more. We don’t want to bring Vincent’s new place down on top of us before they’ve even moved in.”

“Okay good, okay fine,” Mouse muttered. “But all this talk sure ain’t shiftin’ no damn rock.” He imitated Winslow’s speech patterns exactly, and the blacksmith couldn’t help but laugh.

He shook his large fist. “One day, Mouse…one day you are gonna to go too far.”

Vincent eased to his feet and rolled up the maps. “This is all we can do for now. It will be Summerfest in three days. We will make a start on the cutting after that. For now, I think it is time we sampled some of William’s best brew and helped with the preparations. And yes, that includes you, Mouse. You can’t escape this year.”

“Always other things to do. Never time for Mouse to do stuff,” the tinker grumbled in honest complaint, as he followed the others on the long walk back towards the home tunnels.

And he was right to feel aggrieved. He had Vincent’s special project to finish and then there was Father’s bookcase to figure out. He’d finally decided to ask for Winslow’s help, since he was the strongest man in the tunnels. Stronger even than Vincent. Mouse sighed. So many things to do and so little time left now…

*******

‘All I want is freedom, a world with no more night…and you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me…’ Shannon gazed deep into Tony’s eyes.

Tony took her hands. ‘Then say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime…let me lead you from your solitude…Say you need me with you here, beside you…anywhere you go, let me go too — Christine, that’s all I ask of you…’

Shannon leaned closer. “Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime…say the word and I will follow you…say you love me…’

‘You know I do…’

‘Love me, that’s all I ask of you…’ They sang together before they moved closer to kiss and whisper to each other before a second, longer kiss.

Once again an intensely reverent silence descended in the Great Hall, as the last strains of the soaring music died away into the shadows. This time playing the role of Raoul, Tony took Shannon’s hand. “Thank you once again, my Christine.” He smiled as he bent to press an appreciative kiss to the back of her hand. “You were brilliant as usual.”

“That was just like old times.” Shannon inclined her head in tribute, as they both turned to the spellbound audience. “I really enjoyed myself.”

“Now remember the last time, guys…” Tony warned, as he raised Shannon’s hand in his, sweeping wide his free hand in his broad theatrical gesture, indicating his keen expectations of the crowd. “You gotta return the love.”

Immediately chaos and shouts of encore erupted. Previously entranced audience members jumped to their feet, shouting and clapping as they came rushing forward, trying to be the first to shake Tony’s hand, or kiss Shannon’s cheek.

“I thought I was moved enough last time…” Father clasped Tony’s hand tightly. “I truly did forget where I was for a moment there. Your singing really transported me into another time.”

“I can see another night on Broadway looming for all of us.” Elliot came up behind Shannon and drew her back against him, leaning down to kiss her mouth with lingering thoroughness. “Once again you were both wonderful. That was a very special performance. We can’t wait until you get back on the stage, Tony.”

“Just a couple more weeks.” Tony ruffled his hair, which had grown out. “And a few more of William’s meals. But I’d better be careful. They might decide I’m too fat for Raoul, and they may need me to play Piangi instead.” He laughed, patting his trim waist.

*******

“Shall we begin?” Father looked around the gathering, studying each face in turn.

Lady May, sitting upright in her chair, her expression intent, smiled at him and nodded. Elliot and Shannon stood next to her chair, while beyond them Azrael stood with Diana close to his side, with Devin and Charles beside them.

Father looked to his left where Charles Chandler waited silently, his thin face pensive and wondering. It was still a very new experience for him, and Father inclined his head in silent question.

“Please go on. I’m fine,” Charles encouraged quietly. “I still think I might be dreaming.” He smiled wistfully. “But it’s such a wonderful dream.”

“Very well.” Father looked out over the crowd. “It has often been said that the child is the meaning of life, a gift of pure joy. The truth of that was never more apparent to me than on that day when we came to name Jacob.”

He smiled at his namesake, held securely in Samantha’s arms. “Now, once again, we gather to celebrate the child. These precious new lives which have been brought into our world with grace and joy. We welcome Vincent and Catherine’s children with love, that they may be able to love. We welcome them with gifts, that they may learn generosity. And finally we welcome them with their own names.”

Father turned to smile at Catherine. She looked around the chamber, her eyes settling on Mary for a long moment. “Vincent and I have decided to name our first daughter, Mary.”

“Oh, my…” Mary gasped as she raised a hand to press her fingers to her trembling lips. “I never expected…thank you.” She began to cry. Shannon put her arms around her, hugging the older woman close.

“Excellent choice.” Lady May clapped her hands.

Stepping forward Vincent smiled as he looked around the gathering before he said, “And to honour Catherine’s mother, we have chosen to name our second daughter, Cathleen. May she live to be as generous and giving as her own mother…”

Catherine turned to her father, reaching for his hand. “You don’t mind?”

“How could I possibly mind?” Charles cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “This is everything I ever wanted for you, my darling girl. A home, a husband who loves you deeply, and children of your own. I just wish your mother could see you now. She would be so proud.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Catherine hugged him close and kissed his cheek. “I love you so much. I am so glad you are finally home where you belong.”

*******

“Mouse, what have you been doing now?” Father demanded suspiciously as the tinker led him by the hand towards Father’s chamber.

“You’ll see.” Mouse nodded. “Got to be a big surprise.”

“Is this the surprise you were working on down in the Mousehole?” Vincent inquired as he followed them. “When you told me there was nothing to worry Father?”

“Well, it is a surprise...” Mouse skipped blithely over the question. “You’ll see. Not long now.” He led the way around the corner of the tunnel. “Father got to close his eyes now. Not open until Mouse says so.”

“Mouse…” Father intoned warningly. But the pathetic look of pleading in the tinker’s eyes mollified him. “Very well. But this had better be something I can live with. Nothing too loud and not something that goes off like a rocket every hour, on the hour, like your last great idea. I still wake up in a cold sweat.”

“Okay good, okay great!” Mouse led him carefully forward until they were just inside the entrance to Father’s chamber.

Coming up behind them, Vincent peered over their shoulders. Down in the lower chamber Winslow and Cullen were standing side by side grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats. All around them, every one of Father’s many precious books had been neatly tidied into stacks, before a truly beautiful wooden bookcase that stood proudly where the jumbled stacks of books had once threatened to cascade down on the old man’s head.

“Vincent…?” Father begged on a moan. “Tell me please. What do you see?”

“Something truly beautiful…” Vincent clapped his hand solidly on Mouse’s shoulder, making the boy stagger a little. “Mouse, you are a true genius.”

“Had help…” Mouse rubbed his shoulder absently. “Winslow and Cullen. Good at keeping secrets. But needed their help to move it here. Had to take it to bits and put back together again. Too big to get out of the Mousehole.”

“Too big…? May I look now, please…?” Father begged, still standing with his hand over his eyes. “The suspense is killing me…”

“Look and see what Mouse created. It is magnificent.”

“At least your word, Vincent, I can trust.” Father lowered his hand slowly, blinking in the candlelight. “Oh, my…”

“Father like?” Mouse’s face crumpled into deep concern. “Not too much?”

“I like it Mouse, very much.” Father advanced slowly down the steps. “But how did you get it in here?”

“That was the easy part,” Cullen admitted wryly. “Getting it out of that rubbish heap Mouse lives in was the hard part. We almost had to carve him a new door to get it out of there.”

“Mouse will know better next time.” The tinker scowled. “Always learn from your mistakes, eh, Vincent?”

“Yes, Mouse.” Vincent suppressed a smile. “But this is some of your best work.”

“It certainly is…” Father advanced down the short flight of steps, walking towards his new bookcase with a calculating look in his eyes. “Think of how many more books I can have now. I have so much more room…” He ran his gloved hands reverently over the polished wood of the bookcase. “This is better than good, better than anything.”

“More books…” Cullen complained with alarm. “Haven’t you got enough now? What’ya need with more?”

“You can never have enough books!” Father told him roundly.

Behind his back, the rest of his family and friends exchanged harried looks. Cullen shook his head. “I guess those shelves Father asked me about making for him are going to come in handy after all…”

*******

“What’ya think, Vincent?”

“It is incredible, Mouse. You have excelled yourself.” Vincent bent over the table, shaking his head in disbelief at what his good friend had created. “I never dreamed my simple idea could become something so perfect and breathtaking.”

“Everything’s as you asked, Vincent.” Mouse nodded. “Glad it’s good. Mouse worked hard. Day and night. Had to go far down for the best rocks. The ones that have pretty sparkles in the light. Needed to make them all different. Know all their names. Now I got power, got a neat machine for cutting and polishing stones. Azrael bought it for me. Works really great. Did a real good job. Well, Cullen helped some nights with the carving. Made all their faces look right for you.”

“I’m almost afraid to touch it.” Vincent stood back. “It’s amazing.”

“Oh, they won’t break.” Mouse snatched up a carved chess piece and knocked it firmly against the side of the table. “See…good stone. Solid. Will last.”

“Don’t do that…please…” Vincent leapt forward to pluck the pawn from his friend’s hand, replacing on the board. “But the faces, they look so real...so lifelike…”

“See, Father…” Mouse held up the black bishop. “Cullen said make it black for Below and white for Up Top.” He replaced the bishop and snatched up the white king, showing it to Vincent. It was a faithful rendition of Elliot’s face, bearded and smiling. “And see here…” He held aloft the black king. “And this is you, Vincent. You and there’s Catherine too. She’s your queen.”

They were all there. The most important members of Above and Below all faithfully replicated in the many different polished stones. The beautiful dragon box Cullen and Winslow had created for Vincent’s birthday three years ago had inspired his new idea. Now there was a similar box sitting beside the chess set. The two craftsmen had created their part of the surprise brilliantly. But this time each of the box’s hinges and the lock had been cast in the shape of a cluster of delicately furled roses and buds.

“I don’t know what to say, Mouse. How to thank you.” Vincent shook his head.

“For Catherine and all your babies.” Mouse grinned. “See, Jacob and the girls here too. All pawns, but right in front of you. In the best place. Now you can play with them any time you want.”

“You are a very special friend, Mouse.” Vincent put his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Vincent is my friend too.” Mouse ducked his head, his cheeks glowing with embarrassment. “Vincent will help Mouse any time he asks.”

“Anything, Mouse…” Vincent drew back to look down at his friend. “Did you have any particular project in mind? Please don’t tell me it involves anything that needs blasting…”

“Not this time…” Mouse shuffled his feet, the colour deepening in his face. He clasped his hands together. “Mouse might need help. Might need to ask.”

“Then ask, my friend.” Vincent frowned in puzzlement.

“Okay, maybe…” Mouse hitched a long breath and released it in a rush. “It’s Jamie. She makes Mouse feel all funny…in here…” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Mouse, he needs to know…he wants to know how to be a boyfriend…”

*******

Catherine moved slowly around the Wells family retreat chamber, arranging and fussing with the candles on the far side of the pool. She’d changed the linen on the bed and remade it. There was a supper laid out in covered dishes on the side table. She wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Barefoot, her toes sinking into the warm sand, she had taken care to dress in a simple apricot soft-jersey knit dress, that clung to every one of her curves above and below the wide leather belt she wore at her hips.

In the 12 weeks since their daughters had been born, she had once again worked hard to regain her trim figure, and she glowed with happiness and health. Jacob was spending the night with his namesake grandfather, while the twins were being cared for by Mary and Samantha.

She was expecting Vincent any moment now. He was working with Mouse and the others on carving out the new tunnel up to the cellars of their new house. It seemed incredible how everything had come full circle.

From the secure happiness of her childhood she had passed through much, and experienced a great deal of heartache and pain, before finally reaching this very moment of blissful peace. Her father would continue to stay as a guest of Lady May for now, regaining his strength and sorting out his life. He divided his time between the two worlds and came Below as often as he could.

Jacob had taken the re-emergence of his other grandfather in his stride. The twins were, of course, too young to notice. And now peace had settled on their hidden world once more, and tonight had been reserved for Catherine and her husband. She had planned it all most carefully.

Of course, it was far too early to make plans for their new life, where they would divide their time between the two worlds. But Catherine had spoken with her family about her and her father's idea of starting up a small legal practice together. Catherine would still continue to teach those children who wished to learn more of the world Above, and now, with their new home, she and Vincent had the room and the means to create a new reality for everyone.

She knew Vincent was standing in the entrance to the chamber before she turned to smile at him. She felt his love and warmth reaching out to her across the limpid waters of the pool.

He had showered and his hair flowed damp and curling around the impressive width of his shoulders. He’d changed into a loose, open-necked, linen shirt and faded blue jeans. Catherine stood still, just drinking in the picture he made, standing there in the candlelight. As always, her heart rate picked up every time she looked at him. She wanted to devour every inch of him. He looked so delicious and so incredible her knees went weak.

“How very special you are…” Vincent walked forward slowly, moving down the slight incline to stand at the water’s edge.

“No, Vincent…” Catherine walked around the pool, putting aside the bag of excess candles as she came towards him. “We are truly special when we are together as we are now. Together we can do anything, be anything.” She stopped in front of him, looking up into his face. Without her shoes, she felt so small and so treasured, bathed in the loving light that shone in her husband’s sapphire eyes.

Vincent extended one hand to run his fingertip down the side of her face, from her temple to the small, determined thrust of her chin. He paused there, lightly stroking her skin, watching intently as Catherine’s lips parted to inhale a tiny intake of breath as they both sensed the slowly tightening spiral of need that reflected endlessly between them.

“Catherine…” Vincent breathed almost inaudibly. “I am truly blessed…”

“Without you I am nothing…” Catherine whispered. “You have given me everything. Sometimes I feel as if I am still only dreaming and then I wake and you are there, beside me…”

“If this is a dream, I do not wish to ever wake up.” Vincent continued his gentle teasing, trailing his fingertip down into the shadowed valley between her breasts where they nestled behind the scooped neckline of her dress.

“Then it’s just as well we weren’t planning on getting any sleep tonight,” Catherine teased, as she slid her hands around her husband’s waist, working her way beneath the hem of his shirt, before running questing fingers up the corded muscles of his back.

Vincent growled low and deep in his throat, as he slid Catherine’s dress off her shoulders, letting it drift down to pool at her waist. Then the only barrier to his continued exploration of her warm body was the cream lace of her bra. That lasted no more than a heartbeat, before it fell to the sandy floor. The gentle rake of his claws across her skin and down to her waist brought Catherine to her toes against him. Not to be outdone she soon disposed of his linen shirt, working easily at the buckle of his jeans and drawing down the zipper. The hot length of him spilled into her eager hands, and she smiled as she cupped his heat, pushing the ever contracting spirals of their mutual bond to fever pitch.

“Take me now…” she breathed urgently against Vincent’s ear and he needed no further urging.

His hands moved swiftly beneath her dress and then there was a soft tearing sound of satin, but Catherine didn’t mind. She hadn’t expected that pair of panties to last the evening anyway. In the surge of power that never ceased to amaze her, she was lifted into the air in her husband’s strong hands. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he brought her down onto the solid thrust of his body, and she took all of him within her and they became one once more. Cupping her behind, he lifted her into the air and then brought her back again, the movement increasing and intensifying as the moment came in a blinding flash of light. Catherine arched backwards and the cry of longed-for release that was wrung from her echoed around the chamber as Vincent growled low and long as he followed her into that realm of light and beauty where only they dwelled.

And where they would be together…always…

*******

“Down the winding cavern we

groped our tedious way,

till a void boundless as the n

ether sky appeared beneath us,

and we held by the roots of trees

and hung over this immensity;

but I said: if you please we will

commit ourselves to this void

and see whether providence is here also.

If the doors of perception were cleansed everything

would appear to man as it is, Infinite.

For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things

thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.”

William Blake

The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

*******

LITERARY REFERENCES

You Gave Me A World To Believe In   Celine Dion

Angel of Music     Phantom of the Opera (paraphrased)

Great Expectations   Charles Dickens

Uncollected Poems   Rainer Maria Rilke

Believe Me   The Irish Tenors

Wishing You Were Here Again…

Phantom of the Opera

*******

“A World to Believe In” is a work of fiction and as such does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of Andrew Lloyd Webber, Charles Hart, or THE REALLY USEFUL GROUP PLC.

- The Brightest

- Love

- “The Brightest Love”

A Story of “Beauty and the Beast”

By Judith Nolan

This story is the sequel to “A World To Believe In” which is the 7th instalment leading on from the series of six BATB fanzines I first wrote in the 1990s, telling the story of Vincent, Catherine and all the people of their Tunnel World and Above. This zine is the final instalment in this series. I feel I have told their story now.

Therefore I offer enduring and heartfelt ‘Vincent’ hugs once again to everyone who has contributed so generously to this on-going journey of discovery. Always there are demands for “more.” I have been very happy and honoured to oblige. Thank you.

As before, this story is dedicated to all the incredible and talented actors, writers and directors who made the continuing dream of “Beauty and the Beast” possible. But especially to Ron Perlman for keeping their dream alive, and caring for Vincent all these years. Without you there would truly have been nothing indeed. You rock!

So we must make sure we keep the Tunnel World alive into the future…always…

(Please do not reproduce by any means, this story)

“The Brightest Love” is an amateur fiction fanzine and, as such, does not intend to infringe upon the copyrights of RON KOSLOW FILMS, REPUBLIC PICTURES, CBS TELEVISION, WITT THOMAS PRODUCTIONS or any other holders of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights.

Evergreen

‘Love, soft as an easy chair

Love, fresh as the morning air

One love that is shared by two

I have found with you

Like a rose under the April snow

I was always certain love would grow

Love ageless and evergreen

Seldom seen by two

You and I will make each night a first

Every day a beginning

Spirits rise and their dance is unrehearsed

They warm and excite us

'Cause we have the brightest love

Two lights that shine as one

Morning glory and midnight sun

Time we've learned to sail above

Time won't change the meaning of one love

Ageless and ever evergreen…’

Barbra Streisand

‘And I can't explain

But it's something about the way you look tonight

Takes my breath away

It's that feeling I get about you deep inside…

With your smile

You pull the deepest secrets from my heart

And in all honesty

I’m speechless and I don’t know where to start…’

Elton John

Catherine re-entered their retreat chamber on stealthy feet. She had been away attending to her children. Jacob was still asleep, worn out from his enjoyment of the previous night’s exciting game of hide-and-seek played with his Below grandfather, who possessed the rare talent of being able to give little boys the most delicious of frights. The child’s blond head was buried deep beneath the covers, his body curled into a ball. Catherine lifted back the covers and leaned down to kiss his forehead, smoothing back the tumble of curls, before leaving him to sleep under Samantha’s watchful eyes.

After the twins had both been fed and changed, Mary had smiled and said she remembered what it was to be young and in love and to be a mother with children. Smiling mistily, she assured Catherine all would surely be well for a couple of hours. She made shooing motions with her hands, warmly encouraging the young mother to return to her rest and her love.

Catherine had smiled her thanks as she took the broad hint and returned to reclaim her place beside her sleeping husband. The candles burning low around the walls would need attention soon, but not yet. She carefully placed her shuttered lantern on the table beside the bed and quickly removed her clothing. Laying her things across the end of the bed, she drew back the covers before sliding into the warm cocoon. She lay down with a sigh, facing Vincent, intending to simply lie next to him and watch him sleep in the soft light filling the chamber. It was a beguiling pastime she never tired of enjoying.

But she was too late. The moment her head came to rest on the pillow, two sapphire blue eyes opened to assess her through drowsily-meshed lashes. Catherine smiled into their clear depths, the many layers and colours of their mutual bond lifting and changing with the deliciously slow reawakening of sensual awareness, one for the other.

“Hi there sleepy head…” Catherine whispered. “Miss me?”

“Always…” Vincent closed his eyes as he stretched on a soft groan, his whole body arching in lazy satiation, before relaxing back into the mattress. He cracked open one eye again and frowned. “Good morning, at least I think it is still morning.”

“Well advanced, but yes, it is still the morning. Just.” Catherine nodded. “How did you sleep?”

“If you can call what we did together last night, sleeping…” Vincent’s reminiscent smile was slow and enticing. “Then very well, thank you,” he teased.

“So did I...” Catherine dipped her head, rich colour suffusing the clear skin over her cheekbones. Her body’s flush of heat was echoed in the even tightening, renewed spiral of need that flowed between them. She traced a caressing line from Vincent’s eyebrow, down the side of his face, to finally rest on the parted curve of his unique mouth, feathering over the cleft in his top lip. “Do we still have time?” she asked softly.

“We have an eternity,” Vincent answered softly, reaching for her. “Always…”

“Ah, Vincent, I do love you…” Catherine sighed, closing her eyes, enjoying the intoxicating sensation of her husband’s warm palm sliding beneath her body, drawing her to rest against him within the cradle of his hips.

Her body arched against the caressing movement of his free hand as it traced a path around her ribcage, just below the curve of her breasts, and then down her naked back to lift and cup the rounded warmth of her bottom. Pressing her in against him, Vincent bent his head to nuzzle her neck, making the breath catch in Catherine’s throat. That simple touch rocketed through her lower body, warming and delighting her senses, causing everything within her to tighten, ready once more to love and be loved. She craved that sense of completion, where everything shimmered and floated. It would not be long now…

But after a few moments of mutually-satisfying caresses, she sensed that this time her husband was in no hurry to conclude their encounter. The lazy trailing of his fingers up and down her back and the gentle nip of his canines against the soft skin of her throat seemed to encourage her to explore him further.

Drawing back to watch his face, Catherine rose against him and, placing her hands on the broad width of his shoulders and parting her legs, she straddled him. Arching downwards, she captured his mouth, the taut, rose-coloured peaks of her breasts sweeping across the muscled expanse of his chest as she murmured, deep in her throat. Vincent responded in kind, his fingertips trailing down to dip in between her thighs from behind, to stroke a familiar path up along the very edge of her satin heat, and then back again, provoking an intensely shivered response that echoed through their sensual bond. Catherine gasped softly, as she barely managed to resist the distracting urge of his touch, though her body craved more. If she pushed down against his fingers right then, it would be so easy to finish this encounter now.

Then she sensed her husband’s tormenting resistance to the thought. He wanted more, much more. He pulled away and lay back down, his hands settling on the flare of her hips, as if waiting for her to explore him further. The urge to continue was undeniable. Leaving his lips, Catherine slid slowly downwards, her thighs encompassing his, and then reaching his knees, she inserted one leg between his. Bringing her thigh back up to impact gently against the burgeoning heat of his lower body, she heard Vincent’s sharply indrawn breath and watched his reaction through heavy-lidded eyes, as she moved her leg back and again repeated the same intimate contact, never breaking away from the heat of his narrowed gaze.

“Catherine…” Vincent’s softly lengthening growl of warning was filled with raw passion and desire, but he allowed her to play her game for now, as his wife twisted her body above his, laying a trail of soft nips and mutely caressing apologies across him as she worked her way downwards, over the contracting plane of his abdomen, seeking and finding the pleasure points on the golden warmth of his skin.

His knees flexed upwards as her hands followed the same trail, seeking and defining every one of the places on his body that she knew would swiftly arouse him to action and end their mutual torment. But despite his rapidly increasing breathing, his taut body remained semi-quiescent beneath her caress, only the rippling flex and release of his great muscles betraying his rising state of arousal. A slight frown creased Catherine’s brows, as she repeated the gentle pressure of her thigh against the heated steel of his manhood, adding a subtle movement back and forth across his tight flesh, but still he didn’t move to counter her.

Though his growling intensified, as she added the torment of sliding her hot feminine core across his thigh, he didn’t react as she expected. Usually, he was quick to end this spiralling agony for both of them, pushing his heated length within her willing body to bring them both to wanton fulfillment. But this time Catherine could feel his continued resistance, the tension within him building and tightening as Vincent held his reaction in check, clearly driven to see what she would do next.

The taunting smile in his eyes, at odds with the tightly drawn shape of his mouth and bared teeth, dared and defied her to push him beyond his limits for the first time. Catherine’s rapidly beating heart leaped and she smiled her gratitude. It was an unbelievable gift that he had finally come to trust her that much. For the first time, he was allowing her the space to see how far they could go, before the frantic drive towards mutual satisfaction overcame them both and they succumbed to its irresistible power.

Thank you, Vincent…she acknowledged silently, the shimmering colours of their bond echoing the sentiment. A woman’s secret smile teased at her lips, as she moved against the corded strength of his thighs to define and enclose his velvet heat between her palms, molding and stroking, making him writhe even more sinuously against her touch. Fanning her fingers out over his skin, she moved her hands to encompass his hips, bringing him up against her mouth, running her seeking tongue across his heated length, marking his flesh with her teeth. He bucked, but still he managed to hold his reaction in check even though she was aware his resistance was quickly dissipating.

But he couldn’t prevent a groaning cry from stirring an echo within the chamber’s rocky ceiling, as Catherine teased and tightened his straining flesh, knowing the soft brush of her hair across his thighs brought a new level of torment. She lifted her head to look up into the darkened blue of his eyes, his pupils dilating with barely suppressed need, yet his strained smile was equally as goading as he stared back at her through lowered lashes, even though she sensed he might snap at any moment.

Catherine’s breath caught in her throat as all her senses rose to fever pitch. She doubted she could stand much more of this delicious torment, but she tried to make it last as long as possible. The tour back up her husband’s body was equally as slow and torturous. Reaching his face once more she rose above him before leaning down to kiss him deeply. There was no need for words, it was all there in her touch, asking, demanding Vincent finish this slow torture now.

“I will love you to the end of time and beyond…” he growled.

Within a heartbeat, Catherine was on her back, looking up into his eyes as Vincent pushed slowly into her, filling and expanding as he moved ever deeper, and Catherine’s body closed securely around his once more. Rising from the pillow, she placed her mouth over his, their joined souls speaking a language older than time. Her tongue invaded his mouth, flicking over his canines as he began to move within her, slowly, with long even strokes, picking up the rhythm as Catherine wrapped her legs across his back, encouraging his movements within her as she defined the shape of his mouth with her tongue.

Her hands moved sensuously, caressing the shape of the straining muscles of his back and flanks, as her whole body began to tighten and rocket towards mutual fulfillment. This is how it was always meant to be. And it would always be so. But another barrier had come down and another bridge had been crossed to a deeper and more compelling meshing of their twin souls than she had ever thought possible.

She hadn’t realized until this very moment of ultimate satiation, how deep their bond went or how wide its compass and scope. There was still so much to explore and understand. The outermost limits had not yet been uncovered. Perhaps there truly were no limits or boundaries. Then time fell away and once again there was only the two of them. Sapphire eyes entranced warm sea green, as the rising wave of intense completion engulfed them, and nothing else mattered but this moment and this place, as everything else spun away into oblivion once more…

*******

“Okay good, okay fine…” Mouse nodded, as he held up the rattles he’d made for Vincent’s babies, Mary and Cathleen. He shook them, liking the sound they made. He had made one for Jacob when he’d been a baby. Then Mouse’s mind wandered, thinking about his friends and all they meant to him. Vincent and Catherine, Catherine and Vincent. However he thought of them, the names always matched, like they were always meant to be. Like Mouse and electricity.

“Okay!” He brightened. He loved the stuff. Did things. Made things go bang! A lot! “Made them bright too.” Like for Elizabeth’s painted tunnels. “Did good there.” Now she had all the light she needed, and Azrael was there a lot, helping her paint and reaching the high bits. Mouse liked that too. Paracelsus had been bad for his beloved community. Azrael’s quietly helpful presence made up for a lot of the bad stuff that had happened in the past.

Mouse sobered, putting down the rattles. Arthur scurried up, turning them in his little black paws, hoping they were something he could eat. He looked up hopefully. Mouse patted his pet absently, his attention once more turning inwards to the tight pain in his chest. It was always there whenever he thought of her these days. And whenever he saw her…

Mouse and Jamie, Jamie and Mouse. However he thought about their names, they went together. Like when he pictured Jamie. His best friend. It wasn’t fair, he couldn’t even sleep some nights now. She caused that big pain in his chest. that always ache in his head. He sighed, toying with the rattles disconcertingly. Mouse needed to make something neat for Jamie…and he badly needed to see Vincent. Get his advice on what to do next. How to make that pain go away, so he could sleep again…

*******

Edie paused outside her grandmother’s shop, a small convenience store on the edge of Chinatown. Because of yet another continuance in the frustratingly complicated O’Leary corporate fraud case, she’d suddenly found time off from her heavy workload to visit the old lady. However, she found the closed sign hanging and the door firmly locked. She cupped her face against the glass window to look inside, but could see nothing.

“What gives…” Edie brooded worriedly, moving to peer through the door’s security grill. Maybe she should’ve phoned first as she always did before visiting these days. They’d arranged a get together for the coming Sunday, but finding herself suddenly free, Edie had decided to visit on Friday afternoon instead.

She looked around, but no one seemed concerned the shop wasn’t open. So this wasn’t as unusual as she first feared. Her grandmother, Ella was a well-known figure in the neighbourhood and everyone looked out for her. This wasn’t like her Gran, who’d worked every available hour all her life just to make ends meet. Since when had she been closed in the middle of the day with potential customers walking by unattended?

“Now what…?” Edie pursed her lips, trying to decide what to do, before a fresh thought assailed her. What if her grandmother was lying on the floor in there, hurt and unable to call for help? The image propelled her into action. “I know I still have my key in here somewhere…” she muttered, opening her carryall, digging around in the depths for a few precious moments before she tracked it down.

Inserting it into the lock she opened the door and went inside, shutting the door behind her. The interior was darkened, but everything appeared ordered and neat, as if the old woman had just stepped out and would be back any time soon. A shiver of premonition ran through Edie then.

“I don’t like this…” She moved quickly towards the back of the shop and the narrow staircase that led up to the small apartment above it where she’d shared most of her young adult years with her grandmother. But again, a rapid search showed her this was also empty and as neat as a pin. It was as if her grandmother had just stepped out, intending to return soon.

Downstairs once more, Edie moved into the storeroom at the back of the shop. It was the only place left to search. She was surprised to find the old sink unit at the back of the storeroom had been pushed to one side, exposing a small opening that had been chipped out of the rough brickwork of the old wall behind.

“This just keeps getting stranger and stranger…” Edie breathed, stepping gingerly through the hole into another cluttered room behind. She’d lived above the shop for most of her teenage years, but she never knew this extra room existed or what it contained. It was all becoming very mysterious. She walked carefully down the short staircase into the lower room. It smelled strongly of dust, mould…and rats.

Edie scanned quickly left and right, but there was still no sign of her grandmother. Then she heard voices. They were coming from beyond another rough doorway that had been punched through the crumbling brickwork of the far wall where a large, old fashioned wooden dresser had been pushed aside. The voices were coming steadily closer.

Edie frowned. She recognized her grandmother’s voice almost immediately. The others sounded like a bunch of children, all chattering gaily. Beyond that there was also a strange tapping noise, like someone banging a hammer on pipe work, before the rushing pass of a nearby subway train swallowed the sound.

“There you are!” Driven by intense curiosity Edie crossed the cluttered room, confronting her startled grandmother just as she ducked back through the hole. “What gives, Gran?”

“Edie! What are you doing here, child?” Gran didn’t look at all pleased to see her. “I thought we said you’d visit on Sunday. Sunday is what we agreed. As you can see I’m real busy right now. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had some time off,” Edie hurried to explain. “I was looking for you. When I found the shop closed, I thought something must have happened to you down here. You shouldn’t be down here alone.”

Her puzzled gaze slid past her grandmother’s slight frame to assess the group of children clustered about the entrance behind her. They had ceased chattering the moment they saw her, and were now staring at her with varying degrees of distrust and wariness. They were all dressed in an odd assortment of ragged clothing and castoffs. Then the collective moment of stunned silence was broken by the eldest child speaking rapidly to her companions, and they scattered immediately, snatching up some boxes of supplies and foodstuffs that had been set beside the entrance as they went, quickly disappearing into the dusty darkness accompanied by that strange tapping sound.

“Hey!” Stepping through the opening, Edie thrust out a hand to stop them from leaving. “Come back here!” Not one of them replied, or turned to look back.

“You go on now, children.” Ella called after them, putting a detaining hand on Edie’s arm, when she would have run after the children. “It’ll be all right, don’t worry, Samantha. Edie here won’t make any trouble, I’ll make sure of that. I’ll be here next week as usual. Take care and give everyone my best.”

“What’s going on, Gran?” Edie demanded to know, blinking at the sudden disappearance of the entire group, and her grandmother’s apparent ease with such strangely rude behaviour. She tolerated being drawn back through the entrance into the basement.

She snatched one last look back and this time saw nothing. It was almost as if she’d imagined the odd assortment of children, so swiftly did they disperse into the darkness. All that was left was that strange tapping of metal against metal, and the swirl of a subterranean wind that came from heaven knew where, blowing up a fine dust into the humid air of the gloomily-lit tunnel beyond…

“Since you’re here then, you can give me a hand with this, and don’t go asking any fool questions,” the old lady replied with asperity, pointing to the heavy dresser. Together they pushed it back into place against the wall, concealing the ragged hole once more from any casual glance.

“So, are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Edie followed her grandmother across the room and into the store’s stockroom. Once more they laboured to replace the concealment over the hole in the wall. “Who were those kids, and why were they dressed like that? Where were they going?”

“They’re my friends. I help take care of them.” Ella led the way back into the store. “I help them out whenever I can. Just like I once took care of you. So stop asking so many questions.”

“I see, and they’re homeless.” Edie frowned, as they ascended the narrow staircase to the tiny apartment above. “You shouldn’t encourage them, Gran. They need to be reported to Child Services, so homes can be found for them. They can’t have much of a life in the subway tunnels and there are dangers in living down there.”

“They already have a home, a good one too. Somewhere they’re looked after and cared for by people who love them all.” Ella filled the kettle before setting it to boil. She laid out two coffee mugs on a tray. “You forget how I took you in when you were 13 years old, after your parents were killed. The social workers were very happy to find you somewhere to live so easily. You should know how overworked they are. It was a struggle then, but we made the best of it, and you turned out fine. The government can’t solve all our problems.”

“I’ve heard of people living rough down in the subway tunnels.” Edie accepted her mug of coffee. “But surely you can’t think it’s a proper place for children to live. I wish you’d allow me to help. I know people. I even know the D.A. of Manhattan, for Pete’s sake, I can pull strings, get things done.”

“Leave it be, child. It’s none of your business.” Her grandmother grimaced as she sat down opposite her, reaching to take one of Edie’s hands between her own work worn palms. “Now listen to me, girl. Please accept and understand this is to be a tightly-held secret between you and me. You’ll tell no one what you’ve seen here today and all will be well, and I mean, no one. It’s too important. If I could tell you more, I would, but we need to know we can trust you to keep your word. Too many people depend on those of us who look after them. It’s certainly nothing to go annoying Mr. Maxwell with.”

“How do you know his name?” Edie frowned. “I didn’t think you even liked him.”

“You’ve talked a lot about him, and I know he’s been good to you. So that’s good enough for me.” The old lady shrugged. “Besides, I also know he’s an incredibly busy man. You won’t go bothering him with this trifle over a few children. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold. There’s a good girl. Least said, soonest mended.” She patted the hand she held warningly, before withdrawing her clasp and picking up her own coffee mug. But her dark eyes still surveyed Edie with wary concern and a troubling watchfulness.

“I’m not a child any more, Gran.” Chastened, Edie drank her coffee. But the questions continued to swirl in her mind. She tried again. “So, just where do they live? How do you know they are safe and cared for? Have you been there to see for yourself? I don’t like it, not one bit. And it’s so strange that people I care about seem to be going missing. Cathy Chandler is one. I wish I knew the answers.”

“Always with the questions. You never change. Be patient and you may discover more than you think you know now. But that’s a discussion for another time.” Ella sighed. “Be assured, I know there’s nothing to worry about. There are things you need to know, and some things you don’t,” she continued cryptically. “Not yet, anyway, all in good time.”

“But I’m an investigator for the D.A.’s office, Gran,” Edie complained. “It’s part of my job description to worry, to look into things that concern me. And those kids should be in school.”

“Who says they don’t get a good schooling?” Ella stood, taking both mugs with her and washing them vigorously in the tiny kitchen sink. She set them aside to drain.

“Trust me on this and all will be well. Now I have a store to run and you’ve a job to do.” She hustled Edie towards the stairs. “So you come back on Sunday and we’ll visit right and proper, like we arranged. We’ll talk more then. And mind you don’t say anything to anybody. Do you understand? It’s important.”

“Yes, I understand, Gran. I won’t spill the beans.” Edie was quick to reassure her. Despite the warnings, she wouldn’t go against the old lady’s wishes. “But…” In the next moment, she found herself placed firmly outside the locked front door of her grandmother’s shop, before she could gather her scattered thoughts.

She sighed with deep frustration, staring at the closed sign once more. Whatever was going on here she was determined to discover exactly what it was and soon...

*******

“Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed

Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed

Some say love, it is a hunger an endless aching need

I say love, it is a flower and you, it's only seed…

It's the heart, afraid of breaking that never learns to dance

It's the dream, afraid of waking that never takes the chance

It's the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give

And the soul, afraid of dying that never learns to live…”

Bette Midler

“Oh, Vincent, it’s beautiful…” Catherine handled the chess set with reverent care, holding up each piece in turn to study their carved faces before setting them into their assigned places on Father’s old chessboard. “Thank you.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“Mouse will be pleased.” Vincent smiled, putting an arm around her waist. “He worked day and night to realize my ideas.”

“And the box, just like the one I asked Cullen and Winslow to make for you for your birthday.” Catherine ran light fingers over the delicate roses hinging the carved wooden box. “I’ll bet they enjoyed making this one.”

“Not bad…” Leaning forward in his chair, Father ran his forefinger lightly across the neat rows of carved figures. “I guess this means I’ll need to polish up my game.” He tapped his own image of the black bishop with a wry grin. “Especially if I’m going to have competition.”

“But the first game is ours…” Vincent teased lightly. “Catherine still has a few things to learn.”

“Is that a challenge, Mr. Wells?” Catherine raised her eyebrows. “How do you know I haven’t been taking lessons?”

“Then we will find out tonight, after supper,” Vincent challenged smugly.

“Very well.” Catherine turned within his embrace, her eyes full of determination and fire. “But I won’t let you beat me. I play for keeps.”

“I think you’ll need to look to your own game,” Father counselled his son gleefully, and they all laughed.

*******

“I think that’ll about do it.” Winslow leaned on the shaft of his pick axe, his bare torso gleaming with sweat. He peered through the large hole that had been hacked into the brick wall of the sub-cellar beneath Vincent and Catherine’s new home Above.

“Okay, good. Okay, fine.” Mouse went in low, pushing his way past Winslow and then tumbling over the heaps of rubble and broken bricks into the room beyond. He picked himself up, dusting off his clothing as he looked around. “This’ll do great.”

“If you don’t break your fool neck in the meantime,” Winslow complained, leaning in through the hole as he wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand, leaving a dusty smear. “Never knew anyone so accident prone. The only damn mouse down here I know who has nine lives, and that’s a fact. Besides, you’ve had all the easy work, boy. Blowing things up don’t take muscle. We still have to move all that broken rock by hand.”

“Made work go faster. Elliot a good teacher.” Mouse looked offended. “Mouse got his certificate now.” His chest swelled with pride. “Can use plastic on my own whenever I want. Elliot said so.”

“Yeah, well not while I’m anywhere around, you won’t.” Winslow shook his head as he clamoured over the scattered piles of bricks. “When there’s real work to be done, you go missing.”

“Been with Vincent last couple of days.” Mouse tried to look deeply offended, but it didn’t work with his open face. “Learning things from him too. Good things. Besides, you had Cullen and James to help you.”

“Learning like what things?” Winslow demanded, looking around the dusty confines of the subbasement. “You’re always so sure you know everything. But yeah, I think this will do just fine. We can make it work.”

“Things…” Mouse looked away, a flush mounting into his cheeks. “Things Mouse needs to know. Things Vincent knows best about. Catherine sometimes too. Winslow doesn’t need to know. Mouse’s secret.”

“Suit yourself, then. All the same to me. No one tells me anything anyway.” Winslow shrugged, as he moved to the stairs to the upper levels, testing the railing and risers with the toe of his boot. “Gonna have to replace some of these too. Well, work still to be done, Mouse. Guess you and me better get on with it if Vincent and Catherine want to move in here before Christmas.”

“Okay. Mouse send in children. Clear out this stuff. Then go get Vincent and others to help.” Mouse scrambled his way back through the hole.

“Good luck to Vincent trying to teach that one anything.” Winslow sighed. “I hope it’s nothing that involves explosives or anything electrical.” He glanced down at his right thumb where a long, thin scar prompted the memory of a very early Mouse experiment with increasing the power of a toaster oven that went spectacularly wrong, blowing up in Winslow’s startled and consternated face.

“That boy’s purely dangerous.” He looked up as the first of the basket carrying children filed through the hole, looking for his directions about where to start clearing the debris. “But I gotta admit, life with him around is never dull!” he offered his opinion to no one in particular, laughing at his own joke as he moved to help the children with their work.

*******

Joe sat on the side of the emergency room bed staring at the mess he’d made of his left hand. He grimaced wryly. By now, he should’ve figured out DIY jobs like hanging some of Azrael’s paintings on his apartment walls, should be left to the experts like his building’s super. Of course, it didn’t ease his sense of misgiving when the same blind artist told him he’d be happy to come over and hang the paintings for Joe. That riled him most of all. How was that supposed to work?

“I’ll bet Diana’s enjoying the joke right now,” Joe opined darkly. “Azrael surely doesn’t know how to keep quiet around her. I’m a prize fool!”

What a way to spend a Sunday afternoon, cooped up in here waiting to be seen. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a dozen raging fires that needed putting out, so much he needed to be getting on with…like the O’Leary fraud case and those damn continuances that had everyone pulling their hair out. He was grateful to Edie for agreeing to give up her Sunday to get on with the case, keep them up to speed. She didn’t sound very happy about it, but it couldn’t be helped. His department was being stretched beyond all reason. Something had to give. He really wished Radcliffe was still around to lend a hand, he could sure use her first class brain right now.

“Dammit! I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, getting up for the umpteenth time to look for someone to take care of his injury, when the curtain moved back and a female nurse stepped into his cubicle. She looked all business in her crisp uniform, with her blond hair pulled back into a neat chignon at the back of her head, and she seemed immune to Joe’s rigid state of seething resentment.

“So, who do we have here then?” She asked brightly, frowning at her paperwork, then whistled softly. “Joe Maxwell…” She looked up. “A little DIY accident? So what’s the D.A. of Manhattan doing driving nails into his hand instead of the wall? Don’t you have someone who could do that for you?”

“Very funny….” Joe peered at her name tag. “…Linda.” He held his hand out. “I’ve learned my lesson. So how about doing your job and throwing a bandage on this. Let me get on with the really important things I need to get done.”

“First things, first.” Linda appeared completely unmoved, eyeing him with cool speculation. “We need to get the paperwork out of the way. What about your tetanus shot? Is it up to date?” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, considering him closely, like she knew more than she was telling.

“Aw, geeze…” Joe groaned as he dropped his hand to his side on a deeply drawn sigh. “I have no idea. But if you knew how much I hate needles…”

“Okay…so it looks like you’re gonna be here awhile yet while we check out some facts.” Linda pulled on a pair of latex gloves as she spoke, driving the remaining colour from Joe’s already pale cheeks. “I guess this is where I say this won’t hurt a bit…?” Her shoulders shook slightly.

“Very funny.” Joe eyed the warm amusement in her cool green eyes with intense dislike, mentally consigning her to a far warmer place than New York City in July. He slumped back onto the side of the bed, praying Edie was getting on okay with the O’Leary case. He really needed someone to be on their game. He spent some time composing exactly what he was going to say to Azrael the next time he saw him…

*******

Cleon tried to look relaxed, leaning back on the couch facing Elliot’s desk. He’d come to deal, he’d finally come for the truth. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Black and white, there it was, he’d laid out his terms. Either Elliot Burch told him what the heck had been going on with him over the last few months, make that a couple of years, or Cleon severed his company’s association with Burch Property Group and he walked away from everything they’d spent years building together. He was tired of the games. It was that simple.

He was smart enough to realize Elliot could replace him in a heartbeat, even less. The man had never been known to give in to sentiment for friendship’s sake, except where Shannon O’Neill was concerned and that oddball, blind artist that his boss was fostering for no good purpose Cleon could see. He was well on his way to becoming the next big thing in the New York art scene. Cleon could see the sense in that, as an investment, but as a friend and confidant? It just didn’t make any sense.

What did he have to offer a sophisticated man of the world like Elliot, that Cleon couldn’t? The guy had been a ghost, a non-person, without an educational record or any trace of a family background. Then magically, all his paperwork was sorted out, Joe Maxwell had seen to that personally, and Azrael Jacobs was suddenly a fully paid up, card carrying, US citizen and tax payer, like he’d been there all the time.

Of course, another black mark against Azrael was he associated way too closely with that damn Bennett woman. He was virtually living with her, and they were seen everywhere together. Even at the best society parties given by the likes of Lady Heathcote-Smythe. Cleon knew that, because he’d provided the security and Elliot had paid the bill. Again! That Bennett woman knew too much and said nothing. It irked Cleon deeply that even she seemed to be in on the “big secret”. Whatever it was…

And then there was that whole crazy episode with Catherine Chandler’s father, dragging him all the way from LA back to New York when the poor man clearly was terrified out of his wits. There it all was again, links back to the Chandler woman. Everything always seemed to start and end with her. She crooked her little finger and Elliot jumped like a trained poodle.

The derelict mansion over on the East Side, which Elliot had long been planning to sell for a fat profit, had been signed over to her, and yet Elliot was footing the bill for all the renovations and upkeep, like he still had some kind of personal investment in her ongoing happiness and well-being. Despite the fact she’d gone off with some other guy, conceived, and had a child with him too. That was a matter of public record, birth certificate, fat trust fund and all. Then twin girls appeared on the scene, again registered and given the last name of Wells.

Their mysterious father, who no one ever saw and knew even less about, was another deep, black hole of disinformation. Like all those times Chandler was in a scrape when she was with the D.A.’s office, and miraculously survived. It was all smoke and bloody mirrors! Cleon clamped his lips in a deepening sense of frustration and ill-usage. The more he thought about the whole situation, the more his head hurt and his disposition soured further.

No, Cleon was counting on his longstanding friendship with Burch to get past this sticky patch of threat and counter punch. He was sick and tired of being kept in the dark and fed on horse droppings.

He let out a humourless laugh. Of course it didn’t hurt to try and deal with his boss over a large tumbler of Elliot’s excellent single malt. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. It eased Cleon’s conscience and his concern that he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Time would soon tell. He took another swallow of the whisky, allowing it to settle for a moment in his mouth, before swallowing and breathing in the subtle aromatic scents, as the warmth slowly trickled down his throat.

So, now what? Through his narrowed eyes he assessed Elliot, sitting silent and watchful behind his enormous mahogany desk, shirt sleeves rolled up, looking every inch the ruthless, billionaire property developer he most certainly was. The expensive whisky suddenly pooled in Cleon’s empty stomach and gave him an acid burn of discontent.

Beyond the windows overlooking the city, the evening sky was turning a hundred different shades of russet and gold, as the sun dipped slowly towards the horizon. This high up the traffic noise was virtually non-existent. They could’ve been alone with the clouds and the birds, if it wasn’t for the fact that just beyond the door behind Cleon’s shoulders, he knew three burly bodyguards were playing cards. Every one of their armpits bulging with hardware, and not one of them would hesitate to forcibly eject him if their boss ordered it. Cleon should know, he also employed a number of hard-line men who obeyed their orders without question. Despite the whisky’s spreading heat, a chill rippled through his senses as Elliot continued to watch him unblinkingly, like a hawk about to swoop and make him pay for his blatant disloyalty.

“It’s not like I haven’t kept my mouth shut all these years.” Cleon spread his hands. “I mean, you know you can trust me, Elliot, with anything. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, and more, without question. But it’s gone too far, and I’m tired of being treated like an idiot. You surround yourself with people I don’t know and trust even less. People I can’t dig up a single scrap of background on, no matter how deep I dig. I don’t know where they’ve come from, or where the heck Catherine Chandler, the O’Neill woman and then you, just up and vanished to the first time. Then I bring Charles Chandler back for you and he disappeared too for a while. Now you all come and go at will for days on end, like there’s some great big hole in the ground you all know about. None of it makes any sense at all.”

“I don’t pay you an exorbitant retainer to make any of this your concern,” Elliot replied evenly. “Nor what I do with my personal time, or commitments, certainly not with whom I chose to associate.”

“I get that.” Cleon bit back what he wanted to say. The words scalded his throat, but he could see Elliot was becoming steadily angrier as the seconds ticked by. Whatever he was protecting was way bigger than Cleon had previously imagined. It made his blood run cold to think about it. He wished now he’d just gone home and let things be. Too late for that.

“Look…” Elliot sat forward, linking his fingers on the desk before him. “If these secrets were mine alone, then fine, I’d share and be happy to do so, but they’re not only mine and never have been. I can only say how sorry I would be to lose you. I ask you now, in the name of the friendship we’ve shared, to leave it alone. We’ll forget tonight and all that has been said, and move on. If not, then I’ll cut you a severance check here and now and we’re done, for good. Capish?”

“Geeze…” Cleon swallowed tightly. He wondered briefly how deep a pit he had just skirted. It still irked him that he knew nothing, that all his demands for information had gotten him precisely nowhere. But he knew when to admit he was beaten by a far more skiflull player, who’d called his bluff with calm certainty.

He grinned suddenly, throwing back the remains of his whisky before jumping to his feet. Crossing the intervening stretch of extensive carpeting, he held out his hand to Elliot across that vast expanse of gleaming mahogany.

“Fair enough, but one day, Elliot, one day you will tell me the truth. Until then, consider the matter closed.”

“Thank you, Cleon.” Elliot gripped his outstretched hand. “One day it may be possible, you never know. Until that day comes…” He broke the clasp to push forward a file. “So how about we deal with some fresh business?”

“Okay, boss.” Cleon nodded quickly as he opened the file.

*******

‘They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,

Love and desire and hate:

I think they have no portion in us after

We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:

Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for awhile, then closes

Within a dream…’

Ernest Dowson

Vincent paused within the tunnel’s long sweep. Around him his world slumbered, but he’d felt the need to wander its limits. He stopped to listen, but there was only the wind and the passing of the subway trains, underscored by the staccato tapping of the messages being spoken on the pipes. This was where he’d heard the piano being played, Chopin, if he remembered correctly. He found he missed hearing those haunting notes played so eloquently. He turned to the thick barrier of old brick and crumbling mortar beside him, reaching to press one hand flat against the wall’s rough surface, as if he could recall the notes by touch alone.

In the next instant a small hand inserted itself into his where it hung at his side, clasping his fingers tightly. He glanced down into Angelo’s excited eyes.

“We’ve seen the man again…” The boy’s mobile fingers flashed his message. “Seeking and not finding. Eric and Kipper watching him. Vincent come…?”

“Show me.” Vincent nodded.

Angelo set off, his grip tightening on Vincent’s as they moved upwards along the tunnel. Stepping around a boarded up entrance leading into another tunnel and then crouching through a concealed steel door, where a junction of three tunnels came together. Keeping guard, Eric and Kipper looked up with relief when Vincent sank to his haunches beside them.

“Where is he now?” Vincent asked.

“Down there…” Kipper breathed. He pointed into a deep pool of shadow further along the middle tunnel. Vincent leaned forward, his night sensitive eyes easily discerning the cloaked figure moving steadily in his direction, feeling along the upper curve of the tunnel’s side like a blind man.

“What do we do, Vincent?” Eric questioned softly. “Whatcha ya think he’s looking for? Do we scare him off?”

“Thought he was just lost at first,” Kipper offered an opinion. “But he keeps on coming down to the same place all the time. Like he knows something’s down here, but if he hears anyone coming, he always hightails it outta here, like he don’t wanna be seen.” He eased back from view. “So what do you say, Vincent?”

“I say keep a close watch on him.” Vincent frowned at the cloaked figure. The man wore a black, broad brimmed hat pulled well down over his face, as if he didn’t wish to be seen or recognized. But there was something about him that nudged at Vincent’s senses…something oddly familiar.

Vincent turned to Eric. “Take Angelo with you to fetch Mouse and Peter. We need to decide how best to handle this. We’ll check all the outer entrances here and close them up. We can’t risk this man finding his way deeper into our world.”

“Okay, Vincent.” Eric eased quickly to his feet, taking Angelo with him, both boys hurrying back the way they had come.

“What’s the matter, Vincent?” Kipper edged closer. “You’re looking at him funny. Like you know him or somethin’?”

“I have no idea…” Vincent sighed. He reached out with his inner senses, but all he received from the lone figure in return was a deep sense of sadness and regret. “And yet…”

In that moment the man turned, moving slowly into the light, and then his pace quickened. For the first time he lifted his head, reaching to run his hand along the tunnel’s upper brick ledge, where the trigger to the steel door at Vincent’s back was hidden. Now the tunnel’s naked glare of overhead lighting shone fully on his face. He turned his head aside, as if unused to the brightness, raising his free hand to shield his eyes as he felt his way along the ledge, straining to find what he was obviously seeking. The dark plane of his right cheek was puckered and marred by a long scar that bisected the outer line of his eyebrow as it ran down his face to the corner of his mouth, drawing it up into a sad caricature of a half-smile that did nothing to liven the dark, melancholy cast of his features.

“What is it, Vincent?” Kipper jumped at Vincent’s sudden harsh intake of breath.

“Rolley…?” Vincent rose slowly to his feet, unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes. “I don’t believe it. After all this time, he’s finally come home!”

*******

“I’m sure eloping would be easier than all this fuss.” Shannon turned under the insistence of Mary’s hands on her waist. “I know Elliot would agree.”

“Well, I’m afraid you can’t escape that easily.” Mary shook her head vigorously. “We haven’t had a wedding in the tunnels since Vincent and Catherine’s. It’s about time we had another excuse for throwing a party. You look so lovely, my dear.”

“If it were only a tunnel wedding…” Shannon stared critically over her shoulder at her own reflection in the full length mirror behind her. “That I could handle. But full church nuptials with everyone, including the mayor, in attendance…”

The cream silk and antique lace of her wedding gown whispered around her slender frame before settling into place once more. Mary stood back to survey her handiwork, wiping an impatient hand across her moist eyes.

“It’s the price you have to pay for marrying a man as powerful and well-connected as Elliot Burch.” Olivia looked up from her task of sewing tiny seed pearls onto Shannon’s veil. “But he loves you. Nothing else matters compared to that.”

“Yes, he does…” Shannon smiled mistily, her heart lightening. “And I love him so much…” With Elliot at her side, she could endure anything. And once the services Above were over, they could make their excuses and retreat Below to where Shannon’s only true family lived. It would be the best they could make of both worlds.

“Thank you, Mary.” Shannon hugged her tightly, not caring if she wrinkled her gown.

“You’re my girl.” Mary sighed, cupping the younger woman’s cheek. “You’re all my children. I do so love to see you happy.”

“What about you, Mary?” Shannon questioned softly. “Surely once you and Father…”

“The impulsiveness of youth.” Mary kissed her cheek. “I’m far too old now and set in my ways, such things are well behind me now.” She smoothed her apron with determined fingers.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Shannon tilted her head, assessing the bright colour flooding into Mary’s pale cheeks. “I once thought I would never love again, and now look at me.” She executed a neat two step pirouette across the room that had Mary clucking after her, fussing over the potential dangers to her gown.

“Please take it off before it gets marked.” she pleaded, holding out her hands in readiness.

“You’re never too old to find love.” Shannon whispered into Mary’s ear, as the older woman helped her undress. “I’ve seen the way Father looks at you sometimes. He’s been alone for too long and so have you. He needs someone of his own. I know he is lonely sometimes.”

“Well, be that as it may. There’s certainly no fool like an old fool.” Mary replied stoutly, shaking out the gown before restoring it to the safety of its hanger before covering it carefully with a large piece of cloth. “I don’t intend to make a fool of myself over anyone. I have the children and my work, they both keep me busy.”

“Everyone should be in love...” Olivia looked up from her work, her eyes twinkling. “You could be so happy. Maybe if you learned to play chess. Then you would have something to do together.”

“Yes!” Shannon rounded on her foster mother. “Now that’s a great idea. You could borrow Catherine’s new chess set.” She frowned, as she dressed in her tunnel clothes. “Why don’t you play, Mary? You know how much Father loves a game or two after supper. He would love to teach you.”

“Who says I don’t play?” Mary fussed with the hanging of the gown, keeping her face averted.

“Mary…” Shannon pulled her around by the shoulders to face her. “Then why don’t you play now?”

“Because I don’t have time for such silly trifles,” she grumbled. “I have so much to do, the children to look after and take care of. All the sewing and mending…”

“Does Father know you play?” Olivia’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“No, it was long before I came Below, but neither of you are going to tell him.” Mary settled her hands on her hips. “Promise me, you won’t breathe a word to him. Not now, not ever.”

“Very well, if that’s what you want.” Shannon shrugged. “But I still say it’s not too late.”

“Be that as it may.” Mary busied herself with tidying up her sewing supplies. “But what’s past is past, it’s better left there. We both have more than enough to keep us occupied.”

Shannon and Olivia exchanged conspiratorial glances behind Mary’s back, the two women silently agreeing that things will most certainly not be left at this impasse. They had agreed not to tell Father directly, but there were other means…

*******

“I didn’t know how to come home again after all these years.” Rolley accepted the cup of tea Father placed before him with a jerky nod of thanks. “I almost managed to convince myself that there was no one down here anymore, that it was all bricked up and gone.” He looked around at the chamber he had once known so well as a child and his shoulders slumped. “When I saw the kids running and playing in the tunnels near my home, I knew that I was only fooling myself. You were always here and I needed to make amends.”

“Your piano is still in the chamber where you left it. Mouse has faithfully maintained it all these years. I think now it is even better than the ones he left Up Top.” Father put a hand on his arm. “Angelo plays it now.” He glanced at the silent child standing just inside the entrance to the upper level watching everything the adults were doing with wide and worried eyes.

Father looked back at Rolley. “You have been such an inspiration to him, he just loves to hear you play. He stands for hours in the tunnel just listening to you.”

Angelo nodded vigorously, but kept his hands close to his sides, his serious eyes never leaving Rolley’s face.

“The kid plays?” Rolley looked up, his eyes going to the small figure in the entrance.

“Like a dream,” Vincent replied. “And he composes. But Angelo is reaching the limits of what we can teach him down here. Soon he will need a tutor far better than us. He hopes to go Above to learn. Tony Gilbert is making arrangements for him.”

“Tony Gilbert?” Rolley breathed, then shrugged. “You guys have sure moved up in the world since I’ve been gone. A star of Broadway is a helper now, amazing!”

“Tony grew up in the tunnels, he is another of our success stories.” Father squeezed Rolley’s arm. “As you were. As you can be again. But I’m afraid I have to ask about the…” he glanced at an intently listening Angelo, “…issues that drove you away from us last time. Vincent and Catherine were only trying to help, you know.”

“I know.” Rolley took a sip of his tea. Then his dark eyes met Father’s squarely. “I’ve been clean for more than ten years now.”

He lifted his shoulders, brushing one hand briefly over the ragged scar on his cheek. “One night I was mugged and knifed. I had less than nothing and yet the guy slashed me and left me for dead. I would’ve died too, if someone hadn’t found me and dragged my sorry carcass to a hospital. Then I was sent to rehab for the first time. That’s where I finally hit rock bottom and it was either sink into the abyss and die, or fight my way back to the surface.”

He looked across at Vincent. “But all I kept seeing in those dark and lonely days was you. You were everywhere, waking or sleeping, you haunted me like a long-lost memory I just couldn’t shake.” Rolley inhaled and released a long, shuddering breath. “And that night you tried to save me, I wasn’t ready to hear you then, and I’m sorry I hurt you.” He grimaced. “But sometimes the choices we make are not our own. Lying in that hospital bed, I decided maybe I was worth saving after all.”

“And now..?” Vincent asked softly.

“Now I teach piano and try to make a difference in the children’s lives.” Rolley’s eyes travelled back to the silent child hovering within the entrance to Father’s chamber. “If you would permit me to teach Angelo, until Tony’s ready for him, I would count it as the least I can do for what you have done and tried to do for me.”

His sad dark eyes tracked to each of the adults in turn before returning to Angelo who was nodding vigorously and clapping his delight.

“I think you have your answer.” Father smiled. “I think Angelo would like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Rolley settled back with his cup balanced between his long fingers. “We can get started as soon as you like.”

“Now!” Angelo’s fingers flashed his impatience and the adults laughed together as the boy laughed silently with them, his white teeth flashing in the candlelight. “Let’s go!”

“No, Angelo, I think we can at least be allowed to finish our tea.” Father shook his head. “The impatience of youth. It makes me feel so old.”

*******

“I thought I said no calls, Janine?” Joe demanded brusquely, thumbing his office intercom. Ten o’clock in the morning and the office coffee machine had died…again. He could do someone actual bodily harm for a decent cup of coffee right now.

“She said she’s come to check up on your injuries,” his secretary replied apologetically. “I told her you were too busy. But she insisted on seeing you. She said she’d wait until you’re free.”

“Who?” Joe frowned direfully. He glared at the stacks of files littering his desk. Freedom was a distant dream and an all too real impossibility.

There was a brief, hushed discussion before his secretary replied, “She says her name is Linda O’Reilly, and it’s very important that she see you. She said she needs to make sure there’s no permanent damage or infection, since you didn’t keep your follow-up appointment five days ago. You didn’t schedule anything with me.”

“Linda…” Joe mused grimly, running a hand over his already disordered hair. “I don’t know…” A vision of amused green eyes suddenly invaded his mind’s eye. He grimaced. “All right, send her in. She’s got five minutes. And then I want you to get Edie in here with all her files. We’re gonna start again from the beginning.”

“Yes, Mr. Maxwell.” Janine cut the connection quickly.

Joe picked up his darts, balancing them on his right palm. He extended his left hand, staring down at the neat cross pattern of bandages covering the heel of his hand. He plucked at the folds, figuring he should’ve gotten the bandage changed by now, as per Ms. O’Reilly’s detailed instructions before he’d finally escaped her ministrations. Having missed the appointment, the bandaging was now grubby and ink-stained from his paperwork. He figured he was in for a telling off. So be it.

Well, this was his office and he could always throw her out. He hurled the first dart as the door opened and he had to admire the woman, she didn’t even flinch as the missile’s steel tip sank into its target not too far from her head.

“Stress relief?” Linda smiled coolly, closing the door behind her. She set down a small medical bag on the edge of Joe’s desk and blessed be, she’d brought coffee with her. Joe sniffed the aromatic steam rising from the coffee cups like a bloodhound on the scent, feeling the heavy cloud lifting from his spirits.

Linda smiled, pushing one cup towards him. “I guessed since you didn’t show up, you decided you could get on fine without me. I thought coffee might break the ice.”

“Thanks for the coffee. You’ve got four minutes left.” Joe extended his hand, palm up, on the top of the stack of files. “You can see how busy I am.”

“This won’t take long.” She was as good as her word, working briskly and efficiently, uncovering, cleaning and re-bandaging his hand in record time. “At least you haven’t done any damage by your neglect.” As she repacked her bag she surveyed him, looking as if she wished to say something, but was of two minds about it.

Fortified by the excellent, double expresso caffeine kick she’d brought him, Joe sat back in his chair to survey her. “Something else on your mind? You’ve got about thirty seconds left, spill.”

“May I?” Linda indicated one of the chairs in front of Joe’s desk, and after a moment’s fraught hesitation, he nodded brusquely, pushing aside the pile of files so he could see her. Linda sank into the chair, her bag perched on her knees. She reached for her coffee, taking a long sip.

“Fifteen seconds…” Joe encouraged, looking pointedly at his wristwatch, before regretting his words when he saw her pass a trembling hand over her eyes. He grimaced ruefully. “All right, what do you want to ask me?”

“My mother and I…” She met his gaze squarely. “… we run a small safe house for young girls who have been abused by their caregivers, or who simply have nowhere else to go, for various reasons, mainly behavioural issues because of previous neglect. They can be a handful, I can tell you, and the child welfare system isn’t always geared to absorb them, so they come to us. A haven of last resort, I guess you could call us. Starlight House, you can look us up, we’re fully licensed and legit.”

“Admirable.” Joe frowned. “But I fail to see how…”

“We’re being evicted because we can no longer afford the rent increases and the landlord just won’t listen to reason. He wants to develop the site, so he’s selling it to the Burch Group. So now we have nowhere else to go. I work two jobs to make ends meet, while Mum holds down the fort at home. We are making a difference, Joe. Without us, most of these girls would be runaways and drug addicted street walkers by now.” She squared her slumped shoulders. “That must count for something, surely?”

Linda allowed the words to hang between them. She could have said so much more, speaking of her connections both in the city and below it. The underground tunnels that harboured so many people she loved and cared about, those that helped her with her girls when she needed it, those who tried to make a difference in their lives, but could not help out financially, as they had very little themselves. But of course she could not.

Their secret was not hers to share with such a pragmatic man as Joe Maxwell. He would doubtless send down the cops and clear them all out of there, and count it a job well done. Then cage Vincent and study him like an animal, not a decent, caring human being. No, Joe would not understand such a world, or care that its existence was a closely guarded secret. He was a lawyer, they only dealt in facts and the hard truths of life.

Linda watched Joe’s considering expression and her heart quailed. Would he help her? Could he help her? She had missed the last two Winterfests because of her commitments both to work and her girls, she hated to think this present crisis would prevent her from attending next year’s party. But she had run out of options and had nowhere else to turn.

She was aware that Joe knew wealthy, influential people like Elliot Burch and his girlfriend, people with the money and the means to help her realize her dream of a better life for her girls. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, unsure of what to say next. The stark truth was just too awful to contemplate and she choked back the desire to cry.

The seconds ticked slowly by as they stared at each other. Joe admired Linda’s fortitude and simple, straight-talking attitude, despite the trembling of her lower lip and the sheen of tears in her green eyes. Geez, she reminded him of Radcliffe when she’d worked doggedly on a case, no matter how tired she was, or how many loose ends she had to tie up to make a difference. He sighed, missing Catherine with a fresh rush of nostalgia.

Of course he knew people like Elliot and Shannon, who could help her and would help her. Elliot would stop the development in its tracks if he knew the truth. And those who lived in the tunnels would help selflessly because that is what they did, help because they didn’t know any other way to be.

He compressed his lips. Of course he could share none of his thoughts with this complete stranger. The world of the tunnels survived because those who knew and cared about its existence remained silent. But he was a helper now, and he would do his best to help.

Just as he was debating his options someone knocked on the door of his office, before Edie walked in burdened by a stack of files threatening to spill from her control. She paused when she saw Joe was busy. “Come back later, boss?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“No, I think we’re about done here.” Joe stood, circling his desk to hitch one hip on the corner.

“Thanks for listening anyway.” Linda rose quickly, turning to leave. “Sorry to bother you. I can see you’re very busy.”

“If I can, I’ll try to get out of here by seven.” Joe put out a hand to detain her. “Meet me out front. If I don’t show, here’s my card.” He pulled one from his shirt pocket and held it out. “Contact me and we’ll see what we can work out for another time.”

“Thank you,” Linda replied with a tired smile. “I told my mother you were a half decent guy. I’m glad I was right.”

“Thanks, I think.” Joe frowned, standing as the door shut quietly behind her.

“Don’t ask,” he commanded returning behind his desk, where Edie had put down the files, her dark eyes watching him speculatively.

*******

‘To dream the impossible dream

To fight the unbeatable foe

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong

To love pure and chaste from afar

To try when your arms are too weary

To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest

To follow that star

No matter how hopeless

No matter how far…’

Man of La Mancha

Charles Chandler ran his fingers along the dusty mantelpiece in the dining room of his former home and sighed. Wiping his hands together he turned to frown at Catherine and Vincent standing behind him. “Your mother always kept her special pieces here,” he said to his daughter. “I was always so afraid to touch them. Do you remember? She kept that baby picture of you in a beautiful, handcrafted, porcelain frame. I was worried I would be clumsy and break something precious like that. She used to laugh at me, saying they were only things. She always said family was more important. It was people that mattered.”

He looked around the bare room, with its naked and forlorn look, empty of any furniture or fittings. Everything that could be removed and sold had been carried away by the previous owner. “That is why I couldn’t stay here, after she…after your mother had gone. There were just too many memories.”

He pushed a weary hand back over his hair, which had now grown out to its former colour. His face and body had filled out to their previous dimensions and Catherine found it hard to remember that her father had been anything different than what he was now. She came forward to hug him, kissing his cheek.

“We can make it what it was before, only better.” She smiled. “We can create a home again; for all of us, and for anyone who needs shelter. You could start practicing law again.”

“A home…” Charles looked beyond his daughter to Vincent’s quiet presence. He doubted he would ever get used to seeing him, talking with him.

His son-in-law was an incredible and unique individual and Charles was so grateful that he loved his cherished daughter so completely, without reservation. He had always worried she would never find anyone worthy of her. Now he could see how wrong he’d been in promoting the regrettable Tom Gunther as a suitable partner. Or any other man, but this one. Seeing the understanding in Vincent’s considering gaze, he shrugged. “When you know better, you do better. Right, Vincent?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Vincent advised. “You did what you needed to do. You did your best to stay alive and to protect Catherine and you sacrificed everything for her. There can be no greater gift than that.”

“And now we have each other again.” Catherine threaded her fingers through his. “The past is behind us, we are only going to look forward and make the best of what we have now.”

“How wise you are…” Charles cupped her cheek. “And so like your mother. It seems incredible to have come full circle and to be back here, in this house, again.” He sighed. “I can’t wait to begin anew. I know Jacob has already decided which is his room.”

“Well, we certainly have our work cut out for us with this place.” Catherine looked around the bare walls. “But we will soon make it into a home again.”

“Then we will start tomorrow,” her father replied with determination. “The sooner we start the sooner we can move in. And then we…” he paused, frowning. “You’re still going to live here with me?”

“I am a woman of two worlds again. Once more I will be living in two worlds.” Catherine looked from her father to her husband. “We will make it work, Dad. Please don’t worry.”

“Your world down there…” Charles shook his head. “It is incredible. To think that in the middle of New York, such a place can exist undetected. It is a true miracle and an incredible blessing.”

“And it can be your home too, Dad.” Cathy laid a hand on his arm. “We’re a family, all of us. We look out for one another.”

Charles looked down at her. “I saw Kay yesterday. She found out I was back, and she wanted to see I was all right, make sure she’d been told the truth.” He grimaced. “She couldn’t believe it at first. It was a bit of a shock for her, I can tell you. Anyway, she and I…” he paused, as if searching for the right words. “She and I agreed to start dating again. Just in a small way. Of course I have told her nothing of your world, Vincent.” He looked beyond Catherine. “I know how fragile it all is.” He glanced down at his daughter. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“If it makes you happy, Dad, then I’m happy.” Catherine stood on tiptoe to kiss his lined cheek. “We’ll deal with each step as it arises.” She reached to take her husband’s hand. “For now we are going to settle in here and take stock of all our blessings, both Above and Below. It is truly a whole new world.”

*******

Joe made it onto the sidewalk half an hour late, but it couldn’t be helped. He half expected Linda to have given up waiting, but she was there. He liked that. She smiled like she was pleased to see him. The frozen lump of rock his opponents and enemies often accused him of having, instead of a heart, did a funny little jig within his chest. It had been a while since a pretty woman had smiled at him and meant it, like she was glad to see him, like it actually mattered what she thought of him. The heavy burden of responsibility he carried on his shoulders lightened slightly as a consequence.

“Hiya,” Linda greeted him warmly. “I guessed you would still try and show up, so I waited. Figured you were busy.”

“Great.” Joe looked into the green depths of her eyes and slowly he returned her smile. “It has been an interesting day. Say, have you eaten yet? Are you hungry?”

“Famished.” Linda laughed. “You know, I could almost kill for a bag of those chocolate covered cheese nuggets right now. Most people think I’m nuts for liking them.”

Joe froze in the act of indicating she could walk with him down the street towards his favourite restaurant. He blinked down at her. “You don’t say…you too? I mean, watching me eat those things usually makes people ill.”

“Addictive, aren’t they?” Linda shrugged. “What can I say? I like what I like.” Her eyes tracked back to his, and her colour deepened.

“Tell you what, over dinner why don’t you tell me more about this Starlight House of yours,” Joe encouraged, taking her arm. “I just might know some people who could help you out.”

*******

“Listen? Is that all?” Mouse’s boyish face screwed up in honest confusion. “Why listen?” he demanded suspiciously. “What for? Nothing to hear.”

“For whatever Jamie has to say.” Vincent pulled out a chair at the table in his chamber and pushed Mouse down into it. “Women like to know you hear them. That what they have to say is important.”

“Mouse hears fine,” the tinker grumbled. “Just Jamie not always right. Maybe never. Have to tell her so. That’s important too.”

A hastily muffled laugh came from the bed where Cathy was playing with the twins, ably assisted by Jacob. “Sorry,” she apologized smilingly, when Vincent looked up, indicating by one steeply raised eyebrow she wasn’t helping his difficult cause.

“No, you don’t have to always tell her so,” Vincent persisted doggedly. “In fact, it’s better not to tell her at all. She is allowed to have her own opinion.”

“Then how will she know?” Mouse spread his hands wide. “Mouse confused. Almost sorry now he asked.”

“Don’t give up, Mouse,” Cathy intervened. “You like Jamie, don’t you?”

“Makes me hurt, here and here…” Mouse pressed a hand to his heart and then his head. “Can’t sleep. Can’t breathe sometimes. Asked Father. He said ‘talk to Vincent.’ Said you’d know. It still hurts. Talking no good, it seems.” His shoulders slumped. “Maybe Mouse should just go away. Take a long trip. Go way down Below to Azrael’s old place. Stay a while. No one there. Mouse can be alone. Mouse can think.”

“Running away never solved anything, Mouse.” Vincent put a hand on his shoulder. “I should know, I ran for a lot of years, before I learned to stand still and listen.” He smiled at Catherine’s openly amused expression. “You need to face up to your fears and ask for what you want. No one can read your mind. You might be surprised at the result. Jamie likes being around you and you’re always together. You are already halfway there.”

“Make pain go away?” The tinker brightened. “Mouse can get back to being just Mouse?”

“I think ‘just Mouse’ has a lot to offer.” Catherine got up from the bed carrying the twins, one on each hip. Vincent accepted his daughters with a smile, even as they went straight for his mane with greedy fingers, cooing their delight as he nibbled at their fingertips. “Don’t sell yourself short.” Catherine ruffled Mouse’s shaggy hair. “It won’t be as hard as you think. You do need to stop running away.”

“Okay, fine…I made her this…” Mouse delved into the voluminous pockets of his coat and brought out a bundle of ragged velvet cloth that once must have been an expensive curtain. He carefully unfolded it to finally reveal piece of old ivory that had been carefully carved into a figurine faithfully portraying Jamie, standing with her cross bow slung on her back, body poised for flight with her head cocked as if she was listening for something. The piece’s polished black-wood base had Jamie’s name carved into it.

“Oh, Mouse…” Catherine breathed, taking the piece and turning it into the candlelight. “It’s just beautiful.”

“Took long time.” Mouse flushed with pride. “Had to keep it a secret. Not easy. Cullen knew, he found ivory and wood.”

“You must give it to her immediately,” Catherine advised, returning the carving to him. “She will love it.”

“You sure?” Mouse’s face screwed up with concern.

“And listen to her answer,” Vincent interposed. “She will tell you if she loves it, if you give her a chance to speak.”

“Okay good, okay fine…” Mouse muttered without his usual enthusiasm. “Mouse can do this,” he encouraged himself. “Then maybe he can sleep…”

“Mouse can do this.” Catherine placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling down at the doubtful look on his face. “And she will love it, Mouse, trust me.”

“Okay.” Mouse sighed gustily, his shoulders slumping as he carefully wrapped the figurine again and slipped it back into his pocket.

*******

“You mean, after all these years, I have never known that Mary played chess?” Father stared at Catherine. “Why did she never tell me?”

“Perhaps she felt it would bring her too close to you.” Catherine lifted a pawn from Father’s board and studied it. She looked up. “And you were close…once…?”

“It’s a very long time ago and an old story.” Father compressed his lips. “When Mary first came Below, she came to heal a great loss. She had a daughter then, a little girl named Grace. As children, she and Vincent were inseparable and he looked out for her. But one awful day, Mary lost Grace too. She decided to take her up into the park to play in the sunshine, somewhere Vincent could not go.

“When Mary’s back was turned only for a moment, someone kidnapped Grace it seemed. It was a terrible time, Mary was inconsolable and Vincent could never understand where his playmate had gone. After that, Mary drew away from all of us, and we had to respect her wishes. Only with the children, and Vincent, did she seem to come alive once more. But as for her and I…”

He cleared his throat, drawing the glasses from the bridge of his nose and polishing them vigorously. “So there you have it. What’s past is past. There were some mistakes made, on both our parts.” He fixed his daughter-in-law with a steely stare. “Some things are best left to the salad days of one’s youth, where they belong. We’ve both moved on.”

“It must have been terrible,” Catherine said slowly. “But it doesn’t change the present and the fact you are both very lonely people. You have grown used to each other.”

“That’s as may be.” Father re-assumed his glasses pointedly. “I appreciate your interest, Catherine, but as I said, it is ancient history. If Mary wished me to know she played, she would have surely told me at some time in the intervening years.”

“Small things get forgotten within the larger patterns of life. You both had bigger things to worry about, like Vincent and caring for this community. But now…” Catherine shrugged. “Making time to play a game of chess with one of your oldest friends, what could it hurt?” She played her ace in the hole. “Who knows, you might even be able to beat her. She did say she was rusty.”

“Beat her…?” Father’s head snapped around, his grey eyes suddenly gleaming with hope. “Do you think so?”

“I have been reliably informed Mary hasn’t played in years.” Catherine spread her hands. “Of course she may not agree. I mean, you are both very busy people. You have your duties…”

“Very true…” Father leaned forward. “There are evenings when we meet to discuss news of the tunnels and plan what needs to be done for the children. We usually go over the newspapers as well…”

“And if your chess set happens to be out and you decided to ask, does she play?” Catherine toyed with the white queen.

“She would never agree.” Father frowned. “She knows my passion for the game. She would deny she knows anything about it. She doesn’t like to see me gloat.”

“You won’t know unless you ask,” Catherine pointed out. “What can it hurt?”

“What indeed.” Father stared at the queen as Catherine replaced it. “Maybe I will…”

Staring at the piece, he didn’t see Catherine’s small smile of satisfaction.

*******

“The reception is to be held here in my house and I will brook no argument.” Lady May pounded the end of her cane between her feet with a thump. “That way everyone gets to share in your big day.” She eyed Elliot and Shannon, daring them to disagree, but neither one moved or commented, sitting close together on the couch looking suitably chastised.

Lady May nodded sharply. “Excellent. Then we are agreed. Once your dues to the city have been paid and they’ve all gone, we can open the basement entrance and get on with the real party. Make it a night to remember. Trekking all the way down to the Great Hall is beyond me now, unless I go in stages. This makes the best sense, and I have just received my first shipment of Devin’s wine from New Zealand. The least you can do is help me sample it. I have already told that boy he had better show up as well.”

“If you think holding the reception here is for the best,” Elliot murmured, enjoying the fire in the old lady’s watchful eyes. “I agree that it’s an excellent idea.”

“Are you trying to soft-soap me, young man?” Lady May eyed him suspiciously. “I am not taken in by your charm, you know.” She sniffed, raising her chin. “I may be old, but I’m not blind.”

“You know we love you truly.” Shannon rose and crossed to the old lady’s chair, sinking to her knees beside it. “Where would we be without you?”

Lady May cupped her cheek, before patting her face lightly in admonishment. “This man of yours has taught you too well.” She glanced across at Elliot. “But with such a handsome face, how can any woman say no?” She winked, before placing her arms around Shannon’s neck and kissing her soundly. “Now get out of here and make your plans, before I say something I might regret.” Her faded blue eyes looked misty with unshed tears.

*******

Mouse drew up a chair beside Jamie’s in her chamber, watching her fletch an arrow for her cross bow. Her long fingers were nibble, her touch delicate as she coaxed the feathers into their rightful place, tying them down into the glue with the finest of catgut string.

Jamie made all her own gear, disdaining the expensive, ready-made arrows Elliot had once offered to buy for her, saying she made her own to be tried and true, and they knew her fingers and obeyed her. Anything mass-produced would not have the same familiar feel and thereby not be accurate or trustworthy. Elliot had been impressed by her argument, saying he understood her point of view perfectly. He had then given her a fine leather case for her arrows instead.

“You want something, Mouse?” Jamie didn’t take her eyes from her detailed work. She was at a crucial stage in the fletching and couldn’t stop to talk. “Or you just gonna sit there staring at me?”

“I…” Mouse moved uneasily. His fragile courage failed him. But the pain in his chest deepened. He had to make it go away. Vincent said it would. He trusted Vincent’s word.

“You…what?” Jamie flicked her eyes in his direction. “I can’t put this down, you know that, so speak or go away.”

“Okay…” Mouse sucked in an enormous breath and released it in a huge rush of air. He pushed his hand into the pocket of his jacket, feeling for his Jamie present. He drew it forth, holding it out towards her on the flat of his palm. “Made this. For you.” He moved it encouragingly. “For Jamie.”

Jamie’s attention moved from her fletching to the parcel. Her fine brows drew together as she stared at it, her fingers still working automatically on a task she had performed more than a thousand times before. “What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

“Open it. See.” Mouse waggled it again, then pushed it further into her line of sight.

“Okay…” Jamie glanced at him doubtfully as she put down her arrow. The fletching could wait. This present was intriguing her. Mouse was not known for giving personal gifts. His usual approach was more unique and sometimes volatile surprises that shook everyone up. Good or bad, it was all the same to Mouse.

She took it carefully from his hand and unwrapped it. The ivory figurine met her wide-eyed gaze. “Oh, Mouse, she’s beautiful…” In her lap the fletching slowly began to unravel, but she didn’t notice.

“So are you…” Mouse whispered, emboldened by the awed look on her face. “I made it like you. It is you. Best Mouse work.” He shrugged, honesty prompting him. “Well, Cullen helped some.”

“You did indeed,” Jamie breathed, using one hand to wipe the welling tears from her eyes. She sniffed, her bottom lip trembling. “Oh, Mouse, I don’t know what to say, but it’s about time.”

“Why Jamie crying?” Mouse looked distressed. He didn’t like tears, he was at a loss how to act. He didn’t think to ask ‘about time for what’?

“Oh, you big silly.” Jamie laughed through her tears. She leaned forward, grasping a handful of Mouse’s shirt, pulling him closer.

“Jamie...” Mouse eyed her warily, not sure he liked being so close to her, but when he breathed in he noticed she smelled real good. Like William’s apple pie, wholesome and clean. She smelled like his Jamie…the thought startled him. He nodded…his Jamie…Jamie and Mouse… Mouse and Jamie. They just went together somehow.

“Yes…” Jamie cocked her head at him, smiling at the frank confusion in his blue eyes as they stared at each other, almost nose to nose. In her lap, the fletching unravelled further, but she paid it no mind.

“Just Jamie…” Mouse managed to croak, his chest tight and his heart pumping like it was about to leap from his chest. He discovered he was trembling, but was completely at sea about how to stop it.

Physical intimacy was something very new and very scary for him. Only Vincent truly got close enough to hug him more than once. Maybe Winslow, if Mouse had done good. Cullen might put his arm around Mouse’s shoulder and Father had kissed his forehead once…not sure about that, but...

“Mouse…” Jamie grabbed his attention by leaning closer still, finally planting a long, hard kiss on his mouth.

He jumped, but didn’t immediately pull away. When he did he sat staring at her like she had grown a new head. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He wasn’t at all sure he even approved.

“Cat got your tongue?” Jamie teased softly, liking the bemused look in her best friend’s eyes. “Not even okay, I liked that?”

“Okay, good, okay, fine…” Mouse breathed, pressing his fingers to his mouth, feeling across the width of his lips. “That was…nice,” he finally managed. “But why you do that?”

“Because I wanted to,” Jamie replied smugly as she picked up the figurine, turning it in the candlelight just as Catherine had, admiring the beauty of the piece. “Because you gave me this, because you made it.”

“Oh…” Mouse sat nonplussed. “Mouse did all right then?” he finally ventured to ask.

“Mouse did good.” Jamie put down the piece and picked up her fletching, patiently starting again from the beginning. “You gonna hang around a while, keep me company?”

“Uh huh…” Mouse who usually had a million and one things to do instantly at any given moment of the day or night merely nodded. He shuffled back in his chair, settling down to watch his love.

His love…the words filtered through his whole being and the pain in his chest and head that had plagued him for weeks subsided. He sighed, knowing he was content just to sit and watch. There would be time enough to ask Vincent about what happened next in this audacious plan of his…

*******

“Are you sure you want to give it all up?” Azrael turned Diana to face him, looking down into her face. “Your work is your life. I want you to be very sure.”

“It was once, it was all I ever wanted, but now I have a new life.” Diana cupped his cheek, smiling into the black depths of his sightless eyes where she could see her own reflection shining. “I’m married to you and nothing could make me happier. If Joe needs me urgently, he knows where to find me. But now I have all I could ever want or need…”

“Only if you’re very sure…” Azrael drew her into his arms and she laid her cheek against his shoulder, sighing deeply.

“Very sure…” Diana moved one of his hands down to rest against the softly rounded swell of her abdomen. “Besides there are three of us to consider now.”

“Yes…” Azrael’s hand splayed out over her warm flesh and the child within poked at his fingers. He poked back gently and was rewarded with a solid kick.

“Your son is impatient to meet you.” Diana chuckled, turning within his embrace to gaze out the windows of his apartment, the one Elliot Burch had gifted to her new husband when he had first come Above. She shook her head, it still seemed strange to think of the two diverse worlds in those terms, like earth and sky.

“I have my eyes on a brownstone that will suit us very nicely.” She drew both of her husband’s arms close around her. “It has plenty of space for you to paint and me to manage the sales, with extra rooms for guests. And it also has a subbasement that Vincent and Mouse assure me will be ideal for access Below. I want our child to know both worlds, to experience everything we can give him. He will never be alone as I once was.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Or as you were down there in all that darkness. He will know what it is to love and be loved, what truly matters. He will know the light.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you…?” Azrael trailed a line of kisses along her bare shoulder.

“Not in so many words…” Diana turned back to him, raising both hands to cup his face, reaching up to kiss him lingeringly. “But right now I would rather you showed me…”

*******

“You may believe that you are responsible

for what you do, but not for what you think.

The truth is that you are responsible

for what you think, because it is only

at this level that you can exercise choice.

What you do comes from what you think. ”

Marianne Williamson

Edie sat impatiently at her grandmother’s kitchen table, waiting for the old lady to begin her story. Ella was bustling about making herbal tea, but eventually she settled on the opposite side of the table, pushing Edie’s cup across to her.

“First you have to understand some things,” Ella commanded, her level stare brooking no argument. “What I have to share with you must remain a secret, no matter what. You can never tell anyone, even if you’re busting to share. Too many people depend on our silence. So are we agreed?”

Edie spread her hands. “Of course. I know how to keep a secret. But I can’t see what’s so vitally secret about a bunch of rag-tag kids living in the subways tunnels. People do know they’re down there.”

“Because it’s not just about the kids.” Ella took a sip of her tea and sighed. “There is a whole world down there, a community we all are committed to caring for and protecting.”

“But why do you care that much?” Edie considered her grandmother’s thin body, seamed face and careworn hands. She had so little, and yet she gave things away. “Those kids meant nothing to you.”

“When you went away to college I was so lonely, all I had was the business and endless hours on my hands. Paying for your tuition took all the money I could spare and then some.” Ella shook her head. “One day a couple of the kids came asking if I needed any help, anything done. Another one of the helpers had sent them to me, knowing I was getting into trouble paying bills and such. We got talking and things just went from there. Now I am part of the Helpers network and proud to be so.” She drew her thin frame up, her chin rising also. “What I do matters.”

Puzzled but determined, Edie noted silently. “You never told me how much of a struggle it was to put me through college.”

“That’s because I didn’t want you to worry about me.” Ella reached across the table to clasp her hand. “You got on with what you had to do and I got on with my business. We did all right in the end, didn’t we?”

Edie suddenly frowned. “Holes in the ground…” she murmured, watching her grandmother’s reaction closely. “When Catherine Chandler disappeared for months on end, and then Elliot Burch vanished too, someone in the office said it was like some great hole in the ground just opened up and swallowed them whole. I never guessed it was the literal truth…” She shook her head. “This is just too crazy…”

“Yes, well I always said you had a sharp mind,” Ella remarked crisply staring at her levelly. “But there is so much more to the story, things Catherine could never tell you. You will learn the truth in time, but you must be patient. Many people depend on our silence. There is one man in particular we all look out for and cherish. Because he is… different, he can live nowhere else. He is the very reason their world exists at all. But he also protects that world, as we protect him. We do that out of love.”

“Catherine, girlfriend, you sure do know how to hold out on me.” Edie shook her head as she whistled long and low. “Forget the all you can eat buffet, you’re gonna owe me dinner for two at the best restaurant in town. See if I don’t hold you to that.” She looked back at her grandmother. “So where is this place? This secret world?”

“As I said, all in good time, you will need to be introduced slowly. The children are our eyes and ears, and our guardians. There are those who know our secrets and keep them, every one of them.” Her dark eyes gleamed with amusement. “Your Joe Maxwell has known about our secret for quite some time now. He’s a good man and he helps us too.”

“Grandma, you are something else, do you know that?” Edie surged out of her chair, rounding the table to hug and kiss the old lady soundly. “I seem to be the last one to know everything. A lot of people are going to owe me some decent explanations.”

“But you will keep our secret?” Ella looked up at her anxiously.

“Of course.” Edie squeezed her thin shoulders. “I would never hurt those I care about. So when is the next supply delivery?”

“Be here next Friday afternoon.” Ella sighed happily. “Then I can introduce you properly. But please be ever mindful. This secret is not yours alone. In time you will meet the others. You can never tell anyone, not even if you think they need to know, not without checking with me first. Promise me?”

“I promise and I’ll be here.” Edie returned to her chair and picked up her tea cup. “Just wait until I see Catherine again. Now we really have something to talk about.”

*******

Catherine opened the French doors leading into the garden of their newly- refurbished home and turned to look at Vincent. “Is this how you imagined it to be?”

“It is, but only more beautiful.” Vincent had told her of his promise to the moon, that one day they would all walk out into the sunshine. And now there was nothing to stop them. But he hesitated on the threshold, not sure how to continue after so long.

“Come on.” Catherine took her husband’s arm and led him slowly into the garden. Vincent was holding the twins nestled safely in his arms. “Come outside and see.”

Ahead of them Jacob danced through the sunshine, having no fear of the daylight. The sunlight painted shadows across the grass, filtering through the surrounding trees. The garden still needed work, it was overgrown and choked with weeds. But the sun was warm and the air fresh and smelling of the nearby river. It was good to be outside, and wonderful to see her husband turning slowly in the light, his mane and cloak floating out around him, tipped with light. His blue eyes shone with the magic of the moment, telling her without words what he could see and feel; the sun on his face, the breeze in his hair, the sheer weightless feeling of standing beneath a cloudless blue sky. It was all there, reflecting and re-reflecting within the bond that linked them all.

“Mommy colours…” Jacob put out his hand to the passing beauty of a butterfly. “Mommy colours everywhere…” He turned full circle before running and tumbling through the long grass, laughing at the butterfly’s zigzagging path.

“And this is how it will always be…” Vincent came close to Catherine, handing her Mary, before lifting Cathleen high up against his shoulder where the baby chortled with delight.

“Always…” Catherine turned to smile up at him. “Because we wished it to be so. Because you had the courage to come to my balcony that first night. You came because you needed to see if I was well. I needed you to come because I knew I could not live without you. Without knowing you were also well, I was truly alone until that night…”

“I know, my love.” Vincent reached to wipe away the tears that travelled down her cheek. “Until that night I was only half alive. I felt I deserved nothing more than what I already possessed.”

“And now?” Catherine grasped his hand, carrying it to her mouth where she kissed his palm lingeringly.

“Now, as you said, the best is yet to be…” He came closer still, lowering his mouth until he met her lips in a warm, long kiss that promised so much.

Between them the twins kicked and wriggled, clutching at their father’s mane with greedy fingers, but for once Vincent didn’t notice…

*******

“Who told you such stuff and nonsense,” Mary demanded briskly, her knitting sinking into her lap. “It’s been years. Did Shannon say something?”

“So you do play.” Father peered at her over his glasses. “Why did you never tell me?”

Neatly caught out by her own admission, Mary sighed. “Because I have more important things to be getting on with.” She gathered her knitting up with a warning frown. “And you never asked.”

“And now?” Father probed quietly, setting up the chess board before him with a studied air of casual disinterest. “It’s late, there are no crises or problems confronting us tonight. We have done with the tunnel business. ”

“I thought you were teaching Mouse how to play.” Mary kept her eyes on her knitting, though she was aware of the careful rearrangement of the chess set.

Father’s short laugh was full of disbelief. “That boy plays like a genius and a complete idiot,” he remarked bleakly. “I have yet to decide which it is and I am certainly sure I never wish to find out. I am too old to live in such a constant state of turmoil. He took my king and danced about it, even though I tried to teach him the king is inviolate.” He sighed, looking over his glasses at his companion. “One game for old time’s sake?” he wheedled softly. “What could it hurt? I’m told I’m an easy beat these days.”

“What indeed…” Mary looked up. She sighed. “Very well, I can see you will give me no peace until this is settled. One game and then I do not wish to hear any more about it ever again. Agreed?”

“Of course.” Father brightened, gathering a white and black pawn into each of his hands and closing his fists. “Pick a colour.” He held out both hands towards her, and was rewarded with a searching stare, before Mary tapped the hand holding the white pawn.

“Excellent,” Father approved, settling back into his chair and waiting to see just how good his new opponent really was at the game he loved. He smiled at Mary. “Your move...”

*******

“This is how it was always meant to be…” Sitting crossed-legged on their wide, comfortable bed beside her reclining husband, Catherine trailed teasing fingers along the powerful length of his body from his chin to the apex of his thighs and back again, slowly torturing a sensual path through the golden hair covering his skin, watching with half-closed eyes, the ripple of anticipation that passed across his flesh at the passage of her touch. Catherine smiled even as she sighed. “I do so love you…”

“As I love you…” Vincent lay holding himself quiescent, content for now to study the picture his wife made, outlined in the moonlight streaming in through the un-curtained windows behind her.

There was no need for them to conceal themselves or their love here. The hour was late and the children were all asleep. Catherine’s father was away for the weekend, with Kay in the Hamptons, renewing old connections and rekindling old flames. He also knew to give his daughter some valued space to be alone.

Vincent and Catherine’s commitment to each other rippled and flowed along their mutual bond, unspoken thoughts and feelings not needing words or expression. It truly was enough to simply be and allow the future to take care of itself. There would be time enough to recommit to their bond and all the colours and shapes it encompassed. For now, he could take the subtle torture of Catherine’s fingers walking a renewed path back to the place where his surging body ached for her, and the warmth and abiding love of her most intimate caress…

*******

“Remind me again just exactly how did we end up here?” After stretching languidly Linda rolled over onto her stomach, shifting against him to rest her chin on the backs of her hands perched on Joe’s naked chest. “Not that I’m complaining…”

“I think it was the wine…” Joe stared down at her, watching the various emotions chasing each other through her green eyes. She looked happy and content just to be with him, yet his insecurities nudged at him big time. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman in his bed, too long…

Erika Salven’s ghost flittered briefly through his mind, before he dismissed her completely. Linda was not Erika, she had no agenda, or need to sweet talk her way into his bed or his heart. She had laid all her cards on the table over their third dinner date last night, telling him everything about her hopes and fears for the future that didn’t look good for those she cared about. But once bitten…

“Penny for them…” Linda prompted, not liking the serious look in his dark eyes, like somehow she’d messed up big time. Casual, one night stands, just weren’t in her make up. But she’d been celibate for so long, she was sure she’d even forgotten how to love someone physically. She liked Joe, she wanted to see him again. She could only hope he felt the same.

Making love with him had been a thing of the moment, coupled with the romantic atmosphere of the restaurant, the midnight walk through the park to his apartment, and the stars, most of all the stars.

They had been bright tonight, unhindered by clouds and seemed to hold such promise. It was something she gave no thought to, what could happen next between them when they reached Joe’s door. It had just happened, but she wasn’t sorry, far from it. But now it looked like he was. Her spirits sank. Perhaps her frank honesty over dinner had been her undoing.

She turned her cheek to rest against the steady beat of his heart. What she should be doing is getting some sleep before her early morning shift. Her eyes strayed to his bedside clock, too late for that now. Strong fingers inserted themselves under her chin, bringing her eyes back to his.

“Do you know you chew your bottom lip when you’re thinking too hard?” Joe asked quietly. “Like you’re not sure how what you have to say will be received.”

“You’re not supposed to notice,” Linda prevaricated.

“I’m a lawyer, remember? I notice things, ticks and tells, the things other people miss.” His dark eyes teased her, attempting to lighten both their moods. “So tell me…”

“It’s been a long time since I…since anyone…” Linda swallowed tightly. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“Since you’ve been this vulnerable with someone? That cuts both ways, you know. Getting naked together usually has that effect on people.” He laughed softly. “I’m a bit out of practice too.”

“I just wanted you to know I don’t sleep around to get what I want. I like you…a lot, Joe Maxwell.”

“Glad to hear it,” he teased lightly, but his eyes were serious. “And I don’t think you’re easy, or a pushover, or anything else that is chasing around inside that beautiful head of yours.” He tapped her temple softly with a fingertip. “Give yourself a break.”

“Good…” Linda breathed. Unconsciously her teeth closed on her bottom lip as she considered him.

“Uh oh, I’m coming to know that look.” Joe ran his fingers across her pensive lips. “Spit it out, what do you want to ask me?”

“You mentioned Elliot Burch and his fiancée at dinner tonight, that they may be able to help us…” Linda inhaled. “I was just thinking, maybe just wondering…they are getting married soon, right? And you’re invited? Being the D.A and all…”

“What’s all this?” Joe’s brows rose steeply. “Are you trying to wangle an invitation to the most exclusive and expensive wedding Manhattan has seen in more than a decade?”

“Not at all…” Linda smiled as she finger walked her way up to his lips, leaning down to kiss him slowly and deliberately, prompting him to respond in kind. Then she whispered, “I’m only asking you to consider it. But it is a beginning…”

*******

“Uptown girlfriend, this new life sure looks real good on you,” Edie approved, after watching Catherine walk to their restaurant table. Edie rose to her feet to hug her good friend. “And it’s so good to see you again. We haven’t talked in like ages. I miss that.”

She pulled back, her dark eyes censuring as her generous mouth turned down at the corners. She leaned close to Catherine’s ear to whisper, “But you’ve been holding out on me, I hear. I’m here to tell you I forgive you, for a small price of a great meal.” She flashed a cheeky grin before releasing Catherine and returning to her seat. “I want to know everything.”

“There’s not that much I can tell you, but I will tell you what I can.” Catherine sighed, as she took her seat in the secluded alcove she had deliberately booked at the Tavern on the Green. “Your grandmother has been a very good friend to us through the years. Ella said she has told you some details, and you have been great with the children. She appreciates your help, she is not getting any younger.”

She glanced at the windows behind Edie. Beyond them, out in the warm summer darkness well beyond the lights, Vincent hovered waiting, not for protection, but for comfort and support. Catherine had hated lying to one of her oldest friends, but she had been given no choice. The secrets she was party to, were not hers alone, and never had been.

“Hey, girlfriend, it’s cool.” Edie shrugged. “Grandma told me what she could and the kids have been great too. I understand there are big, deep secrets and that you’re somehow at the heart of them all. I just hated being the last to know things, but I’m a big girl, I will get over it.” She sighed gustily.

“Without people like you and Ella, our world could not exist,” Catherine began slowly. “But it needs to remain secret to survive. And it must survive, for all our sakes.”

And your children, and their father…?” Edie pursed her lips. “I guess they’re all part of this secret world too…”

“They are,” Catherine acknowledged. “As one of our helpers, you will meet him in time. But it needs to be a gradual process. He is…very special, but also very different. It is him we protect most of all.”

“Girlfriend, I’d already figured that out.” Edie took her hand. “Else, why the secrecy? You always were a dark horse. And here’s me thinking we had that in common, the lack of a decent man in our lives. How wrong was I on that front?” She laughed quietly. “Maybe you’ve got a good looking brother down there somewhere for me? Cause, let me tell you, he sure ain’t up here in this world, and that’s not for the want of looking on my part.”

She arched her brows. “Watching reruns on TV alone is getting way too boring.” She reached to grasp Catherine’s hand. “As long as he’s good to you, that’s enough for me. As long as he loves you, then I will be happy for both of you.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you.” Catherine laughed softly. “And you are good for me, Edie, have I ever told you that?”

“Not often enough,” Edie complained, as she opened her menu. “But for now, I’m famished. Let’s talk about men another time. When I can give the subject my full attention.”

*******

“It has been a long time since Margaret left me…” Jacob fiddled with his glasses, not looking at Mary, not wanting to see her expression, but it had to be said. They had become very close over the last few weeks, closer than they had ever been before. “I am more than a little out of practice.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Perhaps I was never very good at relationships in the first place.”

“Do you think I am not aware of such feelings?” Mary countered quietly. “Ever since Michael was killed, so many years ago now, I feel as if I have been in hibernation all this time. I came Below to heal, to begin again, to find peace. And then Grace was taken from me as well.” Her breathing hitched as her soft voice thickened with unshed tears. “I thought my heart would break. I turned my back for just a second, up in the park that day, and she was gone.”

She fell to twisting her handkerchief in her lap. “But not a day goes by that I don’t hope and pray she is all right… that someone loved her as I love all the children who come under my care.” She raised her thin shoulders helplessly.

“We really are a pair of old misfits, are we not?” Jacob replaced his glasses slowly, turning his head to look at her. “Is it truly too late?”

“There is time enough…” Mary inclined her head. “I have been too long alone. I don’t like being alone, I never did. But it became a habit, something comfortable and predictable. I miss my daughter every day, but sadness and regrets make for cold bedfellows. What I am saying is, I would like to try.”

“Then try we shall.” Jacob heaved a large sigh and smiled. “What will the children think?”

“That it’s about time.” Mary spread her hands. “They have been pushing for this for years. Vincent will be especially pleased, he would wish us to be happy.”

“No regrets…” Jacob stretched his hand across the table towards her.

“No regrets…” Mary took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Well, only one.” She sighed. “One day perhaps, if God is kind, I may see my Grace again.”

“Until that day, we will make the best of what we have,” Jacob said softly.

Mary wiped away a tear. “Yes, I’m sure we can do that.”

*******

Elliot and Shannon’s wedding went off without a hitch. The big day dawned bright and clear. Those who hadn’t been able to secure an invitation to the event itself, crowded the pavement outside the church, waiting and hoping for a glimpse of the power couple, alongside the paparazzi who shoved their way forward, all keen to get the best shot. It was a grand and dignified affair, attended by all the city’s dignitaries, followed by the reception held at Lady May’s mansion.

All those city fathers who owed something to the Burch empire or Shannon’s newly-fledged charity for the homeless of the city came to pay their respects to the couple, and be wined and dined by Lady May’s extensive cellars. All too soon it seemed, those attendees who had no knowledge or place in the world Below were being politely but firmly shown to the door, and to their respective vehicles by the old lady’s well-trained staff.

Linda waited quietly on the side-lines watching all those who knew nothing of the world Below leave. She watched Joe moving through the rapidly-thinning crowd of city fathers and important guests, and she wondered when he would also leave. She ached for him to stay, to tell him the truth, but she didn’t speak. She wished she could share her secret with him, for he had rapidly become very important in her life, but she was also well aware the secret was not hers alone. Still she found it extremely odd that he remained, lingering in the background, now and then casting her inquiring looks, as if he expected her to soon be gone from the party.

After an hour the unwanted guests had all left, and the gates and doors to the property and house firmly locked and bolted against unwanted intrusion. Linda made her way to Joe’s side, and he watched her walking towards him with frowning intensity. It was as if he too had the same puzzling question hovering on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t express it.

“Care to share?” Linda threaded her fingers through his, drawing his hand to rest on her hip. Her green eyes assessed him, wondering exactly what he knew.

Joe looked down at her. “Okay, it seems we have been keeping secrets from each other. What are the chances we both knew, and never thought about what the other might or might not know?” He caught her frown and asked, “You too? For how long?”

“It appears I don’t know you at all, Joe Maxwell.” Linda laughed and shook her head. “How long have you known?”

“Ever since one night when Vincent rescued Catherine and me from being shot by Gabriel’s hired killer. I must admit it took some convincing that I wasn’t dreaming it all and he was real. That Mouse takes some getting used to, I can tell you. You?”

“One of my girls swore me to secrecy some time ago. She said there was a place, a safe place where she could begin again. She showed me the way down and I’ve been a Helper for more than ten years now, but I have not been to Winterfest in some time. I can see I must amend that omission.” She smiled. “And to think you knew about everything all this time, I agree it seems incredible.” She slanted a questioning glance at him. “Almost as if it was meant to be…” She smiled. “I am so glad I don’t have to hide anything from you.”

“But the secret was not yours to tell, I understand.” Joe drew her closer and kissed her lightly. “I’m still getting used to it all. But I am glad you know.”

“Me too.” Linda stroked his cheek and sighed. “I wish…”

Behind them Lady May suddenly clapped her satisfaction. “Finally, they’re all gone. Now we can get on with the real fun of the evening.”

She commanded the entrance to the tunnel world be declared open and she sat down on a chair in her reception room, waiting to be thoroughly entertained. It wasn’t long before the tunnel folk were filling her house with fun and laughter. Not to be outdone by May’s classically-trained chef, William appeared with trays of his best food, and barrels of his finest cider were rolled out for all to enjoy.

Devin came up through the thronging crowd to where Elliot and Shannon were standing with Diana and Azrael. “Great party!” He threw both arms around the new bride and kissed her soundly, before turning to eye Elliot speculatively. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some investments I have in mind.” Devin’s dark eyes gleamed. “A new little venture I’ve got going.”

“Go on,” Elliot replied warily. “I make no promises.”

“You’re drinking my product.” Devin lifted his own wine glass. “I’m going to need some solid investment if I’m going to expand.” He grinned cheekily. “Now what kind of brother-in-law would I be, if I didn’t offer you first refusal?”

“That relationship is tenuous at best,” Elliot countered on a short laugh. “But I am prepared to listen to your proposal.”

“Excellent!” Devin approved. “Can’t ask for fairer than that.” He saluted both of them. “Welcome to the family, Elliot. I must say you know how to throw a party.” He looked around the room. “Now where’s that other sister of mine…?”

*******

Shannon looked into the small withdrawing room. Passing the door she was sure she’d heard someone crying, but the room was shrouded in darkness. Thinking she had been mistaken she was about to step back when she saw movement on the small couch before the window.

“Who is in here?” Shannon extended a hand towards the light switch, but a voice spoke from the darkness, “Please, don’t turn on the light. Leave me be.”

“Mary…?” Shannon eased into the room, shutting the door behind her. “What on earth is the matter? Why are you crying?”

“I’m just being a silly old fool,” Mary replied, with a watery sniff. She sighed, getting to her feet and crossing to Shannon’s side. “It’s just when I saw you, married and looking so happy, I was reminded so much of my Grace.” She put a hand to Shannon’s cheek. “Too many years filled with too many regrets, but there is not a day goes by when I don’t miss her and wish I could see her again.”

Shannon was well aware of who Mary was referring to, but it had been a long time since the tunnel matron had mentioned her missing five year old daughter, missing after being snatched from Central Park, leaving Mary distraught and bereft. It had happened in the blink of an eye, one moment her daughter was dancing through the sunshine and then she vanished completely. Everyone had searched, but to no avail. And Shannon knew that Mary blamed herself every day for something that was not her fault.

Shannon put her arms around the only mother she had ever known. “I’ll ask Elliot to put Cleon Manning on the case, see if they can uncover anything. If it’s there to be found, he will find it.”

Mary looked up, pathetic hope lighting her watery eyes. “Even after all these years?”

“It’s all we can do.” Shannon sighed. “Don’t give up hope, Mary. One day, hopefully soon, your Grace may reappear as mysteriously as she once vanished. We must have hope.”

“Yes…” Mary drew her close again, kissing her cheek. “But until that day I still have all of you, for that I will always be grateful. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Shannon gave her an extra tight squeeze before taking her foster mother back into the party that was still going on in the next room.

*******

“What are you thinking, Vincent?” Catherine looked up at her husband’s pensive face.

“That I am blessed,” he replied quietly. “That all of this…” He waved a hand at the crowded room, smiling at Father trying his best to find a worthy opponent who would agree to retire to a quiet room and play a game of chess with him. “All of this shows how far we have come, you and I, and how much we have to be thankful for.”

Following her husband’s gaze, Catherine smiled as she watched Father doing his best to coax Tony Gilbert away from the many and varied delights of the buffet table. “It has been the best of times…” She linked her fingers through her husband’s, “And the best is yet to be…”

“Yes…” Vincent looked down at their linked hands, before lifting Catherine’s to his lips and kissing the backs of her fingers with lingering tenderness. “I cannot wait…”

*******

“You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,

Love like you'll never be hurt,

Sing like there's nobody listening,

And live like it's heaven on earth…”

William W. Purkey

Friday, November 14th, 2014

“…and so, seven months after the April reopening of the brave new venture, the Tavern on the Green looks set to bring renewed life and prosperity to the iconic spaces of Central Park. I know we all wish them well for their ongoing success. This is Beth Howard, reporting to you for New York Today.”

Beth waited for the camera to pan away before she lowered her microphone, releasing a long sigh of relief. It had been an impossibly busy day and she was bone tired. High heeled shoes and tight clothing didn’t help when you were five months pregnant and aching in every muscle. She longed to ease off her shoes and walk barefoot in the soft grass, flop down and just luxuriate. But there was a chill fall wind picking up and still the end of year wrap party to endure. She shook her head regretfully as the camera lights were switched off and her crew began to pack up.

It was only after the camera’s glare was removed from her eyes that she suddenly noticed the furtive figure scurrying out of the drainage tunnel in the far distance. She frowned, not sure what she had just seen. The figure was hunched, as if they didn’t wish to be seen, pausing only to cast a worried glance at the turned backs of her crew, before crouching and hurrying into the shelter of nearby bushes. There they seemed to wait for an opportunity to advance further into the park unobserved.

“Say, did you guys see that…?” she began to ask her crew, before changing her mind. Whoever that was over there, they obviously didn’t wish to be noticed. And it was obviously none of her business.

But the image of the figure remained, burned into her mind’s eye. Blessed with total recall, she could picture again the bent figure scurrying to concealment, thick blond hair hanging loosely to their collar. Man or woman, Beth could not determine, but the clothing had been ragged and patch-worked, as if their owner was well down on their luck and made do with what they had. Something about the image awoke in the back of her mind, a fragment of memory, but she was too tired to try to pin it down.

“Just get on with your own business.” Beth straightened, easing her back.

Going through this pregnancy alone was hard work, and without respite. There was no one offering to rub her feet or massage the ache from her shoulders. The lamentable Derek had taken off, heading for points unknown the moment he knew Beth was pregnant. She was grateful they had never got around to marrying. The guy was a complete loser. The moment he knew the condom hadn’t worked he hadn’t stuck around to suffer the consequences.

“Don’t dwell on what can’t be mended.” Beth admonished herself, easing a frustrated hand around the back of her neck. A faint fluttering in the pit of her stomach reminded her she was not entirely alone. She covered the movement with the flat of her hand and smiled.

Of course she still had her mother. Though they didn’t connect as often as Beth would like, she knew Grace was always there, in the background, watching and waiting. A retired nurse, Grace had been an unofficially adopted child, leaving no trace in the public records. She had no idea who her birth parents were, and all Beth’s research had produced zero results about her mother’s true past.

Back in the day there had sometimes been no formal adoption, so there was no paper trail to be followed. It had been an exercise in frustration, with many false leads and dead ends that had drained them emotionally. Grace’s adoptive parents were both now dead, so they could provide no clues and never spoke of it to anyone while they were alive. So Beth and her mother made the best of what they had together.

But Beth had not given up. She would find out the truth, even if it was the last thing she did. She was an investigative reporter after all, and she detested being unable to discover the truth. She owed it to her mother to go on, no matter how frustrating the journey.

“Now where did they go?” Beth frowned now at the foliage surrounding the drainage tunnel. Whoever that was hiding in there, they had managed to hurry out unnoticed. She looked around, but there was nobody insight. “Huh…” Beth shrugged.

“What’s the matter?” Cheryl, the makeup girl came over, frowning at Beth’s puzzled expression. “Who you lookin’ for?”

“I have no idea.” Beth frowned. “I could have sworn…I guess things in Central Park are never quite as they seem.”

“I hate it when you go all cryptic on me,” Cheryl complained good-naturedly. “But then you were always odd about some things, like seeing things that aren’t there, knowing things before anyone else.”

Beth smiled. “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy… ”

“There you go again, quoting some creepy, old, dead guy.” Cheryl threw up her hands. “We’re about done here, you comin’ or not?”

“I guess so…” Beth cast one last long look at the drainage tunnel, but nothing moved. Whoever it was that had appeared out of it had made themselves very scarce. “But I can’t stay long.”

“That’s okay, we…” Cheryl’s comment was cut short by the sounds of an argument in the distance. “What’s going on over there?” Both women turned to look.

“I have no idea…” Beth caught her breath. She saw immediately one of the combatants was that same blond figure, now struggling in the grip of a woman who was screaming her hand bag had been stolen half an hour ago and this was the guy. She was yelling for the cops.

It seemed only a matter of moments before two policemen appeared and promptly arrested the woman’s assailant. The man put up a vocal protest exclaiming it wasn’t him, struggling to escape from his captors, but they subdued him easily.

“Good job,” Cheryl approved, nodding. “About time all the muggers and purse snatchers in this park got cleaned out.”

“But I don’t think he’s the perp.” Beth frowned in the direction of the melee. “I saw him before, down there…” She indicated the drainage tunnel. “He couldn’t have been over there stealing her purse at the same time. He was in the bushes watching us.”

“You sure about that?” Cheryl frowned at the confrontation. “I mean, he looks like a vagrant. Look at those raggy, old clothes. Probably waiting for a chance to steal from us then too. He looks like a creep.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Beth’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the oddly dressed man and again something in the back of her mind stirred. A memory or simply confusion, she couldn’t tell. But she couldn’t allow an innocent person to be arrested when she could prevent it. She just knew that man was not the woman’s assailant.

“Hey, where’re you going?” Cheryl made a grab for Beth’s arm as she set off across the grass. “Leave well enough alone, Beth. It’s nothing to do with you.”

But Beth wasn’t listening. She walked quickly up to the scene where the two policemen were now trying to handcuff the purse snatcher. The struggling blond figure in the middle was muttering the same name over and over.

“Catherine, call Catherine. She knows. She helps. Catherine.” He made a vain attempt to get a hand into the pocket of his ragged jacket. “Get Catherine. Tell her to come.”

“Don’t know any Catherine,” one of the officers replied tersely, as he struggled to contain his prisoner and get him into handcuffs. “Keep still!”

“I truly don’t think this is your guy.” Beth put out a hand to prevent the handcuffs being applied.

“Oh yeah…” The policeman rounded on her. “”And what makes you such an expert on criminals?”

“Catherine…” His prisoner continued to struggle, trying to get his hand into his pocket. “Call Catherine. Say Mouse needs her now. Must come.”

“I know because he was with me at the time of the mugging,” Beth replied briskly, not liking the officer’s tone or his attitude.

“What are you doing, Beth?” Cheryl demanded from behind her. “Do you know this man?”

“Not now,” Beth hissed, waving a silencing hand behind her back while facing the cop and drawing herself up to her full height. She barely reached his shoulder. “This is my coffee guy, he was with me, as I said, been with me all afternoon.”

“Coffee guy, huh?” The officer looked deeply skeptical, but he reluctantly loosened his grip. “You sure keep some queer company. He’s probably been stealing from you too.”

Immediately the scruffy little man sidled up to Beth, pulling a card from his pocket. “Call Catherine.” He offered her the dog-eared square with a worried frown, his mobile face working hard at various expressions as if he was unsure of which one fitted the moment. “Catherine knows. She’ll help. Call now.”

“Chandler Law...” Beth breathed a soft whistle, staring down at the card. “Wow, that’s a pretty high-powered firm. Exclusive and impossible-to-reach are their middle names. Now how would someone like you know them?”

“Catherine…” The scruffy little man bobbed his head, repeating the name beneath his breath like a talisman. “Call her.” He tapped on the card in Beth’s hand. “Knows what to do. Done it before. Mouse makes trouble sometimes.” He shrugged. “Can’t help it.”

“You got five minutes.” The police officer turned away to deal with the distraught woman who had lost her purse, trying to calm her agitation and her vocal insistence that this was the guy and why weren’t they arresting him. But they didn’t go far, still looking entirely unconvinced by Beth’s story. No doubt they were waiting for her to leave so they could re-arrest the poor guy and drag him away.

“Call.” The scruffy man poked the card. “Got cell phone?” His blond eyebrows danced erratically.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” Beth muttered, fishing in her purse for her phone beneath Cheryl’s equally disbelieving gaze.

Beth read the card again before punching in the numbers. There was a brief pause before a woman answered the phone.

“Hi, Samantha,” Beth used the name given. “This is Beth Howard. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was given this number by someone asking for Catherine. He says she will know what to do. I can only assume he means Ms Chandler, but I…”

“Catherine…” The man at her elbow breathed happily. “She will come now.”

“One moment please,” Samantha requested, and Beth could hear a hurried conversation at the other end of the phone. Then Samantha came back on the line, sounding worried. “Is the party concerned still with you? Or has he been arrested?”

“No, he’s here with me.” Beth frowned at the unusual choice of words. “I have just prevented him from being arrested. But if I leave him now, they might come back. They didn’t like the alibi I gave him.”

“I see,” Samantha’s tone became brisk. “Thank you for your concern. I have informed Ms Chandler. If you will give me your location I will see to it the situation is resolved immediately.”

Beth frowned as she gave her position in the park. After a hurried thank you the phone went dead. Beth stared at it in bemusement. It was a funny way for such a prestigious law form to operate. But she guessed with the Chandlers’ connection by marriage to one of the largest and wealthiest homeless trusts in the city, they were bound to have some rather unusual clients.

“Catherine comes.” The little man at her elbow smiled happily, bobbing his head. “Samantha knows. Good girl. Mouse okay fine now.”

“Mouse…” Beth stared at him. The name fit him perfectly. Though he was older than he had first appeared, now she was close to him, there was a childlike quality to his innocent blue eyes. He looked like a cuddly puppy that had just been kicked and didn’t know why.

“You gonna hang around with him until someone shows up?” Cheryl demanded to know, hovering nearby. “He doesn’t even look all that clean.”

The scruffy little man bristled at the slight. “Mouse has shower. Made one too. Jamie said I had to be clean. Gotta smell good.” He shrugged. “Mouse knows how to listen. Jamie is always right,” he intoned slowly, looking very pleased with himself.

“You’re on your own with this one. He’s crazy.” Cheryl spread her hands. “I’ll see you at the party. That’s if you don’t get locked up along with him.” She stabbed an accusing finger at the vagrant before stalking away to where the crew were waiting to leave.

Beth had her own car, so she didn’t worry that she had been abruptly left alone with the funny little man. He intrigued her immensely with his unusual patterns of speech and his odd connection with one of the most exclusive law firms in the city.

No one even got near the Chandler mansion over on the East River without first making an appointment and being thoroughly vetted by the Manning agency who also worked for the Burch family. High walls and guards made it almost impossible to get into the place. And even then, Chandler Law was very selective in the cases they took on, which made the present circumstances even more incredible.

As an investigative journalist, Beth was well aware of Catherine Chandler and her father, who had founded the firm back in the early 1990’s. Charles Chandler had been brought out of the Witness Protection Program by Elliot’s Burch’s private investigator, after the death of the mysterious Gabriel, a high-class super villain if ever there was one. It was all a matter of record and ancient history, if someone knew where to look.

Now the two families were inextricably linked with Catherine’s older son, Jacob recently marrying Burch’s oldest daughter, Rebecca. The Burch empire linked closely with the charity Shannon Burch had established with her first husband’s vast wealth, forging links throughout the city, powerful connections that didn’t like anyone messing with them.

Catherine Chandler herself was a very mysterious woman. In her investigative work, Beth had tried to dig to the bottom of the woman’s past and her intriguing connections, but had been stymied at every turn. Her record with the D.A’s office made impressive reading. Over the course of two years she’d gotten into and out of some pretty tight spots without explanation. It was almost as if she had a seriously dedicated guardian angel who protected her from all harm, which made no sense that Beth could see. And then Chandler set up the firm with her father and all went quiet, like there was no more need for some mysterious protector.

Beth knew Catherine had four children, her oldest, Jacob, then twin girls, Mary and Cathleen, and finally a younger, teenage son named Vincent. The curious thing about this very exclusive and extremely wealthy family is no one had even set eyes on the father of the woman’s children. He was recorded on all the children’s birth certificates as ‘unknown’.

It was a frustrating puzzle Beth had once tried to sift through, and just when she seemed to be getting somewhere she had been stopped by an order from Joe Maxwell, once the D.A. of Manhattan, and now a senior high court judge with an impeccable and formidable reputation.

Beth had been threatened with serious legal action if she pursued her line of inquiry any further. She had been surprised by the order. A favour for an old friend, or was there more than that to this whole story? What, exactly, were they all trying to hide, or protect? Beth had puzzled long and hard over the mysterious connections among these powerful people, but she’d found no answers.

Around this secretive family swirled a whole host of intriguing characters who had no obvious past. There were records, but to Beth’s trained eye, everything seemed a little too neat to be real. It was as if someone had taken a lot of time to carefully manufacture pasts, for these people, that were almost too perfect.

There was the former police investigator Diana Bennett and her very famous artist husband, Azrael Jacobs. A blind man with a fairly common last name, and a neatly packaged past that led precisely nowhere. Beth had chalked him up for investigating, but had met a stone wall of silence. Then Shannon Burch herself, the mysterious woman Elliot Burch had married, again a past that didn’t quite ring true. But at every turn a stone wall had been erected, there were no concrete records, no trails to follow, nothing she could pin down as the truth. It was as if these people didn’t really exist before the early 1990s. That decade seemed to have some oddballs with it.

She laughed even as she shook her head. Not the least of all was the silent little man standing beside her, watching her with wide, blue eyes. She doubted she would be able to dig up anything about him either. She glanced again at the drainage tunnel. The little man looked as if he didn’t have a home to call his own.

“Okay...” Suddenly Beth’s eyes narrowed. Now that she was close to him she noticed that the man’s clothing was not merely rags thrown together, but a finely stitched assortment of fabrics, old and well-worn admittedly, but tidy and neatly kept. As if someone had taken great care to craft clothing that was both serviceable and easy to wear. Beth frowned, that odd memory tickling again in the back of her mind. She was suddenly sure she’d seen that neat stitching before, crazy as it may seem right now.

Her memory suddenly pulled up an image of a child’s dress, the very dress Grace had kept all these years neatly folded in an old shoebox hidden the bottom of her wardrobe. It had been the dress she was wearing when she was adopted, and she had refused to part with it, even though her adoptive mother often threatened to burn it, as if it had some significance to the unknown past. Grace’s name had been neatly stitched into the neck band and she had steadfastly refused to change it. Now that Beth pictured the dress, she knew it looked exactly like this man’s quaint clothing, an assortment of fabrics neatly matched, almost as if the same careful hand had made the same garment.

In the bottom of the box were the journals her mother had kept since she was five years old, she had kept that very dress, saying it was her tunnel dress and that she’d always wanted to go back home, to be safe again in the Below. She also wrote often of the Guardian of her dreams, someone who looked out for her and protected her from all harm or helped her when she was afraid or sad. Almost like a seriously dedicated guardian angel…

Beth shook her head. She could well understand a lonely child inventing an imaginary friend for company, she’d had her own when she was younger, but her mother insisted the person was very real and just waiting for her to find him again.

A frustrated sigh feathered past Beth’s lips. It was like trying to nail down a shadow. In her teenage years her mother had ceased to write about this beloved Guardian, and never mentioned his name. Nor would she describe this mysterious person, no matter how many times Beth asked for information. It was another lead that went nowhere. None of it made any sense and it was a complicated story that seemed to have no happy ending, until now…

“Crazy idea…” Beth muttered in her frustration. Besides the Guardian reference, that entry about some mysterious tunnels had always puzzled and confused her. It had made no sense, until now. Where there is a mouse, surely there must be a tunnel for him to hide in and…

“This is nuts…” Beth glanced back at the drainage tunnel before looking down at the little man standing silently next to her, then into the middle distance where the two policemen still hovered, waiting and watching. This whole affair was getting stranger by the minute.

“Mouse and the tunnels Below…” she murmured, not really expecting an answer. “I guess you too must have some kind of guardian angel. You sure look like you need one.” She looked back at the man beside her. “Now it all makes some kind of crazy sense. But I have no idea what or how.”

“I am Mouse.” The little man’s blue eyes jerked up to meet hers before darting away, and Beth was sure he knew more than he was telling. “Mouse good now. Catherine comes.”

Beth wanted to shake him, demand some answers, but it was already too late. Finally she was about to meet the woman herself. She watched Catherine Chandler’s car pull up and the lawyer got out, looking around for her client.

“Catherine!” Beside Beth, her companion threw up a hand and called out, waving madly. Catherine turned in their direction, and came swiftly down the slope towards them, her expression reflecting both frustration and deep concern.

*******

‘But I could have told you, Vincent…

This world was never meant for one

As beautiful as you…’

Don McLean

“You should rest more,” Catherine slid a cup of coffee and a plate of sandwiches across the table towards Beth before she sat down opposite her at the café table. “And get rid of those ridiculous shoes. High heels and pregnancy certainly don’t mix.”

“Thanks.” Beth sipped the hot brew gratefully before reaching for a sandwich and devouring it. Her grumbling stomach welcomed the nourishment. She realized belatedly she had not eaten anything beyond a hastily snatched energy bar since breakfast. And now the sun was going down. “No offense, but you sound just like my mother.”

“None taken.” Catherine laughed lightly. “But you do know we are both right. I have four children to prove I know what I’m talking about. When do you plan on giving up work?”

Beth shrugged. “I have just over a month left on my contract. After I finish on Christmas Eve, I doubt the network will want to see me for a few months.” She eyed her companion with intense curiosity. “And I may not return at all. I don’t really know what I want to do now.”

She was dying to ask questions, but the high powered lawyer’s brisk manner and air of supreme confidence made it difficult to find the right place to begin. But this heaven sent opportunity was too good to pass up. She had to find a way in, the intense curiosity was eating her up inside.

For Beth the last half an hour had been a revelation. The little man called Mouse had scurried away into the distance after a brief talk with his lawyer and the two policemen who had wanted to arrest him. But Catherine had settled the matter quickly, allowing her mysterious companion to make good his escape. He didn’t even pause to say good-bye, and there had been no mention of money being offered for services rendered. Beth decided that was the one place she could safely start.

“Mouse…” she commented reflectively. “The name suits him. A quaint little man.” She kept her face blandly inquiring as she sipped her coffee before eating another sandwich. She wiped her fingers on a napkin before continuing. “Odd that he just happened to have your card on him. He certainly acted as if he knew you well. Almost as if he’d used your services before and often. But he didn’t look as if he had even a place to call home.”

“Yes, it could look that way.” Catherine’s level gaze said she knew Beth wanted to know more than she was willing to tell. “Mouse is an old friend. He…” she hesitated, obviously assembling her facts. “…has a rather unfortunate habit of getting into sticky situations through no fault of his own. He is rather an innocent at times. After more than a few problems with the law, I decided it was easier to give him my card. It saved time and a lot of paperwork. Sometimes I think it just encourages him to be outrageous.”

“And yet he doesn’t look as if he has two cents to rub together.” Beth toyed with the handle of her cup. “I mean, he looked completely homeless. I didn’t know a powerful firm like Chandler Law went in for charity work, though you are related by marriage now to one of the biggest charity groups in the city. But I didn’t know you also did pro bono work on behalf of their clients.”

“My father and I, we do what we can,” Catherine prevaricated smoothly. “And I must thank you for your quick thinking. Mouse told me how you saved him. We are grateful.”

“No problem.” Beth shrugged. “I saw him coming out of that drainage tunnel into the park. I knew he couldn’t have been the purse-snatcher, no matter what the victim said. He couldn’t have been in two places at once.”

“I wonder what he was doing in the drainage tunnel...” Catherine frowned thoughtfully, as if considering the whole idea odd. “Perhaps he was lost. No matter, he knows to be more careful next time.”

“Oh, I think he knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going.” Beth shook her head, studying the other woman’s look of disinterest. “And where he’d been. He looked entirely at home.” She locked eyes with the lawyer. “Almost as if he lived down there somewhere, down below the city. I’ve heard of people doing that to survive. Once I tried to get an interview with someone who said they had lived down there, but it didn’t pan out. He rambled on about ten-foot-tall monsters and the horrible things he’d seen down there. I’ve been real curious ever since.”

She just caught the shade of consternation that flickered through Catherine’s level gaze before she masked it with a look of disbelief. Beth continued, “I was thinking, after January, when I have time on my hands, I might do an investigation, go on down into that tunnel and see what I can turn up. You never know, I might get lucky. I might even meet your scruffy little friend again down there. Maybe he could show me around.”

“Please don’t,” Catherine begged softly, leaning forward. “There is nothing there to find. Others have tried and failed and I would hate to see you get hurt. Her eyes dropped to Beth’s abdomen. “Especially in your condition. Some things are better left unexplored and unexplained.”

“And yet Mouse didn’t look homeless, not when you got up close to him…” Beth continued to speculate as if Catherine hadn’t spoken. “He looked well cared for, and he mentioned someone called Jamie. I presume it’s a woman, by the way he said the name, as if she meant the world to him, even though he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. So again, there is more to this story than I know right now. And I don’t like mysteries. My mother’s whole life is one huge mystery tied up in a bunch of half-truths and obscure references about dream guardians and something about there being tunnels in some mysterious place called Below. It makes no sense. Tunnels to where? Below what and why? Do you have any idea how maddening it is to be unable to pin anything down?”

“I have some idea. So what is it going to take for you to leave this story alone?” Catherine pushed aside her empty cup. “For you not to not dig any further?”

“An interview with you and your father, full and frank.” Beth sat forward quickly, sensing an opening. “No stone unturned. No more half-truths and dodging the answers.”

“Impossible,” Catherine snapped. “It isn’t going to happen.” She began to stand up. “And I won’t be blackmailed, Ms. Howard. Please understand I will not be trifled with. I know Joe Maxwell has warned you off in the past. Now take this as a final warning, we are to be left alone, or you will have a lengthy and costly lawsuit on your hands.”

“Sorry, but I just wish to know, Ms Chandler.” Beth put out a detaining hand pleadingly. “I have so many questions, so many facts that just don’t add up. It’s like one of those frustrating Azrael Jacobs paintings, the more doors I find to open, the more they lead nowhere and the more confused I become. I think we were destined to meet today. What if I promise to publish nothing, tell no one of whatever you tell me?” She extended one hand. “Deal…?”

Catherine rose slowly, staring down at the other woman’s hand. This interview had not gone as she had planned. She doubted Beth was someone who could be held off easily. Silently, she berated Mouse and his clumsiness in being seen in the first place. But it couldn’t be helped now.

“I have secrets too.” Beth stood slowly, her hand still held out. “Until today I never understood why my own mother had kept a child’s dress for all these years.

A dress she was said to be wearing when she was found alone in the park. I never knew the significance until I saw your Mouse.”

Beth slowly advanced closer, dropping both her voice and her hand. “His clothing…” She shrugged. “It exactly matched that dress of my mother’s, almost as if they had been made by the same person. The stitching and everything matched perfectly as if made by someone with deep affection and even love.”

“I don’t understand…” Catherine eyes narrowed, becoming extremely watchful. She shook her head. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“That there is more to this story than a chance encounter in the park this afternoon,” Beth replied in a whisper, scanning the other customers at their tables to make sure no one was listening. “That somehow the fates of your Mouse and my mother are tied together in some way. By acquaintance or by blood, I have no idea. But I know what I saw, and I know that you know far more about this story than you are telling.

My mother has always said she never fit into the family she was raised in, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. The only things she had to tie it all together were a child’s dress that had been handmade from scraps of fabric, and some fragments of memory from the time before she was adopted. She has talked of an imaginary friend who used to look after her. Her guardian she’s always called him.”

“I don’t know what to say…” Catherine lifted her shoulders. “Or how to answer you. What you ask is completely impossible.”

“I need to know, Catherine,” Beth prompted. “For my sake and my mother’s, and for my unborn child.” She placed a spread hand over her abdomen. “Can you help me find out the truth?”

“The truth…” Catherine stared at her, the long-ago story Shannon had once told her about Mary’s missing five-year-old daughter replaying in her mind. Could it be possible after all these years?

And what could she do with such sensitive information? Many other lives would be impacted by this revelation, and yet could she pass up the opportunity to find out the ultimate truth? She needed to research the case, make sure her facts were solid. For that to happen she needed time, and for Mary’s sake she had to try.

“You know something, don’t you?” Beth edged closer still. “You know the truth about my mother’s origins. I can see it in your eyes. Please, if not for my sake, then for my mother’s. She needs to know, to feel connected to her past. To understand what happened to her all those years ago and why. And if there is a family out there somewhere who is missing a cherished daughter…”

“I do have some idea…” Catherine conceded slowly. “But I am afraid the story is not mine alone. There are many people who depend on me and my family to keep their secrets. I cannot upset everything on such flimsy evidence. I will need more proof.”

“I have already worked that out for myself.” Beth shook her head. “But for the sake of those I love, I am willing to make allowances. I will agree to abide by whatever agreement we can make between us, and never reveal what I may discover.”

“I am beginning to like you more and more,” Catherine took Beth’s hand between her own. “Maybe Mouse was right after all.”

“Mouse…?” Beth frowned. “Why, what did he say?”

“That you were a nice lady and I could trust you. He was sure you meant me and mine no harm. Mouse trusts very few people.”

“Smart guy,” Beth approved. “And he is right, you know. I just need the truth.”

“Yes, I am beginning to believe he is…” Catherine hesitated, giving Beth another long, searching look before reaching into her purse and extracting a business card and a pen. She wrote quickly on the card before handing it to Beth. “Give this to the guard at the gate, it will get you into the property. I have written the date and the time for our interview. Until then, Ms Howard, goodbye.” Catherine shook the younger woman’s hand before gathering her things and leaving the café.

“Goodbye…” Beth sat down hard, breathing a long sigh of disbelief. She had finally achieved what she had long sought, and the excitement within her exploded like fireworks. She glanced at the card, the date Catherine Chandler had set down was the 3rd of January, more than a month from now.

Beth sat back to stare at the card. She thanked her good sense that allowed her to rescue the Mouse man and make such an important connection. She was dying to tell her mother everything, but until she knew the truth herself, Beth decided to keep the afternoon’s events to herself for now. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her mother again after so many years of dead ends and disappointments.

*******

“Do you really think there’s a chance it could be her?” Sitting in Catherine’s living room, Shannon worried the point. “I mean, after all this time, what is Mary going to say?”

“First we must make extensive inquiries, leave no stone unturned,” Catherine replied slowly. “I have already asked Diana and Edie to look into it. They both know how to be discreet. Elliot has agreed to ask Cleon to investigate as well. Whatever they discover, we can’t tell Mary anything until we’re sure. It would break her heart.”

“And Mouse...?” Shannon questioned. “Have you spoken to Vincent about him? He is becoming far too careless in his wanderings.”

Catherine nodded. “Mouse knows he did wrong. Vincent has talked with him. We have decided for all our sakes to seal up the drainage entrance for now. No one uses it much these days, but Beth is more than capable of trying to find out things we don’t wish her to know just yet.”

“Perhaps it was meant to be.” Shannon leaned forward to pour them both another cup of tea. “It has been a tragic secret for far too long.”

“Then we must put our trust in finding out the truth and hope for the best. It would be an incredible Winterfest gift if any of it is proved to be true.”

*******

“Oh, darn…” Beth turned the expensive blue envelope over to stare at the back. “I just knew it was too good to be true. I shouldn’t have let her get away so easily.”

“What is it?” Grace looked up from the magazine she was reading.

“Catherine Chandler…” Beth waved the unopened envelope. “I told you about meeting her. Back before Christmas she promised to give me an interview next week. I had a date and time all set, and now, it seems she’s written to put me off with some lame excuse.”

“If you haven’t opened it, how do you know it’s a cancellation?” Grace pushed the magazine aside to survey her daughter critically. “Why not open it and find out the truth?” She rose to her feet.

Beth compressed her lips at her mother’s rational argument. Of course it made sense, but the hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach remained. To be so close and yet so far, and to have her hopes for answers snatched away at the eleventh hour…

“Stop over thinking it,” Grace counselled briskly. “You’ve always been too fatalistic. It may be good news.”

“In my line of work it pays to be prepared. I usually find most people have something to hide.”

“Well, open it and confirm your suspicions then. What do you have to lose?” Grace got to her feet and came to stand beside her daughter. “I don’t see the problem. Surely, Ms Chandler could’ve emailed you or phoned. You’re not that hard to find. Perhaps she wants something else, something that can’t be spoken of in such a public way. Or maybe she’s just old fashioned and likes to write letters. Ever think of that?”

“You are far too wise for your own good,” Beth chided her softly, before kissing her mother’s lined cheek. “Maybe you’re right…” She stared at the envelope.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, give it here!” Grace snatched it from her daughter’s hands, turning it over and slitting the sealed flap. Before Beth could react she drew an embossed card from the envelope. She read it quickly, before giving a low whistle of disbelief. “Well, I’ll be…”

“What is it?” Beth reached for the card. “Bad news, I just know it!”

“You were right, your appointment for an interview has been cancelled.” Grace read the card again slowly, tracing the words with her fingertip.

“I told you so!” Beth complained, seizing on the card and reading it quickly. She frowned. “What’s this, some kind of game?”

“Well, it looks like a dinner invitation to me.” Grace stared at her daughter. “I may be out of practice in this modern world, but even I can see that.” She shook her head. “Don’t be so pessimistic, you must have made quite an impression. The Chandlers are well known for their exclusivity, and their ways are not for the likes of us.”

“But look, it says here it’s for you too.” Beth looked up. “See, we’re both invited. I don’t get this. I don’t like mysteries.”

“What?” Grace took the card back. “What on earth could someone like the Chandlers want with me? I’m nobody, it makes no sense. There must be some mistake.”

“See what I mean?” Beth shook her head. “I guess there’s only one way for us to find out. We’ll have to go there.”

“There’s something else…” Grace peered into the envelope again. She drew out a smaller oblong piece of expensive paper and held it up. “It’s addressed to you.” She turned her eyes to her daughter’s puzzled face. “Just what have you been up to that I don’t know about? What’s going on between you and this Chandler woman that you’re not telling me? The letter’s from her, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea…” Beth lifted her shoulders, unsure of what else to say even as she took the envelope from her mother’s outstretched hand. Over the years,there had been so many false leads and dead ends to her mother’s mysterious story, Beth was ever wary of serving up another helping of crushing disappointment. She had therefore not told her mother about a large part of her recent conversation with Catherine Chandler. If the lawyer had used her undoubted connections to uncover some new facts that could change everything…

Now was the moment of truth. But even now Beth didn’t dare to hope…She quickly slit the flap open and drew out a folded letter. She turned away to scan the contents even as her mother tugged at her wrist, trying to read it over her arm. It was a letter from Catherine, and it did contain some explosive new facts that took Beth’s breath away. Surely it couldn’t be right…

“What does it say?” Grace demanded to know, trying to draw the letter into her line of sight. “Why all the secrecy? Come on, fess up. You’re making me nervous.”

“If I was keeping secrets, it’s because I was so afraid…” Beth sighed as she lowered Catherine’s Chandler’s letter. “Afraid we were no closer to the truth than we have been these last 20 years. Afraid to break your heart all over again…”

“Now you’re scaring me…” Grace looked anxious as she finally succeeded in securing the letter. She read it quickly, her brow furrowing. “What is this all about?” She looked up at Beth. “Why does she want to see me and to bring my box with the tunnel dress, that she has things we need to see and know? Just what have you been telling a complete stranger about our personal business?”

“She’s not a stranger and she knows things, truths we would never have been able to uncover in a million years.” Grace took her mother’s shoulders in a tight grip. “Sit down, Mom, please. I have something very important I need to tell you…”

*******

Cleon sat in the guard room beside the gated entrance to the Chandler mansion estate. feeling sorry for himself. He was getting too old for this lark. But ever since his beloved wife had died and the children had all left home, his house felt so empty.

His grandchildren were now scattered across the world. He didn’t see them as often as he would wish, and he loved children. But there it was, something else he could do nothing about. He could no longer claim the pressure of work, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to move on, to leave behind some long, unfinished business. It was all the fault of Elliot Burch who’d steadfastly refused to budge on the information he had kept hidden all these years. It shouldn’t still rankle, but it did. Cleon shifted uneasily in his chair, frowning at his memories.

Cleon had retired from active duty with the agency some years before, but he couldn’t entirely let go of the reins. It gave him something to do in the long hours when he was alone. Time to reflect on and wonder about a life filled with secrecy and half-truths. He was no closer to uncovering the secrets Elliot Burch had kept hidden all these years. It was the one area of his life that continued to irk him, those unanswered questions he still carried.

Alex, his own son, now in charge of the Manning Agency, often complained of his father’s interference in the work, but Cleon needed something to occupy him, and the duty of guarding the Chandler’s exclusive property was not an arduous one. He could make his own hours and relieve whenever he wanted to do so. Right now he had sent the current guard home to his newly-pregnant wife. It was the least he could do for a young couple just starting out.

Besides it was a rare thing that anyone tried to enter the property without permission, therefore whatever secrets the high profile lawyers possessed were in no immediate danger of being revealed. But still those secrets nibbled away at Cleon. Even after all these years he still desired to know the truth. Over that time he’d become tired of the games and the ongoing secrecy. Surely he’d earned that right by now? Elliot Burch owed him that much after so many years of brooding silence.

“Or maybe I’m just getting maudlin in my old age,” he commented to the stars and grinned lopsidedly. “I told Alex only this morning that it’s about time I finally quit for good. Get in some serious fishing before I die. Take that, Elliot Burch!”

Cleon stared through the hut’s window into the moonlit garden beyond the wall. At Elliot’s personal request he’d personally done all the leg work on the Howard case, pulling in all sorts of favours in the search for the truth. And wherever he went, it seemed Beth Howard had been before him, even she didn’t have the extensive resources Cleon could call upon. Combined with both Diana Jacobs keen nose for the truth and Edie’s expert computer skills, they had finally hit pay dirt. They had come up trumps only a few days ago, finding some old news film footage from that long ago day in the park, and some stills that made interesting viewing. The investigation had come together rather neatly. The past was there sleeping, like it was just waiting for him to find it again…

“And yet, here I sit…” He leaned back in the chair, propping his feet on the edge of the desk and closing his eyes, linking his fingers across his trim waistline, his chin sinking to his chest. He was sure he would hear any vehicle before it arrived at the gate. Behind his eyelids his late wife waited for him, and he liked talking to her…

“You know, too much thinking will only give you grey hairs…” A quiet voice at his elbow startled Cleon from his brooding reverie moments later. “And both of us have got enough of them already.”

He knew that voice. “Elliot…” Cleon turned his head to stare at his old boss and good friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been invited.” Elliot extended an embossed invitation. “And this time so have you. Phillip is here to take over for you. Alex said you were down here again, getting in the way, making a nuisance of yourself as usual.” Elliot glanced back to his car where his wife was watching them both. “We figured it was past time for you to know a few things. You’ve been patient long enough.” Elliot grinned. “Alex said you’d decided to finally quit the firm and go fishing. Sounds like a desperate move to me.”

“More games, boss?” Cleon dropped his feet to the floor, but he didn’t budge from his seat. “I’ll admit I was just thinking I’m getting too old for games. I’m tired of playing catch-up with ghosts and things that just don’t want to be found out. But you know as well as I do, I’ve never fished in my life. Don’t intend to start now.”

“We both are getting too old for games,” Elliot chuckled softly. “And times most certainly have changed. Stay out here and sulk if you want, but Shannon and I are going on in.” He reached past Cleon to depress the button that operated the automatic gates.

“Hang on!” Cleon bolted from his chair. “This I gotta see.”

“Then jump in.” Elliot indicated his vehicle with a nod of his head. “I think you’re in for an interesting night.”

*******

Beth presented her invitation to the uniformed guard at the gate, half-expecting to be denied, but after a brief inspection she was waved through. The gate opened and closed behind her car smoothly, and they progressed down a long winding drive set between two rows of towering oak trees, now black against the star filled evening sky.

“Told you this invitation was kosher,” her mother commented dryly, as they drew up before an impressive mansion set on extensive grounds and gardens. There was already another car parked out front, which Beth identified as belonging to the Burch family. But there was no sign of them, they must be already inside the house.

“I’ll admit to be really intrigued now…” she replied slowly, placing a hand over the uneasy fluttering deep within her. She was still not sure however, she intended to make the best of the evening. She got out of the car slowly, looking around with interest.

Catherine Chandler’s family home stood revealed to her critical eyes. Elegantly and lovingly finished, roofed with red tiles, the extensive old house gleamed in the moonlight, its many windows appearing to smile benevolently on its visitors. Whatever Beth had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

“It’s beautiful…” Grace breathed, coming to stand beside her daughter, her old shoebox tucked securely under her arm. “I didn’t know what we’d find down here. But this is perfect. Should we go in, do you think?”

As she spoke, the front door opened and a young man came slowly down the steps towards them. Tall and lanky with a thick mane of long blond hair that floated around his broad shoulders in the evening’s warm breeze, he looked supremely confident of himself and his place in the world. He was dressed in black jeans and an open-necked denim shirt, but both were designer label and obviously expensive.

Reaching the bottom of the steps he smiled, holding out one large, long-fingered hand towards them. “Hi, I’m Vincent Chandler. You are welcome here.”

“Vincent…” Grace gasped as she stared at him. “How did you…that was his name, I remember now…I don’t believe…are you for real?” Her steps faltered and she would have fallen if Beth hadn’t taken her arm, but her mother only had eyes for the tall young man standing calmly before them.

“The Guardian of my dreams…” Grace whispered brokenly, finally taking his hand between her own. “That’s what I used to call him,” she then said cryptically, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “But you and him…is he…I mean, was he even real?” A shudder passed through her. “I didn’t dare hope, not after all these years. My mother said it was only a childish fantasy and I’d get over it.”

“He is no fantasy, and he is very real…” Vincent replied softly, his watchful blue eyes assessing Beth’s look of utter confusion and frowning consternation. “And he is waiting to see you again. You just need to be patient a little longer and all will be revealed.”

He slid an arm around Grace’s shoulders, pulling her close against him. “But first things first. There are things we need to tell you, only my mother can explain. She is expecting you both. Please come on inside.” He turned to indicate the steps leading up to the front door, falling into step behind the two women as he escorted them inside.

Beth looked around at the details of the place. The entrance was filled with light and flowers, all beautifully arranged on the elegant antique furniture that lined the hallway. She was dying to ask who this Vincent guy was, and how he knew her mother, but no one seemed to be forthcoming with any further answers to the puzzle. Of course, the obvious speculation was that he was the mysterious father of the Chandler brood, and by some crazy coincidence also her mother’s dream Guardian. But why was his identity such a secret? It still made no sense at all.

“This way…” Vincent led them forward, opening a door further down the hall, and indicated they were to pass inside. Beth and her mother did as they were bid, and the young man closed the door behind them.

“Welcome, Beth!” Catherine Chandler rose from one of a set of couches facing each other before a large marble fireplace. “And you must be Grace.” She held out a hand to both women in turn. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Thank you.” Grace shook the hand offered to her, her face alive with curiosity. “I must admit to being thoroughly intrigued by your invitation.”

“I see you have brought the box as I requested.” Catherine’s eyes fell to the old shoebox.

“Beth told me about your meeting.” Grace tightened her grip on the box. “After all these years, it doesn’t seem possible that someone could finally uncover the truth about where I came from. And all the people I imagined are actually real.”

“I can assure you they are very real. But, please, sit down.” Catherine indicated the opposite couch. “There is much to tell you and so many things to show you.”

Both Beth and her mother sank slowly down onto the couch. The door opened again and Vincent reappeared carrying a laden tray. He placed it on the coffee table before his mother, setting about pouring champagne into three glasses, before offering Beth a glass of chilled fruit juice. Beth acknowledged the thoughtful courtesy with a nod of thanks even as she studied the young man closely. His piercing blue eyes stared back at her with equal curiosity as he completed his task, taking the final glass of wine and seating himself beside his mother.

“Let’s drink to the uncovering of the final truth.” Catherine raised her glass in a toast before sipping the wine. “And to new beginnings…”

*******

“If you say it’s true, then I must believe it. But none of it seems possible.” Two hours later Grace pushed the final photograph across the polished dining room table towards her daughter. She felt as if her head, now so full of incredible new facts, was about to burst with the scope of it all. “And you say you know my mother? My real mother?”

“I have known her for over 25 years,” Catherine Chandler acknowledged with a nod. “Her name is Mary, and there hasn’t been a day that has passed where she has not missed you and wondered about you. She prayed you were cared for and well.”

“Mary…” Grace whispered. “Mary and Vincent…” She glanced towards the door where Catherine’s son had shown them into the room. “It does all seem like a fairy story.”

“And you say this is how it happened?” Beth peered closer at the photographic still that had been taken from some old news footage and enhanced. It clearly showed a young girl in a patchwork dress being carried in the arms of a woman Beth could identify as her adopted grandmother. “Angela simply picked her up in the park one afternoon and took her away.”

“Yes…” Catherine nodded as she looked towards Grace. “Your mother had taken you into the park to play. She turned her back for a moment and you were gone. You were looked for, they all searched for days, but you had simply vanished. It seems the woman who adopted you had recently lost her own child. But that doesn’t excuse what she did.”

“And this dress?” Grace drew the tunnel dress from the box. “This was the clue?”

“Your mother had made it for you, as she had made all the clothes for the community you lived in. She still makes them to this day. She makes everything with love and care. Theirs was… and is… a secret and closed community, a place where those with nowhere else to go can find peace and a place to begin again.” Catherine’s gaze shifted to Beth’s. “You have met Mouse, you know he could not live anywhere else.”

“It sounds like paradise…” Grace said slowly, smoothing the many worn fabrics of the dress beneath her hands. “And now..?” she asked slowly.

“Now…” Catherine stood slowly, glancing at her son who sat silently at the head of the table, watching all the proceedings. “I think it’s past time you met your mother.”

Vincent rose at his mother’s nod, moving across the room to open another door. An older woman stood framed in the entrance, nervous fingers adjusting and readjusting the fabric of her dress. She made no move to enter the room, her face alive with anguish and uncertainty.

“Hello…” Beth rose to her feet, drawing her mother up beside her.

“It’s okay, Mary.” Vincent took the older woman’s arm, encouraging her into the room, placing his arm around her shoulders and kissing her lined cheek. “No one blames you.”

“I’m so sorry, for everything,” Mary said in a rush. “I have regretted that day, every day of my life.”

“There’s nothing to regret.” Grace hurried around the table towards her, Beth close behind. “I’m only sorry it’s taken so long. I truly never expected to meet you.” She paused in front of her mother.

“Me too…” Mary began to shake, the strong support of Vincent’s arm seeming to hold her up from collapsing.

“We all have regrets…” Grace put her own arms around the older woman and hugged her tightly. “But now we are a family again. That is what matters beyond everything. We can start there.”

“With love all things are truly possible…” Vincent murmured softly, his intense blue eyes meeting his mother’s above the clustered heads of the three women surrounding him, and he smiled.

“I think it’s beyond time for a celebration,” Catherine replied, returning his smile. “And now we need to make some further introductions. I think it’s going to be a very interesting evening.”

*******

I used to think that I was strong

I realize now I was wrong

'Cause every time I see your face

My mind becomes an empty space

And with you lying next to me

Feels Like I can hardly breathe

I close my eyes

The moment I surrender to you

Let love be blind

Innocent and tenderly true

So lead me through tonight

But please turn out the light

'Cause I'm lost every time I look at you…

Il Divo

Winterfest: 2015

“I cannot believe it has been almost 30 years now…” Father looked up from the chess board to frown at his son seated across the table from him. “It seems like only yesterday when you found Catherine up in the park and I began to truly despair of your ever finding happiness, or making any kind of life together. And now, here we all are once more…” He shook his grey head in wonder. “We have come a very long way, you and I. And it has been an incredible journey. But now, looking back, I know I would not have missed it for anything. You have taught me so much about love and sheer perseverance.”

“Thank you, Father.” Vincent leaned forward to peer at the chess pieces; searching for the clever trap he was certain his parent had set. Father might have slowed considerably in the body but, even at 93 years of age, his mind was as sharp as a razor and he still delighted in besting his opponents at his favourite game.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed and he nodded. “Ah, I see you have learned how Carlsen retained his title over Anand last year. As usual your information is impeccable.”

“I have to keep up with the times.” Father smiled gleefully. “At least my grandson knows how to look after an old man. He keeps me informed of all the important goings on Above. He and Rebecca make a fine couple, you must be very proud.”

“Jacob loves you,” Vincent replied, reaching to make his move. “And the world up there is so different now. Catherine has the practice with her father and Jacob helps out, when he’s not too busy with his own career with the D.A.’s office. The girls and Vincent will find their own paths soon enough. I am proud of every one of their achievements. There are all true miracles.”

“They all make a grumpy old man very happy.” Father’s eyes narrowed with intent. “Ah, I see what you’re doing…Now, if I remember rightly…” He moved his queen slowly forward. “I believe that is check…” He sat back with a satisfied smile to watch his son’s thoughtful reaction.

“Do you two never learn?” a feminine voice asked from the entrance to Father’s chamber. “It’s almost evening Above. The guests will be arriving soon and neither of you are making any attempt to be ready. This is supposed to be a celebration for everyone. I swear even Lady May will somehow manage to beat you both to the Great Hall, and Joe is taking his time bringing her down in a wheelchair. The children have been down there for hours already. You really do need to make a move.”

“Your husband has yet to admit when he’s been beaten.” Father shrugged, smiling up at Catherine as she came down the short flight of steps to the lower level of the room. “And I am winning for a change. At my age, I can’t afford to ignore a winning streak. May will be fine with all the helpers around her.”

“You two will never learn…” Catherine moved to perch on the side of Vincent’s chair, placing an arm around his shoulders before leaning down to kiss his temple. “Thirty years ago…” she whispered softly, for Vincent’s ears alone. “I remember that feeling of safety, as if you would care for me always, no matter what happened. I had never known such a feeling before.”

“I think I loved you from the first moment I saw you…” Vincent tilted his head to one side looking up at the beauty of her face. “That night in the park…” Even after all these years his wife could take his breath away when she looked at him like that.

He smiled, shaking his head as he reached up to draw Catherine down to sit across his lap. “So much has changed. So many wonderful things have come to be.”

“And yet some things have remained the same…” Catherine turned to thread her fingers up through the still tawny fall of her husband’s thick mane, smiling into the sapphire depths of his eyes where the dancing flame of their abiding love burned brighter than ever. “But Jacob and Rebecca will be here soon and you do need to change. We have the biggest Winterfest in recent memory to attend and we mustn’t be late. William will never forgive us if we don’t do his food justice. He has spent days preparing it all.”

Vincent didn’t reply immediately, as he studied the picture she made in the flickering candlelight. She was the love of his life and she looked as beautiful now as she did that long ago night on her balcony, when he had finally surrendered to the inevitable and allowed himself to be drawn towards the beauty and acceptance of her love. A life together had seemed utterly impossible then…and yet now…

He leaned close to kiss her slowly with banked passion, before he whispered, “Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours, for one lone soul another lonely soul. Each choosing each through all the weary hours, and meeting strangely at one sudden goal. Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers into one beautiful and perfect whole; and life's long night is ended, and the way lies open onward to eternal day…”

He cupped her cheek in the warm, broad palm of his hand. “I love you, Mrs. Wells.” The rich, unbreakable bond between them flowed and rippled with the strength of their love, and the sense of their mutual need, one for the other…

“I know…” Catherine breathed. “And I love you too. But how about you save some of those deliciously distracting thoughts until after the party or we will never make it in time?” She was out of his embrace, running lightly up the steps and through the door before he could react or think of a reply.

*******

“You know, my father threw me out the night before my 21st birthday.” Elliot lowered himself onto the settee beside Vincent and handed him a mug of ale. He turned from watching the dancers in the middle of the Great Hall to survey his good friend. His mouth tightened. “Of course I made it easy for him. I told him I didn’t want the same things as he did and I was leaving anyway. He threw a wad of money at me, money my mother had saved for me, and told me never to darken his doorstep again. He was ashamed of me. He died ashamed of me. It is old history.”

He shrugged, looking down into the mug of William’s fine brew he held in his hand. “He once said I was dead to him. But the money was enough to give me the start I needed. I never got to thank him for that.” He gave a regretful laugh. “Somehow I doubt he would have listened anyway. We were always poles apart and he detested me for, as he saw it, killing his only son.”

“Do not be too hard on yourself, Elliot.” Vincent clasped his shoulder. “Perhaps your father understood you more than you knew. Perhaps he knew that you needed to go your own way and leave Stosh behind. He just couldn’t admit it. Pain makes men say things they don’t mean. We both know that.”

“Perhaps…” Elliot sighed, turning back to watch the dancing. “It was all so long ago. And now, here we are, fathers in our turn. Do you think we have done a better job?”

“There certainly have been challenges…” Vincent followed his friend’s gaze to where Jacob was dancing with his new bride, Rebecca. They were laughing together as they circled the floor, obviously at ease with one another. “And yet…” Vincent smiled. “There is no manual to tell us what to do. Maybe we were just as blind.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best.” Elliot shook his head. “Is Jacob doing well at the D.A’s office?”

“Very well,” Vincent acknowledged. “He has his mother’s talent for the law. Catherine was of two minds whether to allow him. She worries about the inherent dangers, but Joe keeps a watchful eye. He will not let anything happen to him. And the work is not as dangerous these days.”

“Good luck there. I don’t envy you,” Elliot sympathized. “Rebecca loves being an architect. I understand now something of what my own father must have felt. But we cannot control our children’s futures. We can only bless them with love and guidance and send them forth into the world, praying they will not fall.”

“Are you finally turning into a philosopher after all these years, Elliot Burch?” Vincent teased lightly. “Or has Shannon somehow managed to educate you in the finer arts?”

“Possibly…” Elliot grinned lopsidedly. “Or maybe it’s too much of William’s fine ale. It does muddle your thinking and make you see things you know are not real. But I do know that once upon a time I was a different man. Back then, if I could not see it, measure it, weigh or understand it, then I preferred to ignore it. Perhaps I was more like my father than I knew. I had no room in my life for sentiment. I was far too busy becoming the great Elliot Burch.” He flicked a dismissing hand. “And then, one night, Cathy brought you into my life, and you both showed me what really mattered in this world. I cannot find the words to thank you.”

He reached to clink his mug against Vincent’s. “To good friends and all fathers…”

“To understanding them…” His good friend accepted the toast and they were both silent for some time. Then Vincent said reflectively, “Perhaps that is all we are in the end, simply a reflection of our fathers. The men who have gone before us and shown us the way, tried to make a difference for us. Good or bad, we are what they have made us. I can live with that.”

“Perhaps…” Elliot nodded, looking across the hall to where Father was trying to interest Mouse in a game of chess.

Mouse appeared torn between Jamie’s insistent hand on his arm, trying to tug her unwilling husband back to the dancing, and Father’s earnest entreaty for just one game, before he would finally consent to take Mary’s arm and shuffle off with her to their chamber. Joe and Linda stood to one side, watching, but wisely not interfering in the ongoing battle. Catherine’s father and Peter had retired to a quiet bench against the wall to watch the dancers and talk about the old times they both wore so easily, like a pair of comfortable slippers.

Next to them a laughing Azrael, alongside Diana, was in deep discussion with Elizabeth about the merits of the range of new paints they had provided for her to use. Elizabeth was steadfastly resisting the change, even now she rarely appeared at Winterfest, claiming she had so little time left to complete her work. And there was still so much left to do…so many new faces and lives to paint…

Further away Edie stood beside her husband Simon, the man she had indeed met Below. They were both helping Ella with the gifts she’d brought, while they all watched the lively encounter as the children of both Above and Below swirled around them all, chattering and laughing, playing a spirited game of devil-take-the-hindmost with Cleon. He was losing manfully, but still played with great enthusiasm.

And in a secluded corner away from the main crowd of dancers and musicians, Mary sat close with Grace and Beth, Mary’s eyes resting thoughtfully on the rounded swell of her granddaughter’s abdomen, and the promise of yet more new life that was soon to be, as the three women caught up on the stories of their reconnected lives.

“Maybe some things were never meant to change. Instead they have simply evolved into something better and more permanent.” Elliot shook his head. “Thank you, Vincent. I have never said it before, but I owe you everything…”

“You owe me nothing, my friend, nothing at all.” Vincent gripped his shoulder, shaking his head as he gazed into the far distance to where Rolley stood with Tony Gilbert beside Rolley’s old grand piano. Both men listened raptly as a tall, confident Angelo caressed the keys with his long-fingered hands, coaxing the instrument to sing as it never had sung before.

Vincent noticed Rolley was crying, but they were tears of joy streaming unheeded down his seamed and scarred face, as he moved his own hands in tune to the soaring music, the notes rising into the shadow draped vaults of the Great Hall’s high ceiling. Angelo had fulfilled his early promise and had gone on to far greater things than his humble beginnings, and no one could be happier than Rolley, to be outstripped by the brilliant pupil he had taught for so many years.

“And yes, my friend, some things truly will never change…” Vincent turned his attention to watch Catherine threading her way towards them through the dancers, and the glorious colours and endless rhythms of their deep, mutual love reached out to enfold him; making him aware of her on every level of his body and soul.

Her clear green eyes met his, and she smiled that certain, knowing smile which promised everything he could wish for and more besides. I love you, her lips moved silently, the instinctive words soared across the narrowing distance between them to filter through him on fingers of fire.

Vincent sighed, watching and waiting impatiently until the moment she would once again be nestled against him, safe within his embrace, knowing it would always be so between them. “All that remains in the end is love, Elliot, the most pure and simple essence of all and the knowledge that we cannot exist without it. For that we must be eternally grateful…always…”

THE END

Twilight Time

‘Heavenly shades of night are falling, it's Twilight Time

Out of the mist your voice is calling, "Tis Twilight Time"

When purple coloured curtains mark the end of day

I'll hear you, my dear, at Twilight Time…

Deepening shadows gather splendour as day is done

Fingers of night will soon surrender the setting sun

I count the moments, darling, ‘til you're here with me

Together, at last, at Twilight Time…

Here, in the afterglow of day

We keep our rendezvous, beneath the blue

Here in the sweet and same old way

I fall in love again, as I did then…

Deep in the dark your kiss will thrill me like days of old

Lighting the spark of love that fills me with dreams untold

Each day I pray for evening just to be with you

Together, at last, at Twilight Time…’

The Platters

CATHERINE

“Oh, forgive me…forgive me for doubting!

What we have is all that matters.

It’s worth everything!”

VINCENT

“Everything!”

Thank you all for taking this journey with me, I could not have done it without your love and support through the years. So once more please allow me to say that this story is dedicated to all the incredible and talented actors, writers and directors who made the continuing dream of “Beauty and the Beast” possible, but especially to Ron Perlman for keeping their dream alive, and caring for Vincent all these years. Without you there would truly have been nothing indeed…

So we must make sure we keep the Tunnel World alive and well into the future…always…

kapai, kiha Kaha…

Be Well, everyone…

*******

LITERARY REFERENCES

Something About The way You Look Tonight     Elton John

The Rose    Bette Midler

They Are Not Long     Ernest Dowson

To Dream The Impossible Dream     The Man of La Mancha

Responsibility      Marianne Williamson

Dance Like Nobody’s Watching       William W. Purkey

Vincent     Don McLean

Every time I look at You…    Il Divo

*******

The END

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Barbra Streisand