True to his word, Phil had her car ready to go at ten that morning. She paid him, thanked him for the use of his car, then after making sure Vincent was all right, she left for Oklahoma City. It meant driving back 90 miles or more but she was determined to have a car that Vincent could safely ride in. She found a Lincoln/Ford dealership where she traded the BMW for a silver toned Lincoln Continental that was fully loaded and, in addition, had tinted windows. No one could see Vincent sitting in the passenger seat. At the nearest sporting good store she bought a complete camping outfit: tent, two sleeping bags, propane stove, and cooking and eating utensils. This was turning out to be quite the adventure and she looked forward to the long trip home with Vincent who she felt would be an interesting traveling companion. Supplies could be picked up tomorrow after they left. The butterflies in her stomach were really acting up. She was never sure that he would be there, that he hadn’t taken off by himself to save her all this trouble.
Vincent was still there and he pulled the door open as she was about to put the key in and turn it. “Oh, you startled me.” Laughing, she handed him their dinner. After dinner she paid her bill at the sign-in desk then they slept until it became dark enough to travel. Shortly after the sky had darkened and the stars appeared Vincent gently shook her awake. They left the cottage as neat as Catherine had found it and in no time were traveling east on I-40. Since she was the driver, Vincent became the navigator. Sticking to the side roads that closely paralleled I-40 they drove east staying in small town motels when possible, or camping out in secluded places when not. Catherine felt no fear while camping. With Vincent near she was completely safe.
On their first night of travel, she asked him how he came to be caged in the carnival. “I had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A street gang named the ‘Silks’ bombed a rival gang’s headquarters as I was walking by. I like to walk the streets at night,” he added in the way of an explanation. “The ‘Silks’ found me, chained me, tortured me then sold me to the carnival.” There was a world of pain behind those bare words.
“That’s illegal,” she exclaimed.
“That may be but it’s what happened,” he replied. “I’m sure my father is frantic with worry.”
Glancing over at him, she asked in her soft and gentle voice, “Are there more like you, Vincent?”
“No, there is only me.” The loneliness in his voice almost broke her heart.
“Where do you live?” She wanted to learn all she could about this remarkable man.
“I wish I could tell you but one of our rules is not to divulge where we live to strangers.”
The use of the word stranger being applied to her hurt her deeply. “I’m not a stranger, Vincent, not after all we’ve been through,” she said dejectedly.
He was silent for several miles then turned to her. He had come to a decision. “No, you are not and you deserve the truth but you must promise not to tell anyone.”
“I would never betray your trust,” she murmured. “I promise.”
With a smile and love in his voice he told her of where he lived, in the tunnels beneath the city. “There are many entrances, even one in Central Park.”
“In Central Park,” she laughed, “that’s unbelievable.”
Then he told how his world had been founded by Jacob Wells, his father, and John Pater, Father’s friend. He spoke of his many friends and family that lived there and relied on each other. He told her how he had been found in the trash behind St. Vincent’s Hospital and of the split in the community between Father and John Pater over how and by whom he should be raised. “Thank god, it was Father. I shudder to think what I would be like if I had been raised by John Pater.”
“Why?” she asked, curious.
“He is a madman, obsessed with power and calls himself Paracelsus.”
“Why would he want you?” She was truly perplexed.
He ducked his head so that his hair made a curtain between the two of them. This was something he didn’t want to tell her. But he knew she was entitled to the truth. “Because of what I am,” he answered with difficulty.
“What are you?” She was getting exasperated with him and her question was rather sharp.
“I am not a man,” he stated. Now she would turn away from him, he was certain of it.
“Oh come on now, Vincent. If you’re not a man, I never knew one.” Laughing lightly, she made a right turn onto a darkened highway.
“No, truly, there is a part of me that revels in violence and blood. There is a darkness that I get lost in when my world or I am in danger.” He had to make her see the danger that he posed.
“Everyone, man, woman or child, will fight to protect themselves or what they love. They go wild with rage; they call it going berserk.”
“But you don’t understand, I am lost in this darkness and I don’t know what I do. I can’t control it.”
“Seems to me you’re doing a pretty good job of it. Why didn’t you lose yourself when you saved me?” she asked.
“I knew if I made a loud noise someone would hear us.”
“Well, see. You controlled yourself then.” She simply refused to see what he was trying to tell her.
***
Two mornings later they nearly drove by a tiny, almost completely deserted motel with individual cottages sitting amongst a grove of trees. Not as nice as Castles’ was, but at least they were clean. She obtained the farthest cabin for the day and parked on the side next to the trees. They had a cold supper and then prepared for bed.
“Dibs on the shower,” Vincent proclaimed laughing as he hurried through the bathroom door. They had made a game of it since that first night together.
“Now, where did you learn that?” She asked through the bathroom door.
“I wonder,” he answered, dryly.
Vincent was making a pallet on the floor when she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, towel-drying her hair.
Her freshly scrubbed beauty made him speechless and he hid behind the curtain of his hair to keep from staring at her.
“I won’t have it, Vincent.” His head snapped up and he stared at her. “I won’t have you sleeping on the floor. We know each other well enough to share the bed.”
“I don’t think that is wise, Catherine,” he said, trying to dissuade her.
“If it makes you feel better, we can sleep with a blanket between us.” She chuckled at his obvious discomfort. “Will that be acceptable?”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nodded. In her peach silk pajamas she climbed into bed then patted the bed beside her, “Come on. Come to bed.”
Gingerly, he laid down beside her and true to her word there was a blanket between them. She reached over and patted his cheek then snuggled deeply into the bed. “Good night, Vincent, sleep well.”
He was sure he wouldn’t sleep at all and surprised himself by waking up that evening. A pleasant shock greeted him when he awoke; Catherine held warmly in his arms. Afraid to move and wake her, he laid there with his nose buried in her hair. He had never smelled anything as wonderful as the fruity, spicy smell of her hair. Slowly, he could sense her coming awake; the bond between them was growing stronger day by day. Stretching mightily, she turned, and when she opened her eyes, found that she was nose to nose with an uneasy Vincent. “Good morning, Vincent,” she chirped and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She tumbled out of bed as if nothing had happened, which perplexed him even more. How could she be so at ease with him? She couldn’t know how dangerous he was. What he didn’t realize was that she knew exactly how dangerous he was and had no fear of any kind for herself. After a light breakfast, they were on the road.
Somewhere around Staunton, Virginia, Catherine removed the bandage from her face. A livid, dark red scar shone in front of her left ear. Vincent tenderly touched it and said, “It will fade in time, Catherine.”
“I know. He wanted it to be his brand on me, marking me as his victim. But you made it a sign of strength. I survived, Vincent, and I am a better and stronger person because of it, because of you.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Your strength has always been there, ready to be used when necessary. Now that you know how strong you are, you will never lose that strength.”
She smiled gratefully at him and turned her attention back to the road. Virginia was a beautiful state and Vincent amazed her with how much he knew of the state and its history.